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callsigns-haze · 4 months ago

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Family Business

Summary: Hangman finally goes back to top gun and the daggers....well they want the tea

Warning: Contains alcohol, cursing, teasing, mentions of labour, postpartum.

Word count: 2636 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part three of Little Life and Silly little life

Three weeks had passed since Jake had set foot on the Top Gun base, and as he walked into the hangar, he could feel all eyes on him. The usual hum of the hangar, the sounds of jets being prepped, filled the air, but this time it felt like he was walking into an ambush. He had been out of the game long enough for them to notice—and that meant one thing: relentless teasing.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Phoenix spotted him and was on him like a hawk. “Well, look who finally decided to show his face,” she said with a grin, crossing her arms. “I was beginning to think you forgot how to fly, Hangman.”

Jake smirked, unbothered as he swaggered toward them. “I don’t forget anything, Trace.”

“Yeah, except how to show up,” Rooster chimed in, leaning against one of the jets. His aviators glinted in the sunlight as he shot Jake a smirk. “Where’ve you been, man? Can’t imagine someone like you being tied up with ‘family business.’ Sounds like an excuse to me.”

Jake rolled his eyes, leaning against a nearby crate. “Family business, Bradshaw. Not an excuse. It’s called responsibility, but I wouldn’t expect you to know much about that.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile spreading across his face. “Responsibility? You? What, did you have to help your mom put up Christmas lights or something?”

Phoenix snorted, nudging Bob in the ribs. “Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, family man. Didn’t think I’d see the day.”

Payback and Fanboy joined in, shaking their heads as they exchanged looks. “Hangman with family business? Did the world end while you were gone?” Payback teased. “Or is this some weird alternate universe we’re living in?”

Fanboy laughed, throwing up his hands. “Seriously, what kind of family business does someone like Hangman even have? I thought your whole life was flying and flirting.”

Jake shrugged, keeping his expression neutral despite the barrage of questions. “Family business is just that—family business. Nothing for you all to worry about.”

“Come on, man,” Bob finally spoke up, his quiet curiosity breaking through. “You’ve been gone for weeks. That’s not like you. We’re just trying to figure out what’s up.”

Jake could feel their eyes all on him, waiting for some sort of juicy explanation, but he wasn’t about to give them anything. Not yet. Not about Y/N, and definitely not about their daughter Ellie-Mae. The last thing he needed was the whole squad knowing about the tiny bundle of joy waiting for him back in Texas.

“I told you,” Jake said smoothly, his hands in his pockets as he kept his tone casual. “Just family stuff. Nothing to lose sleep over.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, her arms still crossed as she studied him. “You sure you didn’t get married while you were gone? Or maybe you’re secretly a CIA agent and just can’t tell us.”

Rooster laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, if Hangman was in the CIA, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He’d be bragging about it every chance he got.”

Jake shot Rooster a look, but before he could respond, Phoenix waved a hand. “Whatever. It’s not like you’re gonna tell us anything, so I’m not wasting any more of my time.”

The others murmured in agreement, their curiosity still piqued but knowing better than to press Jake any further. The teasing eased up, and they turned back to their tasks, still throwing the occasional glance his way. But Coyote—standing back, watching with his arms crossed—had remained quiet the entire time, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He was the only one who knew the truth, after all. Coyote had been there from the beginning, the one person Jake trusted with everything. He knew about Y/N, about the love that had blindsided Jake and changed his life in ways he never expected. And now, he knew about Ellie-Mae—their beautiful little girl with Jake’s eyes and Y/N’s fierce spirit. Coyote had kept Jake’s secret this whole time, and the amusement on his face showed just how much he was enjoying watching Jake dodge all the questions.

Once the teasing finally died down, Jake excused himself from the group, heading toward the locker room to grab his gear. He could still feel the weight of their eyes on his back, but it didn’t bother him. He was used to the squad’s prying, but he wasn’t ready to let them in on his new life just yet.

As he rounded the corner, making sure he was out of earshot, he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, Coyote’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he started shaking him playfully.

“Hangman,” Coyote laughed, gripping Jake’s shoulders as he gave him a few good shakes. “You lucky son of a bitch! Walking around here like nothing happened, when you’ve got a damn baby at home!”

Jake chuckled, turning around to face him, though he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others weren’t following. “Keep your voice down, Javy. You trying to let the whole base know?”

Coyote let out another laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I still can’t believe it. Ellie-Mae, huh? I knew you were going soft when you started talking about Y/N, but a baby? That’s next-level.”

Jake grinned, unable to help himself as the thought of Ellie-Mae filled his mind. “Yeah, well, didn’t exactly plan on it, but… here we are.”

Coyote clapped him on the back, his eyes shining with genuine excitement. “You’re a dad now, bro. That’s wild. How’s it feel?”

Jake paused for a moment, letting the question sink in. He thought about Y/N, the late nights with Ellie in his arms, and the way his heart practically burst every time he looked at her. “It’s… crazy,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Hard to believe I could love someone that much. It’s terrifying, but in the best way.”

Coyote chuckled, shaking his head. “I bet. You better start getting used to diapers and spit-up, man. You’re in for a wild ride.”

Jake rolled his eyes, though the grin never left his face. “Yeah, well, it’s worth it. Y/N and Ellie—they’re everything.”

Coyote’s expression softened as he gave Jake another firm clap on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy, Hangman. You know that, right?”

Jake nodded, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, Javy. I know.”

With that, they stood there for a moment in silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them. Coyote was right—Jake was lucky. Luckier than he ever thought possible. And as much as he loved flying, he knew that his real world was waiting for him back home.

That evening, the Dagger squad made it their mission to squeeze answers out of Jake—answers they knew he wasn’t going to give up willingly. But their tactics had shifted from teasing to something more strategic: drinks. They’d dragged him to the bar near the base, determined to make him pay for disappearing for three weeks without so much as a solid explanation.

Phoenix nudged him as they settled around a table. “Alright, Hangman, since you won’t tell us where you’ve been, the least you can do is buy the first round.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but his grin never faltered. “Oh, I see how it is. You think a few drinks are gonna loosen my tongue?”

Rooster smirked from across the table. “You never know. Maybe after a couple of shots, you’ll be singing like a bird.”

The whole squad chuckled at that, and even Jake had to laugh, though he wasn’t planning on revealing anything. “Fine, fine,” he said, standing up. “But don’t expect any stories. This is just because I’m a generous guy.”

Payback clapped him on the back as he headed toward the bar. “We’ll take what we can get, man. You owe us.”

Jake made his way through the crowd, ordered the drinks, and carried the tray back to the table where the squad was already lining up a game of pool. The atmosphere was lively, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. He handed out the drinks, then leaned against the pool table, chalking up a cue as Rooster took the first shot.

But just as Jake was about to join in, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He glanced down at the screen, and his heart did a little flip when he saw Y/N’s name pop up, along with the FaceTime icon.

“Of course,” Phoenix muttered when she saw him glance at his phone. “Let me guess—more ‘family business’?”

Jake smirked, putting the cue down. “Yeah, something like that. I gotta take this.”

A collective groan rose from the squad. “Come on, man!” Rooster protested, lining up his next shot. “Can’t it wait?”

Jake shook his head. “Not this time, Bradshaw. You guys keep playing. I’ll be back.”

He slipped outside the bar, leaving the noise behind as he stepped into the cool evening air. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the sidewalk, and he found a quiet spot away from the crowds before answering the call. As the screen connected, the familiar sight of Y/N’s desk came into view. She was sitting there, her hair tied back in a messy bun, wearing one of Jake’s old t-shirts. But what really caught his attention was the tiny bundle wrapped against her chest—Ellie, snug in her baby wrap, sound asleep.

Jake’s heart swelled at the sight of them, and his usual cocky grin softened into something more genuine. “Hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice low. “How’re my girls doing?”

Y/N smiled, her eyes tired but full of love. “We’re good. She just went down after her evening fuss. Thought I’d call you before it gets too late.”

Jake leaned against the wall, his smile widening as he watched Ellie’s little chest rise and fall with each soft breath. “She’s getting bigger every day,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “I swear she looks different already.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “That’s because she is. You’re missing out on all her growth spurts while you’re out there playing pool and buying your squad drinks.”

Jake winced playfully. “Busted. Yeah, they dragged me out tonight, trying to get me to spill where I’ve been. They don’t know about you or Ellie yet.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Still keeping us a secret, huh?”

“For now,” Jake said, his tone softer. “I just want to keep this between us a little longer, you know?”

She nodded, her hand gently resting on Ellie’s back. “I get it. We’re your secret weapon.”

Jake’s smile softened even more, his heart swelling with how perfect this moment felt. “Exactly. How’s Ellie been today? No more colic?”

“She’s been a little angel today,” Y/N said, glancing down at the sleeping baby. “I think the baby wrap helps. She loves being close like this.”

Jake’s gaze lingered on them, a quiet longing in his eyes. “I miss you both so much,” he murmured. “Wish I could be there.”

“We miss you too,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth. “But we’ll be here when you get back. And maybe next time, you can tell the squad the real reason why you’ve been missing.”

Jake chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, maybe. One day. But not yet. For now, I’m keeping you two all to myself.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes soft as they locked onto his through the screen. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They stayed like that for a moment, just watching each other through the screen, neither wanting to hang up. Finally, Jake sighed. “Alright, darlin’. I should let you get some rest. I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft. “We’ll be waiting. Love you, Jake.”

“Love you too,” he said, his voice warm as he ended the call. He lingered for a moment, staring at the blank screen, already missing them more than he thought possible.

With a deep breath, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed back inside, ready to face the squad again, but this time with a little more peace in his heart.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Rooster spotted him, leaning on his pool cue with a cocky grin. “Oh great, he’s back. And look at him—moping around like a lovesick puppy.”

Phoenix, already lining up her next shot, glanced up and smirked. “I thought you were supposed to be Hangman, not Hang-up-the-phone-and-sulk man.”

The rest of the squad laughed, and even Bob, always the quiet one, chuckled under his breath. “What was that, your mom calling to check up on you?”

Jake rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite muster his usual bravado. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Baby on board.”

Payback, who had been eyeing him from the bar, raised his glass in Jake’s direction. “No, seriously, man. Who’s got you all down and out? You were fine before you left to take that call, now you look like someone kicked your dog.”

Fanboy leaned back in his chair, grinning wide. “I’ll bet it’s a girl. That’s the only thing that ever makes a guy like Jake Seresin go all soft.”

Jake shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. “You all have way too much time on your hands, you know that?”

“Come on, Hangman, spill it,” Rooster pressed, the competitive glint in his eyes still there even after the teasing. “You’re not this distracted unless it’s something big. Or someone.”

Jake shook his head, not ready to let them in on the truth. He leaned on the pool table, picking up a cue as if nothing had changed. “It’s just family stuff, like I said. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Yeah, we’ll believe that when you stop looking like you’re about to write a country song,” Phoenix said, taking her shot and sinking a ball into the corner pocket.

The whole squad chuckled, and Jake couldn’t help but smirk at that one. “Real original, Trace.”

But despite the banter, it was clear that Jake’s head wasn’t entirely in the game. He took a lazy shot, missing a pocket he would normally nail without even thinking. Rooster raised an eyebrow at the miss, exchanging a look with Phoenix.

“Wow, you really are off your game tonight,” Rooster teased. “First you disappear for three weeks, now you can’t even make a simple shot? Whoever’s on the other end of that phone call must be something special.”

Jake leaned on the table, sighing a little as he looked at the group. “Maybe I’m just tired of carrying you guys all the time.”

“Oh, so now we’re back to old Hangman,” Payback said with a grin. “Nice to see some things don’t change.”

But even as Jake tried to join back in the banter, his heart wasn’t in it. His thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N and Ellie, to the soft rise and fall of Ellie’s chest, the way Y/N had smiled at him through the screen. It was a different kind of responsibility weighing on him now, one that made everything else seem a little less important.

Phoenix narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not buying the act. “You’re seriously going to keep us in the dark, aren’t you?”

Jake shrugged, still playing it off. “Family business, Trace. That’s all it is.”

The squad groaned in unison, but the teasing softened, and the game went on. Yet as the night wore on, Jake couldn’t quite shake that faraway look in his eyes, no matter how many jokes the others threw his way. And though they kept up the ribbing, no one pressed him for more, leaving the mystery of his absence hanging in the air, unanswered.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #hangman top gun #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader

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sanguineterrain · 5 months ago

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smut 18+ only, fucking jason on the kitchen floor, feral horny afab reader who wants to maul jason, unprotected sex, breeding kink, submissive jaytodd!!! rock on!!!

The first time you go absolutely batshit feral over Jason, he's cleaning the apartment.

He's done nothing to provoke your ferality (he never does), and usually, you keep it to yourself. Thoughts like if I were a vampire I'd suck his blood and I need my boyfriend to hold me down until I orgasm or pass out, whichever comes first, are inside thoughts, and you do a great job at keeping them as such.

So you're not quite sure what compels you to act the way that you do.

First, Jason's in clothes that don't help your insanity. The shirt is Dick's (Jason insists that he did NOT have an emo phase, thank you), so the cropped quality of the My Immortal t-shirt isn't by design. Jason's just big.

Yes, yep, your boyfriend sure is a big boy. That's all you can think about as you watch him over the top of your open book while he attacks the kitchen floor with his Swiffer Jet. He's humming a song you don't recognize.

You love him so much. The thought hits you square in the chest. You love Jason Todd. A lot. A lot a lot a lot.

The next thought that hits you is how soft and squishy your boyfriend is. Jason's sweatpants are baggy, the baggiest he could find, and they still can't hide how humongous his thighs are. His thighs are pure muscle, but when not in the middle of a fight, they are soft. Bitable. Very bitable.

Your gazes moves to the strip of belly that flexes and flutters with every movement. Jason's stomach isn't perfectly flat, a fact that you know sometimes bothers him. You take care to treat it delicately, not wanting him to be self-conscious even though every part of him makes you rabid.

You want to kiss Jason's stomach. Feel it twitch under your hand as you do, uh... other stuff besides kissing. You love watching Jason in action, love watching him wield his powerful body. But you also love him like this: using his body to take care of himself, his space, and you.

Jason's arms. You could write prose poetry on such magnificent creations. More than once you've had the urge to wrap one of Jason's arms around your neck and let him squeeze until you lose consciousness. Another inside thought! Jason would staunchly refuse and probably get you checked for head trauma if you requested such a thing, but you can dream.

Once or twice, Jason's flexed for you, silly and smiley. You've managed to hide just how fucking hot you found it. It's been well over a year and you still want to jump your boyfriend. You try to keep it to a manageable level, not wanting to startle or overwhelm him. You know Jason's complicated relationship with his body. You respect his boundaries.

But still, the thoughts linger...

Your feet carry you to the kitchen before you can think about it. Jason's done with the mop and has moved to wiping the counters. You seize the opportunity to get behind him.

"Hey, baby," Jason says before you reach him. He keeps wiping. And that's another thing: Jason is highly competent. His training makes him hear you before you've reached him. If you were an evil goon, you'd be on the floor before you could inhale. You also find that concerningly hot.

You stick yourself to his back and wrap your arms around his stomach. You grab handfuls of the layer of fat that covers his muscles, brushing your thumbs over where his hair thickens below his bellybutton.

"What's up, hm?" Jason asks, patting your hand.

"You're really hot," you say.

He snorts, glances behind at you. "I'm what now?"

"Hot. Juicy. I wanna maul you."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," you say peacefully, groping his waist. "Soon as possible."

"I'm free for a mauling in ten minutes. That work for you?"

"I don't know if I can wait that long." You slip your hands up his shirt. "Mind if I feel you up while I wait?"

Jason laughs but it comes out a little airy. "You're a menace."

"I'm crazy about you."

"Mm, I've noticed. Feeling's mutual."

"No, no." You move your head so that your mouth is on his exposed bicep. You feel the hot flesh in your mouth, lave your tongue over it for some time. As soon as it flexes, you bite the hard muscle.

Jason drops his dishcloth. You soothe your teeth marks with your tongue.

"You don't understand," you say, shifting so you're pressing Jason against the counter edge. He lets you keep him there. "I'm crazy about you. I wanna eat you, Jay. Let me eat you."

"Jesus, what's gotten into ya?" he asks, turning his head to look at you.

"Hopefully you," you say, unrepentant.

Jason's eyes widen. You adore how squirmy he gets whenever you're bold about wanting him. Despite how long you've known each other, Jason never fails to get flustered. Perhaps that's half the fun.

"C'mon, Jay, let me fuck you. I wanna fuck you on the kitchen floor," you say, past coyness.

He full-body shudders. "I jus' cleaned."

You grin against his arm, pawing at his hip. "I'll help you mop again, honey pie. Deal?" You're eyeing his stomach next, ready to suck his skin there.

Jason can't deny you for long. You both know that.

"You're persuasive," he says, eyelids fluttering.

You hum. "Didn't take much, though, did it? Is your dick hard already?" You squeeze him through his sweats. Jason whines, bracing himself against the counter. "Never takes long, huh? You're always ready for me in no time, stud. Ready to fill me up, right?"

"Oh m'God," he says, looking at you like you're divine. That look swells your ego every time.

"Is that a yes?" You cup his balls like you're choosing a bull for breeding. Jason buckles under your brazenness. "Yes, you want me to let you fuck my pussy? Yes, you want me to fuck you on the floor?"

"Yeah, yeah, please."

So Jason lets you push him down onto the tiles. You yank his sweats down first, then his underwear. He's already leaking onto his stomach.

"Fuck," you say, grabbing and holding Jason's wrists on either side of his head. "You gonna give me what I want, sweetie? Love of my life, handsomest guy I've ever seen?"

Jason nods vigorously. "Yeah, yes, an-anything y'want. Oh my God, I'm s-so hard. I love you. Y'so nice to me."

You smile gently.

"I'm nice for taking you on the kitchen floor, huh?" you ask, bending your knees and lining up his cock to your cunt. "What if I make you wait until I come first?"

Jason nods again, already breathing hard. "I want to, I wanna wait. You should come first. I want you to come first. I don't have ta come at all."

You raise an eyebrow. That's new. New, but not unwelcome.

"So even when I..." You sink down on his cock, just the tip. Jason whimpers in the back of his throat. "Do that? You don't need to come?"

You feel him flex under your hands but he's good and stays put. He doesn't break your hold even though he could. You grin.

"Oh-oh. Sweet boy. My best guy. Look at you, big and hard. You could take me if you wanted, but you don't want that, do you? You want me to take what I want from you. All that muscle and strength, but what d'you need, Jaybee? Hm? Tell me."

"Need you," he says, voice strained. "Need you to do whatever y'want."

You kiss under his jaw and dig your nails into his wrists. Then you sink further onto Jason's cock. His hips twitch but he doesn't thrust like he usually does.

"Will you kiss me?" he asks when he bottoms out, body strung tight like a bow.

"I did kiss you," you say, smiling into his neck.

"On th'lips," Jason says, fingers shaking. "Please? Please."

You thread your fingers with his to steady them. Then you lean in to kiss his mouth. Jason moans, greedily kissing you back. You begin to move. Jason's shoulders tense.

"You're so perfect," you say against his lips. "You'd be so perfect at knocking me up. Any time I wanted, you'd be hard and ready to come in me, right?"

"Ah-ah," Jason says, voice wrecked. "Y-yeah, yeah. As much as y'want. Do anything y'want. I'd do anything."

"Yeah, I know," you say, grunting as you slide back onto him. "I know, sweetheart. Pretty boy. Y'dunno what you got with this fat cock. Can barely speak when your dick's wet."

You do a particularly hard grind and growl against Jason's sweaty throat. You lick the salt from his Adam's apple, feel it bob against your tongue. Then you bite.

"Oh, oh," he whines, and your gut tightens further at his sounds.

"Don't come," you snarl, pussy like a vice. "I come first."

Jason shakes his head, lips parted. His pulse throbs against your mouth. "No, no, won't. I won't. I'm good. I'll be good. 'M I good?"

You pet his hair, voice softening. "You're good, Jason. So good, baby. So good that I gotta take you right here on the floor. You understand, right? I was aching over there, watching you. I had to fuck you. Had to use your big dick for something."

"Uh-huh," he says, voice wet and sticky with pleasure. "Y'had to. I can do it. I wanna be good for you."

He looks up at you, and you're struck again by your difference in size, and how easy Jason gets when he's inside of you. You feel that familiar tightness, the edge of your impending orgasm.

"Rub my clit," you say, letting go of his right hand, and Jason obeys instantly, locating and deftly rubbing your clit.

"Harder," you tell him, and he rubs harder. Your mouth falls open as the pleasure swells. "Yeah. This is what you're made for. Pleasing me."

One of these days, you'll broach the subject of Jason putting those muscles to good use and fucking you doggy-style, whining in your ear as he shoots load after load into you.

"I'm gonna come," you say, cunt tightening. "Are you gonna come?"

Jason shakes his head desperately. "No. No, no, y'said not to. Not gonna come!"

"A-are you sure?" you ask, grinning as Jason makes uh-uh's in the back of his throat.

"Won't come, I promise, won't come," he says, near tears.

You come, tightening hard around Jason's cock. He nearly howls, the corners of his eyes wet, tendons pulled taut in his neck.

But he doesn't come, true to his word.

Sloppily, you kiss him. Jason kisses you back, but it's frenzied. You know his brain must be soup with the effort it's taking to not come.

"Look at you," you say, gaze hungrily roving over Jason's swollen nipples, his red face, his drawn eyebrows. "You listened so well. Y'wanna touch me? Wanna hold me?"

Jason nods frantically. "Yeah, yeah, please, baby, please, can I?"

"Go ahead, sweetheart. Hold me how you want and make yourself come. Don't be gentle."

Jason hesitates at the last direction. "Don't be gentle? Are y'sure?"

You pinch his nipple lightly. Jason bucks his hips. Your eyes narrow.

"I'm sure. Gimme everything you got, big guy."

You bite your lip as Jason's body comes alive, strength kicking in as he draws your thighs up over his hips, plants his feet, and drives into you. He punches the air out of you with each thrust, sobbing as he does. You hold on to his arms as he moves.

It only takes him a few thrusts before hot cum fills your pussy. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, nails scratching Jason's biceps.

"I want more," you say, grinding shallowly against his cock. Jason cries out, and more cum fills you.

"Was that good?" Jason asks, holding you closer.

You grin. "We're definitely doing that again."

Except, maybe not right after Jason's cleaned. You're not that mean.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #red hood imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #smut #im feralllll

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b00tyliciousbabe · 2 months ago

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⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙

oddballs and eggnog

goofybf! x THICC male reader

summary: love me a nerdy man that’s got a lil spice to him. plus a lil xmas lore!

notes: HI BEAUTIFULS! merry xmas to those who celebrate. it’s been a while fr, my bad dawgs uni work has been ploughing my ass so violently im reconsidering if a degree is even for me. but as a masochistic bottom, i had to channel my energy elsewhere; thus, this fic is just me showing the variety of my tastes as the true indecisive femboy that i am. show me a cute guy and i will plan my whole life with him. i need to get a grip.

originally, i canonically wrote this character with ginger hair (y’all know i fold for redheads), but the more i kept writing, the clearer it became to me that dark brown hair/black aligned with my OWN understanding of him. it’s all fiction anyways so feel free to adapt body types as you see fit. enjoy my lovelies 🎀

album rec: flo - access all areas. these girlies have my heart. been following them since about 2022 and they are genuinely my fave artists, cannot wait for flo world domination.

you guys had mutual acquaintances for a couple years, but it wasn’t until the two of you got to university that your friendship really blossomed. the engineering student didn’t have the best luck when it came to relationships; in fact, people would only toy with his emotions when they wanted something from him, so he learnt to put up a wall of cynicism.

these barriers he had fortified for his own protection made him quite a reserved guy. never cruel or nasty. just quiet. sure, he wasn’t a complete loner, he had a few VERY close bros who he’d let in, but it was clear that in this silence, he was safe.

he’s super handsy, whether that means pulling you on his lap, be it at parties or when he’s gaming, or placing his hands in your back pocket when y’all walk to class, he just wants to hold you. probably got something to do with the fact that he needs to make sure you’re real and not the angel he believes you to be. you love your needy bf and his craving for physical touch.

this is kinda juxtaposed by how flustered he gets by your words. the minute you whisper in his ear, he could cum in his jeans on the spot. he gets so red when you compliment him which makes him squeeze you tighter.

he wasn’t a virgin before meeting you, he’d had a few hookups but nothing sexual with someone he genuinely cared about. as a result, it made sense why he was very nervous when it came to your first time together.

to relax him, you decided to give him a blowjob to ease the tension and allow him to cum quick in the first round so he’d last longer during anal. sat back on the edge of his bed, he wore a vest and baggy joggers, awaiting your fingers to unleash his raging boner. you knelt down and flashed a comforting smile to him, which he failed to mirror perfectly.

‘we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready to. I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.’ you said concerned, stroking his abs, clear to you that he was stressing.

‘nah baby, i want this so bad. it’s just gotta be really special because you’re really special to me.’ he said gripping your chin.

‘i love you, y/n. like a lot.’

‘i know that you weirdo, i love you too, you mean so much to me.’

‘now, lemme show you how much.’ you said coyly, to which he was more than happy to oblige.

when i tell you, your man eats so well that his cum is literally like milk. the typa white, thick, pearly cum that you would swallow every drop of, because it truly is just disrespectful not to. the first time he came was a surprise for the two of you. he didn’t realise how much he loved seeing his cum all over your face, decorating your juicy, wet lips. the head you gave him was so good, he napped for 2 hours straight after you drained him. but that deffo changed him for the better.

his hobbies include boxing and gaming. he’s such a nerd he makes his own demo projects, playing with his classmates. you always chastise him for not making his hobby a lucrative endeavour - your boy’s got a talent and he doesn’t seem to know it. equally, he loves his legos and comics just as much as he enjoys coding, making you the prettiest bouquet of lego flowers for your first date. after spending some time walking, he took you back to his place and y’all spent the entire night binging his favourite marvel and dc films.

one time it was his birthday and you thought it be a good idea to make a short graphic novel of the journey of your relationship - ending steamily with you pregnant.

‘baby, i love this so much! who knew how sexy you’d look with a baby bump?’ ‘anything can happen in the multiverse’ you laugh, as he kissed your jaw.

‘I’m gonna fuck you so good tonight.’

as we have established, he’s far from experienced. he holds your hand through missionary always because it makes him feel safe. makes so many jokes during it as a way to deflect. lowkey loves being choked. you took the lead most of the time before, using him as a pole and ride the shit out of him.

but, that night he ploughed you with a sense of purpose, so deep and mercilessly that your insides were moulded into an incubator for any hypothetical foetus he would soon impregnate you with. after, he laid curled up next to you, caressing the belly that he had now filled with

‘i hate biology sometimes,’ he says breathlessly. ’you’d look so good with our lil baby growing inside your belly.’

your boyfriend is the goofiest mf ever; playing practical jokes on all his friends and fulfilling his role as your comedian. definitely one of your favourite characteristics of his.

his sleeper build is INSANE. he might appear tall and lanky, but he is far from it. bench pressing more than 100 kilos with one arm - the brudda is basically superman. he’s what you’d get if clark kent had ginger hair, and was a huge weirdo.

though he cannot dance to save his life. he used to be very awkward and shy, but the minute them clothes are off and you two are in the sheets? stroke game is giving pornstar baby girl lemme tell you! ever since your first time, it’s like you awaken the sexual drive in him that’s been missing all his life. this, paired for his complete adoration for you makes him a lethal weapon in bed - quite literally, your man casually packs an 8 inch pussy destroyer with veins that massage and pummel your gummy walls so well.

after this moment he became the BIGGEST TEASE. slapping his dick all over your face. as you chase his dick like a good puppy, he giggles at how desperate you are. ‘sweet Jesus you feel good’. ‘holy shit’. ‘don’t act like you don’t love it.’ painting hickeys all over your neck . he loves when ppl ask you because of how flustered you get, makes him want to mark you more. he’s no longer shy to the world and he thanks you everyday for that. living to call you princess - in both a mocking and endearing tone, he loved toying with your nipples because you’re his lil doll. in cowgirl he will play with them whilst jerking you off to get you to cum all over his abs. and! he LOVES eating ass - like almost obsessively, as if he’s high of your pussy.

he smells so good. so good. you always act like a bitch in heat whenever he steps out of the shower with a towel skimpily wrapped around his adonis belt.

your bf loves playing with his cum and using his dick as a paintbrush to decorate your belly, butt, and face. ‘my masterpiece’ + ‘my muse’ he professes. somehow managing to entrance you to always stroke his dick during makeout sessions. he brings his hands to play with your hair, knowing that his dick is in extremely good hands with you - literally. always pulling you off of his dick because he is really sensitive and ur mouth is a fucking weapon, but will show you that he’s the boss and could leave you bedridden for a couple days after a good fuck.

things he would say drunk off of eggnog:

‘i would die a happy man beneath those beautiful cheeks of yours’

‘put ur hole on my North Pole.’

‘ay, you Don’t get to call me handsome unless you’re gonna HANDsome of those fat cheeks of yours to my lap.’

‘come on, I’ve been a good boy, Santa says gimme some of that pussy you know I love so much.’

‘that ass of yours, come here lemme unwrap it.’

this man has you written into his destiny. he always dreamed of raising a son and dressing him up in the flyest outfits and with you, that desire became reality. you too truly are a match made in heaven.

taglist:

@ghostking4m

@gayaristocrat

@lysanderplume

@acoustickitten

#gay #bottom male reader #smut #gay male #gay reader #male bottom #male x male #gay love #gay smut #male bottom reader #male reader #mxm #m4m #gay men #mlm #mlm yearning

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holybibly · 17 days ago

Text

Nothing too fancy, my sugar bunnies, just a little treat for you. Or, Seonghwa's oral fixation hasn't gone anywhere and these photos are occupying my thoughts too much.

You felt as if it would never end. Seonghwa had been eating you for hours, licking, sucking, and lapping your sweet, juicy pussy as if his life depended on it. At first it had been incredibly pleasurable, the hot caresses of his long, slippery tongue and the softness of his lush lips as he French kissed your cunt. But now you felt almost numb, as if your legs could fall off at any moment.

Hot pleasure coursed through your exhausted, weak body like weak jolts of electricity as you felt another orgasm approach.

"Seonghwa, please... I can't take it any longer..." You whimpered weakly, wriggling on the sheets and trying to close your legs.

Hwa growled low, digging his fingers harder into the soft, juicy flesh of your thigh, effectively ending your pathetic attempts to escape his touch as he continued to assault your tortured, swollen clit. His sensual, plump lips close around the flushed, sensitive bud. He smacks it deliciously and massages it aggressively, squeezing the little bundle of nerves tightly between the plush petals of his lips.

Your eyes roll up in pleasure mixed with pain as Seonghwa roughly sucks your clit into his hot, wet mouth and starts sucking on it like the most delicious thing in the world.

"Hwa... please, this is too much...'

All Seonghwa can do is let out a grim chuckle before he lifts his head and looks up at you. He looks completely fucked. His mouth is swollen and glistening, smeared with your slime and saliva, his siren eyes heavy and unfocused with lust, seductively half-closed with thin, fluttering eyelids, and a hot, dark pink blush spreading across his beautiful cheeks.

"That's it, angel, be a good girl and come for me one more time. You can do that, can you? Seonghwa purrs sultrily before he inserts a long finger into your tight, oozing hole.

"It's too much... Aaaaaa~' You sob, throwing your head back and moaning loudly as he bends his finger inside you, hitting your G-spot instantly as he continues to lick you, greedily licking up the sweet essence that flows from you.

You thrash around in the sheets trying to get away from the sweet insults to your clit but Hwa growls again and slaps your thigh hard, successfully calming you down.

Your body begins to shake as the knot of arousal tightens in your stomach, the searing heat of pleasure spreading through your veins with every movement of his fingers and tongue.

"Seonghwa~ ah, fuck!" Hwa pushes two more fingers into you, stretching you even further than before. The tender edges of your hole are burning, but even so, you feel how more of the sweet mucus squirting out of you as Seonghwa's fourth finger pushes into you.

"God, you look so hot just like that, baby." He moans in a low voice and licks his fuckable lips. "But that's not enough for me." Seonghwa adds before he starts to fuck you with his fingers at a fast pace and with such force that the headboard of the bed slams into the wall. "I want your squirt all over my face, angel. Fuck, I am in need of it so fucking much."

"Ah~ Ah~ H-Hwa, baby, slow down!"

Ignoring you, Seonghwa continues to finger fuck you as he hot sucks on your clit, now and then nipping at it gently with his perfect teeth.

"Oh my God, Hwa... I'm going to cum!" You squeal and pull furiously at Seonghwa's long, silky hair. Your pussy clenches tightly around his fingers, restricting his movements as you try to keep him inside. "I can't stand it! Please..." Tears stream down your cheeks, your hips shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm hits you. Your pussy squirts profusely, covering Seonghwa's face and neck in clear liquid as he continues to swirl his tongue between your fluttering folds.

Your body falls limply onto the bed, your stomach clenching in the aftershocks of your orgasm as you feel Seonghwa slowly pull his fingers out of you and replace them with his tongue, sliding it into your fucked hole and tracing the smooth, warm walls of your sensitive cunt.

You try to pull away, your legs moving tensely to break free of his grip. But Seonghwa slaps your inner thigh again, whispering hotly into the wet softness of your pretty pussy.

"We're obviously not finished yet... since you can still move, angel. You're going to give me one more orgasm, and then I'll think about giving you a break."

All you can say is that you're in for a long night.

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader

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fruittt-punchhh · 8 months ago

Text

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad's best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can't help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, dad's best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, female masturbation, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught in the act, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/ affectionate names, age gap (reader is 24, Toji is in his 30s), Toji calls reader (doll, slut, bitch, etc.), big dick! Toji, cunnilingus (f! receiving), fingering, just smut tbh.

Word Count: 3.7k-ish

Notes: hello again lovelies! here is pt. 4 of pop my cherry! I hope you guys have been digging it bc I def have❤️‍🔥🫶 also, reader finally gets her coochie ate🗣��🗣️🗣️can we get some w’s in the chat or some hoorays because we finally made it lmao. lemme know what you think!!! enjoy you filthy rat🐀💖🫶💋‼️ also, credits to kithsune and reveriesources for the banners! check them out!

“Poor baby, can’t even make yourself cum. You need Toji’s help, huh? Lemme show you, love”

Toji has you on your back with your knees pressed to your chest, his mouth hovering over your pussy. You can feel his breath on you as he takes in the sight before him.

“You have such a cute fucking cunt, you know that? Can’t believe no one’s knocked you up yet, girl.”

You feel your pussy clench around nothing as you try not to beg him. Anything would be better than him staring you down like this.

“T-Toji, I’m nervous. I-I’ve never done any of this before, what if I-“

“Just be quiet and let me eat, y/n. Haven’t eaten all day and I’m fucking starving.”

He trails sloppy kisses from your thighs, down to your juicy pussy. He licks a long stripe on the side of your pussy, and sucks on your outer lip. He chuckles at how you squirm. He loves watching you melt for him. He’s desperate to pound into you but he knows he’ll break you if he doesn’t properly stretch you out first. Even the most, ahem, experienced of women have a hard time adjusting to his size.

“Lemme make you feel good, okay doll? Wanna watch you come undone for me.”

Without any warning, he flattens his tongue to lap up all of your juices as he licks your entire pussy. You moan and instinctively grab a fistful of his hair to ground yourself.

“Kinky are we, huh? Gonna have to grab it harder than that.”

You do as your told as Toji eats you out like a man starved. He’s full on moaning into your cunt as he sucks on your swollen clit. You taste so fucking good for him. Like candy.

“Like w-what?”

Oh. Toji freezes before he’s looking up into your eyes.

“Yeah baby doll, this pussy is sweet like fucking candy. I could do this for hours, but I don’t think you could handle it. I need you to cum all in my mouth, can you do that f’me princess?”

You cry out as he goes back to devouring you, bucking your hips into his mouth. You feel out of control at this point. You’ve been basically edging yourself all day thinking about Toji. Now, he’s in front of you eating you like this is his last meal. You didn’t know how much more you could take. You felt that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach as your orgasm approached.

“F-fuck, mngh Tojiiiii, m’gonna c-cum”

Shit, he wanted to say something to send you over the edge, but he didn’t want to stop his work on your clit for fear of you not finishing. Besides, you tasted like fucking gold on his tongue and he’d be damned if he let a little dirty talk stop you from cumming on his face.

“Oh my, ohmygooood, m’cumming baby fuuuuck”

Your orgasm crashed into you, hard, and you thought you were going to pass out. No one has ever even touched you like this before, let alone devoured you whole. It felt sinfully good and you were cumming so quickly. You had no idea why you had waited this long to get some head, but you were surely addicted at any rate.

Toji doesn’t let you rest from your high, instead intent on overstimulating your abused cunt. He needed to taste every last drop, so he shoves his thick tongue inside your tight hole. If he could drink you until the well ran dry, he would.

“T-Toji please, s’too much, mmmmhh”

You were seeing stars at this point. His tongue plunging in and out of you, and his big nose was rubbing on your clit in a way that you thought should be illegal. You couldn’t help but hump into his face, desperately chasing your next orgasm much too soon.

Toji came up for air to take you in as you lie before him. He had to grip his cock again, nearly bruising the base of it. You had this dreamy, fucked out look on your face. Tears streaming down your temples, hair ruffled, and lips nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting them. He still held your legs taught against your chest, not giving you anywhere to run.

“It’s not too much, girl, I know you can take it. We’re just getting started, babe.” He says as he licks his lips and chin obscenely, trying not to waste any of your sweet nectar. He releases the hold on your legs, much to your relief. You finally felt like you could take a deep breath for the first time since you two began.

Your relief was cut short.

“Hold your legs up for me doll, need’ta stretch her out nice and good for me. Don’t want ya’ cutting my dick in half with that tight pussy of yours”

You obediently wrapped your hands around the back of your knees, pulling your legs back up into their original position. Of course, the original position had you bent entirely in half thanks to Toji’s brute strength, but this would do just fine. You bite your lip as you look down at him. You know what’s coming. You’ve been thinking about it for the past twelve hours and now that it’s happening, you don’t know if you should be elated or terrified.

“Good girl, hold ‘em just like f’me”

Toji looks at your glistening cunt and feels like he is suddenly 25 again, bursting with hormones and energy. Your pretty pink pussy was making a wet spot on the bed, but a little more couldn’t hurt right? He spits on your pussy, watching it drip down your clit, your folds, and inside of you. He was supposed to be ruining you, but goddammit if he didn’t feel as ruined as ever looking at your cute, helpless expression.

You yelp out as Toji lightly slaps your pussy. Not enough to hurt, but the stinging was still there. At this point, you were so desperate for him, you think you’d let him kill you if it’d meant he’d fuck you first.”

“S’probably gonna hurt, but I’ve gotta get you ready, okay love?”

(not toji being.. sweet?)

Toji runs his two fingers along your glistening slit, coating himself with your wetness. He places a sweet kiss to your clit before he’s pushing his middle finger into you, slowly.

“H-holy shiiit, ohmyg-ooood,” you choke out. It was better than you could have imagined. You fingered yourself once in a blue moon. It wasn’t your favorite past time since you could never make yourself cum that way. But this felt worlds better than what your small fingers could do. He’s barely starting pumping into you before you’re a whining mess underneath him.

Toji is rutting his cock into the mattress below, desperate for any sort of touch. You were driving him insane with those cute little gasps and whimpers. He could only dream of how slutty you’d sound when you were stuffed full of his cock.

“Fuck, look at you. Already ‘bout to cum, huh?”

You lift your head up to look down at Toji while he finger fucks you. He’s going almost too slow, but the stretch told you it was necessary. He wasn’t even eating your pussy anymore. His eyes were glued to the beauty in front of him.

He loved watching how your tight hole almost sucked his digit in, and he couldn’t imagine how heavenly you would feel clenching and sucking around his cock. He felt his mouth watering for another taste of you. He locks his lips to your clit and with a harsh suck, he starts moving his finger faster.

You were a writhing mess for him and you already felt your orgasm creeping up on you yet again. You were sure you could cum just from him fingering you alone. The sight of him taking in every part of you, watching you so closely while you whined for him; it was too much. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he starts suckling on your bud and pumping into you faster and faster.

He keeps pulling away from your clit, sucking on it and releasing with an obscene pop! He keeps giving you little kitten licks to tease you while you huff in frustration. You grab a chunk of his black hair and pull him into you, forcing him to stay glued to your clit. In doing so, you released one of your legs, letting it rest on the bed as Toji devoured you.

Well now, that simply wouldn’t do. While he didn’t mind you being aggressive with him, he needed those plush thighs up and out of the way so he could consume every part of you.

“No ma’am, hold those legs or imma do it for you,” he winks, and you feel yourself losing it. You didn’t know if you had the strength to hold them anymore. The pace he was going at, his tongue feeling too fucking good on your clit. Your legs were starting to shake and they were tired, and you were scared you might clasp them together on his head whenever he made you cum next.

Noticing your failure to pull your legs back up, he takes his hand off of his long cock and uses it to shove your knees back to their original position.

“H-holy shiiiit Toj-“ you can’t even finish your exclamation before your breath is stolen from you. He pushes another thick finger inside of your soppy cunt and just goes to town, sucking and moaning on your clit.

“-told ya’ t’watch that mouth, bitch,” he says, muffled by your sweet pussy as he tries his hardest not to fuck you within an inch of your life on his fingers.

The stretch was painful, but it only added to the sensations you were overwhelmed by. Your high still hadn’t worn off, so Toji, who would normally be considered a 10/10 pussy eater, was feeling more like a 100/10.

“Mmmmh, I bet you wanna cum so bad, huh doll? Should I give it to you? Have you earned it?”

Toji smirks as he sees the look on your face. He has never seen anyone look so desperate and needy for anything in their life. As if you were a glass of water in the desert and she was dying of thirst. That look might kill him if he stares too long.

While he awaits your answer, he continues torturing your pussy with the slow thrusts of his big fingers.

“Y-yess, oh god, yes, I-I promise I’ve been good for you, sir”

Have you lost your mind?? The nicknames Toji gave you made you weak, so you wanted to try one out. What if he thought it was stupid???

Sir? He didn’t want to let on that the little nickname you just gave him had his dick spurting precum all over the mattress. You were so desperate to cum, he started to almost feel bad for you.

“Sir, hah, you must wanna cum real bad, huh? Do it then, bitch. Cum on my fingers if you want it so bad,” he says as he quickens his pace, and starts curling his fingers inside you with every thrust. He figured he had teased you enough and you looked like you’d explode if you didn’t get your release. He started sucking on your clit again, anxious to feel how tight you’d get when you came for him.

“Fuck, baby please, just-just like that, I-I’m, shit, gonna cum, ohmygoooood,” you whined. You thought it couldn’t get any better until he was curling his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. That was the spot you would fail to reach every time you fingered yourself, so you hardly bothered with it. He kept hitting that spot, over and over again. You were going to cum any second now. Your felt your stomach tighten so much you were scared you’d burst. You knew your orgasm was approaching, but it felt so much more.. intense. It was almost like the pressure you feel when you have to pee really bad, you thought. But you had used the restroom when you came in from tanning, so surely you didn’t have to go again, right???

Toji looked up at you while he ate you, listening to your moans turn into gasps and cut off breaths. You were so close, he knew it. He couldn’t let up now, he needed to feel you cum. He had to mentally prepare himself for how tight you’d get when you were cumming on his cock later.

He speeds up his movements, not letting you have a moment without constant stimulation. He was going to pull this out of you one way or another. With one final thrust of his fingers, you were screaming.

Your pussy clenches on his fingers so tight, they’re nearly pushed out of you from the sheer pressure. He never lets up, drinking in your juices as you squirt all over his face. Jesus Christ, you couldn’t stop. You were groaning with how intensely your orgasm washed over you. You thought squirting was just a thing in porn! You never knew any of your friends to do it. But here you were, gushing around Toji’s big fingers like you were on cam.

Toji thought he might cum seeing you like this. You were screaming underneath him, attempting (poorly) at pushing his head back, your thighs squeezing together as the stimulation was beginning to be too much. Your pussy squeezes his fingers so tight as you squirt all over him. He was in fucking heaven.

“Atta’ girl, look at you. You’re ready for me now, yeah?”

“T-Toji?”

You look down at him, still shaking as he pulls his fingers out of you, the sudden loss of his warmth making you whimper. You watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your cum off of them. He even licks his fucking palm. God, he was feral. He still wasn’t looking at you. Was he talking to your pussy?

“Shut up, girl, wasn’t talking to you. I was asking her, hah,” he laughs. He was so far gone he didn’t know if he’d be able to go another moment without your pretty pink lips on his cock.

“O-oh, s-sorry, Toj-“

He interrupts you, not giving you a chance to finish whatever apology you had come up with.

“You talk too much, brat. Need to stuff that mouth shut.” Just the thought of his dick anywhere near that pretty mouth had him feeling out of control.

Opting to keep your mouth shut like Toji wanted demanded, you (somehow) managed to sit up, crawling on your hands and knees towards him. You continue forward until he is leaning on the footboard of your bed, with his hands placed behind him, holding him up. And what a sight it was.

His cock was stiff, leaking precum all over his shirt. The sight of you crawling towards him like a little minx, tits hanging in front of him, had him going insane.”

“Come here, doll, lemme show you how good you taste”

You sit on his lap, being careful to not sit all the way down on his cock. You were still so sensitive from the orgasms he had yanked out of you. You had to hover on top of him so you wouldn’t yelp from the overstimulation.

You wrap your arms around his neck, ready to have your lips on his after such a long intermission. You close your eyes, ready for him to meet you halfway, when you feel his (still wet) hand grab your chin roughly.

“What, are you scared of it or somethin’, woman? Put that pussy on me, bitch, need to feel how good I did for ya’,” he growls, grabbing your hips as he pushes your heat down onto his throbbing cock.

He wasn’t going to last at this rate. Your hands were in his hair, tugging on it while you moan into his mouth. He had your sloppy cunt running up and down his length, covering every inch of him in your lust. He thrusts his tongue in your mouth, wanting you to taste how good you were for him. It didn’t exactly taste like candy like he claimed earlier, but it wasn’t bad. It was a little sweet, even. He was intoxicating.

Your hips were aching as Toji’s hands were bruising you from the grip he had on them. You felt another orgasm approaching, very apparent from your shaky legs and pathetic moans.

“You sound like such a little slut for me, baby. Ya’know, next time you should record it. We’d make a killing, you just sound too good.”

Next time??? You hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. You were so lost in the moment you failed to realize that Toji may not ever be able to get enough of you. It wasn’t far from the truth to say you felt the same too, as conflicting as it was. At this point, you were too far gone and you felt too good to care anymore.

You stilled your hips, needing a break and you found it hard to talk with your pussy grinding on Toji’s lap like you were, “T-Toji, god that’s so embar-“

“I didn’t say stop, woman. Learn how to talk while I please you or we’re not gettin’ anywhere,” he says as he grabs your plump ass and rubs you against his cock again.

“S-sorry sir, I just feel like… I s-sound weird, mmmnh,” you respond, moaning as he plants a firm hand on your ass cheek, spanking you.

“Shut the fuck up little girl. Can you see what you did to me, huh? I’m about to cum just looking at you and you sound like a fucking pornstar,” you can’t help but hide behind your hands as you blush for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Don’t hide that pretty face, doll. Ya’know what? You don’t have to post it or nothin’. Just send it to me so I got something to beat off too later, okay?”

The thought of Toji pleasing himself to your voice had you melting. Maybe he’s just super pent up from work and hasn’t got laid in a while? Surely that had to be it. You were a 6/10 on a good day, and you had maybe 1% of the sexual experience that he had.

“Okay, okay yeah we can try next time, I-I guess. Would you really…. touch yourself to it? Why?” You ask, knowing that the plethora of porn available at his disposal was immense. Why would he pick a shitty homemade video of you moaning for him for jack off material??

“That’s it, good girl. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, you know that, y/n? If I had a video of you moaning on top of my dick, it might be the only thing I cum to ever again”

Toji was fucked. Since when is he this honest? To a woman he barely knew, nonetheless. It was so true, though. Having you whining for him, pleasing yourself by using his cock on cam? Pfft, he might not even need to get laid again if you got that video (false).

Your face was beet red at this point. You moaned in response to his confession. Instead of question him further, you decided to take the initiative for once. You kiss him as you finally rub your hands under his tight shirt, feeling how rock hard his torso was. He was sweaty and had just a few chest hairs and you didn’t know why you wanted to rip his shirt off so fucking badly.

“If you wanna see, all you have to do is ask, hun”

“Please Toji, I want to see all of you. Please, I’ll do anything,” you confess, because it was true. You wanted to see him just as exposed as you were right now.

“Oh, anything, huh? Even if I wanted you to suck every last drop of your cum off my cock?” If you kept grinding your little pussy all over him like this, he was going to finish well before he intended to. If you sucked him off, at least he could have a break from the constant friction you were giving him.

“Oh… I mean, yes, yeah I would. I wanna be a good girl for you, Toji,” and to be fair, you had been dreaming about how he would taste, and how quickly he’d fill up your mouth with his massive cock. Your mouth started to water as you waited for his response.

Jesus Christ. He didn’t think you’d be so quick to agree, but he also didn’t know just how wrapped around his finger you were. The thought of stuffing your throat full of him was intoxicating, and he was scared he may not last long enough to fuck your tight cunt like he needed to.

“That’s what I thought, baby doll,”

He watches your heavenly figure as you lift off of him, scooting back to come face to face with his throbbing dick.

You were impossibly nervous. You wanted to do a good job, but all the other blowjobs you’ve given before were for much, much smaller dicks. You’ve never even made a guy finish with just your mouth before, always being interrupted by roommates or your jaw being so tired that you had to jerk them off to finish the job. But you were determined to make Toji feel good after how hard he made you cum.

“Uh-uh, what do ya’ think you’re doin’, woman? Get on your fucking knees,” he spits. He knows with his extreme size and girth, it’d be much easier for you to take more of him if you were on your knees and had your throat at that angle. Plus, seeing you on your knees throating his cock was a requirement at this point.

“Okay, yeah sure, s-sorry,” you say as you step off the bed and get on your knees in the floor in front of the wall. You sit back on your heels as you wait for him, the excitement rushing through your entire body.

“Girl stop apologizing and just make it up to me, yeah?”

pt. 5

@scorpiosugar mwahahah

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the-californicationist · 2 months ago

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Hey Cali! This is my first ask (ever) so bare with me. Would you do Soap losing his v-card? Like, we know he’s confident in his abilities as a lover now, but what was he like as an awkward first timer? Maybe in his late teens/early 20’s? Thank you!!

I feel like Johnny tried his best to grow up as the good Catholic lad his ma wanted him to be, despite his early and obvious inclination to lustful stimulation. But the Good Book (mostly) only forbade the true act of sex, so… he decided to practice all of the other skills.

It started when he saw his first pair of gorgeous, hanging tits. His sweetheart had come swimming with him down by the pond behind his house, wearing nothing but a bra and knickers on a particularly hot summer day. She and Johnny had been jumping into the pond and dunking each other under all day, until one time, she came up but her bra stayed down, and there they were. The perfect, puffy nipple of her breast called to him like a siren’s tune, and he dedicated himself to learning every little thing he could about them from that point on. When he licked them with the tip of his tongue, or when he suckled them deep inside his hot mouth, or when he nipped at them with his sharp teeth; he memorized the noises she made like it was his favorite song.

But then, he discovered the juicy feel of her pussy lips on his mouth, and he was done for.

Sneaking off to throw rocks at the window of his pretty lass, coaxing her downstairs before stealing her away to hide in the heather with his head buried between her legs, licking her sweet cunt until his mouth went numb, holding her down with all of his strength, telling her what a bonnie wee lamb she was and to keep those soft thighs open for him. Never could seem to slake his thirst after that first time.

All the while, his poor neglected cock would leak and spill in his jeans, wet from his helpless rutting into the soft ground as he humped and licked and sucked until he came. The number of times he’d had to lie and say that he’d spilled tea down his trousers was getting to be ridiculous.

Or, when he took his little lamb on a date to see a scary film, holding her close as she hid her face from the movie monsters, he would comfort her. He’d coo and whisper to her to come a bit closer until she was nearly straddling his thigh. Then, he’d loop his hand below her skirt to feel that sticky heat that lay so close to him, playing just inside the rim of her sensitive hole. And when she gasped again, this time it wasn’t because she was afraid of the big baddies on the screen.

And he felt justified in his tireless training. When his bonnie girl would protest, saying it was wrong, it was a sin, that he shouldn’t be rubbing her there. He’d frown and shake his head, saying that she shouldnae fash her wee self. He wasnae prodding deep into her pussy with his thick, drooling cock. After all, it was just his fingers curling and pressing and digging for the spot that made her eyes shine with hot tears of pleasure. By the time he’d take her home, the poor lamb would barely be able to walk straight on those shaking legs.

It wasn’t until he met you that he thought about taking his practice to the next level. You let him take things so much further than his sweetheart had done. She’d never allowed him to lay his heavy body above her in her bed, and even if you were still fully clothed, she would never have convinced him to thrust himself against you over your silky pajamas, humping his cock over your slippery shorts.

And she never would’ve thought to tell him to take his clothes off while he was practicing. You know, to make it seem more like the real thing. It was no problem. Surely it was safe enough if you were still fully dressed, right? Well. Mostly dressed. Okay, maybe your satin slip was hanging low beneath your swaying tits, hypnotizing poor virginal Johnny as he pretended to fuck you.

But, when you finally got him to strip down, he could see the benefits. It did feel so real. As he shoved his swollen cock against your silk shorts, he could almost feel your body’s warmth embracing him in a carnal, forbidden way. And he would come so quickly at first. It took weeks of practicing before he could keep himself from spraying ropes of milky come all over your belly after only five minutes of grinding against your quim.

You loved watching him hone his craft, watching as his blue eyes begged and pleaded for release, his huge muscles twisting and bulging with every bed-shaking thrust, pushing his cockhead against your covered clit until you were a shuddering, whimpering mess.

Eventually, he could last long enough to pull you over the edge two or three times, enjoying dipping his fingers just inside the wide leg of your pajama shorts to pull your taste onto his fingers, licking you like a bowl of homemade frosting. Just a taste, bonnie.

The only problem was, the wetter you became, the more your silk shorts seemed to slide around, sometimes letting the hot body of his prick slip between your folds on accident.

Mostly on accident.

Surely Johnny would never be grinding himself exactly in the direction that moved your shorts to the side the easiest. Surely he could feel that he was thrusting against your soft flesh rather than the safety of your clothes. Surely that wasn’t his jerking, prodding cockhead that had slipped into the cradle of your quim…

Oops.

Looks like he’ll be on his knees asking Father for forgiveness, and you’ll be on your knees, looking up at him, stretching your throat out again, begging him for some more practice.

#johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #cod smut #call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #virgin!soap #virgin!reader #please forgive me #x female reader

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

Text

BFG (5)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language, oral (fem rec), light fingering, dirty talk, smut, unprotected sex

A/N: Please consider that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.

Catch up here: BFG (4)

BFG masterlist

“Reacher,” you helplessly press the palms of your hands against the shower wall. Reacher is still holding your body in a tight grip while his tongue swirls around your clit. He’s driving you crazy, always pushing you toward the edge, but refusing to let you topple over. “Fuck.”

“Shh…sweet peach pie. This is a special peach and I want to enjoy eating it,” he undoubtedly smirks against your overstimulated flesh while he murmurs the words. All you want is to cum all over his face, or fingers, or anything he offers to you but he won’t let you. “So pretty when you are in my arms.”

“Please-“ you blindly grasp for his short strands, tugging hard. “I want…your fingers.” As much as you love his mouth on you, his fingers are thick and long and you want nothing more than to feel Reacher explore your dripping cunt with his fingers. “Please…”

He looks up at you, eyes softening as you look back at him with need in your eyes, mirroring his own. It’s been a long time since he felt someone touch him gently. The only physical contact he had was during fights.

“Come here.” Again, you're shocked at how fast a man his size can move. You end up in his arms, your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waistline.

One of his thick arms holds you against his body as he lifts his hand to show you his fingers. You bite your lower lip, desperate to hold back another moan. “Fingers or something bigger?”

“Fingers…” You try not to sound like a desperate and wounded animal when you whisper your answer. “I imagine having them inside of me…”

“I imagined putting my hands on you for being so cocky and flirty. You distracted me, peach pie.” Reacher dips his head to nip at your neck. “Do you know what you get yourself into when you let me have my way with you?”

“I hope to get you inside of me,” you challenge. “At least your fingers, big boy.”

“I’m not a boy, Y/N.” He warns. “If you want me, you’ll take all of me. Even if it’s too much. I won’t stop until you have all of me inside of your sweet peach pie.”

Your eyes round at his words. Who would’ve thought Reacher likes to talk dirty? “Do it, then. Ruin me, you beast of a man.”

“All for you,” he smirks. “Let go, I need to put you on your feet to play with your juicy peach.”

He hums as you let go to allow him to place you on wobbling legs, admiring your wrecked state. He dips his head to look you up and down, making you feel self-conscious again.

The moment you try to cover yourself he’s back on you. “No, no. I want to see and have all of you.” You squeak as he hoists you back up to press you against the tile wall. “I have to have you, peach pie. I can’t wait any longer.”

His lips claim yours in a passionate kiss while his big hand moves between your legs. Reacher eagerly kisses you to distract you from his thick fingers slipping inside your slit.

“Fuck,” you curse against his lips. “So…thick…”

“Yeah, peach pie,” Reacher nips at your lips, tongue forcing its way inside your mouth. He moans against you while curling his thick fingers. He slowly fucks you with his digits, smirking against your lips as you try to rock your hips. “Not yet, Y/N. You’ll cum on my cock only.”

“No—I,” you whine as he slips his fingers back out. He’s holding your body with one arm while moving his free hand to his cock. “Please.”

“I’ve been waiting to have you like this far too long,” he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. “Open up to me, pretty peach pie. I want to feel it.”

You sling your arms tighter around his neck the moment Reacher pushes slowly into you. He’s thick, and you can barely hold still feeling this monster of a cock spear you open.

You want to squirm and rock your hips but Reacher is so much stronger. He holds you against the wall and presses into you, slow but determined to fill you.

Your legs wrap tighter around his waistline, to hold tight onto him. You’re not used to a man who can hold you against a wall for such a long time and fear he’ll drop you if you get careless.

“Re-acher,” you wish you could see his cock, but it feels like you’re fuller than ever before when he finally bottoms out. “Fuck.”

“You’re doing so well for me,” his praise goes straight to your core. “So…so good, peach pie.” Reacher kisses you again while holding himself back to not rut into you like an animal.

“You’re doing so well for me, big boy,” you grin. This godlike giant feels too good inside of your body to not be over the moon. “How about you move those perfect hips and make a girl cum.”

Reacher likes a challenge. He’s kissing you like he wants to devour you. You kiss him back, as eager as the man holding your body in his arms.

He’s slowly grinding into you. His thick cock hits all the right spots, but having him pressed against you, feels even better. Both of you touch-starved, and lonely you get lost in the feel of each other. You cling to him, desperate for more than an orgasm.

“Reacher,” you whisper against his lips. “I’m gonna…”

“Let go, sweet peach pie,” he nips at your lips. “I’ve got you.” His voice alone pushes you over the edge. You curse his name like a prayer as he stills his hips. He buries his face in your neck, your name on his lips when he comes.

“This bed is much bigger.”

You giggle at Reacher’s comment. You left the bathroom for round two. Now you lie on your queen-sized bed, to come down from another high and to feel your legs again.

“You like it because it’s big enough for you,” you grin as he stretches his long legs out. “Can I ask you a question?”

Reacher rolls to his side to look at you. “You can ask me anything, Y/N.”

“Did you ever have sex in the backseat of a car,” you smirk at Reacher. “I mean, can you even have sex in a car? You’re huge.”

He laughs loudly and rolls onto his back. Reacher pats his chest, inviting you to rest your head on it. You yawn and follow his invitation to get a few hours of sleep before you go to the diner.

Sally Ann sniffles silently. She almost got hit by one of the bricks destroying all of your windows at the diner. “I’m sorry I didn’t see them. I was so scared and hid behind the counter.”

“Honey, you did the right thing,” you gently pat her shoulder. “I called the cops, okay. It’s not your fault some kids got bored and decided to destroy all of my windows.”

“What happened here?” Reacher came by to see you and have a slice of your pie. “Who did this?” He looks around the diner, frowning deeply when his eyes land on a brick, wrapped in a piece of paper. He picks the brick up and squares his jaw.

“I already called the cops,” you try to stop him, but Reacher is halfway out of the diner. “Reacher, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

You sigh, and chase after Reacher. He’s still holding the brick in his hands when he walks along the sidewalk to find KJ’s car parked outside the restaurant across the street.

“Reacher!” You try to stop him again. “You’ll get in trouble!”

He stops in his tracks to look at the brick in his hands. He rereads the words written on the piece of paper wrapped around the brick again.

“He destroyed all of your windows and called you a slut. I won’t let him get away with it.”

“KJ is not the smartest, and he believes every woman must fall for him. His ego can’t take my rejection. It’s unbelievable to him that the chubby owner of the diner rejected him.”

“I want you to go home and let me handle this,” Reacher softly speaks to you. “You can’t work today, or until the windows are fixed. Sally Ann was scared to hell and back. They could’ve hit her.”

“Reacher,” you grab his hand to hold it for a moment. You look up at him, eyes drifting toward his lips. “You better come home tonight. I don’t want to sleep alone.”

He cups your face with one large hand to press his lips to yours.

“Promised…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

#reacher #reacher x you #plussized reader #reacher x reader #jack reacher x reader #chubby reader #BFG (5)#smut

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bloodlust-1 · 1 year ago

Text

˗ˏˋRelieve Meˎˊ˗ part 2

Halsin x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: Halsin is looking a bit tense, Tav offers to massage his muscles and relieve his tension in the best way she can. He wants to return the offer to help relieve her as well.

"You're beauty is one that could have only been crafted by a goddess herself...how kind of nature to allow my heart to touch its most beautiful creation."

-> part 1 <-

TW: smut!

Note: part 2, more juicy. Ik this is what ya’ll been waiting for ;p

As the sun fell from the sky, another night crept on the horizon and coated the sky with stars. The fire illuminated the camp once again and Tav could feel the anxiety build up in her the darker it got. Of course, Karlach had been bothering Tav all day about what happened between her and Halsin last night. She assured her it was a tender moment but nothing happened. However tonight felt different. Halsin requested Tav to visit him tonight, and that she was.

Tav waited until most of the party settled in their tents for bed before making way to Halsin. She stepped out quietly and pulled the drapes of his tent. There he was, sitting on the floor in a kneeling state. He was praying to his god, the oak father. This was something she actually never seen him do.

“Am I interrupting?” She stepped in and kneeled down next to him with her hands placed on her thighs.

"No, never." Halsin turned his head to her. His eyes were so...pretty. She couldn't decide if his eyes were more green, grey, or brown? She'd never seen anything like it. Those eyes told a story, she could see the youth in them. It enticed her.

"Halsin?"

"Is there something on your mind?" He responded gently.

Tav twiddled her fingers together, nervously, "Tell me about your family." He never spoke of his family nor did he ever have a family of his own. He had it all, so his being alone felt odd to her. Tav leaned her head on Halsin's shoulder, feeling his warmth and strength.

He froze in the moment, but then shook his head as if he was trying to shake off past memories, " They passed away a very long time ago, may they rest with the Oak Father. They taught me all my values: My mother was a beautiful wood elf of various crafts. I did not see her much as she always traveled for her studies. However, my father was a very strict druid. Such a random question in a time like this— why?"

"You just have the most beautiful eyes. Made me wonder who you got them from." Their eyes locked, and they shared a deep gaze, communicating without words the love and adoration they have for each other.

Halsin spoke gently, "My mother's." His thumb gently caressed Tav's cheek, tracing the contours of her face, while she blissfully closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully surrender to his touch. Their breathing slows in unison, their hearts beating as one, lost in the beauty of this tender moment.

With one hand Halsin wrapped his arm around her back, slowly gravitating her back against his bedroll. He hovered over her body, it was way smaller in stature than his. Tav loved how large he was, to feel so protected and engulfed by his size. It was her biggest turn-on about him.

"You're beauty is one that could have only been crafted by a goddess herself...how kind of nature to allow my heart to touch its most beautiful creation." Halsin's mind was consumed by their memories and emotions. His heart raced as he remembered the way she smiled, the sound of her laughter, and the warmth of her embrace. He can't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for her strength, intelligence, and beauty. He wished he could turn back time and spend more moments with her, to cherish and hold onto every second they had together. There was no spoiling that now, he would seize his moment.

Halsin ran his free hand up alongside her figure, indulging in the curves of her hips, waist, and breasts. Every inch of her skin was his to explore, he squeezed her body tenderly under the large grip of his hand. Halsin watched Tav squirm as her face flushed bright red. His eye transitioned from gentle to authoritative. Oh, how Halsin loved seeing Tav make such pleasurable faces under his control.

"Do you know how hard it was to restrain myself the first time you offered yourself to me at that party?" Halsin's hand slipped up Tav's shirt, cupping her breast. He could feel the goosebumps rise on her skin to his touch. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long." His voice was gentle, his tone— commanding. His fingers traced her outer nipple slowly before pinching it teasingly. He loved the way she winced in a pleasurable pain. "And now I have you under me, moaning out such a lovely melody."

She gripped the cloth of Halsin's shirt as she let out small moans of pleasure. How could teasing feel so good, but feel so horrible all at once, she instantly wanted to just indulge herself in him. But for now, she enjoyed his attention. After all, he wasn't a piece of meat.

Halsin pulled Tav's shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. He leaned over and covered her exposed breast with his mouth, whilst his other hand groped her other breast. His tongue twirled over her hard nipple before pressing it against his teeth. The faint noises of grunts, heavy breathing, and slurping filled his tent.

Their skin started to exhume moisture for the heated moment. The sweet smell of musk and sexual tension, it was too intoxicating. Halsin planted sloppy kisses on Tav's chest, making his way up her neck. His steamy breath hit against Tav's ear. Her skin is soft like fresh petals, her sweat salty yet sweet. Halsin thought of her as nothing short of perfection.

"More?" Halsin huffed deep fast breaths into her ear. His lips parted from her neck, and he leaned his head back up in eyes view of her, waiting for her response.

From her view Halsin's face had a tint of red, his skin satin in moisture, not a lot but a glint of sweat. Her chest squeezed to his question because, of course, she wanted more. It was just so hard for her to answer. She almost felt shy to say yes, but this was what he wanted: to hear her voice.

"I—...." She felt a lump in her throat. Gods was she waiting for this, but the words just couldn't come out. She was aroused, nervous, and happy all at the same time.

Halsin put his hand over her jaw, clutching it slightly knowing the intensity of his strength, "Say it. I want to hear you say you want me." Tav had never seen him act this way and, gods was it a pleasant surprise.

Tav hung open her mouth, her heart racing out of her chest, "H-Halsin, I...want you. B-badly...please have me."

"Perfect." He uttered before pulling her face closer to his. He smashed his lips against hers, and his tongue danced with hers. Tav grabbed the sides of his face while wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling his groin against her core. It was hard and thick, and she could feel the heat coming off of it threw his pants. The kiss was roughly sloppy judging from their saliva running down Tav's cheek. She didn't even care, all she knew was that she wanted it rough and messy.

Their lips parted for a moment as they both gasped for air, between huffs, Halsin leaned up and pulled his shirt over his head. Exposing his muscles and hairy chest. His abs glistened in what little light gleamed into the tent from a nearby candle. Its soft glow cast its light that hit his skin in all the right places. He wrapped his fingers in Tav's waistband, pulling her pants down slowly, teasingly. He continued to tug at her pants until it pulled over her ankles, exposing her true form. All of Tav's nature was for Halsin to admire, he stared at her with lustful eyes, admiring her naked body.

His eyes began to glow like two shining suns, their bright yellow glow illuminating the darkness around him. The light emanating from his eyes was so intense that it seemed to cast a warm, golden glow on Tav's body. The effect was both mesmerizing and otherworldly. This was only a glow Tav saw when he shifted into wild form. She felt completely vulnerable, like his prey.

Halsin shook his head side to side lightly while shutting his eyes tightly, "I must tame myself, I don't want to hurt you in my wild form. But know this, you make my blood run so hot that it could awaken its beast."

"That's quite flattering, Halsin. Do I make you that crazy? That you can no longer contain yourself..? I couldn't say I wouldn't enjoy that..." Tav mustered out all her courage. Yes, she felt exposed and shy but the power she felt over Halsin's sexual urge, it was beyond an ego boost.

He scuffed in a small giggle, "Your body must take in me before it can handle any kind of beast, it's very untamed and...large." Halsin admired her ambition but he did not want hurt, this was pure pleasure, pure love. With that being said, He placed both his hands on her knees and spread her legs. "let me taste you." He leaned over, his shoulder was broad over her, his physique chiseled, and she could feel the warmth of his breath hit her core. It was all too real now, his head between her legs. He truly put her needs first before his own sexual desires. Or maybe eating her out was his sexual desire. He wanted this as bad as she did. He wanted Tav to get ready for him.

Halsin loved everything about her down to her scent. It was pure pheromones to him and damn did it unleash his inner demons. He placed kisses against her core, and small traces of her wetness glistened on his lips. His eyes, deadly, stared up at Tav, he licked his lips. She was nature's juiciest fruit, forbidden, and he took a bite. His thoughts blurred and his only instinct kicked in: Eat.

His face buried between her legs, and his tongue explored every fold and crevis. It was so wet, and Halsin rubbed his tongue against her clit. She rewarded him with moans of ecstasy. He was better than good, he was skilled. Halsin must've done this many times before and she was lucky enough for him to paint a picture on her canvas. His tongue skillfully teased her clit, Tav arched her back and clutched his hair between her fingers. She pushed his face closer to her core. Silvia ran down between her inner thighs, and Halsin squeezed her thighs tightly, enjoying all the nature's gifts of a woman bestowed to him. However, this one tasted so much sweeter when you're in love.

Tav winced out in a pleasurable melody from his grip, and in return, she tugged harder. Her stomach rose up and down like a boat riding its waves. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples, he looked so concentrated on pleasing her. The tent filled with moans, gasping air, slurping, and shuffling from Tav squirming under his grip. Halsin refused to let her go. She would have to take all his raw pleasure, even when she became too sensitive for more.

"Hahh— Halsin, fff-uuck—" She gasped out, her stomach became tense as she felt her climax inching closer and closer with each stroke of his tongue. His eyes like daggers stared up at her, he watched her moan and twitch under his grasp. He picked up his pace, as he circled his tongue around her clit.

Tav started to breathe heavier, it was so intense yet pleasure melted her body causing her legs to shake, and her stomach to twitch up. Her climax started to whelm up in the pit of her stomach, her body went tense and frozen for a moment. She shut her eyes tightly, and a single moan left her lips just when she reached her maximum height. She let out a sigh of relief. Tav peeped down at Halsin. From her POV his broad shoulders were hunched over her. She saw him licking up the juices for his sweet reward. His lips to his chin were coated in a slick liquid, it had a slight tint of white. God how sexy he looked when he had her cum on his face.

"You're ready...Come to me now." He sat up and kicked off his pants, his shaft swung up and he was right. A warning was not enough for Tav cause damn was he right, Large. He crawled back over Tav and placed his mouth over hers. She could taste the salty sweetness of her own brand. The musk of sex filled the air and it was heavy.

Halsin pulled away, "Lick." He pressed his fingers against her tongue— she obeyed. She licked the skin of Halsin's fingers, getting them soaked before he pulled them away. Halsin used his wet fingers to lubricate his cock. He pumped his hand a few times against his tip, letting out small grunts before placing his tip against her entrance, "Relax..." He kissed her forehead softly.

He pushed the tip of his head in. "Mmmh!" Tav clutched Halsin, he stroked her hair to comfort her. He slowly pushed in to give her body time to adjust. Her wet walls helped Halsin slide in with a better slip, and moment by moment he was fully in. He took a long steady thrust in and out. The tightness inside her melted from hurt to tinglyness.

Finally, they were one. Sharing each other's body in the name of love. They shared a gaze, lost in one another's eyes. Tav reached out to grab his face, "Halsin...Do you love me?"

"You're the only person that fills my heart. I do." A kiss was pressed against her lips. This one felt different, it was soft, passionate, and loving. He was so selfless. His hips started bucking in and out of her. Halsin grunted from the heat pulsing against his shaft. It only made him want more of her. He groped her breast while pumping in and out of her. His strokes were long and hard. Their chests clashed together in deep breaths.

"ahh, you feel so good" Halsin grunted as he fucked Tav harder. Their hips smashed against each other, and their sweat glided against skin it didn't belong to. Halsin hung his head down against Tav's neck. His moans were manly but slipped off the tongue like a lyric into her ear..

Tav wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing his deeper and harder into her. Fuck, why did it hurt so good? She tightened her walls around him. He skillfully fucked her for moments that felt like hours. Halsin Pulled out, "Turn around, I want to see that pretty back." Halsin gripped her sides and flipped her on her knees.

Tav dug her knees into the ground, her palms touching the bare floor. Halsin had hands like an ocean. Each time he pulled away he pulled her right back in. She looked over her sweaty shoulder to see Halsin. Kneeling behind her in all his messy glory, the sweat beaded down his abs, and that stare of his-- it was animalistic. Halsin returned his member back to her core, this time holding her by her hips. His hands explored her ass, squeezing it hard, it left behind his finger marks.

Each pump challenged Tav to hold her stance, making her sink lower and lower into the ground until her bare chest touched the floor. Their skin clapped against the force, and she could feel him grow hotter inside her. Halsin's grip was deathly, Tav's skin reddened to his touch.

"haahh!" Halsin slumped over her, leaving nibbles and bites on her back. Hickey's formed in random spots on her skin, marking his territory like an animal would. This was him telling everyone 'She's Mine'.

Tav struggled to fight against his strokes without completely crumbling under his strength. Halsin noticed this and grabbed both her wrists in his hands. he pulled her arms outward, her body now completely off the ground as he pulled her arms to push his cock deeper and deeper in her. Their moans entangled the dense air along with the clapping noises.

Halsin's eyes started to glow golden, his climax was coming to a close. But this felt too good. He wanted to stay in her as long as he could. He pulled her body up against his. Her back and ass pressed with no gaps against his abs. It was so wet. it was so raw. He pumped his cock while wrapping his arm around her in an embrace, and the other hand gripped her neck. They fucked in this position for a moment until she felt Halsin's body grow tense, and his grip became stronger.

"I— Ugghh, cumming." He pumped his final thrusts before his cock twitched, it was rock hard when a fill of warm cum burst inside her. His grip became weaker and they were glued to each other until his cum lessened to a stop. Halsin pulled out, a lonely feeling in her core was left as her walls retracted back without him there.

He held her body and allowed it to sink into his bedroll. Halsin held her close to him as he kissed the back of her neck. He was utterly captivated by all of Tav, there was still so much they could offer to each other. He strongly believed in fluidity in a relationship as his bear instincts guided him to where it desired. But there was a piece of him that wished he could have the nature of a swan. Mating for life with only one person. This was something he pondered about a relationship, a family, or even a stable love. For now, he enjoys the tender moment of Tav in his arms. The love and connection that bonded them together. Maybe it was fate that brought them together. Was she a lesson of love? He was scared he'd never find someone like her again.

"Tav, Please don't leave me. You belong at my side." He whispered almost in a somber tone.

"Of course not. Where you go, I go. I promise when this is all over you can show me your home...and all those little ducklings you love so much." She giggled and kissed his hand. It was a promise.

#bg3 fluff #bg3 tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bg3 halsin #halsin #halsin smut #bg3 posting

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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 months ago

Note

can i please get something with jealous love quinn x fem reader:)! love ur writing so much!

yeah absolutely! and thank you so much, that's so sweet of you to say <3

Green With Envy (Love Quinn x fem reader)

Warnings: mild swearing, jealousy, slight possessiveness

Love was fuming as she watched you help out a customer in Anavrin, where you both worked. You were just being polite, she knew that, but she still found herself getting upset. Especially when said customer placed his hand on your arm and moved in closer. A little too close, in her opinion.

"Yo, sis, what's up? Why do you look like me when we're out of gluten free bread?" Forty questioned suddenly, seeming to have popped up from out of nowhere.

"Nothing's up. I'm fine," she lied through her teeth, watching as the guy next to you got closer and closer still. Now his hand was on the small of your back, something that you obviously didn't look comfortable with. Your eyes flickered around the store before landing on where she stood at the cash register, two words discernible in them: help me.

"God damn it," she swore underneath her breath as she pushed past Forty and started to make her way over. "Watch the cash register for me," she commanded without giving him so much as a second glance, stalking across the store over to where you were.

Taking a deep breath, she put on her best customer service smile so she'd looking friendly instead of threatening (like she really wanted to) and casually sidled up beside you. "Hey! Is there anything I can help you with?"

Despite her polite words, her actions told a much different story. Her hand went to the small of your back, smacking the guy's hand away before wrapping her arm around your waist and tugging you against her. If there was one thing Love Quinn didn't do, it was subtle.

The guy grumbled something under his breath about never coming back as he turned and slunk away, clearly displeased by the interruption. "Thank you," you said before giving her an appreciative kiss on the cheek.

"Of course, sweetie. Let me know if another customer gives you a hard time, okay?" She pulled you in for a hug before reluctantly heading back to the register where Forty still was. Before he could open his mouth, however, she spoke first. "I want you to watch them and make sure nobody ever bothers them again, do you understand me?"

She rarely gave him any direct orders. Most of the time when she wanted him to do something for her it was concealed as a harmless suggestion so he'd think he came up with the idea himself. But right now she was far too upset to worry about mincing her words.

"You got it, sis. No problem." He gave her a light pat on the shoulder before heading off in your direction, to pitch another one of his crappy screenplay ideas no doubt.

Over the next week or so, her plan worked perfectly. Forty hung around you so often that most customers left you alone, and that included the ones who were only trying to cop a feel before asking for your number. The only customers who did come up to you were ones that actually needed help with something.

It backfired, however, when you started hanging out with her brother more than you were with her. Apparently you had a brain that was perfect for plucking ripe, juicy ideas from (Forty's words) and because of that he spent a lot of his free time brainstorming with you, which took time away that you and her could be spending together.

She tried not to get jealous, she really did. It was nice that Forty had someone who actually cared about him to help with his screenplays, someone who she knew wouldn't do anything to threaten or jeopardize his sobriety, but still. You were supposed to be her girlfriend, not his.

The final straw came when Forty tried to get you to cancel your date night, one that you'd had planned for weeks in advance. Love adored her brother, but that was taking it a bit too far.

"You need to stop hanging out with him," she said to you one afternoon a day or so later as she was chopping up veggies to put in a stir-fry she was making. "My brother, I mean," she added once she saw the slight look of confusion on your face. "It's nice that he finally has someone other than me to go to, but he's taking all of our time together away from us."

It wasn't hard to tell she was jealous from the way she was gripping the knife so tightly. You'd be afraid if you didn't know her well enough to know she'd never do anything to hurt you.

"Hey, hey." You made your way over to her, wrapping your arms around her from behind as you rested your chin on her shoulder. "I get it. You're feeling a little left out, right? I can start hanging out with him less, it's fine. I just know how much he means to you and didn't want to brush him off if it was going to hurt his feelings."

She melted into your embrace, turning her head slightly so she could look at you. Everything about you was perfect, even more so than she initially thought. Not everyone was so understanding when it came to the codependent relationship she had with her brother, but you were, and it only made her love you that much more.

"Thank you. I love you," she muttered while leaning in to give you a tender kiss as a way of her showing her thanks to you.

You smiled at her words, kissing her back before replying with a soft, "I love you, too. Just try not to get so green with envy next time. It was hard to tell the difference between you and the green juice you sell at Anavrin."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed at the comparison, but you didn't miss the amused look she had on her face. "Alright, dork. Leave me alone so I can finish getting this ready."

"If you say so." You pressed another kiss to her cheek before letting go of her, though you were stopped when she reached out to gently grab you by the arm.

"Hey. It really means a lot to me that you care so much about both me and my brother. So, thank you for that." She was absolutely serious when she spoke, any hint of playfulness from earlier gone.

"There's nothing to thank me for," you insisted with a caring gaze. "I'd do anything for you, Love. Including being the occasional babysitter for your slightly unstable twin brother."

That made her laugh, and she pulled you back in for another kiss, one that lasted longer than the one before it. She could tell you really meant it, every single word, and that was more important to her than anything.

End notes: I love writing for love hehe 🥰

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | You masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics @samcvrpenters @bleachxbunny

#netflix you #netflix you imagine #netflix you x reader #netflix you fic #love quinn #love quinn imagine #love quinn x reader #love quinn fic #love quinn fluff #fem reader #x fem reader #love quinn x fem reader #love quinn x you

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rachetmath · 9 months ago

Text

Ruby: Okay has anyone noticed anything wrong with Jaune?

Yang: Ruby he is in therapy. He’s fine.

Ruby: I know but that’s not the problem.

Weiss: She right he’s kind of been off lately.

Nora: What do you mean?

Blake: Jaune seems to get easily frustrated and distracted.

Nora: I mean when is he never?

Ruby: Yeah but you would think Jaune being in therapy he would not get like that so easily.

Yang: He’s probably having a hard time readjusting.

Ren: But it has been months though.

Nora: It’s a slow recover.

Ren: But it’s seems to be happening in a pattern.

Oscar: How so?

Emerald: It’s what causes him to lack focus and push him.

Yang: Wait does Jaune want to fight someone?

Blake: How are you not looking?

Qrow: What are you all talking about?

Ruby: Jaune’s issue.

Qrow: Yeah I noticed it.

Ruby: Really?

Qrow: Yeah and I understand. The struggle is real. He needs to get it.

Nora: So he does want to fight someone.

Ren: Nora, come on, keep up.

Oscar: None of you are making sense.

Ozpin: Oscar it’s obvious.

Oscar: What is?

Jaune: Hi, everyone.

Ruby: Oh.

Weiss: Wow Jaune you look... happy.

Jaune: Yeah I finally got what I needed to get the edge off.

Blake: *laughs and sarcastically*Really? By who?

Jaune: By Elm.

RWBQRE: *chew drop*

Jaune: Yeah, it was fun. And I feel a lot better now.

Blake: (No freakin way. With their height difference and her body mass.)

Yang: Well I’m glad you are okay.

Nora: Dang you and Elm must have went all out in the sparring match.

RWB, Qrow, Ren and Emerald: (What the fuck? They can’t be-)

Jaune: Yeah… ... a ‘sparring match’. Yeah.

Ren: (BULLSHIT! HE HAS TO BE LYING!)

Yang: How many rounds did you two go? I bet I could go more rounds than her.

Blake: YANG!!!

Yang: What?

Nora: Yeah Yang, you can go ten but I can go twenty.

Ren: *face palm* Nora please.

Nora: Ren come on you know I can do it.

Ruby and Weiss: (Idiots. The both of them.)

Oscar: Um-(covered)

Emerald: Shut up. You’ll thank me later once we talk.

Jaune: Sorry, Yang and Nora but I lost count after five.

Blake:(NO! No freaking way! You got to be lying! There is no way without getting your back broken.)

Ren: (How much frustration have you been holding?! And how come I couldn’t see it?!)

Ruby: Blake are you okay? You look frustrated.

Blake: Nothing Ruby.

Yang: Well okay we’ll ask Elm tomorrow.

Jaune: Um. I wouldn’t.

Nora: And why not?

Jaune: Reasons. (I over did it.)

Yang: Jaune there is no need to be embarrassed, we already know. She pinned you.

Jaune: (Oh hell no! F you too,) You know what, ask her tomorrow. She’ll give you both the juicy details. See you later.

Nora: Glad you’re okay Jaune.

The Next day

Yang: Hey Elm.

Elm: *tired and yawns* Hello.

Nora: Wow you look horrible.

Elm: What did you expect? Your friends was beast.

Yang: What you mean? Jaune was on an island for I don’t know how long. Of course he be difficult but he couldn't beat you.

Jaune: You know we talk outside if you want.

Elm: Yes, I see. No wonder he was bit ruff last night.

Blake: (NO!)

Ren: (No. No. No! No way possible.)

Qrow:(Damn, he actually hit that. And survived.)

Emerald: (How much heat was he packing?)

Jaune: I’m sorry. I know I over did it. I was overwhelmed.

Elm: Don’t worry you did wonders for me. Especially on your first try.

Yang: Yeah but--- wait “first try?” “Last night?”

Nora: … … …

Jaune: I mean I know I could have done better.

Elm: You were fine. Especially after round ten. You were a monster.

Nora: No. No. No way.

Yang: Impossible.

Elm: In fact my body is still sore after that. It was miracle I was able to stand up at all.

Oscar: *blushes*

Emerald: Told you so.

Ozpin: (*sigh* You’re going to need some time to process this.)

Yang and Nora: *blush and faint*

Blake: YANG!

Ren: NORA!

Elm: Oh. Too much.

Jaune: Yeah. Just enough.

Afterwards…

Nora: Jaune what the hell?!

Jaune: *laughs*

Yang: I thought you were having hard time readjusting?

Jaune: I was but...I had other needs.

Yang: Oh my gosh and I said I can last longer than Elm. In the sheets no less.

Jaune: *laughs*

Yang: *red eyed and blushes* NOT FUNNY!!!

Ruby: I mean how did you not notice it?

Yang: What are you talking about Ruby?

Ruby: Yang seriously? You didn’t know after Jaune was looking at your breast instead of your eyes.

Yang: What?

Blake: Or how he was staring at Emerald’s ass.

Emerald: I knew it. Especially after Nora-

Jaune: No-no let’s not go there.

Nora: Wait you mean when I… Jaune really?

Jaune: …. Sorry.

Ren: Or how Jaune was staring at every girl or woman that passes him.

Yang; Holy. T-then how did Elm-

Jaune: Elm saw. She teased me. I reached my limit. Wanted to hit it. She gave me a shot. Mission complete.

Nora: This can’t be real. Why?

Jaune: I was on an island. Alone.

Nora: So?

Jaune; I was alone. With no human people. Just toys and objects. What else must I say?

Yang: Okay. But why Elm?

Jaune: It was either her, Harriet, Winter, or Fiona.

Weiss: Hold on, what?

Yang: The f*** wrong with you?

Jaune: Again I was on an island. No humans. What do you expect? Booty was the second thing on my mind besides going home.

Nora: Well okay but why just Elm, Harriet, Winter and Fiona?

Jaune: … … …

Weiss: JAUNE!!

Nora: You mother-

Yang: Really?!

Emerald: We judging now?

Jaune: Hold on. Hold on now, I don’t recall any of you girls throwing me anything. What rights do you have to judge me?

Yang; She is older than you.

Jaune: I’m older than you!

Weiss: You were thinking about my sister?

Jaune: If it makes you feel any better she was my last option.

Weiss: No. No it does not.

Jaune: I mean for me it was worth it.

Ruby: Wait Winter is last? How are the others ranked?

Yang: Why is that your concern?

Ruby: I want answers.

Jaune: Well Fiona was my top choice. Harriet was my second. Elm was originally my third. And Winter is last.

Blake: Why is Fiona on top?

Jaune: She’s cute and doesn’t need ass or big chest to prove anything. And she actual helps her people.

Blake: *sad*

Ruby: Why is Harriet second?

Jaune: Nice ass, cute and good tits.

Nora: Elm?

Jaune: The challenge. And despite her warrior spirit, she's kind.

Weiss: Okay, I might regret this but… why is Winter last?

Jaune: You know why.

Weiss: F*** you too then.

Jaune: You wish.

Weiss: I did. I wish I could’ve been your first.

Ruby: Oh Weiss. You are Pyrrha now.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #lie ren #nora valkyrie #blake belladonna #rwby elm ederne #harriet bree #fionna thyme #winter schnee

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pampushky · 5 months ago

Text

Teaser: My Name Is Brutus (And My Name Means Heavy)

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader

oooo what's this?? me dropping a juicy little teaser of probably one of my favorite things I've written??

so. this is basically an ABO au with a race engineer & lauda mc, with the wonderful trope of enemies to lovers thrown in, as you will soon see from the scene I'm releasing a bit early.

other things about the fic: slow, and i mean fucking slow, burn. exploration of what disabilities would look like in the ABO world (especially centered around the sense of smell and how that could be considered a disability if someone doesn't have one in a world where most things are communicated by smell), societal pressures about what the ideal alpha/omega/beta should look like to the rest of the world which leads to Lando making assumptions about MC's secondary gender/sex, mentions of past emotional & mental abuse, PTSD, scarring, and worries about self-worth. Oh. and obvious hurt/comfort. But again, and I cannot emphasize this enough. Slow. Fucking. Burn.

uhhh i guess i'll do a tag list too for this so. tell me if you wanna be on that.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like, when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, icy eyes that challenge even the Lauda death stare. “What do you mean?” You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say whatever you were about to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The heavily medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks.

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissy fit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?”

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated.

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else.

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icy-calm.

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or the way you speak to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you talk. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With the classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth....

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader

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faithinus · 1 month ago

Text

Forbidden Fruit

Summary: Mat and his friends gather for an annual poker game. A shocking revelation about his sister throws him off balance.

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x OC Barzal!Sister featuring Mat Barzal himself :)

Word Count: 800

The dim overhead lighting cast long, skeletal shadows across the faces of the men gathered around the poker table. Empty beer bottles and half-eaten plates of chips littered the coffee table, testament to the relaxed atmosphere of their annual holiday game. Liam, Mat's childhood friend and host, dealt the cards with a practiced flourish, a grin spreading across his face.

"So, Mark," Liam drawled, his voice low and gravelly, "spill the beans. Anything juicy happening in the big leagues lately?" Liam, a former hockey player whose career had fizzled after college, was notorious for his relentless pursuit of insider information. He slapped a hand on Mat’s shoulder. "Mat here is giving me nothing. He's been cooped up in the gym ever since he got back to Vancouver.”

Mark, a burly man with a thick neck and a penchant for strong opinions, was the newest addition to their inner circle. Despite having faced him on the ice, Mat still felt a degree of unfamiliar tension with him. Mark took a long sip from his beer. "Not much. Just the usual trade rumors, injuries, the standard fare."

Liam leaned forward conspiratorially. "Oh, there's more than that. Heard you ran into our boy Quinn the other night."

Mat raised an eyebrow. "Quinn?"

"The Captain himself," Liam confirmed, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I heard he's found himself a new muse, but he's being oddly secretive about it, even with his teammates. My bet is a reporter. That's why he's so tight-lipped."

Mat always respected Quinn, both on and off the ice. He was a quiet leader with a steely resolve and skating that was nothing short of poetry in motion. But he didn't care much for the details of any player's romantic life.

Mark, shuffling his cards absentmindedly, mumbled, "Nah, doesn't seem like the type. I saw him out at Blue Water Cafe the other night with the girl. My sister recognized her..."

Another one of Mat's old friends, Ben, kicked Mark under the table.

"What the hell was that for?"

Ben, reaching out for his cards and pulling them to his chest, muttered, "Just get back to the game."

Mark's eyes snapped to Mat's face. "Oh shit. I forgot."

Ben glared at him. "Just stop talking. Please."

Mat, noticing the tense conversation, finally looked up from his cards. "Okay, now I'm interested."

The room fell silent. Mat's eyes darted around the table to each of the men, searching for a clue.

"What do you know that I don't?" he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. Liam held his hands up in defense. "I have no idea. I swear."

“Ben? C'mon. Spit it out." Mat's eyes pleaded with his childhood teammate, burning into him. Ben sighed under the weight of his stare.

"It's Alayna." He said under his breath, averting his gaze.

"Excuse me?" Mat shook his head in disbelief at the name that came out of his mouth.

Liam, eyes wide with surprise, stammered, "The girl is Alayna? As in, Mat's sister?"

Mat's face paled. Alayna? Dating Quinn? The Captain of the Vancouver Canucks?

A wave of icy dread washed over him. All those "I'm never dating a hockey player" speeches echoed in his mind, a bitter irony. And her last relationship… that had been a disaster. It took her months to recover. He had just started to see that spark in her again. Now this? Mat imagined Alayna, her laughter, her gentle spirit, potentially entangled with the unforgiving, predatory world of professional hockey. Surely no captain would have the energy and emotional bandwidth to put his sister’s needs above their own. Victory often came at a person cost.

He could feel Liam's gaze on him, a mixture of amusement and sympathy in its depths. He managed a weak smile, his voice trembling slightly. "Right. Alayna. Of course."

Mat pushed his chair back from the table, his mind reeling. This couldn't be happening.

His eyes flew around the table once again. "You guys already knew? Alayna has my friends covering for her? Like some kind of secret operation?" Mat said, incredulous.

Ben leaned his head back on the chair in defeat and wiped a hand across his face. "If it makes you feel any better, apparently they're inseparable. Head over heels, the whole nine yards."

Mat groaned. He wanted to sink into the floor and vanish. “My sister, though? Out of anyone in Vancouver?”

The rest of the group fiddled with their cards absently. The silence grew suffocating. Mat sighed, the weight of the news settling heavy on his chest. "He better not be fucking around."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up. Those Canucks are notoriously..." Ben swatted Mark on the head. "Not. helping."

Mat took a long pull from his drink, wishing he had something stronger to singe his throat, something to dull the shock. He had a feeling this was going to be a very rocky holiday season.

#faithinus writing #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x barzal!reader #quinn hughes angst #quinn x alayna #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #hockey rpf #mat barzal

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hoseoksluna · 8 months ago

Text

RASPBERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!hobi x berries!oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk and luna)

genre: smut, angst

word count: 10.5k

summary: a step towards breaking the curse of your life—nothing could be sweeter than that, could it?

pinterest board: raspberries / taglist: join

warnings: anal sex:), blowjob, a bit of an argument?:), bathtub sex, ass eating, pussy licking, this whole chapter is a warning itself, oc and hobi are just horny, anger, crying, daddy issues, breeding kink, praise kink, spitting:), their emotions are all over the place, brief mention of suicide.

note: okay, this chapter might have salvaged this entire series. i wrote entirely through my feelings and the plot took a whole different direction. like i had something planned, but the characters do what they want. :) SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER. THE CHAP WAS GETTING LONG. and i want the last (next) chapter to be juicy! please, send me your thoughts via my inboooox. i'll be waiting. do we trust jk or not? skfhskfhs. enjoy, my loves!

Perhaps, you should’ve seen it coming—the fact that Jungkook wouldn’t pick up. The rosily gold sunlight warms your fire of anger as you try and try again, the number beside his name on your screen rising and rising until another digit joins it. Something about it feels like a childish payback and you don’t really know why you like it so much. Why you like making him feel the way he made you feel when he spammed your phone after you made the worst mistake of your life by accidentally sending him the video of you professing that your intimate parts belong to Hobi.

Perhaps, it's as simple as that—it’s childish. And you find yourself to be in a safe realm for your inner child to come out and live. Come out and take revenge.

Another layer of warmth is pressed against your bare back, heavier, more homely. You swivel your head to bump into Hobi’s jaw, to catch the furrow of his brows as they serve as a shadow from the morning sun, along with the antique structure of his body. His trembling hands hook onto your shoulders, squeezing once before they drift down your arms. Inching closer, he wraps them around you in a suffocating hold. And it isn’t until he closes his lips down onto your temple and steals your phone, flinging it away, that you realize he did it in order to stifle the fire.

“That’s enough,” he whispers and it graces you with the notion that it should be saved for another time, the picture of his tremor coming forth and the question of why. It kills you, slowly, the liveliness of his emotions, portrayed so gently by his hands. Why are they shaking?

They snuffed out the fire, but the residue of the painting, colorless and bland, remains. It lines your skin—you can even see it in the streaks of the sunlight. The curves, the message. What was he punishing you for? It’s a question that now unfolds within the strange calmness descending down your body. Was he punishing you for having a man? For returning to your salvation that is in a lung burner? For going against him? Or for raising your fists—feeding him the poisonous negativity of your emotions?

The need to reach for your phone and talk to Jungkook seizes you again and you fight against Hobi’s hold, but he says no. Sternly, seriously. Tightens his hold. Doesn’t let go.

“Let it be,” he adds, rubbing your arm with the hand that lays across your chest. But you can’t, you can’t—

“Hobi, I can’t—”

Your sentence is silenced by the sudden kneading of his hands upon your knotted shoulders. Relief evaporates every need, every black fume of your doused fire. His hands bear strength now as his thumb focuses on the tightness of your muscles and you droop, you crumble. And what you didn’t expect—Hobi droops and crumbles with you.

The violence of his heart against your back, it becomes yours when he pulls you into the shadows of the wavering structure of his body. Its stones ricochet off of your decaying figure, dropping onto the floor with a loud, thunderous thud. You feel the saddened line of his mouth against your cheek, into which he sinks, quietly as a mouse, his whimper. He doesn’t cry and he doesn’t yell, his infelicity, bound to yours, radiates the entire room in gloom. Clouds swim past the sun and linger, the rosy glow snuffed out—just like your fire.

The wedding of your joy has been put off. The groom has been left at the altar, and it’s all your fault.

Why is everything so temporary?

Why are you unable to be stable? To stay submissive amidst the ups and downs of your life? To stay calm, unaffected?

You’re so weary of it. Weary of yourself, weary of your life, of the curse.

You turn around and embrace him. Feel like it’s the only right thing you can do at this very moment. Hobi welcomes you in, lets you sign and recuperate in the kingdom of his arms. Rubs your back, gathers the ends of your hair in his hands as if it were a stream of water he longed to refresh himself with.

It’s so different, to be given love when you don’t ask for it. Something opens within you, a circle of mildness that cracks its mouth wide to consume the edges of the curse until only its axis, its middle core remains. Lightness drives your hands to embrace him tighter, only for Hobi to follow the movement—lungs in sync while your heart tries to mimic his rapid movement.

It’s like a wordless eulogy. Goodbye to the old life, to the old pain, so the new can settle. Hobi can sense it, too. Supports it when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the crown of your head, wets his mouth, prepares himself to speak.

But then your phone starts ringing.

Your heart lurches forward, but you dwell in motionlessness. You don’t care anymore. Hold the serenity, the lightness in higher regard.

“Let it ring,” Hobi whispers, tracing circles on your back, the same pattern that has opened within you.

You nod against his clavicle. “I will.”

His hands descend to your waist and clenches it for a while, a sensation of groundedness washing over you, cleansing you. You kiss his collarbone. Then, a message dings.

“How about I run you a bath?” Hobi asks in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair, muffling out the sound of another Jungkook’s intrusion. The idea resembles a paradise to you and you beg for it with a singular, pretty word.

Scooping you up in his arms, he sets you down in front of your bathtub, your nipples brushing against his chest with the descent, awakening the dried pool of your arousal deep in your core. A fresh spring of water fills it until it brims over and so you don’t waste a drop, you slam your mouth onto his, kissing him. He hums, lowly, into your mouth, not foreseeing something like this, and the sound splashes in the pool, drenching you whole, showering your orchard in the life it needs.

Slipping your tongue inside, he lets you taste him for a mere moment, before he clasps your mouth in his hand and stares you down. “Hold it.”

Hold what? Your incessant stream of horniness for him?

Reaching over, he fills up the bath with warm water with one hand, its mist rising up your body, spreading little dots of anticipation on your skin, erasing the lines, the curves and the message of the painting you never saw, but envisioned. And before he can straighten, you pull him back up. He smiles down at you, kissing you, tenderly, mouths smacking within the briefness and the pool within you heats up.

Except for the orgasm he gave you in the middle of the night, right before dawn, neither you or him got the release you needed when you were connected. Pity ripples in your water and you grasp his manhood in your hand, semi-hard. How did he get excited this quickly? You coo, but only for yourself, drifting your hand down his poor, blue balls, squeezing them, coaxing a pained sigh out of him.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, softly, flicking your gaze up into his. They must be hurting, considering the amount of arousal that swirled inside without an ounce of alleviation.

He doesn’t respond, but that’s an answer for you. Light flows from his eyes as seriousness draws his features tight, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You kiss his chest, gripping him a little before you let go, threading your fingers through your hair, parting them into three sections and, blindly, instinctively, you plait them into a braid, securing the end with a silk, thin scrunchie. Pink, like his imaginary wings.

“Come join me.”

Hobi shakes his head, though. Holds you steady as you swing your leg over the lip of the bathtub, sinking into the warm, misty water. At the sight of you kneeling, he lets out another pained sigh, prolonged this time and you feel so bad for him that you don’t think twice before you take him into your mouth.

“Pup, fuck,” he moans, grabbing the crown of your head as his knees shake. All of his emotions are expressed through the tremors, you note, and it drives you to open your mouth wider, swallowing him deeper. “Oh, yeah, that’s so good.”

Your walls clench and you mewl around him, dragging your tongue flat on the underside of him as you draw back, swirling the muscle around the tip of him as you grip him. You use your saliva to stroke him, making him cage in his bottom lip between his teeth again. Eyes rolled back, his reddened lip springs back, and he gazes down at you, fingers trailing down until they meet your loose plait, acknowledging themselves with the newness.

“I love your hair like this. You’re so pretty,” he comments, voice so terribly strained, and you hum, pleased to hear such a compliment. You hollow out your cheeks on his tip, sucking him, slowly, and he repeats those words you love so much, your noises of pleasure rising in pitch. “You really do love it when I say that, don’t you? God, I adore you. All of who you are.”

You withdraw, completely, without losing your grip on him, panting. Can feel your eyes send waves of love towards him as you bore them, piercingly, into his. He groans, divulging to you that he received the message, and you could burst, you could fly—turn this water into fire as his godliness from his precum sweetens your throat once you swallow, the aftertaste of him transforming you into an unknown being of holiness. You’re not God, you’re not an angel, either. You’re something else, entirely. A figment of his creation on the cusp of awakening and living. A moving picture of stability, submission and feline softness. Something he adores. Something he’ll soon love.

And it pleasures you, intensely.

“Do you adore me, pup?” Hobi asks as he wraps his hand around your braid. One time, two times, three times—until your hair is pulled so tight that he inclines your chin up to him, waiting for your answer. And he doesn’t have to voice it out—the dark side of his desire, the bad things he wants to do to you. You perceive them clouding his pearlescent eyes, making them brighter.

You wish the moon would turn its face towards you, so it could see the change that is occurring. So it could see the way you’ll use its magnetism to blanket yourself with Hobi’s darkness.

Now you’re able to. Now you’re prepared.

“I adore you, Daddy,” you breathe out, stroking him faster, your chest mimicking the rhythm. “And I want to show you just how much. You said you wanted to make me forget. Let me do that for you.”

His moan transmutes into a vulgarity, a tender shade of pink scattering along his cheeks and you could eat them. Your heart thumps, colorfully, your longing to help him forget the taste of the bane of your life growing and growing like a thick bush of raspberries. He deserves it—needs it, considering the infelicity of his that he poured over you when he held you, his lack of words shared with you. He deserves the fucking world and you’re willing to go above and beyond to give it to him. To give it to your boyfriend. Your husband.

“How? Tell me how you’re gonna do it.”

You draw your face to his cock, but he pulls you back by your braid, coaxing a dark mewl out of you. A drum begins to beat in your clit—the start of his song, incited by his darkness.

“Did I not tell you to use your words?” Hobi scolds, so awfully sternly, and you flutter all over, the peaks of your nipples stiffening, the drum picking up its rhythm. Your eyes widen as that darkness of his overwhelms you and you want more of it.

“Help me say it,” you say, your heart not letting you lie to him as the words, ‘I don’t know how to say it’ were on the tip of your tongue.

Hobi smirks, tightening his grip on your braid. Pain shoots up your scalp and even though you hiss, you like it. He inches forward, his lips a mere centimeter away. The radiation of his pleasure hits you, drifting down to your core. You almost reach your hand down to it, so the ache disappears, but you yearn to focus on him, wholly.

“If you want to suck on this cock and if you want me to praise you, then you’re gonna have to give me those pretty words that I know you’re capable of saying,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue at the halt of your hand around him and you resume, pressing play on the movie of his guttural moans—and you moan along with him, enjoying the sound.

Is that a hint of his pent-up anger? You believe, wholeheartedly, that it’s somewhere hiding in him, that he’s keeping inside, adamant on not letting it out in your presence. You want to unlock that cage and beckon it out, meet it, learn its name and its desires. And you’ll do it—just so Hobi feels better.

You can handle it.

And to do it, you linger, intentionally, in your quietness, ceasing your movement on his cock. In fact, you withdraw altogether. Arch your spine when you sit back, your breasts bouncing a little. And he lets you, unbelief slackening his hold on your braid, mouth parted. Perhaps, he’s thinking you don’t want to go along with the foreplay, so he’s taking a step back, but what he doesn’t know is that what you’re doing is as much of a means of it as it is one of healing.

There’s no way he isn’t angry at your ex-boyfriend for punishing you silently for whatever he thinks you did. There’s no way there isn’t the same fire in him that burned in you at the sight of him marking you with the palm of his hand. He saw the painting, you didn’t. There is simply no way he doesn’t want to explode.

Hobi does lots of things for you. Stifling his emotions until they lash out in the form of his tremor is one of them. And you crave, with your whole being, to do the same for him. Let him feel like he let you feel. Make him come, vividly, like he made you come.

Adore him like he adores you.

“I’m such a bad girl, aren’t I?” you purr, lifting your fingers to your breasts and swirling them around your hardened nubs. His eyes flick to them and enlarge. You spread your legs and let him see all of you, bolts of pleasure swaying your body like the water lapping at your stomach. “Withholding my words on purpose when you’re so hard, when you need me. Hm, don’t I deserve to be punished? Don’t I deserve to be punished so hard that I willingly give you my words?”

Hobi pants and his nostrils flare, chest heaving and slightly shuddering in tandem with the drum in your clit. Sweat coats the antique structure of his body, darkening it as if rain fell upon it, staining it for a little while. You want to stain it with his ivory arousal—make a magnificent sculpture out of him to remember this important moment.

His anger will change everything. His anger will be a step to breaking the curse—to settling the process of the bane, Jungkook’s intrusion. You may have decided to do this alone, but it was wrong of you. He should be the one to make order like the father he is while you stand behind him, clutching the material of his pants.

You will get him there.

“I want you to spank me.”

He doesn’t let a second pass. Doesn’t blink. “I can’t.”

Your heart cracks, but you will strength of the raspberries into it. “Yes, you can. You can make me red and you can show him. You can show him who’s the boss. Who owns me. Who has his handprint on me. It’s you and it’s always going to be you. You have every right to do what I know you want to do, Hoseok.”

He raises his brows, mouth agape. Clenches his fists. “You want me to spank you and send a picture of it to him?”

You nod, dipping your hands into water.

“Why would I stoop to his level?” he asks, scoffing, and your throat dries, struck with shock. You didn’t anticipate this kind of answer from him and you don’t know what to say, his fatherliness and dominance enveloping you in a milky blue aura of smallness. What does he want to do, then?

Hobi steps closer. Doesn’t bend at the waist. Doesn’t crouch. Doesn’t get on his knees. He lets you look up at him in your smallness. Lets you feel his control, the manliness of his stature and energy and you gulp. Turned on and intrigued at the same time.

“I’m not a boy, pup,” he says and you wish he would touch you, touch your pebbled nipples, soothingly, feeling yourself needing it as he reprimands you. “I don’t need to play games. I’m too old for this shit. This is what pubescent boys do when they feel threatened, when they feel jealous. If I were to play his game for you, I’d only encourage him. I wouldn’t be stopping it, I’d be kicking the ball over to him. Do you really think I want to do that?”

You let out a breath. Your muscles tense, ready to scream out the question that has been boiling in you all this time.

“What do you want to do?”

He sucks in a breath, baring his teeth. There it is—there is that anger, the whole resplendent, monumental rawness of it.

“What do I want to do?” he asks as if he couldn’t believe you’re asking him that question, as if he couldn’t believe you’re allowing him to have a part in it. It thrills you—and as it thrills you, it moves forward your transformation.

“Yes, tell me what you want to do. Tell me how you want to settle this.” You stand your ground, inviting him in, inviting him into your life, to have a say in it, to have a fatherly hand in it; letting the sunlight make it right, make it alive, real and serious.

“Is that what you want? For me to step in?” he whispers, that disbelief still ringing—and you pout, touched by it.

“Yes, Hobi,” you hush out, leaning over and grabbing his hands. He lets you hold them for a second before he untwines your hold and cradles your face, kneeling by the bathtub.

The light in his eyes is too overwhelming and you melt into it, your breath hitching in your throat as you surrender. He presses his lips in a firm line, his thumbs brushing away your flyaways, and you lean into his touch, head tilted to the side.

As he tastes the newness of the conjunction to your life and his, you ask again. “What do you want to do?”

He sighs and takes in heavy breaths right after, seething, pressing his forehead against yours. And as you and him close your eyes simultaneously, he finally answers. “I want to break his fucking face.”

Dots of gooseflesh chill your skin and you don’t stop yourself from humming out your pleasure of hearing that. “Yes, Hoseok.”

You feel his gaze on you as he continues—and it might as well have been him who opened your eyes. “I want to break his hands for creating that degrading, shitty painting of you. And I want to break it. Destroy it. So it never sees the light of the day again.”

You choke out a moan, your whole body set on fire—a different one, this time. A blue fire, milky blue like your aura of smallness. “Yes, Daddy.”

Hobi groans, kissing you, nastily. Tongues and clashing of teeth, hunger and anger gratified as he pours it out into your mouth. Lets you taste it, swallow it. The same fire, but brighter, bigger, scorching hot, so alluring.

You don’t have to fan the flames of his will. He’s already decided.

“Once I’m done with you, you’re gonna send him a text,” he shares his plan with you between hard kisses; you can only whimper in your neediness in response. “You’re gonna tell him that you’re coming over to his place to talk, to look at the painting.” A sigh, a suction of lips, a moan. “Alone.” A swirl of tongues until the details of his plan spiral in the same dance in your brain. “I’ll come with you. And I’ll settle this once and for all.”

He withdraws, letting you breathe. Your body tingles, your lips, especially, every nerve ending crying out in need, whimpering at the way he studies your form—eyes lifting and falling over your swells, curves and marks. And something about the way he ogles you like that makes you feral.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asks, that urgency flashing again in the light of his eyes, and you nod—a thousand times. “Repeat it back to me.”

The drum in your clit becomes unbearable and you can hear its song in your brain. All thoughts fade to nothingness, memories, triggers, pains. All of it evanesces, but one thing remains.

His plan.

“I’m gonna text him that I’m coming over to his place alone to talk and you’re gonna come with me and settle this like the Daddy you are,” you stream out, panting, focusing on the sudden numbness of your lips as his kiss still engulfs them as a new memory.

Hobi grins, pleased, and it propels you so fucking quickly to lean over and lick up the underside of his now fully hard length. Even though you can’t see it, you know the grin breaks as he deeply moans, your tongue circling his sensitive, red tip. You begin to suck it, bobbing your head up and down in a short, curt motions, and he fists your braid in one hand while the other digs into your hair at the nape of your neck, holding you to him as you give him what he befittingly deserves.

“Good girl. My good fucking girl. Oh, yeah. Like that, pup. Fuck, it feels so good. Just like that,” he praises and your whole body clenches and doesn’t let up, your nectar dripping into the water. “I’m gonna fix everything and then I’m gonna make you a Mommy, arasseo?”

You growl around him, taking after him, his words intoxicating you enough to withdraw, yearning to have him inside you. But not in the place, where he engraved his enigma, the breaking of the curse. You burn to have him stretch out the hole, where no one has ever been—the one you teased him about on your first date.

He blinks at you, hearing your sound, and his grin grows all over again, massaging the back of your scalp as if you were a puppy. You reciprocate it, devilish with your own plan. Feral, feline, and incessantly horny for him.

The water reaches your belly button and you turn off the tap without breaking the contact. Then, you tug his hand, inviting him into the bathtub.

“Let’s pretend,” you say, knowing beforehand that he’ll get the message, the meaning of your vague words, and Hobi curses, pleasing you, brushing his hair out of his forehead, exposing the undercut that makes you even wetter.

Such a beautiful Father.

You tug him again. Create space for him in your tiny bathtub and he loosens your breath when he gets in and manhandles you—pushing you flush to his body and over his lap, his hands coming over your bum, kneading it, his slender fingers sneaking to the little hole that craves him. The sunlit water sloshes and it’s so intimate—the way it ripples around your body and his, stilling as he looks deeply into your eyes, the two of his digits circling around that virgin part of you.

He’s going to consume the little purity you have left and there’s nothing you want more at this moment.

“You want me here?” he murmurs, growling as he feels you open for him there when he prods it, and you drip, drip, drip onto his thighs.

You kiss him, chastely, in his fashion, willingly giving over your purity. “And from the back.”

He chuckles, flashing his white teeth, and you want them all over your body. The effulgence of his blush, too.

“Lie back. I’ll get you ready for it.”

Preparation, such an important word in your relationship.

You do as he says, giddy, leaning against the rounded wall of the bathtub. Yelp as he raises your hips above the surface of the water and right onto his mouth, delving onto your pussy without a second spared, licking over the entirety of her, mouth open, letting you see everything.

“Fuck,” he moans, smacking his mouth, and your legs hanging in the air begin to tremble. “I can feel you throb for me. You wanna be Mommy so bad, don’t you?”

You can’t stop it, the scream of agreement that emits out of your mouth; that goes on once he swirls his tongue around that drumming pulse, learning its song—because as soon as he does, he sucks it, possessing it. Your orgasm crests and his hands never shake, never waver, holding you up as if in Greek celebration.

You can feel the stone burst forth from your legs, completing, little by little, your transformation. He’s creating a sculpture out of you. Not of Virgin Mary, not of Mary Magdalene, either. A sculpture, authentic, of you. And on the cusp of your orgasm, he takes his tongue to your other, tiny hole, fucking you there with a verve as if he sensed the work of his hands that resume the godly abuse on your clit after he tells you to place your feet on the rim of the tub.

And when you come, you’re white, smooth, magnificent and whole.

You’re you, in the simplest of words.

Mind spinning, swimming in the delight of groundedness, authenticity and love, all your body asks for is to be taken. You go to turn around, but Hobi stops you with a hand on your waist.

“I want to look at you when I fill you up,” he croaks out, shades of pinks adorning him. As he is the God of everything, you think at heart he must be the God of all pink flowers with the way they blossom underneath his skin. You believe the same flowers will sprout out of your stone as soon as you’re stuffed full and feignedly bred. “I want to see the look on your face when you feel our kids inside you.”

Our kids. You close your eyes at the wave of a profound emotion sprinkling over you and you feel like crying, feel like sobbing, begging him for it, wanting your old life to be finally ended, killed, destroyed, wanting to cling to him with your whole being and newness, to his godliness, his flowers, his masculine fatherliness. You want to live in him, and the notion, the craving is so intense in you that you exhale it out with every breath, with every pleading word you give him.

“Please, breed me. Please, please, please.”

He sucks in that breath, eyes large and dazzling, filled with so much tenderness and adoration. Pulls you flush to his body again, raising you just a little bit as he lines himself up at your little hole. Spits on his fingers while boring that gaze into yours, so terribly up close, his knuckles brushing against the flesh of your bum as he spreads that lubrication over his tip. Does it again, rubs it over your hole. And a perverse obsession with it overpowers you, seizes you in its grasp, and you crave it.

You gaze your lips along his, sharing a breath that is perfumed with the scent of roses. “Spit in my mouth.”

Those eyes of his narrow in dark, dark pleasure and he nods in a promise. Driving your fingers up his undercut, you let your body follow his guidance as he sinks you down on him, stealing your mouth in a deep, long kiss that showers your figure in those familiar tingles. Discomfort parts them while you stretch around his tip, though, and he doesn’t stop kissing you, even when you mewl. In fact, he steps into that realm of the painful sensation by thumbing your clit, by toying with your tongue, and whimpering into your mouth when you convulse around him. Gets rid of anything that prevents you from accommodating him.

Your thighs burn at the slowness of your descent, but once he’s nestled, at home, and you feel so full that you could come from it alone, Hobi breaks the kiss; and using the height difference, he spits into your waiting mouth, growling. Even his saliva is filled with powerful godliness and when you swallow and show him, the same power becomes yours.

And he smiles. It seems as though he can see it on you and his mouth widens in a lopsided grin. You clench around him.

“You’re such a good pup,” he praises and you do it again, coaxing a growl out of him. He still remains motionless, waiting for you to get used to him, and your love for him grows owing to that. “That was your reward.” A sigh, a grin. “Now I’m gonna fuck you hard.”

You latch onto his neck, trembling like him. “Yes, please, Daddy.”

It’s not just your life and his that joined. It’s your soul and his that becomes one singular face of joy when he begins to pound you. He whispers to you to keep holding onto him like that as he drives in and out of your little hole with such rapidness and hardness that you lose your own knowledge of your name. All you know is his.

Hobi. Hoseok. Daddy.

And you whisper it, you say it, you scream it. All while the water sloshes around you; all while you stretch and tighten around him and his praises for you are strained, choked out, giving you all of his strength while remaining full of it as if he never gave you an ounce of it.

His eyes never leave you, never stray away from your emotions, your pleasure, the twists of your features, the opening and closing of your mouth. And you look right back, your feline energy dousing him in sweat and ardor, the force that furrows his brows, that tightens his lips in a firm line and loosens it in pleasure as he bares his all.

And suddenly, you’re up in the air and your wet back soaks your bed sheets. Hobi rummages in your Nike box under your bed and you feel yourself stretched open, a gaping hole for him. You gasp when you drift your finger along it and you already miss him there.

Hobi chuckles at your disbelief, your most favorite toy in his hand. A pink egg—a clit sucker and a vibrator at the same time, though the vibrations never did much for you. It’s the pressure, sucking waves that kept you company in your singleness before Jungkook and after, save for the waves of the sea.

“You never thought you could stretch like that, huh?”

The ‘huh’ pinches you, but you shake that feeling away, understanding Hobi’s dislike when you asked him to spank you. A momentary sensation before your horniness washes it away at the soft sound of the toy coming to life.

“Do you have lube somewhere?” Hobi asks, but you can’t speak. You point to the bedside table and he’s quick to slide it open, fishing out your raspberry and strawberry scented lube.

What a coincidence.

And you laugh when he squirts it on you from a distance, its coldness refreshing like a lick of ice cream to your heated body. And Hobi laughs along, smearing it all over you, especially over your still gaping, red hole, fingering you there with two fingers, fleetingly, just to tease you, just to pull those sounds out of you that get his head back in the game.

Then he’s inside, back home. You can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi can’t swallow down his noises, growling and humming as loud as his body asks, ramming into you until all you can hear is his pleasure and the music of skin slapping on skin.

And when you least expect it, he places the pulsing toy on your swollen clit.

Your muscles strain, tense and taut, your throat dead silent as you can’t speak, can’t compose any sort of song of the delight that paralyzes your body. You scratch your nails down his back in effort to declare to him the beauty of his artwork and Hobi whimpers, pounding you into the mattress while keeping the toy steady, your breasts bouncing up and down, gleaming in the sunlight, pebbled, aroused, begging for his tongue when he looks down at them, his blush deepening.

“Look at me,” he commands, stopping, so you can focus, and you begin to inhale quick, staccato breaths as your orgasm nears, the pressure in your tummy coiling and coiling, threatening to rip. You open your eyes, just in time to catch his endeared coo—because he can see how close you are. His lungs mimic the same rhythm, abdominal muscles prominent and defined as he, again, gives you his all. “There, baby?” he asks, speaking of the placement of the toy, and you’re only able to nod. “Ready to become a Mommy? Daddy is right there with you, pup. You squeeze around me so well, you’re doing such a good job. We’re gonna come together, yeah? You want to come with Daddy?” Another nod—because you’re trying your hardest to stall your orgasm as he jackhammers your little hole. You thank him in your heart, like the God he is, that he’s keeping the toy steady because if he were to move it… you’d come on the spot. “Say ‘yes, Daddy’ or I’m not letting you come.”

You hiccup, shuddering so awfully pitifully while your cat-like aura of power strengthens, giving you all that you need to say it. And your eyes narrow in that sultriness, mouth pouts and you dig your claws deeper into his back, making him fuck your ass harder in payback that feels more than fucking delicious.

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck, fuck. Give it to me, please. Make me a Mommy, please, fuck. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—”

And it’s a litany without end as Hobi moves the toy side to side and sweeps you off your feet, bringing you over the threshold of your shared home with you as his bride in his arms. You come, violently, its electric sparks shocking Hobi and he pumps you full of his cum, never stopping his hard motions, even as he twitches, growls—praising you, groaning the two words you like—and shudders just like you. He fucks you through your feigned impregnation, throwing the toy away when you squeak in overstimulation in the middle of your delirium, and he kisses you as if he hadn’t done so in a thousand years, sucking your lips so hard that they must bruise, his mound hitting your clit and stimulating it further. The warmth, the wetness—tears line your eyes and the same ones wet his eyelashes as he presses his elbows on either side of your head, panting against you, his nose brushing yours. He stares down at you, a look full of shadowed, yet pure love, the realization that you’ve done it, at last, but differently, bathing his face in light that blinds you—and blinds your tears, drying them as you smile up at him, running your fingers through his hair, through his undercut.

“I got a big load for you, pup,” he croaks out, fucking you, slowly. “I can’t fucking stop coming. You feel so good. I’m weak for you, fuck.”

You sob, finding your voice, made tender by his cock. “Give it to me, Hobi. I want it all. All your kids.”

He moans and proves it to you how weak he is by emanating such a pathetic sound that forces you, most saccharinely, to clench around him all over again, milking him out of every drop you stirred but never drank.

And for it, Hobi marks you in the middle of your breasts. A big, red hickey, redolent of your raspberries. You hold him to your chest, like the Mommy he made you into, as he sucks onto your skin, nibbling, licking, the noises akin to blowing those raspberries while he makes sure the bruise lingers for as long as possible. Then, he travels to the peak of your left nipple, trailing his tongue flat over the curve on his way up, and you’re wet, bespeckled with his children that trickle out of you as another wave of sopping arousal comes over you, because he begins to make love to that stiffened pebble. You cry out, tug his ruined hair, try to tell him you can’t anymore and Hobi hears you, takes care of you.

Drags his teeth along your nub. Flicks his eyes up to you as he sucks. “Milkie, please, Mommy.”

You burst into a roaring laughter, your shoulders shaking, arousal erased, and Hobi chuckles, lifting himself onto his hands and kissing your forehead. He moves you to your side of the bed, your skin dry and scented by him, soothed by his natural scent and the residue of his patchouli fragrance. And you revel in it, as he leaves you for a moment to fetch some wet wipes, with which he, mirthlessly, cleans you off his stickiness. His aversion to it makes an indentation in his face as his brows curl downward, features solemn and terribly serious.

Such an abrupt, speedy change of energy. Laughter dies out and fades into nothingness that spreads across your private atmosphere shared with him. Your mouth emulates the form of his dourness, cheerlessness blotching your now clean skin with invisible, downcast glitter that scarcely shines in the sunlight—and even that lessens, a cloud expanding over it, dimming it.

You touch his face and he looks up.

“Just a little more time and it’ll be here,” you say, seeping that hope, that promise into his pores by swiping your thumb along his warm cheek. “And then my belly will be big and full. And you’ll be Daddy Hobi.”

He smiles, sadly, eyes glistening, and he kisses your nose, folding into your chest. You caress him, his hair, his back—discover plump, thick marks of your fingernails and you lighten your touch, barely grazing his skin with the tips of your fingers. When he resurfaces, another, different dents embellish his face—the fresh memory of the way he’s accepted hope on your bosom and you kiss him, sealing it. Kiss that downturned smile. That red nose, those brisk cheeks. And his eyelids, wetted by his eyelashes.

“How do you like your coffee in the morning?” Hobi asks, turning over a new leaf, moving past.

You brush his hair back, enjoying the silky feel of his strands slipping through your fingers. “With you.”

He blushes, profusely, and you’re struck by the impression that he’s falling for you. There’s no fight this time, no war, only housewarming, submission and stability. You grip his hair, thank him with the silent gesture that also expresses how much it means to you because you, too, have fallen for him. With your heart, with your soul—with your entire being that has undergone so many transformations.

Now you’re climbing a mountain with him and on its peak, your children, your home, your future await you. You’re almost there. You’ve become who you were meant to become and Hobi has received the promise of his deepest longing.

One more thing, one more lift of the knee and you’re there, hand in hand with him—your husband, your God.

He kisses you one last time, tells you to rest while he makes you coffee and breakfast. Hands you your phone. Helps you think of a short message that you immediately, without a thought spared, send. And while you lightly slumber, you dream of the promise, of the hope. Dream of your swollen belly, the ethereal picture revealing you looking at yourself in a floor-length mirror as Hobi stands behind you, assuaging you of the weight of your child by holding it with both of his hands, his imaginary wings, fully rosy, carrying half of it, folded over his knuckles, your fingers sunk between his and the feathers, silky, soft like his hair. It melts into another scene, in which you both hold the child, hip to hip, gazing at the mountain you climbed together once upon a time and the child, bearing a heavenly, delectable concoction of your and his features, cannot pull away their eyes from the peak. Their hair blows in the wind, rippling like their Father’s wings, and you and Hobi break their hypnotion by kissing each of their cheek.

Hobi wakes you up with the same kiss—as if he was kissing you and not his child. And something about it heals you, gravely.

You tell him about it over coffee and breakfast and he weeps. And while you weep with him, your tears fall for another, secret reason. For the period that you slept, Hobi baked vanilla pastries with raspberries and you would tell him about it, too, but you’d sit at the table all day. He has a curse to break and you don’t wish to prolong the time, not when you sense that it’s burdening him.

Because his shirt is blood-splattered, he takes you to his house. And what you’ve never expected to happen—you meet his roommate.

A munchkin cat with the littlest legs you’ve ever seen. Black and white coat blankets her chunky body and you sink onto your knees, extending your fingers to her tiny pink snout, just like her Daddy’s, and you die as the fur baby sniffs you and doesn’t run away in fear. It keeps smelling you in curiosity and you think it’s due to the fact she can recognize Hobi’s scent all over you. You’re so absorbed by the furry animal that you don’t even care to look around the vastness of its home and, like your child, you get broken out of the spell when Hobi chuckles.

“Pet her. She likes you,” he says and you hear the familiar clanging of keys being set on the table, the leather of his wallet sliding along the wood and the thud of his phone as he empties out his pockets.

Giddiness seizes you.

You stroke down the baby’s fur on its head, cooing at its softness, at the way the wisps whirl in the air the more you pet it. And you squeal when she leans in into your touch as Hobi did not that long ago. Now you know who he gets it from.

You take it into your arms, scratching its neck. It purrs and your heart springs, eager to embrace it.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you ask, enthralled by it, nuzzling your face into her fur.

Hobi pets your head and you feel as small as the baby. You look up at him, knowing you radiate, visibly, the energy. He smiles down at you, shines down his love and joy clutches you so hard that you can’t breathe.

“A girl,” he says, his smile widening, and before you can ask about her name, he already tells you. “Her name is Luna.”

Luna. She’s your new best friend, your little baby, and you begin to entertain the idea of bringing her along to your misfit visit to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment because you can’t let go of her. Not when she purrs most homely, most happily. Not when she likes you so much that she’s not afraid of you.

You haven’t grown up with animals, so when the opportunity comes and you get into contact with them, it’s difficult for you to unattach yourself from them.

Luna is yours now.

Hobi pivots on his feet and you’re quick to scurry onto yours, following him into his bedroom. As you carry her, you take a moment to look around his living room. The color beige lines every detail of its spaciousness. From the walls, to the pigmentation of the stones that decorate the side, where a huge flatscreen hangs up, to the smooth floors that glow in the light. Beige, whites and grays, with the tiniest hints of browns, greens and yellows. Small plants and bigger palms sit in the corners, by the windows, and they give the room those colors—as well as his collection, which comes as the biggest surprise of all, of his modern art. You can see a rainbow of Bearbricks everywhere you look, especially in the brown kingdom of his bedroom.

Those pretty one-eyed fuckers stare at you there. Along with their KAWS brothers. And they’re colossal.

Hobi’s back faces you as he rummages in his closet. You kiss Luna on her empty head before you set her on the bed, walking over to Hobi amidst the dimmed light. His curtains are pulled in tight and you think about how he must’ve been getting ready for bed when he called you last night, only to sleep in your light-filled bed. You wrap your arms around him, too hasty with your need to give him your affection—you smear your foundation on his blue shirt, staining it further. And you kiss his back, planting a red lipstick mark right in the middle. It’s going in the laundry bin, anyway.

Hobi reaches his hands back, fingers tapping along the open back of your white top, drumming there and you smile, finding it cute.

“You really like those figurines,” you murmur, propping your chin on his spine, drumming your fingers on his abdomen in similar fashion.

He laughs, softly, as if embarrassed, and you dig your claws, faintly, into his skin. No embarrassment for him—you’re not letting that in within him.

“Don’t you fear they watch you while you sleep?”

Now he laughs through his nose, swiveling his head halfway. “They’re my dream catchers.”

You hum, endearingly, in high pitch, liking the sound of that. Wonder if he knows that he’s such a poet. “Everything you say is so poetic.”

He massages your waist, deepening your hum. “Something tells me that’s your doing.” You punctuate the sound with a vulgar word and he squeezes the place he holds. No laughter, only alluring, affectionate seriousness. You sigh, blissfully. “I actually have a book of poetry here.”

Your brows rise. “What?”

Hobi clasps your hand, dragging you to his small library that is organized with his dream catchers. He pulls out a thick book with a white cover and hands it to you.

Birthday letters by Ted Hughes. The husband of Sylvia Plath, the reason behind her suicide. The female poet who loved E. E. Cummings, the female poet, whom you loved, too, in your lonely girlhood. Who always inspired your longing to die as the curse over your life went on.

It’s surreal to be holding a link to her when you’re standing at the end of the chapter of this curse.

You didn’t die.

“I stole it from my school library,” Hobi explains with that lopsided smile of his, so fond, so full of old memories that you’re learning at this moment. Time stands still and you strain your ears, wanting to hear every syllable of it. “Everytime I would go hide there, mess around or just study, I’d always see this book. It would always be right in front of me. I thought, and I still do, that it has some kind of meaning. That it somehow needs to be in my life. So I took it. And it’s been here for more than a decade. I’ve never even read it.”

You pout, touched by the symbolism, by the fact he never opened it. “Never?”

Hobi shakes his head, shortly. “Never.”

You look down at it, caress its cover. “Maybe it’s a dream catcher, too.”

His mouth ends curl. “Open it. Read me something.”

His fingers begin to undo the buttons of his shirt and you sense the magnetism of the symbolism attached to the book closing over you. You watch the work of his hands as you slip your digit into the middle of the book. Page one hundred and forty two. Portraits, the title of the unknown poem. But you don’t read it until he bares his chest and sits down on the edge of the bed.

You stand between his outstretched legs. He rubs the back of your knees, waiting.

You skim your eyes over the page and break, prematurely.

Licking your lips, you begin.

“What happened to Howard’s portrait of you? / I wanted that painting.”

You lose a breath, your throat constricting, and you gaze down at Hobi to see him lost in a thought that you can’t discern.

Can he perceive the link? Does he realize who Howard is as you bring that poem into reality with your recitation?

You continue, biting your lip, momentarily.

“Spirits helped Howard, ‘Sometimes / When I’m panting, I hear a voice, a / woman’s, / calling Howard, Howard — faint, / far-off, / fading.”

Your phone dings in the front pocket of your ivory mini skirt—Howard has texted you back. The book droops out of your grasp as you fish out the device, your screen enveloping the room in a small twirl of brightness.

Jungkook: my door is always open for you

You pocket it back, the light snuffed out. The book quivers and you steady it with your other hand. “Jungkook texted me back.”

Hobi is deathly still, in an uncanny way. “What did he say?”

You lick your lips, but it’s not enough moisture. “That his door is always open for me.”

He props an elbow on his knee, his teeth nibbling on a fleck of skin upon his thumb. “Keep reading.”

Your breath shakes. You risk the question swathing your heart, needing to know whether you’re on the same page before you can go on. “Can you see the correlation?”

He blinks, rapidly, as if awoken. “To what? You mean to the painting of you that I’m about to break?”

You nod, relieved that he sees it, but the heaviness loiters. Slightly, you fear the next lines. “Jungkook is Howard.”

His eyes stray, his being crestfallen, his mouth biting into his cuticle. He doesn’t say anything and you’re not sure if you should read on, but he taps the back of your knee that he still holds, propelling you to do so.

In fact, he tugs on it, guiding you to sit on his thigh—like you did in your favorite reading armchair when you cleaned his wound. You flutter a kiss on the healing bruise that has the colors of his home and with a wet thumb, Hobi angles the book so he can read along with you, staining the page with his humanity, imprinting his presence, the gravity of the moment into it.

It took a decade for the time to be right. Enough for him to read this.

With you.

You push away the panic regarding him not reacting to your affection, figuring the importance of this moment is held in higher regard. Clearing your throat, you continue.

“He got carried away / When he started feeding his colors / into your image,” you stop, the words affecting your vocal cords with emotions. Hobi is the only one who knows what colors Jungkook used in the painting. How can a random page in a random book describe the flavor of the bane of the curse upon your life? How is it possible? You take a moment to regain your composure, willing smoothness into your voice. Hobi rubs your thigh with his hand, thumb tracing patterns, a help in need. “He glowed / At his crucible, on its tripod. / How many sessions? / Yaddo fall. Woodstoves. Rain, / Rain, rain in the conifers.” The rain that fell upon Hobi when you exited the museum after you talked to Jungkook. The rain that brought you closer to him as he shrouded you and himself in your trenchcoat. The memory is sweet, another help in need.

“Tribal / conflict / Of crows and their echoes. You deepened. / Molten, luminous, looking at us / From that window of Howard’s vision of you.”

Your scream in the middle of the night after that morning at the museum; the physical violence that followed after. The painting that was created in the same hours.

“Yourself lifted out of yourself / in a flaming of oils, your lips exact.”

The flaming of your reddened bum within Jungkook’s made-up world of the painting; the punishment that you broke out of his clutches and became your own person.

You suddenly understand it, the painting.

You feel sick.

The poem is a maze, but Hobi looks as though he has the sixth sense that enables him to navigate through it. You’re burdened by your emotions, dragging your feet as you follow him, looking at him. He burns his sight into the scattered words, not breathing, not blinking, his thumb stuck in his mouth. He’s connecting the dots, the wheels turning in his brain.

Luna crawls onto the other side of his lap, the third help in need.

You take a deep breath.

“Suddenly — ‘What’s that? Who’s that?’ / out of the gloomy neglected chamber behind you / Somebody had emerged, hunched, gloating at you, / Just behind your shoulder — a cowled / Humanoid of raggy shadows. Who?”

The squeaks of breaks behind you, Jungkook stepping out of his car and joining the demon of shame looming at you, waiting for you to end your phone call with Hobi.

“Howard was surprised. He smiled at it. / “If I see it there, I paint it. I like it / When things like that happen. He just came.’ / Came from where? Mystery smudge extra, / Stalking the glaze wetness / Of your new-fired idol brilliance. / I saw it with horrible premonition. / You were alone there, pregnant, and unprotected.”

You snap the book shut, the lump in your throat so enormous in size that it alone begs you not to read on. Your chin quivers, but no tears come out, mind barren as the words alone, pregnant and unprotected echo within there. On an ungodly, immoral loop.

Hobi takes the book from you and flings it into a corner of his room, hitting a lonesome gray figurine that topples over. Your eyes witness the movement, but you don’t grasp it. Numbness seizes you, the paralyzation of bizarreness that causes bile to push through the lump in your throat.

You gag.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

Hobi is quick on his feet, but you don’t make it. The vomit spills through the cup of your palm over your mouth, staining your white top. Hobi carries you to his toilet, stained just the same. Holds your hair as you retch your guts out—the letters of the poem, the realization of its meaning, the symbolism, the raspberry pastries. Presses his lips against the nape of your neck, holding you together.

Wipes your chin with toilet paper. Puts his plastic cup with cold water to your mouth to wash it clean with.

Rips the three pages of the poem out of the spine of the book in taciturn fury, its ending never to be known.

You watch him do it, with the same speechlessness, and you’re not sorry for the prosaic lawlessness—it strengthens you and it relieves you. Watch the tremor of his hands, after, as he constringes the poisonous papers in his fists. The book abandoned back in the corner with the figurine, vanquished.

He paces the room, fleetingly, stopping in front of you. Gets on both of his knees. Grips your hands, with the crumpled papers. Kisses them. Over and over.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers onto them. The noise of the papers is like the shaking of leaves and you want to leave. You want this wretched thing settled. The smell of your puke hits your nostrils and it’s what prevents you from folding into him in the way he did this morning.

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby. It’s fate,” you reassure, tearing the papers from his hold and throwing them away from his sight. Yours, too. It’s not his fault that the curse sneaked into something intimate he desired to share with you. But your heart aches that it did it before he knew you all those years ago, planted in its mind false beauty, only to cause ruination. You need it gone. “Help me take this off. Let’s go.”

He sighs and the sadness of the sound deepens your ache, though all you can do is accept it and fight. The will is enough—if the conscious will is there, things will change, things will move forward and all will settle into place.

Tomorrow will look different.

Hobi dressed you in his clothing. A white linen shirt, to match your skirt. One would say it’s oversized, the way the fabric puffs and slides off your shoulder, not an item of masculine affection. You left your bra hanging by its strap on the handle of his closet. Left the buttons undone. Left the bruise between your breasts unconcealed, proudly, for every eye to see. He tied it in the middle, a tiny sliver of your midriff exposing tanned skin, because the hem would only bunch up the waistband of your skirt as it reached way down below. It could’ve been a dress alone, meant for loungewear, but you weren’t going to do much lounging.

Hobi dressed you for war.

He himself matched you. A white polo, beige pants, a vivid green beanie to hide the sweat coating his tousled hair. A king, ready to march.

The king is dead, long live the king.

You know the ending. You trust Hobi, you believe in him. So did Luna when he grabbed his keys, phone and wallet. She meowed so much encouragement that it curled a smile on yours and Hobi’s face. You nuzzled her, considering saying goodbye to her harder than facing Jungkook, the dead king, but her purring made it better. It was a promise that she would be here with another set of fluff balls of encouragement once you come back from the war.

You thought the ride to Jungkook’s apartment would be silent, but no. Hobi put on his The Weeknd playlist, the dark, ambient songs from The Trilogy album saturating the shifting atmosphere. Placed his hand on your thigh while he drove. Things seemed normal as they did before shit hit the fan. Your body submitted to that impression and so you pretended it was so. Relived, quietly, in your mind the way you rubbed your clothed pussy on that very seat, steering him into insanity, which he controlled so well.

A coping mechanism, that lustfulness. As you know it. But oddly, it didn’t turn you on. No, it composed you—tranquilized your emotions, so they wouldn’t be burdensome in the battle.

“What are you thinking about?” Hobi asked, knowing he was five minutes away from Jungkook’s apartment. He didn’t live far away from him.

Bizarreness.

He probably noticed your lack of visible reaction to your favorite singer.

“I’m having flashbacks.”

A beat of pause. “About?”

“About the way I drove you insane when I stuck my hand in my panties.”

He hummed, softly, the noise barely audible. “You got so wet just from me praising you.”

You sighed, delighted. “I did.”

“I’ll never forget the fact that I ate you out first before I kissed you.”

You smiled, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “It comforts me,” you admitted, baring your private soul. “Sex. Lust. It’s not always dirty to me and it doesn’t always make me horny. It makes me feel safe.”

He thought about your words, thumb searching for yours, waggling. You closed your palm over the back of his hand on the shift stick, hooking your thumb over his.

“How did that painting make you feel?”

You didn’t feel much. Just one singular emotion. “Furious.”

“Why?”

“It makes me angry that he thinks he still has a right to control my life. That he took what I consider to be safe and made it unsafe.”

He ruined the act of spanking for Hobi, which ultimately ruined it for you. It scarred him enough that he wasn’t able to do it to you when you asked him. And for that, you’ll never be able to forgive Jungkook.

Hobi clenched his jaw. “When we get inside, I want you to think twice before you look at that painting. You’ve gone through a lot these past twenty-four hours. Put your well-being first, okay?”

Your veins pump warmth into your heavy heart due to his care and you kiss his knuckles, leaning your cheek into them. “Okay.”

“Good. I’ll break it anyways.”

The deal rings in the hallway as you walk towards his door, Hobi two steps behind you, obfuscating his presence. You rack your knuckles on the wood, your stomach rolling, your blood curdling into bits of frozen cranberries, and your lungs lack air. You don’t know if you can do this, if you can be posturing stoicness when the threat is right in front of you. You wish Luna were here with you, her fluffy wisps a reminder of her encouragement. You can’t even find her on the material of your skirt, for she’s as much clothed in white as you.

The door opens, revealing a distressed, wrinkly Jungkook with the stars in his eyes tear-stained. The lines of his sleep shoot across his bare chest, down to his abdomen that he sucks in at the sight of you. And you don’t hate him for the way his eyes skip to the bruise in the middle of your breasts—because it were your eyes first that skimmed that low on him first.

Shame stops your blood flow, which restores your forgotten memory of how further aroused your body became when you saw his excited manhood in the picture he sent you. It floods back at full speed, in tandem with the bile in your throat.

“I didn’t expect you to come over so soon,” he says, confusion rasping his tone, and his wide eyes narrow once they whisk to a taller head behind you. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge his presence, despite the fact you expected that much from him. A rude remark, the closing of doors. Anything but him opening the door wider and turning around, wordlessly inviting you in.

And Hobi.

The bile lowers. You exchange a worried look with him, but he runs a hand down the length of your hair upon your back.

Bloodthirst flashes in his eyes.

And you’re no longer sure if his plan is the right one to unravel.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan.

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