#it's a cold sweetness and not a GOOD sweetness. Sick sweetness

[sqgeism]

How would our favorite amphoreus men take care of reader after they got caught in the rain and got sick? maybe they have a fever, chills, blocked nose. i need some fluff in life

hope ur having a good day and love your works :)))0

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 ooh, be my baby | various hsr men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; i'll look after you . working on a rainy day had expected consequences. lucky you, your boyfriend loves you too much to scold you for the time being. well.. depends on who you choose.. ! (anaxa, mydei, phainon, dan heng, boothill, jing yuan)

love mail — hii anonnie tysm! i'm doing great!! thank u thats so sweet (´ﾟЗﾟ｀)♡ i brought back some ogs :3 ! and boothill cause i like him so don't jump me, sorry geppie i swear i love you ！Σ(￣□￣;) these r semishort n stuff cause these r a lot but i hope it does well :D

anaxa makes a cure for you in hours.

he hides it as just 'making advances in his medical knowledge' but he was genuinely worried. he had a busy week at the academy, and he didn't want to leave you alone with no way to be cared for. he wants to be there, but he couldn't call off of work a week before the students exams week, needing to post reviewers and host review classes.

so the weekend you got sick, he made a comfortable bed for you in his lab as he worked on something to free you of your sickness, making sure to also check on you the whole time.

he eventually made a concoction that helped your fever go away, body aches disappear, and clears your nose, however it didn't fix the headache. you don't mind, at least you can move your body without wanting to throw yourself off the planet.

anaxa gives you a minor scolding. something about taking better care of yourself and making him fuss over you, but he kisses your cheek and sighs. "i love you, and i'd figure out the cure to any disease that attacks you, but please don't do this again."

mydei lets you rest on top of him for the first day you got sick. tissues, snacks, thermometer, change of clothes.. all of that are set up on your nightstand. the only times he got up was to make you warm meals, and to replace the icepack that pressed up against your forehead.

honestly, he loves this. he knows the reason why you're warm is because you're literally burning up, but he likes it. you're like a little heating pad and you're extra clingy, weak arms squeezing his chiseled chest makes him melt.

he smothers you in kisses and affection till you feel better (oh, and medicine).

if you chose to be clingy to mydei, phainon's choosing to be clingy to you! but you don't want him to be sick :( he's being a big baby when you try to pull away, but he doesn't care. you're too sickly to fight back and honestly his strong, firm arms around you sound real nice rn. and so you let him, to your dismay.

he's a bit of a jerk about it though, cold hands slipping under your shirt and causing you to shiver, hearing his giggles as he apologizes and squeezes you. phainon's got so much love for teasing you, but he knows you need care to be better.

you fall asleep wrapped in blankets and tangled up with phainon.

boothill's probably the best of them all. he doesn't get sick, and he's like a personal heater or cooler. if you're too warm or too cold, he can adjust his body temperature to your liking. "yer clingin' onto me like i'd ever want to go anywhere, darlin'." he teases, running his fingers through your hair as you press yourself against his cold metal, hating how hot your body feels.

he plays some music for you to relax to, and he's telling you tales of his adventures to get you to sleep. who knew a soft, southern accent could work so well as a lullaby?

his arms are locked around you. he's hiding his worry well, but when you fall asleep he's whispering about how you need to take better care of yourself. "though, mm.. yer real cute like this, all snuggly and sniffly. could baby 'ya all week."

dan heng is definitely more on the scolding side, the moment he wakes up to you squirming and sniffling, he's got an unamused look on his face. the night prior, you walked through the astral express doors absolutely soaked from the rain. dan heng helped you change, shower, dry your hair and sleep. but you woke up sick regardless.. like he said you would, like you said you wouldn't.

"this is why you should let me come with you to missions." he grumbles, stirring the bowl of warm stew he made for you as you lay in bed. "goodness, it was one mission, and you come home to me like this. i hate how much i love you." dan heng scoffed, blowing the spoon of warm food and holding it against your lips. "i can't fight this urge to care for you. you're just so.. ugh."

he falls asleep before you, funny enough. you admire the face of your loving boyfriend before drifting off to your own slumber.

you should get sick more often.

you can't even be mad at yourself, jing yuan has allowed you to cuddle up to his sweet, insanely fluffy lion. you can't tell if it's the clogged nose or all the fur you're inhaling, but you love it. and you've got a 'weighted' blanket too. aka your boyfriend.

jing yuan had already fed you your medicine, changed clothes, and fed you well. so there was nothing to do but wait for the next few hours till you'd have to drink medicine again, so now you two are just cuddled up to the embodiment of a cloud.

"you're liking this far too much." your beloved boyfriend remarks, rubbing his head against your tummy as you chuckle, although very weakly. "maybe, but i really do appreciate being taken care of."

the deepest, velvety laugh escapes his lips as he looks up at you, that same smirk he's always worn on his face. "nothing less than for you. now rest, my love. i'll have dinner served for you soon."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[r0-boat]

Whb 7 Kings react to sick!reader

WHB x Fem!reader

Sfw but suggestive thanks to several demons.

This post is a gift for @notquitebunnie

But all can read!

To anyone who is sick and finds this rest well! Make sure to eat and drink plenty of water! :)

This is a Headcannon formatted like a storyline! All devil and their parts written will be out of order to fit the plot!! Please enjoy~

Intro:

Did you think just because you were in hell you were safe from the cons of human mortality... Well maybe you did. Until you where woken up by the churning nausea You felt in your stomach the metallic taste on your tongue as your mouth screams for water. But as you turned to get up you crushing feeling of weakness and a searing migraine hits you like a train.

Your nose was stuffy, and it hurt to swallow, Your body ached and you somehow felt cold. You wish you never woke up as you tossed the sheets back over your body cocooning yourself.

But that sweet, sweet relief of peace didn't last long, as your bedroom door slammed open. The lock on your door snapped under the pressure of being forced open, and the loud noise made your head throb. Oh God, how could you forget where you are and who you surround yourself with?

Satan

The human who usually comes for the breakfast and tea Sitri prepares every morning has not even shown up. Sitri was way more pressed about it than Satan who just told Sitri to fuck off. He knew what it's like The sleep inn. Sometimes, your body just doesn't feel ready to get up yet. "Eh fuck off. You're worrying too much... Being 10 minutes late ain't going to kill you..." But then Sitri replied. " When I press my ear to the door that's Solomon usually keeps locked her heartbeat was about 30% faster than it usually is!"

Satan cussed under his breath. This is a human we're talking about—a human the angels are gnashing their teeth to kill. A faster heart rate is a good sign of stress, and if the daughter of Solomon is stressed, there must be a reason. Maybe checking in on her wouldn't hurt.

Caring little for the new lock she installed on her door, he practically beat the door off its hinges as he stormed into the room with Sitri in tow. "HEY! WAKEY WAKEY WOMAN!"

Satan yells as he marches over to your bed carelessly grabbing the sheets and tossing it off. As soon as he saw your body curled up wincing in pain trying to hide your eyes from the bright light he immediately sensed something was wrong. Immediately his harsh tone softens But on the inside his boiling hot rage only increased, seeing her like this made his blood boil. "Is everything all right?!" He hissed through his teeth as his hands quick and urgently checked for any wounds. "You're not physically hurt... What the fuck?"

With a pissed off grow your weak voice managed to tremble out "get out Satan! Trying to fucking sleep I don't feel good..."

Getting yelled at by you was always a treat as he felt his heart flutter, but there were more concerning matters at play. "Fuck no I'm not getting the fuck out. What's wrong with you? Why do you not feel good?!"

You knew screaming at him would just encourage his behavior so you just stayed silent putting the pillow over your head trying your best to ignore him.

Despite you telling him to leave you alone Satan stayed in your room all day on his knees his chin resting on the mattress He looks like a kicked puppy waiting for its master has he pestered you with all kinds of questions that you couldn't nor cared little to answer. "Did you eat something bad?"

"no."

"Is it poison?"

"no."

"are you sure you didn't get stabbed or shot or-"

"No!"

...

... "Is your pussy shedding?"

*irritated sighs*

Mammon

Satan didn't want to do this but he had no choice. if it had something to do with Solomon wants to send it it was a national hell-wide issue. But to not cause complete chaos he couldn't just release it to the public that's something was wrong with Solomon's daughter. So for now he told someone who's he's the closest to.

And he regretted it instantly.

Satan: I think our human is broken.

SilverSpoonBitch: ???

Satan: *sends a picture of a sick human lying face down on the bed.*

SilverSpoonBitch: Maybe she is finally tired of being around poor people.

Satan: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS I BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU FOR FUCKING HELP CAN'T YOU JUST COME OVER WITH YOUR FANCY LITTLE GADGETS AND SHIT AND TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IF SHE DIES I'M KILLING YOU.

Mammon came as quickly as he could his helicopter landing right in front of Satan's palace. Instead of a warm welcome he was instead screamed at by a tiny flee.

"CAN YOU FUCKING TRAVEL HERE NORMALLY?!" Satan snarled the way his hair was standing on end and his back was arched to reminded Mammon of an angry kitten.

"Relax my tiny terror. The helicopter is here for a reason. How else am I going to get here with all these things... You told me to bring whatever I could to see what's wrong with her, did you not?" Say no only answered with a growl as Bimet steps out the other side of the helicopter. "Also your majesty Satan. Could you provide us with extra hands? "

...

Great, more noise—that's exactly what you needed. You heard whispered voices coming down the hall. You fake sobbed to yourself as you pressed harder into the pillow. The door that you spent precious time and energy on and also risked the tea you had for breakfast propping up just tipped back and slammed onto the marble floor. You heard Bimet's voice first. "I've seen her look bad wearing hobo rags but never like this... "

Mammon hummed putting a hand to his chin "indeed She looks like she's in pain? Are you sure you checked for wounds?"

"I TOLD YOU FOR THE LAST TIME I DID SHE'S IN PAIN BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK THE WOUND IS I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THERE IS ONE!?"

Fuck you Satan and you're loud ass voice.

Mammon then chuckles. "Oh you innocent little thing... Have you ever thought about internal bleeding?!" Sitri and Satan's eyes widen as they never thought about that before.

Bimet chimes in with a proud smile "His Majesty Mammon and just blessed you with his wealthy knowledge! Your majesty, you are truly a gift to this world!"

Mammon gets closer You felt his big hands on you, normally you would be more than okay with this but today all you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and never be seen again as you felt his strong hand stroking all over your body trying to find where you might have damaged something inside you. When his fingers pressed on your stomach your eyes shut open. You felt it. The churning in your stomach finally winning you over the devil's watched with wide eyes and shock as you sprint to the bathroom attached to your bedroom life your life depended on it. You didn't even care closing the door as everything you tried eating and have drank goes down the drain. You've never seen such a look on Mammon as he scoops you up off the bathroom floor cleaning your mouth with his own clothes. You putting you back in bed.

"This is serious..." Mammon growls. "I didn't feel any internal bleeding... But when I pressed over her stomach that's what she did. I know very little about stomachs and food... Buuut we know someone who might..."

Beelzebub

Beelzebub Who is leaning against the door just called out to the devil's in front of him "You called?" He said with a sly smile as Mammon and Satan turned around to face him. "The hell did you come from?" Satan asked.

"I mean I was just wondering around but it was hard to miss the giant golden helicopter flying above me. " Beelzebub said his finger twirling to mimic a helicopter.

"So what's happening here?" He asked walking over to your bed sitting on the mattress next to you gently rubbing your side.

"We don't know. I found the daughter of Solomon like this. I thought someone was hurting her. There's something wrong, but we don't know what it is." Satan explained as Mammon continued. " I thought it might have been internal bleeding since Satan found no wounds. So I checked her body for it, but when I pressed on her stomach, she threw up. " Beelzebub's eyebrows furrowed immediately. "Has she eaten anything?" He asked, and Sitri shook his head. " No, Solomon didn't come down for breakfast. It looks like she drank some of the tea I left for her. But It doesn't matter now since She threw it all up. "

"could you prepare something to eat please? Of course she would probably feel pain in her stomach if she doesn't have any food in it. And she probably feels weak because of it as well. "

Satan and Mammon ordered their second in command-to prepare something. The devil Kings continued to discuss and fill in each other today. All this chatter was seriously not helping, as every now and then you would grumble and turn as much as Beelzebub's constant stroking on your back felt good. It was getting old pretty fast. The way she was tossing and turning her eyes glute shut The three kings decided to add another into their mission as Beel pulled out his phone to text an old friend. "You think he'll respond?" Mammon asks leaning over to look at the text message between Beel and Beleth.

"ya, I know Beleth Will respond but... Belphegor. Ehh It will be a while till he gets here."

Sitri comes in with hearty meats from barbecued pulled pork to premium steak then some lambs do with chopped and stewed potatoes. Bimet comes in with stressed rice dishes and grilled fish. Cooked and even plated to perfection Even some smoked salmon and caviar.

You are not hungry in fact the opposite just smelling the food in the room was making You want a hurdle

"Solomon's not eating..." Says a worried Sitri as they watched you for a while only for you to do nothing.

"obviously she's too weak She's gone too long without food we're going to have to feed her."

That sentence from the king of gluttony made you wince without your blanket of protection you just weekly tried to fight back as all you wanted to do was sleep. "Please can I please just go to sleep!"

"Solomon you can't not until you eat something!" Sitri spoke softly trying to spoon feed you a piece of steak but being careful and not being too forceful.

"our methods aren't working... And we don't want to hurt her." Satan hissed.

"I know just the guy that will make her eat." Beel chirped.

Leviathan

When he heard that something was happening to her. They made it sound like she was dying and at first they thought they were just exaggerating until he saw the state she was in.

He wanted to kill and maim everyone in the goddamn room as soon as he saw her. She looked like a disaster She looked like she was already one foot in the grave. "How could you fucking leave her like this?!" "How long was she like this!!"

They tried calming Leviathan down and explaining the situation.

Levi's and stomped over to your bed sliced a piece of something grabbed your face forcefully and tried to force your mouth open.

"You will eat this goddamn food and you will like it!!!" You are screaming back at Leviathan as the two of you start fighting. Every last bit of your strength you could muster from this hellish morning trying to fight off the one bastard you did not want to see today. You look toward the five other devils in the room, screaming for help. Only for them to look to the side, ignoring your cries for help.

"It's for your own good Solomon" Sitri muttered.

When you finally ate some by courtesy and help from your dear Leviathan.❤️

You laid down on the ground catching your breath. For a moment the king's watched you finally thinking they could arrest before you launched up running to the bathroom once more.

"This may take a while..." Beelzebub sighs

"if her body isn't cooperating then we're going to have to force it" Leviathan hissed getting a dark look in his eye that made you shudder as Mammon princess carried you back to your bed.

Belphegor

Belphegor finally arrived on Beleth's back; when he finally entered the room, he woke up with a yawn and a stretch. Beleth set him down on a nearby chair before walking up to Beel. "Sup, your majesty," He says, giving him a handshake. "Aye! I'm all right. Have you tried the stuff I sent you?" As the two talked, Belphegor scooted his chair closer to your bed. " Hm? Sooo... What's goin on?" He leaned to the side, his elbow into the mattress, resting his head on his hand, occasionally closing his eyes for a power nap as they explained. "So the girl just needs sleep eh? Why'd ya call me then? Just close ya eyes, ain't hard. "

"You think she hasn't tried that already we would watch her go to sleep and then wake up. Plus it's hard to sleep when she's rushing to the bathroom every hour."

"did ya feed her?" He asked.

"yep, the finest foods from Tartaros. Didn't matter. She wouldn't keep it down" Mammon answered.

"Well, shit... Anythin puts me to sleep so I ain't sure how to deal with this." Belphegor muttered studying your face You look lethargic but not sleepy

"tsk! Can you be any more useless??? Can't you just use your power to put her to sleep?" Levi's and said his arms crossed his foot tapping.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Majesty Leviathan." Beleth piped up Make it his way to the other side of the bed His hand running through your hair as he pet you. "if we try that she might not wake up for years maybe even decades."

"Okay so that's out, So What the fuck are we going to do sing her lullabies?!" Satan growled

Belphegor did smile and chuckle at the joke but turned to Beleth "This thinking is hard, You got any ideas?"

Beleth Who was petting your head rolled his hand over your forehead His eyebrows creased as they pressed harder taking your temperature. "Your Maj, She's hot..."

"okay no shit?" Belphegor responded His eyebrow raised.

"No your Maj, I mean her temperature. Kind of reminds me of that Christmas cold she got a while back; remember, When she was hotter than a desert in a summer drought."

At this revelation Satan snarled clutching his fists. "So she's holding back her desires again?!"

He stomped forward tearing his white top clean off already but Mammon stopped him "Your eagerness is welcomed but She might already be too far gone, She can't even keep food down I've never seen a Christmas cold do that but can't be good."

"IT'S WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO TO STAND THERE WHILE SHE FUCKING DIES?!" Satan screamed this time grabbing Mammon by the collar.

Belphegor already nodding off mumbles "Eh, Maybe you just need someone so lustful that it could cure her even like this."

Someone so lustful...

They all knew who he meant by that but none of the kings wanted to acknowledge him. But it had to be done... For your safety...

Asmodeus

Devils from Gehenna either coward in fear or immediately presented themselves in front of the king of the last as he made his way toward the room where he was called to do his 'work.' This was hardly the time of year to even catch the Christmas call, but who is he to complain? The six Kings, the six th buffoons, called upon him to do a task he possibly cannot refuse! So, despite women and men alike throwing their naked bodies at him, it pained him, but he had to refuse, for someone far greater waited for him.

He was already ready when he entered the room, wearing a red bathrobe and a leather case containing God knows what. The Kings stepped out of their way as he walked forward, literally in the middle of loosening his robes before getting a look at you. His eager smile disappears and is replaced by a concerned and confused look. Despite how hard he was, and believe me, he was fucking rigid. You can't expect them not to be, getting a call from the 6th most handsome devil in all of hell offering him to fuck the one woman you desire and all the world while they watch. A dream come true. But... What he was saying was not the symptoms of a Christmas cold...

"Um... excuse me, but could you mind filling me in on what happened today?" The devils were just as confused as he was, so they relented. They told him everything: the weakness in his body, the refusal to eat, the constant puking, the agitated mood, the heavy breathing, the sweaty body, everything.

And Asmodeus was staring at them eyes wide in silence.

The slut was too stunned to speak.

He stood there in silence until it finally broke but with a wheeze

And then laughter.

Not just laughter.

He was dying.

He laughed so hard that he was trying not to cough. He held his stomach, trying to keep his composure so he would not be on the floor.

He had tears in his eyes as the six kings watched as the king of lust laughed his ass off for 5 minutes before finally regaining composure and wiping the tears from his face. He tied up his robe, grabbed the blanket that had been discarded on the floor this whole time, and sat on the bed with a softened look, tucking you in.

"Are you truly this foolish? Or Is your knowledge of humans this lacking?" He asked as he looked back at the six, trying to hide the anger and embarrassment of how hard he laughed. Before Satan was about to yell Asmodeus continued. "This is no Christmas cold, nor is it a curse; she's not hurt from the inside and the outside, well, not physically... I think she's just sick. Plain and simple. "

The room was silent. And Belphegor was sleeping (possibly wanting to be woken up after the sex is over.)

"I've seen plenty of devils get sick before none of them act like this?" Leviathan questioned pointing to all of you in a slight condescending tone.

"well that's the thing my pretty princess, It's that humans immune systems are not as strong as a devil's. We are sick for hours rarely a day but when humans get sick they They can be sick for possibly days..."

He explains while his gentle hands look over at the barely eaten food keep picked up a small empty bowl getting a spoon scooping up some white rice and some miso soup to mix it together. Something light and good for the stomach.

"Here, my dear,, these animals won't bother you anymore. " He spoke in a soft tone. At first, you were frightened upon seeing him, but seeing his softened gaze and his kind, almost nurturing smile as he held what looked like something you could actually handle, You got up and started eating the miso plus white rice concoction. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't entirely good either, but to your sick mind it was the best thing you've ever had to eat all day.

Asmodeus then picks up the empty cup of tea taking up the tea bag taking out the hot tea bag and the dry tea leaves as he poured a cup of now lukewarm water. "Drink this to, It's water it's not much but you're probably thirsty."

You barely mouth a thank you before taking the cup.

Now, the devils were too stunned to speak as someone they thought would be the most useless ended up helping you. Leviathan was beyond pissed. His face was contorted with pure envy as if that was the same food he tried to force you to eat. Asmodeus got you to eat with little effort and a smile.

And honestly Satan was relieved. At this point anything would have helped, well he was angry at mostly himself for pretty much failing you and just making whatever what's wrong with you worse. Beelzebub was nodding along He didn't take an account that certain foods just won't settle well. "I understand though,"Asmodeus hummed as with his gentle hands eased you back to bed.

"I remember being just like all of you when my late wife pregnant with our first of many good morning sickness. Hehe~I thought I was about to lose her and my child." He reminisced to no one in particular. Before turning back to the group of devils

"I would advise you get a doctor as well. It's not serious. But a medical professional is always handy. "

"call Lucifer!" Leviathan barked a Satan was already on his phone. "Okay okay! God damn!"

Lucifer

Lucifer was pinching the bridges of his nose. Hearing the entire story if they thought it was a Christmas cold why didn't they call him before? He asked but he probably already knew the answer to that.

He didn't normally do personal visits but this was different. With a bag he got out some tools It wasn't much but it was enough for a diagnosis.

"looks like the flu. A common human virus. Mutates every year so humans try to get flu shots every year." He said.

"I would recommend going to the human world and getting this." With a piece of paper and a pen he writes down certain kinds of over the counter medicine and drugs. "If they have it in hell don't give it to her. Those kinds of drugs probably wouldn't be suitable for the human body. Oh and also-"

As he talks to himself he writes down the kinds of food she could eat and what else she could do.

"Her symptoms should last 5 to 7 days, I believe. If they last any longer, don't hesitate to call me." He says. He looks over at your face, and now you are breathing calmly. You finally have drifted off to sleep. A flicker of a smile graces his lips as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

Epilogue:

And with that, the great hell crisis was over... Well almost... You still wouldn't be able to get your beloved peace and quiet as you got many visits from many devils of the 72 over those seven days, some bringing care baskets while others home-cooked meals. Even those from Abbaddon who cannot leave their cells mailed you sweet treats and very saucy letters.

As much as it heavily irritated you about how horrible it was to wake up with seven loud and screaming adult men. But you knew it was out of a place of care.

Silly devils; never change.

[slowdrawl]

[DESCENT] Circle II — Lust | Joel Miller X f!reader | AU ONE-SHOT | 3.8k | MASTERLIST

Lust. The circle where want eclipses reason. Where love doesn’t live, but burns.

You live in his house. Date his son. Sleep down the hall. He pays rent. Steals your panties. Stares too long. You both give in to lust. One slip. No apologies. Just the sweet, slow sickness of the second circle.

a/n: This bad boy floats between lust and treachery? anyways, if you've read my fics, you'll know I love a good phone call. Nine alternate universes. Nine versions of Joel Miller. This one? Sinful. Possessive. Reckless. Lust.

18+ MINORS DNI | warnings | explicit sexual content, age gap, phone sex, masturbation, unsafe sex, manipulation?, possessive behavior, power imbalance, infidelity, degradation/praise mix, morally dubious Joel

Thematically Inspired by Dante’s Inferno. & Hozier (duh)

You’ve been living at the Millers’ place since your parents kicked you out.

Your dad walked into your room in the middle of the night and found your boyfriend asleep in your bed. It wasn’t even an act of defiance—it was an honest-to-God accident. The two of you had been hanging out, watching movies, and you both fell asleep. You knew the potential consequences of breaking the rules in your parents’ house, because they drilled them into you like they were law. You’re surprised they never made you swear an oath on some leather-bound book.

I solemnly swear that I will not break any rules of this house, even though I am a full-blown adult.

“I don’t want to hear it. I will not have you getting pregnant under my roof,” your mom spat through gritted teeth. “We didn’t raise you like this…I didn’t raise a harlot.”

You tried explaining, telling the truth, apologizing. It was no use, and the way they treated you for it didn��t have you on your knees begging for forgiveness. They were cold and mean about it.

“Go play house somewhere else. Give me my house keys, or I’m changing the locks.” That’s all your dad said. Once he managed to look at you, that is.

That was over six months ago, and you haven’t heard from them since.

You and your boyfriend Jake walked back to his dad’s place at 3 a.m., him scared shitless after your dad threatened to get the shotgun if he didn’t “Get the fuck off my property.” You were exhausted, red rings stinging around your eyes.

You didn’t even have to ask Mr. Miller twice.

He took you and your boyfriend down to your parents' place the next day in the truck. Carried your boxes out himself.

“You can stay as long as you like, darlin’. I just got a few rules of my own,” he said, placing your belongings down in the spare room-turned-office.

“You gotta contribute ‘round the house, and if you ain’t in school, you gotta pay rent. So unless you’re enrolling in classes, you better gear up and get you a job.”

He winked. You laughed.

And that was the end of that. Simple, you thought.

Until you found them in the laundry.

At first, it didn’t register. You were half-asleep, crouching in front of the dryer, pulling out your boyfriend’s dad’s clothes and putting them in the basket he’d left next to the machine. Draped over the washer on your tiptoes, reaching in, when it clicked.

Wait. Whose were those?

You looked back at the pile of clothes for a second, wondering if maybe you’d just seen it wrong. You decided to double-check and—yup.

A thong, in Mr. Miller’s clean laundry.

Black. Lace. Yours.

Irrefutably, no argument. They were yours. Black lace with criss-crossing straps, a metal heart attached to a chain in the front that sits right at the top. You bought them before Valentine’s Day earlier this year. Sexy as hell. A little out of character for you. Lowkey goth vibes.

Your face got hot. Mouth went dry. Because you remembered wearing them two nights before under your favourite skirt. Jake was working his regular shift, and you got dressed up, hoping that you might get some when he got home. You stayed up with Mr. Miller, tearing apart some shitty action flick, mocking the bad acting. Drinking a few beers, eating popcorn and laughing. A totally normal night.

Right?

Jake came back late. Stayed to finish up a few things. By the time he got in, you were already back in your sweatpants, passed out. Lace in the hamper.

How the hell did your underwear get into Joel’s laundry? You swore you remembered taking them off in your bedroom. In your boyfriend’s bedroom. Tossing them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room.

You didn’t leave them in the bathroom. And you absolutely didn’t put them in his laundry.

You were left wondering, should you take them back? Do you mention it? Stay quiet?

The heat from your face oscillated through you, straight to your core. You didn’t take them back. You just folded them, neatly. Deliberately.

A nearly impossible task, by the way—there’s barely anything to fold.

You placed them carefully on the top of the pile of clothes overflowing out of the basket, threw a dryer sheet into the machine, cranked it on, and walked away.

A test.

To see if he would sweat. //// Since that happened, the house has felt different. The quiet isn’t tense exactly. Just vibrating with something unspoken.

He hasn’t changed. He doesn’t need to; you feel it anyway. The way his gaze has started to linger when you stretch out on the couch. You see it in the tight clench of his jaw when you wander into the kitchen in the morning, bare legs, voice still husky with sleep. You’ve even caught him framed in the doorway, watching you pour water while the dim light from the porch outside illuminated you with a faint glow.

You could ask. You could call it out. But some part of you doesn’t want to break it yet, that taut line that's been stretched between you. It’s electric and sharp. You like it.

Your mind runs in circles. You wonder if he’s been listening. You know he has.

The walls are paper-thin, and you aren't exactly quiet. Not discreet—no. Not when your mind wanders to Mr. Miller while his son fucks you. You lie there, imagining him awake, lying in bed, hands drifting under the waistband of his sweats. Listening to you fall apart with his hand wrapped around his cock, timing his strokes to match the rhythm of your gasps.

You keep playing the game. You keep testing him. You push it one night, while Joel’s on the couch in the living room down the hall. You had your hands buried between your legs under those same metal-clad, black underwear, chasing release, breath ragged, practically screaming his name. Over and over.

And when you were finished, you didn't put your underwear in the hamper—no. You took them off and tiptoed down the hallway toward Mr. Miller’s room, hanging them right on his doorknob.

The following night, Jake was working late again. You spent the afternoon cleaning, doing laundry, anxious for when Joel got home from work. When he did, the air in the house stayed thin for a few hours. But when you walked down the hall and into the laundry room to grab your stuff, it shifted. The air was as thick as Louisiana in late July.

He was in there picking up his own clothes, and he locked eyes with you as you opened the door. You dodged them, moved past him, and bent over, slow to collect your things from the dryer. He stayed there, silent, staring blisters into the back of you. When you stood back up, he was right there, leaning in close to you, eyes on the basket. His lips brushed your earlobe as he reached a calloused hand out, dropping the panties on top of the warm, clean pile.

He drawled, gravel and silk. “You keep leavin’ these layin’ around like that…”

You barely breathed as he ghosted your neck, his fingers skimming the top of your laundry pile. Then he pulled out a thong. Bright pink, clean—and he tucked it into his back pocket without looking at you.

“I’m not gonna stop at just keepin’ them.” He moved a strand of your hair, giving himself space to graze his teeth on the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Think you might like that too much, tho. Huh, baby?”

You held back a shudder as goosebumps speckled your skin.

You tried to say something, but you were too stunned. You just stood there, eyes stuck on the machine, jaw slack. Panties soaked. Body on fire.

He brushed past you, deliberate, letting his shoulder graze yours. And then he was gone.

Your heart was still pounding long after the door clicked shut. ///

You take a few deep breaths. Try to level your head.

You tell yourself you’re just going to ignore it. That you’ll fold your laundry and pretend like nothing happened. But your hands are shaking, your thighs are pressed together, and that fucking thong is gone. He took it. He took it in front of you this time.

You wait a few minutes, catching your breath, before you sneak back out of the laundry room and head to your room. As soon as the door closes, you slink down to the ground, letting your shaky legs find relief. You sit with your back against the door and fold your laundry, contemplating your game plan.

When everything is folded, you put it all away and change. You slip out of the sweats you’re wearing and throw on one of your boyfriend’s hoodies and a pair of sleep shorts—right overtop of those same black, strappy panties. You count to five. Then ten. And then you march down the hallway.

The living room’s dim, the TV flickering soft blue light across the couch. Joel’s there—exactly where you knew he’d be. Laid back, beer in one hand, other arm resting along the cushions. Casual. Like he didn’t just steal your fucking underwear from a pile of clean clothes like he owned them.

His legs are spread wide. He looks completely at ease, flannel unbuttoned, shirt wrinkled underneath. He doesn’t even look at you when you walk in. Just takes a sip from the bottle and says, “You get all that laundry folded, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer him. Just walk toward him, steady like your blood isn’t fuckin’ molten.

His eyes flick up. He watches you climb into his lap, one leg swinging over, settling onto his thighs like you belong there. His hand wraps around the neck of the beer bottle, knuckles flexing.

You press your palms to his chest and he inhales quick. “Darlin’, we—”

“We what, Mr. Miller? We shouldn’t finish what you started?” you say.

A smirk tugs at his mouth, but it’s mean. Mocking. “Jake know you’re this bold when he ain’t around?”

You raise your brows. “He’s clueless about a lot of things.” You laugh, cold. “Jake know you’re a panty thief, Joel?”

The moment his name rolls off your tongue, you see his eyes darken. Something shifts inside him. You feel his cock twitch to life underneath you. You smile and press your hips down into him, slow, testing his restraint. “Would you like me to stop? Mr. Miller?” You purr. He chokes on his breath, jaw clenching as he shakes his head.

His hand drops, placing the beer on the coffee table. The other finds your waist, grip tightening, not pushing you away.

“You waitin’ up for him tonight too?” he asks. “Nope.”

“Good,” he replies flatly, keeping one hand on your side as he rolls his hips up into you. He reaches up to weave his fingers in your hair, twisting it at your nape, pulling your head back. He leans in close, lips brushing your jaw. “All that lace for a kid who comes home too tired to touch you,” his mouth is on your throat, murmuring into the sensitive skin there. “You put those panties back on for me, didn’t you, baby?”

He asks the question confidently, like he already knows the answer. You hate that he’s right.

You bite down on your lip, trying to nod despite the resistance at your scalp. The pain mixes with pleasure, sending heat flooding to your core. He’s got you exactly where he wants you now, and you need so much more.

He drops his voice even lower. “S’what I thought. Filthy fuckin’ girl.” Joel stops and pulls back for a second, a hesitant look comes across his face. “You sure about this? We can stop if you want. At any point, just say the word.” He says softly. You respond, voice certain, “Do you think I’d give up now?” He stays still, like he's giving you a second chance to change your mind. “Joel, I’m sure. I want you—please”

Then he pulls your face down to his. Far from gentle, he kisses you like he’s angry, like he’s been stopping himself for too long. His tongue presses past your lips, and you moan into it, grinding down harder. He groans back into you, hungry and breathless.

Your hips roll against him, chasing friction, and his hand slides down, between your thighs, calloused fingers slipping past the edge of that lace he already knows too well.

Your phone starts to vibrate.

You freeze.

Joel stills, mouth hovering over yours, chest heaving against you. The name flashes across your lockscreen.

Jake.

Joel’s eyes flick down. Then back to you. Something dark and knowing flashes behind them. “You gonna get that?” he rasps, voice thick with challenge.

Your pulse thrashes in your throat. You don’t answer. You just reach for the phone and swipe to accept.

“Hey, baby,” you say, breathy, too soft.

Joel grins, all teeth, all wicked.

Then his fingers slide into you, practiced, precise, curling right where you need them.

Your thighs are trembling. Breath picking up. Jake responds, totally oblivious. “Hey, babe,” the lines crackling slightly in your ear. “What’re you up to?”

“Not too much,” you murmur. “Just… winding down.”

“You sound tired.” “I am,” you say, voice trembling as Joel starts pushing deeper inside you.

“Long day?”

“Yeah. Laundry, mostly.” His teeth scrape the shell of your ear. Joel’s fingers are relentless, deep, finger fucking you slow through the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Your free hand claws at the cushion, trying to ground yourself, but the couch is shifting beneath you. Every breath a risk. “Maybe if you’re still up when I get back we can watch a movie or somethin’?” Jake says.

You hum “yeah” through a bitten lip. It comes out a sharp, shaky exhale.

“You good?” Jake asks. You hear his concern start to settle in.

Joel’s thumb circles your clit, once, twice…

“I’m fine,” you choke. “Just a little tired.”

Joel drags his fingers out slow, slick and fucking obscene. He lifts them to your lips, pressing gently, and you open for him without thinking.

You take both fingers into your mouth, sucking, tasting yourself—all while Jake keeps talking about his shitty night at work.

“Tell him you miss him,” Joel mouths, voice barely audible, eyes on your lips.

You swallow. “Miss you,” you say into the phone. “I miss you,” Jake says. “You curled up on the couch right now? Wish I could be there.”

Joel rolls his eyes. You brace a hand on his shoulder, knuckles white. “Miss you too.”

Jake drops his voice down low, “What’re you wearin’? That hoodie of mine?”

Joel laughs under his breath—mean. Then leans in, biting softly at your neck.

“Y-yeah,” you whisper. “Feels nice.”

“Bet you smell like that perfume I like.” Jake teases. “The coconut one,”

Joel doesn't stop working his fingers in and out of you, brushing the spot that makes your whole body jerk.

“Mmhmm,” you breathe. “Put it on before bed.”

There’s a long pause. Jake groans. “You’re killing me.”

Joel presses a third finger in.

Your mouth falls open, he quickly reaches to your mouth to stifle your gasp.

Then Jake chuckles. “Anyway—some asshole knocked over a display of ravioli back here. I’m drowning in Chef Boyardee.”

His thumb finds your clit again.

You suck in air through your teeth, trying to laugh, trying to survive. Then his hand moves off of you, unhurried, sure. You watch, breath caught in your throat, as he reaches down, he undoes the button on his jeans, and pulls the zipper down slow. The soft rasp of it cuts through the room like the strike of a match. You don’t look away. You can’t.

He shifts under you, hips lifting just enough for him to reach in and free himself. Joel’s watching your face, searching for a reaction, he smirks when your eyes go wide. He’s so much bigger than Jake is. His cock is thick and hard, flushed deep at the tip, already glistening. He wraps his broad hand around the base, strokes once, then again. Lazy, taunting, staring at you with blown pupils, all while Jake talks in your ear like nothing’s wrong.

Your thighs twitch. You shift in his lap, trying to stay still. Trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Then Joel reaches for you.

He pulls your soaked shorts to the side painfully slow, like a man unwrapping a gift he already knows he’s going to ruin.

His cock nudges against the lace between your legs, completely soaked through. He slides the head of it over the fabric, smearing you with your own slick.

You inhale sharply.

Jake exhales. “You sure you’re good? You sound… kinda weird.”

Joel leans in, whispering, “Think you should hang up the phone.”

You press the phone back to your ear. “I’m fine, really. I’ll see you soon, baby.” “Okay, well,” Jake says, “Text me if you pick a movie?”

“I already have one in mind,” you whisper. “Love you.”

You end the call.

Joel leans back slightly, eyes dark and full of heat. He tilts his head.

“Love you,” he repeats, voice flat. “Cute.”

“Now show me what that sounds like when you really mean it.” You look back at him, pupils blown, voice still shaking “You’re fucking insane for that.”

He laughs as he lifts you off the couch, you wrap your arms around his neck. His cock is still heavy and solid, pressing against you as he walks you down the hall. To Jake’s room. He kicks the door open. You should stop him. You don’t.

He sets you on the bed, hands already pushing your shirt up, tugging his own flannel off with a curse, biceps flexing as he tosses it aside. His chest heaves, skin flushed, and you catch the sharp ridge of his collarbone when he leans over you, mouth hot and hungry on your throat. Teeth dragging, beard scratching, breath ragged. “Gonna ruin you for him,” he mutters. “You want that?” You nod, grinning, legs falling open. “Please just shut up and fuck me, Mr. Miller.”

Joel groans, deep and wrecked. Pulling off your clothes, muttering obscenities as he strips you bare. He hovers over you, lining himself up, making eye contact with you as he slides in, burying himself inch by inch. You both gasp as he bottoms out. Your back arches off the bed beneath him, hands scrambling at the sheets. He fucks you soft, slow at first, drawn out, like he wants to feel every second of it, hips rolling deep. The drag of him inside you is maddening, making your walls flutter with every pull. The bed creaks under his weight, your thighs trembling as he stretches you open, again and again.

Your moans are high and helpless, fingers digging into his back, breath caught between words that don’t come out. “You let him fuck you like this?” he growls. You shake your head, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “No. Never.” He leans down, presses his forehead to yours, hips rolling deep. “I can tell, baby. You’re so fuckin’ soaked for me, needy little thing.” Your nails rake down his spine. “Joel—please—”

He brings a hand between you, rubs tight circles on your clit. You cry out, back arching hard. He leans close, breath hot on your ear. “He ever even make you come?” You freeze for a second. Then shake your head. “No.”

Joel huffs a dark laugh, then tips his head back, groaning low. “Or do you gotta do it yourself when he’s asleep?” You grin through a moan. “I do it myself.”

His eyes darken. “While you’re in the next room.”

Joel growls, hips slamming into you harder. “Jesus fuck.” “You ever hear me, Mr. Miller?” you whisper, voice wrecked. “I don’t try to be quiet.”

He flips you over, your shoulders hit the sheets, his hands are rough on your hips, and he’s forcing your knees apart further. The mattress dips and shifts under his weight as he drives into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

“You wanted me to hear,” he snarls. You nod into the pillow. “Wanted you to come in.” “You wanted this?” “I needed it.” 

Joel bends over your back, teeth grazing your shoulder. “So damn perfect—he don’t even know what he’s got. But I do. You’re takin’ me so good baby.” His praise alone is enough to push you to the brink of ecstasy, “Oh, fuck—oh my god, Joel, fuck I’m gonna come” His arm clamps tight around your waist, dragging you upright, your spine pressed flush to his chest. You can feel every slick inch of him slide deeper from this angle, the overwhelming stretch pushing you into the edge of pleasure so sharp it almost hurts. “You’re fuckin’ fallin’ apart for me in his bed. What does that make you, huh?” he drawls, reaching down between your thighs, rubbing harsh circles over your already overstimulated clit. “Yours,” you sob. “Just yours. Only—”

Your body seizes around him, orgasm ripping through you like fire. Joel groans, loud and deep, panting into your ear, drowning out the world around you. You can tell he’s close, thrusts turning sloppy, faster, chasing his own release. His voice is wrecked when it breaks out of him, “Fuck, not gonna last—where you want it, baby?”

But you’re too far gone to answer, too tight around him, still pulsing, and that’s all it takes. He shudders hard, hips slamming deep as he spills inside you, thick and hot, filling you up with a strangled growl. He stays buried there, arms tight around you like he needs to hold you still, like he’ll fall apart if he lets go.

He holds you for minute, hips barely moving, pressing in tight, both of you panting into the silence. His chest is soaked in sweat, skin sticking to yours. You feel the throb of his cock even as he softens inside you, the mess of both of you slick between your thighs . Then he slowly pulls out, hands gentle now, smoothing down your spine.

You shift, dazed. He helps you turn around, brushes sweat-slick hair from your forehead. “You okay?” he murmurs. You nod. “Yeah.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, to your temple, his breath shaky.

The house is quiet again. Too quiet. Until the front door opens and a voice rings out. Jake’s. “Hello?”

Joel’s head snaps toward the hallway. You scramble to sit up, heart hammering. Footsteps. You rush to put your clothes on. Joel stands up, calm, pulls his jeans on, tucking himself in. “Where you at, babe?” Jake yells from the living room.

You stare at Joel. He’s moving too damn slow right now, casually sloping his belt into the loops, standing there like he’s just waiting to be caught.

He reaches down to you, presses another kiss to your cheek, his voice hushed. “Looks like you’re switching rooms if you’re gonna stay here, darlin’.”

Then the bedroom door creaks open. A second passes.

Jake’s face goes slack, then hardens.

 “What the fuck is going on in here?”

[flowery-mess]

sweet baby, nerd Noah, I'm never getting tired of you🤍 from this ask🤍

no warnings for this one

nerd Noah masterlist

Dancing at home to slow songs is my weakness…

What if you had a date planned, something outside and a nice dinner in a restaurant, but it was pouring the whole day so you decided to cancel all plans, get some groceries and cook the dinner yourselves?

It stopped raining for a while when you went out to get all the things you needed, but the rain came heavy when you exited the store. You got to Noah’s place, both soaked, hair sticking to your faces in different directions, but both of you were smiling like idiots.

“Wait! Let’s kiss in the rain!” you yelled at Noah when you were walking fast back to his place so he could hear you over the rain.

He ran back to you with grocery bags in his hands and gave you a quick peck. His lips sending warm wave through your cold body.

“Wow, what a romantic guy you are.” you laughed after the quick kiss. Poor boy got scared that you’re sad or angry, but he just wanted to be back home as soon as possible, because he didn’t want you to be cold or become sick.

“I’m joking, let’s go.” you reassured him when you saw his face and took off in the direction of his house.

That’s why you were both smiling like idiots even though you were wet and cold.

Noah let you take a shower first, giving you his clothes to change into, because you didn’t take any spare clothes. Lucky you.

When you came back from the shower in warm clothes, his clothes, he was left speechless.

You were wearing his gray sweatpants, one of his shirts and over it the oversized hoodie and everything was too big or too long for you, but you still looked cute.

“You can go now.” you nodded towards his bathroom when he wasn’t saying anything, struck by you in his clothes.

He showered too and came back with matching sweatpants and black shirt, that’s how you got to the cooking part finally.

“Can you taste it? See if I need to add anything?” Noah asks while holding the spoon close to your face.

“That’s fucking amazing.” you compliment his cooking skills.

The whole setting was so cosy. His living room and kitchen were covered with faint light, soft music was playing from the speakers and Noah made you sit on the counter while he cooked dinner for both of you. He said the only help he needs from you is tasting the food and you didn’t complain.

He was putting on a show for you, commenting on every step as if he was in some cooking tv show, making you laugh with his stupid little comments.

“And this?” he dipped the spoon in the other pan and turned around to face you, but he did it too quickly and you were already leaning in so the sauce ended up on your cheek.

“Oh, sorry.” Noah apologized and went to turn around to grab some paper towel to clean your face.

“Wait! What about that?” you pointed to the still half full spoon. “Give me.” you made grabby hands towards his hand.

Before you put it in your mouth you got some of it on your finger and tapped Noah’s nose with it. “Now we’re even.” you laughed at his face and finally put the spoon in your mouth.

“Well?” he asked with an amused face while you tasted the food.

“That’s delicious, I didn’t know you were so good at this.” you complimented him again.

“Good. Now let’s clean this up.” he wiped the sauce with a paper towel from your face, his hand gently holding your jaw while doing so. You scanned his face, noticing the way his brows were a bit furrowed with concentration and his gentle hold on your face.

He was about to wiped off his nose too, but you were quick enough to stop him and say “Let me.” and take the paper towel in your hand.

You mimicked his movements and pulled him down a bit by his chin, wiping the sauce off his nose and then giving him a small kiss there. He gave you a shy smile, still not used to all of this. You in his clothes, in his apartment, giving him kisses.

He turned around to turn off the stove and then asked:

“Plate or bowl?”

“Bowl.”

“Spoon or fork?”

“Spoon.”

“All the right answers, amazing.” you chuckled at his joy from sharing a favorite way of dining and jumped down from the counter.

“My god Noah, that was so delicious.” you said after putting the bowl away and leaning back on the couch with a full stomach.

“I’m glad you liked it.” he put away his bowl and laid down next to you, a shy smile on his face.

“Where did you learn how to cook?”

“My mom loves to cook and she always made us help her.”

“That’s nice, I can’t wait to taste some of her cooking.” you said and immediately realised what the fuck you just said. You hadn’t even had sex with him, yet you’re telling him how you can’t wait to taste his mother’s food.

You sit straight and look at him, thinking that you sent him into a coma with how shy he is.

“I meant like I’m sure she cooks well if you cook like this and you learned from her.” you blurted out and watched his flustered face. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry if I did, it was stupid thing to say.”

“Uh, it’s fine. I understand what you meant.” he did, but he also liked the idea of you meeting his mom.

“I’m sorry.” you didn’t know why you were apologising, you didn’t say anything too bad, but you felt stupid and scared that it will turn him off, that he will think you want to take things too fast.

“It’s okay, I know what you meant. You don’t have to apologise.” he gave you a smile and softly squeezed your hand with his.

A weird silence took over the space, both of you didn’t know how to get out of this weird situation without making it even worse.

As if the Spotify playlist could sense the awkwardness, it started playing one of your favorite songs “Blue light” by Mazzy Star.

“I love this song!” you said into the silence between the two of you and immediately slapped yourself mentally for saying some random shit again.

Noah didn’t know how to react again, poor boy was so lost in his own head and your comment about his mom.

“Do you wanna dance?” and another slap for making it even worse.

Noah’s cheeks turned even more red than they were before, his eyes switching between you and the speakers.

You were about to say something, but he was faster with his “Okay.” answer which surprised you.

“Okay.” you said back.

He kept staring at you for a second and then stood up and offered you his hand. You took it and let him lead into the space between the couch and the kitchen counter.

“I don’t really know how to dance.” he admitted when you stood there with space between you and holding hands.

“It’s easy, I’ll show you.” you sensed the atmosphere change back to what it was before your comment, cosy and soft.

You stepped closer to him, erasing the space between you and took his hands in yours. You placed them to your waist, closer to your ribcage because you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable in case he wouldn’t like having them any lower.

Then you placed your arms around his shoulders and intertwined your fingers at the back of his neck.

“And now just listen to the song and follow it with your body.” you started to sway a little, making Noah move with you.

It took some time before you got into sync, Noah stepping on your feet a few times, apologizing for it like a million times and lots of laughter.

When you finally managed to move your bodies in a way that was comfortable for both of you, you slowly laid your head on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, asking in case it would be too much for him.

You felt he was tense under your hands, unsure of his movements and you heard his sharp breath when his head touched his shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” he whispered back and you felt his shoulders relax a bit.

You noticed that another song was playing now, but neither of you stopped moving.

Noah gathered all of his courage and slid his hands a bit lower on your back, pulling you closer to him.

Your fingers slid in his hair, gently scratching his scalp with your nails and you felt him let out a satisfied hum.

The dim light and rain outside made the perfect setting for such a romantic moment that was being shared between you.

You glanced up at him, his eyes immediately meeting yours and you could almost see the sparks in his gaze.

His eyes kept sliding to your mouth and you felt his hands on your back stiffen a little. You wanted to give him time, if he wanted to kiss you he still needed some space to find the perfect moment.

You gave him a small encouraging push on his neck, almost unnoticeable, but it was there.

He leaned down and you lifted your chin to meet his lips.

The kiss was soft, slow and warm. His lips on yours still gave you butterflies, there weren't many shared kisses between you yet.

Your grip on his hair tightened, telling to stay there and pull away yet. So he didn’t.

He kept kissing you, only separating your mouths so you both could take a breath, while he laid his forehead against yours and brushed his nose along yours.

A small smile was visible on his lips and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own.

“This is nice.” he whispered, as if anyone else could hear that and he wanted it to reach just your ears.

“It is.” you nodded your head and played with the strand of his hair that fell out of his bun.

He gave you one more kiss, putting more pressure in it as if to show you his feelings without having to say them out loud.

Then he tucked your head under his chin, laying his cheek on top of it and wrapping his arms around you completely. Wishing that he could keep you there forever, dance with you like that until all of the songs in the world end.

dividers: silent-stories

taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @dominuslunae @ami--gami @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @lilcrazy011 @pipidoll @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @concrtlimits @whatismylifexox @theanarchymuse95 @renegadebirch @theasowle @darknightstarryeyes @montgomery-929496 @kenjipepsi1

[sincere1ystar]

Sick days

rafe cameron x fem! reader

Sick days with Rafe

authors note: something short and sweet to break my writers block :)

His angel. You were always where the light was.

Opposite of Rafe. He was no good, the flowers that bloomed as you walked wilted in his presence. Everyone was confused why the golden girl of the island was with someone like him, but all that mattered was that you loved him.

He was thankful everyday you woke up in his bed, he wasn’t sure who he was thanking but he was thankful nonetheless.

Winter was always your favorite season of the year. As Rafe would say, you weren’t cold in nature, so you had to find that chill from somewhere else. But the icy winds that you were so fond of gave you sniffles and coughs this year.

“I told you to wear a jacket”, Rafe scolds as he pulls a blanket over your figure. His words hold more worry than irritation.

“Oh please, it barely gets cold here!!”, you sniffle.

“Then explain how you get sick”, Rafe teased.

You cough in response while he pats your back. “Warm enough honey?”, which earns an unconvincing nod from you.

He presses his lips to your forehead as his arms engulf you. “Rafe no.. you’ll get sick”.

“It’ll be fine”, he murmurs softly trying to soothe the pounding in your head. Your head feels too heavy to even lift but his kisses lighten the load.

“I’ll.. get you some tea”. You weakly grab his arm before he has a chance to stand up.

“Baby.. It’s okay honey, I’ll just be a minute”, he coos at the sight of your watery eyes. “I’ll be less than a minute even, just give me a good thirty seconds”.

If you weren’t so delirious from the fever you would have laughed at his insistence. Even being sick, Rafe still thought you had the glow of an angel. A healing type of glow. The one that would always fill his senses with warmth when he came to you fragmented. Now it was his turn to watch over you.

“Stay..”, you croaked out with dull eyes. And before you could mutter a please, Rafe was right by your side, intertwining his body with yours.

“Always”, he mutters softly into your hair as your eyes begin to droop. “Always”.

[duvetchico]

Make sohyun snow day n we have a battle like that one episode in SpongeBob

(I'll give u 16 million backshots)

dumb ways to die

summary snow day turns into snow war when sohyun starts beef over “stepping on her snow angel.” you were framed. she must pay.

genre fluff / crack / romantic violence

pairing park sohyun x fem!reader

that's exhausting

masterlist.

you were supposed to just get some fresh air. maybe build a snowman. post a cute story. maybe kiss your girlfriend in the snow like a hallmark movie moment. but instead—

“YOU BITCH.”

you duck just in time as a snowball whizzes past your face and smashes against the tree behind you.

“i didn’t even touch your snow angel!” you scream, peeking from behind the tree trunk.

sohyun is standing twenty feet away, puffer jacket zipped to her chin, cheeks flushed from the cold (and also pure RAGE).

“then why does it have your stupid little boot print right next to its HEAD, huh?”

“i was ADMIRING IT.”

“WITH YOUR FEET?”

“YES. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, FLOAT?”

she’s already scooping more snow with that evil glint in her eye. you’re 0.2 seconds away from experiencing an icicle-related head injury.

you dive behind a bench. she launches another snowball. it slams into the backrest like a death threat.

“this is war, y/n!” she yells.

and you yell back, “then i’m putting your ass on a watchlist!”

ten minutes later.

you’ve built a fortress. three walls of snow stacked high. your arsenal is ready snowballs lined up in a neat row like cold, frosty bullets. and you? you’re crouched behind your base like a war veteran, muttering under your breath.

“she used to be sweet. innocent. kissed me good morning. now she’s throwing snow like it’s vietnam.”

you peek up.

nothing.

you peek left.

also nothing.

you peek right—

“SNEAK ATTACK BITCH.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

she fucking jumps from a tree. a whole tree. she’s midair. you’re screaming. she slams into your base like a bitch with a vengeance, topples it in one move, and suddenly you’re both rolling in the snow like it’s the WWE.

“YOU—YOU’RE ACTUALLY INSANE—”

“AND YOU’RE A LYING SNOW ANGEL MURDERER—”

“GET OFF ME YOU LUNATIC—”

and then you stop.

because she’s on top of you. laughing. cheeks flushed. snow in her hair. breathing fast and looking at you like she so clearly won and she knows it.

you blink.

she blinks.

“…you’re heavy,” you mutter, breathless.

“you love it,” she smirks.

your heart does an actual backflip. you want to kiss her. but your lips are numb. and so instead—

you grab the nearest snowball and smash it into her face.

she gasps. and you burst out laughing.

“TAKE THAT, YOU ASS.”

she groans dramatically, flopping onto your chest like you’ve mortally wounded her.

“you’re lucky i’m in love with you or i’d file a lawsuit.”

“you’re lucky i let you live after that sneak attack, bitch.”

she nuzzles into your neck. you go quiet. snowflakes melt into her lashes. her hand curls under your hoodie like it’s second nature.

“…next snow day,” she whispers, “i’m building a moat. you’re going down.”

you grin, pressing your nose to hers.

“yeah? well next snow day i’m kissing you until you stop throwing shit at me.”

“hm,” she hums, eyes fluttering shut.

“okay. maybe i’ll lose that one on purpose.”

you both get sick the next day. fever, sore throat, and mild regret. but sohyun refuses to let you suffer alone.

she cuddles up to you, sneezes into your hoodie, and goes, “if i go down, you go down with me. love you.”

[thesweetestapplepie]

I love your writing and umm if you're doing requests may I please request essentially the reverse of the fwb ones, where she and arthur are partners in crime and they're super sweet and couple-y best friends but are NOT together even though everyone in camp is like 'are they seriously not fucking???' And they're just mutually pining like idiots for years on end. I hope that made sense sorry if its weirdly specific i probably need therapy lol.

wc: 1.9k

tags: FLUFF!! pining Arthur.

Comfortable. Too comfortable. It was almost suspicious. Those were the exact words Susan Grimshaw would use to describe the pair of lovebirds that bumbled around camp as if completely enamoured in their own worlds. Those lovebirds not even being the crude Sean and babbling Karen or even Mary-Beth and the stuttering, nervous mess which was Kieran. No. It was the mere sight of you, the silver tongued bandit with her heart on her sleeve being so shamelessly sought out by the brooding, enigmatic man Arthur Morgan. To be completely fair on Grimshaw’s part, it wasn’t only her who held suspicions on the end of her finger when she would constantly wave it in front of your nose. The very close friendship the pair of you had knitted together came tangled with the inquiries of not only the women of camp, who bargained gossip for gossip by their washboards, but the men in camp who would throw sneaky, offhand remarks at the wind over a drink or game of poker. And yet, not much to everyone’s surprise that the pair of you would deny, deny, deny.

And who can blame them? It had become an almost domestic frame: the pair of you couldn’t help but to give in to the simple pleasures. Simple distractions. Mornings became rich in the same scene of Arthur trailing behind you to your routine which in return had become his routine. Knowing he would be gone on a job for most of the week, he prepares himself for the long departure in his own endearing way. Trailing behind you with ears low tucked behind his hat, he follows you to the glistening shores of Clemen’s Point the very mornings before departure. He’d sheepishly blush and sit on a rock nearby where you had already begun to wash your face in the cold, relieving sting of the water. With a palm tucked under his scarred chin and elbow resting on his knee, his body lumbered over to intently watch you. The use of conversation was pointless in the of quiet elysium which was the Clemen’s point waters so early in the morning that the moon still forged itself to the blue sky–so early in the morning it traps the pair of you in a capsule where no one else seemed to matter or intrude. When he can’t avoid your tickling suspicions, he scratches the back of his neck and hopes you didn’t think of him as any less of a man.

“You’re up early.” You draw first to jab at him.

“Gonna be busy today.. Coffee’s good when it’s hot.” He hides his real reason behind coffee beans and hot water, tipping his hat for extra perseverance.

“Really now?” You’d respond to him with conviction for his dishonesty and he shrugs. You pulled yourself up and rang water from your skirt.. “Could you get me a cup then?”

“Ain’t your dog, woman.” He’d mumble with no real bitterness, walking with a slow lumber towards the campfire where he lets his feelings for you swallow him up in his pathetic attempts to make you smile.

Caring for you had become a part of Arthur Morgan’s character. The aspect of grey clouds contorting you to anything but the carefree, happy woman who read to him on quiet nights and splashed in puddles on rainy days leaves him feeling utterly ashamed and bastardized. Arthur doesn’t know exactly when he realized it hurt so much to see you as anything but content and well fed, yet he succumbs to your rule and seems to crush himself beneath your thumb.

“You’re gonna get yourself sick like that.” He scolds you when you prance through the streaking, silver pelts of rain. You chase the rushing chill past the front steps of The Loft, stopped by the simple yearning to play with the riches of nature. If Ambarino could offer Arthur one thing, it was the ability to see you bask in the background of green and meadows of blurred wildflowers.

“So?” Water trickles down your back and seeps through the stitchings of your clothing and much to his prediction you push down the sting of cold with brilliance.

He laughs half-heartedly at that. “So? You whine like a dog for days with a stuffed nose, you ain’t foolin’ me.” He crosses his arms over his chest as if it’ll stagnate the humming in his body. He forces his head down to avoid the sting of his yearning for you. And yet, even when you pull him by his hands into the blur of pelting water he feels nothing but warmth in his vain attempt to preserve your health. And in the end, he’d rather it be both of you sipping hot stew in the quarantine of his tent than you by yourself in yours.

Though, you show you care for him as well, in sweeter and considerate terms of affection. When Arthur Morgan fails to take care of himself in negligence or in carelessness, you make up for it with not a word spoken in between them. With a bowl of fresh stew lightly garnished with creeping thyme personally plucked by you, you take it upon yourself to bring the moping man a meal when he’s too stubborn to grab one himself. When another robbery only left them with a quarter and law men too close to camp, you remind Arthur that he isn’t the cold steel of a gun but he was human.

“You ain’t gotta do that fa’ me.” Yet, when his thumb firmly brushes your hand in exchange, it speaks all the thank yous to you with the life in his eyes coming back.

He speaks thanks especially when he knows you need it. It isn’t uncommon for Grimshaw to have you fold the same 3 loads of laundry at the beginning of every morning, or force you to stick your nose to the mat and collect the dust through your nostrils and a broom. When the days begin to wax at you and you melt over the boil of your pot, Arthur knows he isn’t a smoothtalker yet he pats himself on the back for his saving grace.

He’ll bound up to you, confident with a chest puff of ash and yarrow pollen. Sometimes he’ll find you atop of a discarded barrel, you were already helping Pearson peel at potatoes, fingers tough and printed with the blunt side of the blade; But that thief needs to steal some more of your precious time.

“Put’chu shoes on. Need you to run an errand with me.”

“You busy? Could use a saddle warmer.”

He’ll almost always ask you with hands looped on his gun belt, naval tilting up as if to downplay his own request. However, on occasions where he is self-serving enough to pry you from the comfort of your tent, he’ll ask you to accompany him for no real particular reason. Well, of course he has his reasons. But who were you to say no to that handsome man.

Once in a while, when the brilliant summer sun would even dare to outshine your golden smile, he calls you over just by the banks to serve him in your musical lull. Pulling his sleeves up to the curl of his bicep, he swings an axe overhead with a thunderous strike of lightning and the logs of wood splinter effortlessly in his control and he only pauses to call your name from the crowd. Finger pointing a spotlight to you as you make your way. “You.”

“Me?” You make your way over with a fluttering skirt and the breath of lilac that calls your name in its aroma. “What about me?”

“Need you to read for me.” An awkward hand gestures to the book safely tucked under your arm and with a hell of a lot better to do such as washing and cooking you sit down in a shady patch of lime grass and flip to page 25 of your book. There, with the trees swelling at every gale of bird songs and the smell of oak and cedar, you read to him from your spot where your skirt pools on the floor and makes his heart tick with endearment. When he fails to force his face down into the heat of his work, he allows himself to sneak fleeting glances of you and your pretty skirt. Capturing you in his mind was no different than a fully realized photograph, he knew you well enough to not have to remember which way your hair parted and how you liked to wear ribbons in your clothing. When you do catch him looking, he ducks his head with an apology too quiet for you to hear but just for him to save his pride. And you laugh, because the shades of red that paint his stubble face wasn’t due to the pounding sun in the sky but the drumming of his heart.

Arthur Morgan’s criminality didn’t leave him much room for care and domesticity. The soft blazing skin of a woman had become unfamiliar and alien to him as dreams of Tahiti or god knows what. Death’s waiting arms was by far going to be the closest thing he’ll get to a white lacy wedding, yet when the noose slips and it tightens it’s hold on him, a nagging itch in his body tells him your boot isn’t fitting as it usually did or you’ve been losing track of your rings and dainty necklaces that seem to only fit your perfect skin. And heaven knows he cannot even imagine death's eternal sleep if you were not properly looked out for.

It wasn’t the prettiest sight, though he has to admit it to himself, to tear away trinkets and gold from the hands of anyone unfortunate enough to ride down his trail. With a sinful thumb he wipes sweat lining the indents of his forehead and dismounts with a heavy footfall directed towards your yellow starched tent canvas. He pulls open the canvas but not before announcing his entrance like the gentleman that he was.

And yet, when he’s able to string together enough money he buys you those new amber shaded boots with dark rose embroidery running along its stump. Once in a perfect pale moon he cobbles together enough to buy you a new necklace to replace the one you left in Valentine, and the embellished swelling of your already tinted pink cheeks makes the blood in his hands tingle when he gives you the delicate items. He is adamant on doing it to serve you, to make your life a little easier in the light of the coming summer. Even when you kiss his cheek and whisper your thanks and praise, he dares to let his smile show any more crooked teeth. His reasons are albeit, a little more selfish than he cares to admit.

“Look at that face, Morgan! She gave you a good one this time, ain’t she?” Sean croons from his spot at the table like a crow with a face kissed red in liquor.

“Gave me more than what you’ll get in 10 years, fool.” He deflects with a dismissive hand when he b-lines for his tent. Despite all the accusatory remarks and comments, he bounds to his tent with a smile on those thinly curved lips, because something about everyone assuming you were his as he was yours had only fed into his hopeless desires. Arthur Morgan knew he was out of his mind for yearning for you, but he had lost half of it to the violence. And lord knows he deserves to lose the rest of it to love.

[sage-nebula]

I wanted to compile some of the headcanons I have for the adult members of the Rising Volt Tacklers into one place, so here it is, simple and sweet.

Friede:

— He's 33 when the series starts, and was 23 when he met Cap and ended up forming the Rising Volt Tacklers.

— He's claustrophobic, though it's not severe; he can handle being in average sized rooms with the door closed, and in tents. But if it was something the size of, say, a closet, his phobia would be triggered.

— He knows how to, and enjoys playing, the acoustic guitar. It's not uncommon for him to play for the crew at night when they're all relaxing and having a good time, letting the others make up words to whatever random melodies he plays.

— He's a thrill-seeker / adrenaline junkie, naturally drawn to things like skydiving or spelunking in caves specifically noted to be dangerous. However, he toned down this behavior a lot when the kids came on board, since he didn't want to negatively influence them.

— He has a tattoo of the Rising Volt Tacklers' symbol, on his chest above his heart. This is both because he feels that traveling the world on the Brave Asagi is his one true calling in life, and also because he considers the crew to be his family.

— He insisted that Cap be on the title of the Brave Asagi as the primary owner. Cap signed the title with a paw print. Landau is the secondary owner (since it was originally his ship), Orio is third (since she built it), and Friede himself is fourth.

Orio:

— She's 33 when the series starts, and was 23 when she first built the Brave Asagi.

— She can drink every other adult crew member of the Rising Volt Tacklers under the table and has before, on several occasions.

— She has an excellent singing voice, though she doesn't think very much of it. She often sings while she's working on the ship or her other projects, or when Friede is playing his guitar and the rest of the crew is singing along.

— She's decent at styling hair, and helps the crew with haircuts and the like when they're far from any actual salon. When they were kids, she would dye hers and Friede's hair with kool-aid; with Friede's hair being white, they were able to color it any color of the rainbow, and one time tried all the colors of the rainbow at once. Orio's verdict: "He looked like we'd glued a clown wig to his head." She uses box dye to maintain her orange tips nowadays.

— She is the worst when it comes to resting, including and perhaps especially when she is sick. Mollie has had to threaten to strap her to her bed to force her to rest on multiple occasions, and Murdock threatened to drug her soup with drowsiness-inducing cold medication.

Mollie:

— She is 29 when the series starts, and was 20 when she joined the Rising Volt Tacklers.

— She is an excellent, nigh-unbeatable, poker player. Usually the other members of the crew are her victims, but when times have been tight financially and they had difficulty finding legitimate jobs, she has won the money they needed to get by through betting on cards.

— She started studying human medicine after joining the Rising Volt Tacklers, so that she could look after the other members of the crew in case anything happened. (Particularly Friede, given the risks he was prone to taking.) She's not as skilled at human medicine as she is at pokémon medicine, but she works hard to stay on top of her studies of both.

— Orio is the one who pierced her ears, at her request.

— Like Friede, she has genius level intelligence. Unlike Friede, she doesn't know this because she never took any tests to have it confirmed or denied.

Murdock:

— He's 36 when the series starts, and was in his late twenties when he joined the Rising Volt Tacklers.

— He and Blanca were raised by their grandmother, and he learned how to cook from her. He took on more and more of the cooking responsibilities as he got older, both to lift the burden from his grandmother, and also because he legitimately came to love it.

— He has studied dietary science in addition to the culinary arts, and this is something that he and Mollie often nerd out about together.

— While he can and will battle if need-be, he has never cared very much for it, because he doesn't like it when his pokémon get hurt. This is largely the reason why his rockruff is still a rockruff.

— He is very often the first to point out when another member of the crew is pushing themselves too hard. However, he is also prone to pushing himself too hard. He and Orio frequently call each other out on this.

[fawnistry]

ᥫ᭡ dead dove: do not eat.

content warnings: dubcon, rough sex, semi-public sex, possessiveness, recording without explicit consent, biting, marking, bruising, unprotected sex, and a very morally dubious sae itoshi.

▷ preview: sae needs to fuck you before every match—superstition, obsession, whatever. if he doesn’t, he plays like shit, and he cannot afford that. the problem? he’s not gentle about it. it’s rough, possessive, almost punishing—like he’s taking out his pre-game tension on your body. 

the locker room is empty except for the two of you, the sharp scent of antiseptic and sweat thick in the air. sae’s fingers dig into your hips, pressing you back against the cold metal of the lockers, his breath hot against your ear. "you know i can’t play without this," he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. "you know what happens if i don’t get what i need."

you do. you’ve seen the way he plays when he’s unsatisfied—reckless, brutal, like he’s punishing the entire world for denying him. and you’re the only one who can fix it.

his hand slides under your skirt, rough, impatient. there’s no preamble, no gentle touch. he’s already hard, already pushing your panties aside with a sharp tug. you gasp as he sinks into you in one brutal thrust, your back hitting the lockers with a rattling bang. "quiet," he growls, biting at your throat. "someone could hear."

but that’s the thing—he doesn’t care. not really. if anything, the risk makes him fuck you harder, his hips slamming into you with a rhythm that’s punishing, possessive. his pre-game ritual. his superstition. you.

your breath comes in ragged little whimpers, your fingers scrambling for purchase against the slick metal behind you. he doesn’t let you adjust, doesn’t let you think. just takes, over and over, his grip on you bruising. "fuck, you’re perfect like this," he mutters, lips dragging over your jaw. "all mine. all for me."

then you hear it—the click of his phone camera, the soft shutter sound. your eyes fly open, meeting his dark, hungry gaze as he holds the screen up, capturing the way he’s buried inside you, the way your thighs shake around him. "gonna watch this every time i need to focus," he says, voice rough. "gonna remember how you feel."

it should scare you. it does scare you. but the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way he fucks you like he’s claiming you in front of the whole world—it makes your stomach twist with something sick and sweet.

he doesn’t stop recording. not when you clench around him, not when he groans your name like a prayer, not when he spills inside you with a shudder, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his own sounds.

when he pulls away, he tucks his phone back into his pocket like it’s nothing. like he didn’t just make you part of his routine in the worst way possible. like he won’t need it again tomorrow. and the next day. and the day after that.

"good girl," he murmurs, smoothing your skirt down with a smirk. "see you after the match."

you know you will. because superstitions don’t break. they only get worse.

[venacoeurva]

I will celebrate the day stevia stops being the hot cool trendy thing to use in stuff, that will also be the day I'll stop getting splitting headaches from things because they switched out sugar or other sweeteners with it suddenly

[raccoonwooyoung]

Soup. :]

[emily-mooon]

Why is there only one Jancy sickfic?

I’m going to have to write it myself, aren’t I?

[gutsby]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon’s sweet wife

seen other people talk about the task force finding out about Simon’s bird at first in subtle ways so I made this

It started with the lunches.

At first, no one thought much of it. Simon had brought the occasional sandwich before, nothing out of the ordinary. But then it changed. Out went the basic bread and meat, and in came proper meals. Lasagna. Curry. A neatly packed container of something warm and homemade, tucked right beside a little folded note Simon was far too quick to snatch out of sight when Johnny leaned over, grinning.

“C’mon, Simon,” he teased, voice full of curiosity. “Just let us have a peek. We wanna know who’s makin’ you lunch like that, eh?”

Kyle nodded, snickering.

“Piss off,” Simon grumbled, big hand curling protectively around the note like it was a classified file. He didn’t care that they were watching, didn’t even look up. Just reread your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth beneath the mask.

“Ay, Johnny, look! you can see a heart through the paper!” Kyle laughed, catching the way the light hit the thin paper just right, revealing the faint outline of a heart signed with your name.

After that, it became a bit of a running joke. Not that Simon gave them anything to work with. But the mystery only deepened when, during a three week deployment at another unit, a care package showed up with his name on it.

To say the guys hovered would be an understatement. Johnny and Kyle practically sat on either side of him like vultures, trying to act casual. Price stayed back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, looking disinterested but Simon could feel his eyes, just as nosy as the others.

The box had all the essentials: snacks, cold weather gear, a familiar blanket from home. A couple of your sweet notes, some of his favorite tea in bulk. But what really got them going were the Polaroids tucked in between the layers of stuff.

Kyle caught a glimpse of one. Simon sitting on a porch step with you in his lap, your smile soft, his arm wrapped tight around your waist.

Johnny elbowed him. “Alright, Simon. When ’re we gonna meet this mystery missus of yours?”

“She wouldn’t like you.” He grunted in response 

“What is she, a grump like you?”

Hardly.

The real surprise came a few weeks later, when a sweet bird showed up at base asking for Lieutenant Simon Riley.

Price was the first to see you. He’d expected someone with a set it glare, reserved, maybe a little sharp around the edges. Instead, you walked right up to Simon with a warm smile, kissed his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, and handed him a jacket. 

Simon knew Price, Kyle, and Johnny were watching from around the corner. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if half the rookies and a few of the other sergeants were too.

But none of that mattered.

Not when his sweet girl was standing in front of him.

“Why are you here, baby?” he asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You forgot your jacket,” you said, brow furrowed. “And I heard it was supposed to be cold today. I didn’t want you to get sick.”

Your voice alone cracked something in him, and it was impossible not to smile under the mask.

“Y’know I would’ve been fine, love.”

Still, he took the jacket from your hands with a quiet “thank you,” promising to wear it, walking you down the hallway before watching you turn and head back out.

Well— not before Johnny and Kyle caught you at the corner, peering over the wall like a couple of kids up to no good.

They didn’t say much, but by the time Simon heard about it later, you’d already agreed to let them come over for dinner sometime.

He just shook his head. Not even surprised by their antics. But he didn’t say no either.

Because you’d said yes.

So next Saturday, he guessed he’d be setting an extra few plates at the table for Johnny, Kyle, and probably Price, too. 

[cvnt4him]

izu w a cock too big for his own good.

You're his first girlfriend...EVER. which is surprising to you, he's attractive big n strong and so so so kind. He's the kind of guy girls dream about, a literal knight in shining armor. It made you feel sick that you couldn't help the lewd thoughts of what was inside the knights pants.

You would bring him food whenever you could and would see his thick bulge against his pants, that silly smile of his and those chubby freckled cheeks. He was so adorable and such a loser. God he truly deserves a cock that big.

You had him laid down on his back thighs wide open with you sitting in between them gently rubbing his cock covered by his boxers. He whimpered lowly staring up at you with those wide eyes of him, his face flushed with red while his pupils were blown wide. Izuku had never done anything quite like this before.....not with someone else at least.

He was a gooner 100% so he's definitely teased his cock through his boxers before you believe that for sure. You admired his face for a little before focusing on his big and thick cock sitting flat against his pelvis jolting up at the drag of your finger. You hum and gently rub your finger up his tip repeatedly earning a sigh from him, his eyes fluttering while his brows furrowed sticky precum oozing through his boxers, darkening the spot where his tip laid.

His thighs were having trouble staying open, the feeling of being pleasured but just barely by you was fogging up his brain it was turning him on a lot more than you thought. He could cum untouched if that's what you wanted, as many times as you wanted. You put your hand on his inner thigh caressing his freckled and tanned skin with your thumb and a smile painting your face.

You wrap your entire hand around his cock giving it a squeeze trying to get a feel out of his cock. The girth was amazing you could hardly wrap your entire hand around it. That says a lot. Once more he whined laying his head back and using the back of his hand to hide the wobbly smile forming in his flushed face. You didn't even move your hand, just holding his cock as it began jumping in your palm. You could feel it moving up and down begging to be used.

“ y..yeah.....c'mon touch it.. mmph.. fuck.”

You heard him mumble a whimper filled sentence under his breath, heavy breaths leaving him as he laid back letting you whatever you wanted to him.

“ m’gonna pull these down a bit m’kay izu?”

He nodded quickly as you removed your hand from his cock and hooked your fingers through the waist and of his boxers, pulling it back and letting it snap against his skin. He winced and jolted up at the pain whimpering with a shiver as he looked up to you with pleading eyes. He didn't say anything, letting his eyes tell you exactly what you knew he wanted. How sweet.

You run your hand down his lower abdomen before finally fishing your hand into his boxers and pulling it out gently having it lie against his pelvis once more. A shaky sigh left his lips at the gush of cold air hitting his precum slicked tip. You admired his estate for a while watching how enamouring he was, how luminescent he looked.

His cock head was large and a rosy red still leaking precum, there were a couple of veins painting the sides of his thick pulsating cock, large and full balls tightening below. He looked absolutely appetizing. It truly is a surprise to see a sweet and gentle guy have such a big and bold cock. So thick it can't even stand up on its own.

“ dont...look at it like that..”

He whispered to you, a whine ending his sentence. His eyes were hardly open he was so embarrassed, his cock was out having the cold air brush against it causing his cock to jump at the breeze. He whined lowly thighs flexing on each side of you waiting for you to do something.

You rub his thighs to try and get him to calm down, his breathing was heavy and almost as if he was out of breath. To your surprise his hips lift into the air slightly and he shivers at your touch, a low moan leaving his lips. He was so desperate to be touched it was saddening honestly, but far too cute to not enjoy.

You decided to give in and touch him, wrapping your hand around his cock once more jerking him off. Hand moving up and down in an agonizingly slow pace. Not even five minutes of you touching him gently, palm grazing over his sensitive vock head occasionally, he'd cum.

Low whines leaving his slackened jaw as his cock began leaking out his whine cum, pooling all over his lower abdomen and spilling onto the bed, you had moved your hand the second you seen his cum slowly spill down his reddened cock head.

You stared at him, disbelief behind your eyes but you hadn't wanted him to see that as he might feel bad given how quickly he'd cum. After he calmed down from he previous high his shaky eyes fluttered open and focused back on you and your figure, your eyes met with his and he instantly felt a rush of embarrassment.

Curling into a ball and huffing out a line of apologies.

“ I'm so sorry!! I just...you , you felt so good-! I didn't know I could...... just..— I'm sorry !”

You sigh and laugh above your adorable little big lover below you, hiding his face and whining in embarrassment wallowing in his own filth. You rub his back kissing the top of his head and decided you wouldn't tease him.

Although the fact his cock is so big and so thick and HE was so big and strong yet he couldn't even handle having his cock stroked by his girlfriend. Albeit this was his first time with something like this so you supposed you could give him the benefit of the doubt.

[seungisms]

( skz reaction ) how he makes you cum .ᐟ

🖇️📂 how skz go through the trenches to make you cum

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, degradation, semi-public sex, car sex, somnophilia, overstimulation, sub!hyunjin, note: this was completely self indulgent, just wanted an excuse to write about how big changbin and jisung have gotten 😮‍💨

방찬. BANG CHAN

gets such a kick out of making you cum while simultaneously refusing to give you his dick - you can beg, plead, throw all the tantrums you want, he won’t give in. he just wants to see you get all cute and desperate and greedy for his cock before he gives you it. absolutely loves how easy it is to get you off when you’re in this state and will have you drooling on him like a bitch in heat in no time with simply just his fingers and pretty praises, curling deep against your snug walls while cooing down at you, “you’re already so fucked out honey, haven’t even given you a taste of cock yet. think you can handle it?” all you can manage is a stupid little nod and whimper, hips grinding down to meet the thrusts of his fingers, cunt hungrily sucking them in and he just wishes it was his dick instead. chan truly loves to take his sweet time with you and can’t help but think you look soso pretty after he’s fucked you dumb on his fingers, pussy all sticky and stretched and just begging for him to bully his fat cock in. but he can be a tad cruel sometimes and honestly thinks its the funniest thing ever to ignore your gasped begs, a mean grin on his otherwise gentle face as his digits continue to spread you open, hardly giving his neglected dick a second thought. 

calls you all the pretty names in the book - angel, sweetheart, honey - and they all sound a little too sweet falling from his lips when he’s abusing your little nub. really enjoys watching you work for your orgasm too, its no fun if he’s just gonna hand it to you!! lays between your legs and rubs his fat cockhead up and down your folds, drenching it in your warmth before accidentally fucking it in just an inch then pulling back again, eating up all the frustrated whines you let slip. but god, when he finally does push in and rips one last orgasm out of you its so worth it, and you can barely find it in yourself to care about the way he tormented your poor pussy earlier when he’s stretching you out real good, cock pumping into you so deep it has you slack jawed and teary eyed. fucks you through your orgasm, the familiar heat in your body traveling down in warm spurts of slick cum coating his dick. and he just can’t stop running his mouth when you’re clamping down on him, “that’s it baby, cum on my cock…god, this tight little pussy will be the death of me,” and, “pretty girl, you did so well for me.” he’s so pussy whipped. might even get nasty with it and bury his face between your thighs after, lapping up the mess of cum and sweat pooling onto your thighs. good luck prying him away <333

리노. LEE MINHO 

a true menace at heart. his favourite way to make you cum is when you’re not even aware that it’s happening - you’ll be knocked out cold and you still won’t be safe from this sick, sick man. you couldn’t even count the amount of times you’ve woken up to him pumping into your cunt in the dead of night, shushing you back to sleep cause, “you’re okay sweetheart, just couldn’t stop thinking about your pretty pussy all night. just go back to sleep.” just can’t help himself. especially when he wakes up before you and you’re beside him looking all vulnerable and cute wrapped up in his sheets, legs looking so empty without his head between them and what’s a man to do? doesn’t even give it a second thought before he’s working his mouth against your cunt, testing how many orgasms he can pull from you before you catch on and finally wake up. can only bury his face further into the messy heaven that is your pussy when your sleepy whimpers perk his ears, brows furrowing in pleasure and pretty face all screwed up, mind toting on the line between sleep and the slick tongue working you up. such a tease and will pull away just to watch in amusement as your back arches slightly off the bed, hips subconsciously rutting up to chase after his mouth, missing the warmth and practically begging him to fuck his tongue deeper into your inviting pussy. and he’s so fucking mean to you that he’ll fucking laugh to himself, mumbling something about how much of a cock whore you are even when you’re deep asleep. 

minho is a messy eater, spit and drool mixed with your arousal dripping from his chin - not letting up his abuse until your nub is raw and pulsing against his tongue. he’s quick to rest a hand on your tummy when you start to come around, legs closing in around his head and eyes blinking sleepily down at him and he would’ve thought you were so cute if he wasn’t so busy making out with your pussy. doesn’t even give you a second to figure out what tf is going on before he’s trying to coax more of those adorable gasps out of you, teeth tugging on your folds and fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, keeping them spread wide open for him until you’re complaining that your muscles are sore and tired, but he still won’t let up - continuing to eat you out like a starved animal. likes when you just can’t help yourself from tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging his face even closer to your dripping cunt to the point all he can see, feel, taste is you. and you’re grinding down on him like a desperate little pup, nose bumping against your clit in the most delicious obscene way, all sloppy and messy with your cum and you’re just left wondering why your boyfriend is so mean to you at 8 in the goddamn morning. he won’t stop until you’re begging him to either, pussy left raw and swollen before he’s leaving one last spit fuelled kiss against it. forces you to kiss him after too, shoving his tongue down your throat so you can taste how sweet you really are.

“morning sweetheart.”

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

likes showing off his strength to you, especially in public when you can do nothing but drool over him - his eyes going straight to the way you press your pretty thighs together when he wears a tight fitting shirt or has his arms on show and he can practically smell the arousal dripping off you. pretends to be surprised when he finally corners you into an empty dressing room, flipping up your skirt and getting a good look at your damp panties and you can hardly stand the embarrassed flush that takes over when he swipes a fat finger over the drenched fabric. makes some sarcastic quip like, “jesus baby, did watching me work out make you this wet? i haven’t even done anything yet.” and nearly loses his goddamn mind when he feels you gush even more at his words, wetness starting to drip past the seams and he can almost taste it. but you don’t even have time to apologise for being the cock hungry whore he always likes to tease you are before he’s nudging your stupid frilly underwear to the side and bumping his digits past your folds, pumping and stretching them so deep inside you it has your toes curling and nails breaking the skin of his biceps, looking for something, anything, to hold onto. and he’ll have you creaming on his cock in a matter of minutes, muscles tensing in his back and jaw straining as he fucks you full. 

you best believe he’s gonna put those muscles to good use, he’s big and strong, strong enough to put you into any position he wants. loves seeing that dumb look on your cute little face the second he gets his hands on you. with the strength comes the stamina, he can go until you’ve completely milked him dry - having fucked you until you were empty headed hours ago but he’s still determined to force just one more out of you. as soon as he feels you go limp on him he’s all over you, tangling a hand in your hair to tug your head back, sweaty chest pressed tightly against your back as he pumps into you from behind, buried so deeply it’s no wonder he has you cumming on his dick again and again. loves the way you lazily clench around him despite tapping out long ago, his strong arms holding you to fuck up into you like you’re nothing more than a hole to him. istg one of the main factors this man works out so much is to see you lose your absolute mind the bigger he gets. 

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN 

despite being such a brat, he knows how much you get off on having him sub for you. so he might just let you take control now and then if you’re being extra good for him. and he expects you to take full advantage of the opportunity cause he can go back to being a brat in a matter of seconds if you’re not careful. nothing quite gets you going like reducing this man to a blubbering mess of cute tears and whimpers, cock all swollen and neglected and just itching to finally sink into your inviting pussy. he sometimes hates how nasty you can get when he’s in such a state, edging him towards orgasm again and again and he can’t miss the way your pussy dampens at the sounds of his whiney groans. tries to hold himself back a lot for your sake, veins in his neck almost popping while his fingers twist and curl into the bedsheets, resisting the urge to fuck his hips up when you’re smothering his dick with your glossy lips. nearly loses all sense of control when you take his fat tip between them, tongue pressing down around him and he can hardly focus on anything but the mess of drool and precum slipping down your chin, it’s such a pretty sight. he’s so fucked out that he almost misses the way your fingers dip into your pussy, fucking your fingers into your hot cunt in time with the bobs of your head and he has half a mind to force you off him and replace them with his cock.

hyunjin swears he wants to be good for you, he really does, but he’s so greedy and soso close to cumming that he can’t help but think with his dick and buck his hips up slightly to force himself further down your throat, the lewd sounds of your choked gasps only spiralling him closer. he can only let out a series of pathetic apologies that don’t really mean anything cause he’s still humping your mouth like a dog. post nut regret is real cause as soon as he empties himself down your throat he’s letting out a series of excuses, “but baby, you just feel so good!! how am i meant to help myself 🥺” and nearly crashes tf out when you don’t buy it for a single second - he can only beg, hope, pray you’ll go easy on him. but then you’re grabbing his jaw in your hand, spitting something vile about how much of a selfish bastard he is, sinking your slippery pussy down onto his softening cock and sitting all pretty. making him watch as you get yourself off over and over without offering him the slightest bit of relief - he almost believes your biting words that he’s good for nothing but a dick for you to pleasure yourself with, trying to ignore the fact that deep, deep down he loves when you use him like this. 

한. HAN JISUNG

sometimes he likes not giving you what you want. he’s normally all over you to the point it was pathetic, not able to keep his hands to himself for even a second and you just love teasing him about how well trained and pussy-whipped you have him. he hates it. so now and again he likes to remind you how much you relay on him to keep you sane by dicking you down almost daily. makes you suffer for a few days just to see you slowly lose your mind, and he thrives on how desperate you are to have him buried inside you. he knows you’re apprehensive, especially when he starts making up some excuse you clearly don’t buy when you reach for his underwear, or when he pushes you away and whispers “later baby” when you grind down onto his cock but later never comes, and whenever you finally do coax him to fuck you he’ll pull out just as you’re about to cum, claiming he was just too tired. he’ll have to keep himself busy, late nights in the studio so he doesn’t have time to think about how much he’d rather be buried balls deep in your warm pussy, canceling your plans to spend it at the dorms just begging to some god, whatever god, that you’ll finally break and just force him to fuck you. and when you finally do, it’ll almost be worth blue balling himself the whole week. 

jisung just knows you’re planning something when you so sweetly offer him a ride when he’s running late to practice, your doe eyes hiding a mean glint and the obnoxiously tiny skirt you’re donning not fooling him in the slightest. doesn’t even question it when five minutes into the ride you take a wrong turn into an empty street, stalling the engine and clambering into his lap from where he sat in the passenger seat - so desperate that you don’t waste any time, nudging your flimsy panties to the side to sink down onto his fat dick, he has to hold everything inside of himself back from busting a load just from the feeling alone. and he’s been so pussy depraved the past week that he can do nothing but give in, letting you ride him like he was nothing more than a cock for you to use. he just HAS to keep his mouth busy when he’s fucking up into you, anything to keep him from losing himself in the hold your cunt has on him. “you’re so needy, you know that baby? almost worse than me. what? you don’t like being told the truth? you were losing your mind without my dick inside you, it was cute.” and he just can’t ignore the way you seem to wrap even tighter around him, he didn’t even know it was possible with how you were suffocating his cock already. he gets you there in seconds, the stench of sex and sweat fogging up the windows and he swears your cum has never tasted sweeter than when he has you reduced to the mess you are now. 

필릭스. LEE FELIX 

felix is usually so sweet and gentle with you during sex, spoiling you with pretty praises and the stretch of his cock fucking you so lovingly it’d make you feel embarrassed sometimes. but he just can’t stand it when you take advantage of that and act like a brat, it makes him want to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you in front of everyone whenever you give him the slightest bit of lip in public, forcing you to apologise on his dick for being such a little bitch. he won’t go that far though. no, he’ll just sit back and watch as you get yourself off, every passing second making your need for his cock even more obvious - might not be your favourite way to get off, but its definitely his. ignores your meek apologies when you know you’ve went too far, deep voice cutting you off and telling you to strip as he sits comfortably against your headboard, hands undoing his belt and you’re practically dripping in arousal - foolishly thinking he’s gonna give in and fuck the attitude out of you. but he can be so nasty when he wants to be, cock leaking and red and you suddenly feel so empty looking at it. fucking laughs at how eager you are when you rush to sit on his lap and just when you’re about to sink down onto him he’s stopping you, a mean glint in his pretty eyes. “grind on it.” loves wiping that hopeful look on your face and if you even think for a second about complaining he’ll just make you sit in the corner and watch as he gets himself off over and over again. 

he likes to see you work for it, leaning his head back and gazing at your through bored eyes, acting like the warmth of your pussy dragging against the length of his cock wasn’t driving him absolutely insane. he’ll try his hardest to not give in, at least until he sees those cute tears line your lashes. and you never thought your sweet little boyfriend could be so mean with how he just refuses to fuck you. normally he’s wrapped around you pretty little finger, and god do you know it. deliberately bumping your pussy against his tip with every rut of your hips, hands clawing at his chest just begging for even an ounce of pity. but he wants to watch you make a mess out of yourself for just a bit longer, your whines going straight to his cock as spurts of warm precum spill out of his swollen tip, nudging it just an inch past your pussy to rub his stickiness against you. probably cums along with you when you finally do, and it’s so unsatisfying that you’re sobbing and sniffling into his chest, gasping out how much you need him inside you and he’s so proud you’ve finally let go of that bratty attitude of yours.

“that’s it pretty girl, let it all out.”

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN

when he’s so pussy whipped that he’s completely consumed by you. the only thing he can think, taste, feel is you. to the point that nothing else matters and his only goal is to make you cum. nothing quite gets you off like it. he notices it first when he’s fucking you like he usually does, like he hates your guts, the stretch of his cock almost painful with how deep he was pumping into you, sweat dripping from his hairline and his pretty lips tainted with vile words. but the moment you hear a little pathetic whine leaving them instead you’re clamping down around him so snugly it has him letting a few more out without even thinking. he’ll try to ignore it, tells you to shut the fuck up or he’ll stop. but he won’t be able to shake the feeling of you spilling onto him in floods the second you registered the noise and the slight stutter of his hips, his usual harsh demeanour slipping for just a second. he’ll lose himself in the feeling of your warm cunt just see how you’d react, being a little pathetic in the way he talks you through it, mean words turning to pretty begs and he loves the way you gush around him from the complete 180. sometimes, only when you’ve been extra good for him, he’ll let you use his cock until you’ve completely milked him dry, just to coax more of those pretty whimpers out of him but he’ll genuinely break up with you if you dare bring it up to anyone. LOVES eating you out when he’s in this space, stuffing his face so far between your thighs he’s almost being suffocated with your pussy, letting out the greediest little moans just from the taste alone, making you cum again and again until he’s covered and dripping in your cum. 

seungmin eats you out like a man starved, spit lubing up your cunt and your sore nub relentlessly abused by his tongue - nose nudging your clit a few times, only adding to the sloppy way he was kissing your pussy. but you just don’t have the heart to tell him to back off when he’s subtly humping the bed for some kind of release and his eyes are rolling into the back of his head, wet groans of, “tell me how good i’m making you feel, please,” being breathed out against your cunt everytime he reluctantly pulls away for a gulp of air, almost as if he’d be happier dying with his mouth on your cunt right then and there instead of pulling away. he’ll make himself cum just from eating you out, his name falling off your lips like it’s a prayer and back arching to fuck your pussy up into his mouth has his heavy cock twitching, warm spurts of cum leaking past his tip and leaving a sticky, wet patch on the bedsheets. has to overcompensate when the post-nut regret hits him though and will probably push your head into it, telling you to clean it up or some shit. gets soso cocky when you can’t get enough and start feeling up his softened cock, tutting something about, “just made you cum, you really are a greedy girl.” acting as if he hasn’t just spent the last hour eating you out like a animal. 

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

likes to get you off by riling you up. he just thinks it’s so funny - especially when he’s performing. he’ll play into it  when he knows you’re backstage watching on one of the monitors, just itching to get your hands on him and fuck the tease out of him. loves the thought of you drenching through your panties while watching him work the crowd, sweat dripping down his body and smiling all cocky when the audience goes wild for him, just knowing you’re right there along with them. he’ll make you wait a bit when he finally meets you in his dressing room, claiming he’s too tired but really he just wants to see you beg a little. and as soon as everyone clears out and it’s just you and him, you’re on him in instant - wanting so desperately to slap that smug grin on his face when your hands reach for his belt but also needing nothing more than to feel his thick cock breaking you open. and before you know it he has you bent over the armrest of the little shitty sofa he shares with the members, nails breaking the skin of your hips and ass as he loses himself in the snug walls of your fluttering pussy.

jeongin loves being needed, and he especially loves when you tell him how much you need him. but he doesn’t necessarily appreciate when you’re moaning like a whore with his members standing right outside the door. constantly hisses through clenched teeth for you to be quiet, slowing the grind of his cock down until he’s completely still inside you, hips snug against your ass and chest pressed tightly against your back to whisper in your ear, “you better shut the fuck up baby, what are you gonna do if chan hyung walks in and sees you getting railed like the little slut you are?” and he really can’t bring himself to ignore the way you clench around him at the thought, almost laughing at how much of cock whore you really are if he wasn’t so focused on filling you up with his cum until you could practically taste it. he’ll settle for a hand muffling your sounds, cause you just seem to get even louder the second he slams his dick back inside you, muffling your slutty whimpers when he hears faint voices carry through the thin walls. and he’s so desperate to make you cum before someone walks in, telling you to take it like a good girl when he’s filling you up and before you know you’re making a mess of the sofa and his cock. he’s so mean to you that he’ll make you explain to his hyungs what the weird stain left on the couch was just to embarrass you even more.

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