#its like a stomach ache but it comes and goes

[depengu]

(-ω-｡)

[vitiateoriginator]

I faked being sick to go home early from work yesterday (mental health was not letting me act nerotypical enough to function for retail), and today I think I actually am sick 😳

[aggressionbread]

science side of tumblr why's my tummy hurt

[justabunchofdragons]

also the feeling of winning a politically based argument with my dad is soooo fucking good

[luveline]

Hotch request w Jack and new baby!!! Coming back from the hospital and reader is in bed with new baby and Jack while Aaron is in another part of the house (maybe making food in the kitchen) and reader starts crying because she’s in pain and jack is all concerned and sweet and goes to get Aaron??

thank you for requesting, sorry I messed up where everyone was! fem, 1.3k

“He’s gonna stab him!” 

You blink from the spot you’d been staring at, pain momentarily forgotten. “What! Where’d you learn that word?” you ask in surprise. 

Jack leans back against his big velvet pillow, blue with silver stars, looking as though he’s in the lap of luxury. “At school.” 

The cartoon mouse on the TV raises his fencing sword high in the air. 

“He’s not stabbing anyone, they’re fencing,” you say, reaching for his hand to hold. “Stabbing… that’s pretty scary. How did that make you feel?” 

“Well, I’m not gonna stab anyone,” Jack says. 

He’s confused that you’re making a fuss, just old enough to realise you’re poking around for his feelings. You worry lately that you aren’t paying him enough attention because of his new brother, and the word stab isn’t exactly age appropriate. 

But maybe that’s what the boys his age are talking about? You frown more, your hand slipping along his arm to curl behind him. You pull him toward you. “Come on, handsome. Cuddle me.” 

You’re too sore to move, so Jack has to come to you. He crawls across the couch until his arms can wrap around you and his cheek can rest against your chest. Stab is an apt word for the feeling in your stomach. Jack’s arm squeezes at you and the pain worsens, so you move it up your front and curl your arm around him. 

“Is it a bad word?” he asks. 

“No, it’s just like hit or slap, I guess. And I know you’re not gonna do any of that to anyone. You’re too gentle.” 

“Gentle is a good word.” 

“Yeah.” You kiss his forehead, a moment of self indulgence. You love your stepson, and he is oh so kissable. “Oh no, look at the mouse.” 

Charlie sleeps in his swing seat, the soft whirring of its constant motion almost as comforting as the sound of his soft breaths. You watch him for a while, Jack climbing up at your side to press his face to your neck, leg on your thigh, slowly pressing against the tenderness that is your abdomen. “Uh, Jack,” you breathe, trying to pick him up, “you’re gonna have to climb off of me, my tummy hurts too much.” 

“Sorry,” he says quickly, slipping off of you and onto the couch cushion. His foot kicks out as he rights himself, a jamming of his toes against the pain like a spike. 

You take a deep breath. Ouch. 

“It’s okay,” you say, groaning softly as the pain thrums, hand on your stomach as though your touch can make it stop, “just a tummy ache. I– I’m okay.” 

“You got little tears?” he says, his voice going wobbly. You try to blink away tears and end up with a straggler curving down the slope of your cheek. “I’ll go get dad!” 

“Jack, I’m okay,” you say. 

Too late. Jack scrambles from the couch and away from you, up the stairs to find his father. You’re not sure what Aaron’s up to, he’d only said, “I’ll be right back,” twenty minutes ago. You’d guessed laundry. 

You’re glad Jack’s run upstairs when you realise the pain isn’t going away. It’s not bad, not half as bad as your contractions had been, but the whole labour process has sapped you, and you feel weak as a willow branch in bad weather. You shift heavily onto one leg and cross them, uncross them when the pain spikes again, letting out a weird and breathless whine as it turns to a full blown cramp. 

Jack returns with Aaron in tow. His hair is dripping wet, soap suds on his neck and his shirt stuck to his chest. He’s rushed out of the shower to see you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he rounds the couch. “Jack told me you’re not feeling well.” 

You hold your arms out for a hug. He doesn’t falter, simply does as you want, his hair wringing wet and dripping onto your shoulder as he gathers you in his arms. 

You hold onto him like a lifeline. The cramp curls, and tightens, has you seizing up against him. 

“What is it?” he asks softly. “Stomach pains again?” 

The nurse said it’s your uterus shrinking. Whatever it is, it’s sudden agony. You shudder into Aaron’s shoulder until the pain pangs and fades, leaving your stomach a tense mess. It hurts to move, so you stay clinging to your husband and let him hover over you. 

“Are you okay?” Jack asks.

You sniff. 

Aaron pulls away to take your face into his hands. He holds you with care, his thumbs under your jaw, index fingers running diagonally under each eye, tips at your brows. Just a stolen few seconds for him to check you over. No tears to be wiped away. 

“Still hurting?” 

You shake your head, eyebrows pulled down in a bad frown. 

“Okay. Alright. Motrin?” he asks. 

“No,” you whisper, “can you just stay here?” 

Jack says your name. 

You peek past Aaron’s body. “Jack, sorry.” 

“Are you okay now?” 

You grimace, “I’m gonna be fine, it just hurts sometimes and I didn’t have any medicine today. That’s all. Sorry, I scared you.” 

“You didn’t scare me,” he denies. 

You can’t help smiling, then. “Okay, I didn’t. Thanks for getting dad for me.” 

“He’s our hero,” Aaron says. He sits down beside you carefully, his voice quiet and his hand gentle as he holds your thigh. “I’m glad he did.” 

Jack climbs into his dad’s lap. Aaron wraps an arm around him, the other at your side, fingers tapping at you. 

You rub your forehead. Tip your head back and take a deep breath. 

“Jack,” you whisper, breathing out, “I’m sorry if I startled you. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

“It wasn’t scary, I said that already.” 

“Oh, you did?” Aaron teases. 

“It was okay, I just don’t want you to hurt.” 

“Only baby pains,” you say. 

For a few minutes, you and your small family sit there in silence. Aaron works a hand behind your back to hug you, Jack snuggles into his chest, and Charlie stirs in his swing seat. The quiet calms him, and he goes back to his soft snoring seconds later. 

“I’m sorry about your shower,” you whisper. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about my baby,” Aaron whispers back, drawing circles into your lower back, “he didn’t mean to chew you up.” 

“Ugh, I know.” 

Jack raises his nose. “What? Chew? Do babies bite?” 

“It’s an expression, babe.” 

“Oh.” He looks at his baby brother with suspicion anyways. “He doesn’t even have teeth?” 

“Buddy, it’s just a joke,” Aaron says, laughing as Jack slips out of his lap to go and look at Charlie in the seat. 

“Maybe he did have teeth,” you say. 

Aaron ushers you toward him, rests his cheek on your forehead. “It’ll feel better soon. You need to rest, that’s all.” 

“Your hair is so wet.” 

“I was in the shower.” 

“Sorry…” 

“Don’t be,” he says. “Don’t be.” 

You reach up to tousle his wet hair. “Miss showering with you.” 

“We showered last night.” 

“No, I stood there and you helped me wash my back, that’s not the same.” 

“Well, I enjoyed it.” 

“I bet you did.” 

Your fondness attracts many, many kisses, his nose nuzzling your cheek. You settle under the weight of him and watch Jack where he frowns at Charlie, big brown eyes squinted, waiting for a show of teeth that won’t happen. Aaron brings a hand to your tense stomach, waiting for you to lean back before he begins massaging the tensed muscle there with a slowness that borders unmoving. 

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he says. 

“You can go finish your shower.” 

“I was finished. M’gonna start pressing in, okay?” 

You wince as Aaron begins, but slowly, slowly, the tenseness from your cramp softens. It still hurts, but he makes it manageable. Jack delivered your rescuer, and your rescuer loves a soft touch.

[gutsby]

Mouthful

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller thinks he’s strong enough to quit it, but something in the way you suck him says he isn’t.

Warnings: 18+. A man with a big, bad oral fixation + lots of love for a sneaky succ. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. Blowing Joel under the table at dad’s birthday dinner.

Snippet of Hating Game

He knows better than to let a moan slip at a time like this. Not when he’s sitting at the dinner table; not when he’s surrounded by the people he knows and loves the most. Not when he’s celebrating his best friend’s 51st birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter is perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye but his.

Joel lifts the tablecloth. He almost unloads on the spot.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel can’t help but ache for a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgets all sense of decorum and simply goes to town on that pretty little face. But, as it is, the rest of the party is totally oblivious to your absence, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That’ll come later.

No, now he’ll let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’ll let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you get to set—and he won’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure.

That doesn’t mean he can’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wants something done a certain way. The room is dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel will gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He doesn’t have to speak a word of it for you to know what he means. What he needs. You loosen your jaw and stretch your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazes your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel says aloud.

You freeze.

Then, without missing a beat, you hear him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continue to suck him anyway.

One hand braces tight against Joel’s leg and the other flits shamelessly between your own, and you try not to moan, but the sound escapes anyway. No one hears it, but Joel feels it reverberate down his shaft, and he grips his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shoots him a curious look from across the table but says nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grins beside him.

“What?” Joel falters. Sets his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you drag your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunts.

“The wine,” Tommy says, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel lets out another strangled breath that he tries to pass off as a chuckle and nods.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admits.

And that’s the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you kneel down to blow him, it’s still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you know it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man is enrapt. It’s just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that makes Joel loath to admit it. At any rate, he has your tongue licking stripes up his cock and feels a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knows he won’t last much longer. Neither will you.

Joel can’t see it now, but you’ve practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’ve been rubbing your clit—and how turned on you are from just sucking his dick, keeping your mouth wide open for a fucking whenever he wants it. While Joel reaches for another draught of wine, you bring one hand to his balls and keep the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needs you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guide him down to the furthest place in your throat, then push him even deeper. You gag, just slightly, and feel a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb starts to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nod that you do. Can’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you can feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rut your hips and hope no one drops a fork nearby. Buck desperately into your hand and feel the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you’re whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returns a quick smile from your father and cracks a joke about the Super Bowl. Raises his hips just the slightest bit and wipes one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you can do is cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he’s giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body make it almost impossible to bear, but you obey your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sense a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You want to taste him as he blows his load in your mouth, floods your tongue with his spend, and paints every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You need him whole

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reaches his peak—Joel raises the tablecloth when Tommy isn’t looking. His gaze locks on yours and his tongue darts quick between his lips. He cocks a brow. Brushes his thumb up again.

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You give one soft, wide-eyed nod, and that’s all he needs.

No sooner do you give him the green light than his cum goes pulsing out in ropes, coating your whole throat and eventually your mouth as you hold still and take it all.

There’s so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that’s been waiting to giving your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’s started he just can’t stop. Above the table, your dad shoots a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it takes every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’s filled so much of your mouth it’s spilling out now.

You try to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just know there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fuck up now. Your breath catches in your chest, and you feel too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel starts, and your head almost cracks on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinch back,

“—to the realization. That you are so…fuckin’ old, man.”

Your father’s laugh is the first thing you hear, followed by Tommy, your friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you feel, to your complete and utter shock, is Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slides his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth has made in awe and starts to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but desperate to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who can’t risk a glimpse at you now, but wants more than anything to see the mouth he’s just filled.

Your father’s words haven’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsides and Tommy scoots back in his chair, taking leave of your table, you feel a spark ignite. Whether it’s yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane, you can’t be sure, but you can make out a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slips his dick out of your mouth and grins. Takes a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers are practically coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It’s the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

Your Joel.

[naomiarai]

[ ░ ] 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 — 𝘦𝘯𝘩𝘢 𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 ! 🤍 18+

╰┈➤ enha hyung line + when you act out ! ✧.*

˗ˏˋ ✧ ´ˎ˗ PAIRING — enha hyung like × fem!reader

˗ˏˋ ✧ ´ˎ˗ WARNINGS — unprotected sex (use protection please), missionary, doggy, riding spitting, pet names ( baby, sugar, pretty) degradation, praise (?), use of sex toy (dildo), bulge kink

taglist enha masterlist

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝙡𝙚𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜 !

“yeah, that’s it baby, t-take it all” he whispers into your ear, hips snapping endlessly into yours. you’d been teasing him all day, letting your tongue slip into his mouth for every kiss, wearing the shortest skirt you own, ass all out in the open. heeseung was beyond riled up, just waiting to have you alone and quite literally fuck you up. your legs are pushed so close your chest, toes curling each time his cock plunges at your sweet spot. heeseung can’t help but stare longingly at the way your tits bounce and jump with each thrust, dick hardening inside of you. “seungie—! please, slow down, t...too much” you mewl out with cries, eyes shut and mouth left hanging open. he tightens his grip on your hips, leaning back as he pulls it closer, pounding into you even faster than before. heeseung presses against the bulge in your stomach, grinning at it with a sinister look in his face.

you let out a string of choked moans, eyes rolling back to your skull, “fucking cumslut, you asked for it” he rasps back at you with a stern voice, anger clearly present. heeseung leans back down, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, his nose bumping into yours as his hand comes up to squeeze your cheeks, spitting in your mouth. its makes you feel dizzy, orgasm approaching closer by the second when you feel his cock twitch inside your cunt. “god, fuck— look at these tits, should cum all over shouldn’t i?” he says, mostly to himself as his eyes trail down to them. your eyes go wide as you coat his dick in white, chest heaving as you replay your orgasm, gasping slightly. heeseung still hasn’t pulled out, his rhythm slowing down as he pulls out abruptly, squirting all over your chest. it only has you slowly taking some on your fingers and stuffing it down your throat.

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙟𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜 !

you had no excuse for the way you were purposefully provoking your boyfriend’s patience tonight, except that he hadn’t fucked you in two weeks. it was at a close friend’s birthday, and you really couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. jay’s patience was on the verge of breaking at the way you kept palming the tent that had built inside his pants, so with an excuse that you were feeling out of it, he dragged you out of your fun early. and here you are now, tear streaked face pressed into the floor of your living room as he smacks his hips into yours from behind, pulling your ass closer. you knew jay was angry, simply by the way you didn’t even make it to the bedroom. “mm! i’m sorry— g.. god” you murmur as you lift your head, balancing yourself on the palms of your hands.

jay lets out a sarcastic chuckle at your words, jaw tightening. “fucking think that’ll do anything? shit—” he rasps, hissing when he feels your walls clench down on him. your legs shake vigorously as his cock hammers at your cervix, walls fluttering. jay thinks he’s never going to see anything prettier than you under him and pleading, so despite you begging him to slow down a little, he only goes faster. it was all too much for you, intense pleasure aching at your core, but you’d be pushing back your hips if he even ended up stopping. “ja..y— gonna cum!— fuckfuck” you cry out, the knot inside your stomach tightening and walls pulsating. your so close, so so close, you’re about to let go, when he pulls his cock out of your wet walls, the sweet feeling dying down. he rubs your hips soothingly when you go still, whispering into your ear, “you’ll get to cum, pretty, just not now”

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝙨𝙞𝙢 𝙟𝙖𝙚𝙮𝙪𝙣 !

jake still remembers the way your fingers sat stuck inside your dripping cunt when he walked into your shared bedroom; insatiable would be the word he’d use to describe you right now as he drags a baby pink dildo through your tight walls. you knew this was coming, you knew you should’ve sit still, but here you were, spread over your boyfriend’s lap as he stabbed a dildo through your cunt, fingers flicking at your clit. “hah—! yun.. wan’ your cock!” you say with a small frown etched upon your face. the words let out sounded a lot more insolent than you intended, but you could care less, it only pushed his buttons harder. jake is amused at how easy your words come out of your mouth, poking his inner cheek with his tongue.

“real fucking bitchy today, aren’t you?” he snaps, tossing the dildo, then removing his belt and pulling down his jeans, just until his cock sprung out, hard and slightly pink at the tip. the sight made your eyes droop in a daze, just desperate to get it inside of you. your legs wrap around jake’s waist as he pulls you closer, stuffing his dick inside your gaping hole abruptly. his cologne suffocates you in the best way, hips lifting off the bed as he pounds into you, walls fluttering and spasming around his length. “fucking take it! wanted cock didn’t you? come on baby, tell me you love it” jake snarls, thrusts getting wetter and sloppier. your toes curl up, legs numb and shaking as you nod again and again, “yes! shit—fuckfuck, love your cock, loveitsomuch” you mutter loud and broken, voice getting stuck. your body goes still as you let out your high, drenching his dick in white as he fills you up, hips still hitting yours. “we’re far from done, so be a good fucking girl and lay still” he whispers into your ear, leaning down and connecting his forehead with yours.

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙣 !

“gonna be good girl?” sunghoon asks you, rubbing the sides of your hips soothingly. you nod, mumbling a small ‘yes’ looking away and managing a small smile as you play with the dainty silver necklace resting against his collarbone. lies, you definitely weren’t going to, and you knew it the moment you climbed onto his lap. he simply grins at you, lifting your hips up to fill your pussy up with his dick, completely swallowing it. you let out a gasp at the feeling, chest tightening when you feel his tip hit deep. sunghoon’s hands squeeze your hips, one hand moving down to grope your ass, as he moves you up and down his cock. you almost immediately tug of his hands, setting your own pace, acting like it was something totally normal. although you don’t look at him, you can feel him burning holes into your face with his stare, head tilted and an amused look drawn on his face.

sunghoon almost immediately brings your hips to a stop, grabbing both your wrists behind your back, tightly gripping them. “don’t think you heard me sugar, i said be fucking good” he tells you voice a lot more stern and deep. it has you gulping down your saliva, but you still put on a fake pout, looking at him innocently, “i didn’t do anything hoon, calm down” you tell with faux innocence. sunghoon thinks he’s never wanted to fuck you so hard and shut you up till now, chuckling deeply at the way you immediately talked back to him. “you wanna take control? is that it baby? then do it, but don’t you dare fucking stop, until i tell you” he tells you, laying back down. your a bit surprised at his words but listen nonetheless, mounting your hands on his chest as you bounce on his cock, igniting pleasure throughout your body. “mm, god, that.. f-feels good” you mutter, voice shaky as your hips move faster, the urge to come increasing. and that’s what you do, spilling all over, mind clouded and hips stopping. before you could even regain your strength, sunghoon’s hands take control, rocking your hips back and forth. you let out a cry looking at him, “i told you not to fucking stop, c’mon, let's see if you can make me cum” he mutters out.

[kentopedia]

♰ pain reliever — okkotsu yuuta

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 2 - vampire!yuuta

your vampire boyfriend can't resist the taste of you during a certain time of the month

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, smut, period sex, vampire!yuuta, cunnilingus, blood drinking, slight teasing — 2.2k

a steady ache in your abdomen pulls you out of your previously deep sleep, the dull throb increasing with every second. it’s the middle of the night, and your eyes are still heavy with exhaustion, the back of your eyelids burning when you try to squeeze them shut once more. 

though, no matter how many times you flip to the other side, the pain won’t subside, not even a little bit. you’re left curling into a ball, glaring at the emptiness of the dark. 

beside you, the bed is empty, though that wasn’t unusual for the middle of the night. still, it would’ve been nice to curl up into another body, to feel your boyfriend’s large palm rub over your stomach, in the hopes that it would ease the cramps.

you shift onto your stomach and check your phone, already missing yuuta. it’s just a little over three, but there’s no messages from him, no indication as to where he’d gone for the evening. 

you contemplate calling him; but when your finger hovers over his name, you click your phone off and sigh. they’re just cramps—nothing you can’t handle on your own. this time of the month had come and gone a hundred times before. you just need a heating pad and some pain reliever, and that should be enough to lull you back to sleep.

with eyes that are half-shut, you lazily slump towards the door, feeling far too much like a zombie. the floor is cold under your bare feet, and you shiver, picking yuuta’s sweatshirt up off the edge of the bed to throw it on. 

the moment you open the bedroom door, a wave of overwhelming perfume assaults your senses, the mixture one of every fall aroma. it combines into a cloud of smoke and wax, and its too much, far too much. the smells nearly have you choking. 

in the living room, there are thirty different flames lit, spread across the surfaces. they illuminate the room with a haunting glow, showcasing yuuta, who sits in the corner of the sofa, contemplative. 

“yuuta?” you say, calling out his name. he clenches his jaw but keeps his eyes forward. with his acute hearing, he’d probably heard the breath you took when you woke up, and every movement you’d made after that. “the candles are giving me a headache, baby.” your eyes begin to water from the smoke in the air, and one by one, you start to blow them out. 

“no!” yuuta exclaims, and when you turn, his irises are darker, wide as they watch you move around. “leave them.”  

you frown, but blow another one out as yuuta squeezes his palms to his side. his back goes taut, straightening as tension stretches him thin.

“it’ll just make me nauseous.” there’s a sour taste growing in your mouth, a pain in your temple. you reach for the final three candles. they aren’t as strong, but they still fill the air, a culmination of pumpkin, vanilla and coffee. “i started my period.” 

yuuta’s eyes flash as he watches you bend over to blow out one of the candles, your lips puckering, before you move to the last flame. his gaze is careful, considering as your little exhale extinguishes the fire.

“i know,” yuuta says, grabbing your wrist before you can blow out the final flames. his dark locks are loose, falling over his paler skin as he licks his lips. a sharp gaze pins you, tracing from your forehead to your chin. “i could smell you all the way from the bedroom.”

you blink, swallowing at his predatory eyes, the way his pupils darken, sharp white canines curling over his lips. it’s easy to forget, truly, how dangerous he is. he’s sweet and caring—not like the vampires you’ve seen in the movies—but he is, still, a vampire.

yuuta lures you in, inching you closer until you’re beside him on the couch, your breath the only sound between you. “i thought you were…” you trail off, a part of your voice cracking. “didn’t you go hunt?” 

it seems like a strange word to say, but you couldn’t think of a better one. you suppose, at the end of the day, he is more of a creature than a man. his instincts ones of bloodlust, ones that he has to fight against every moment that he’s with you. 

“couldn’t leave,” he says, his voice coming out clipped. “tried to, but i just kept thinking of your sweet blood. tastes so good.” his hand rests on your thigh, fingers rubbing small circles near your hip. “are your cramps getting bad?” 

you look at him from under your lashes as he licks his lips, pushing you backward slowly, until your head hits the arm of the sofa. the palm on your body is cold, but it does little to cool your heated skin. 

“it hurts,” you finally nod, breathing heavily as he smiles, sympathetic to your pain. 

“let me help,” yuuta inches a finger into your waistband, slowly dragging down your shorts. his tongue darts out across his lip, hungrily, like he might have trouble controlling his urge to devour you. 

you swallow. when you still him with a touch to his wrist, he simply cocks his head, curious, his fingers still resting between your shorts. 

“get a towel first,” you say, but the request is ignored. he slides the shorts completely off, lowering his head. “you’ll make a mess.”

yuuta ignores you, salivating as he kisses from the crevice of your knee, up your thigh. he inhales deeply against your hipbone, the strong aroma of your arousal and blood almost too much for him. 

bowing his head, he presses his lips to your cunt, licking you through your panties, lapping at the spot of blood that had already begun to stain there. “i don’t plan on wasting a drop, princess.” 

a stuttering breath leaves you, and your head falls back as yuuta kisses you softly over the cotton. his tongue flicks out, warm and wet, licking a stripe through your folds. the thin piece of cloth sucks into them, blood seeping through. 

“yuuta,” you whine, impatient he takes his time with you, his long fangs catching on the flimsy underwear. 

“don’t want to go too fast.” finally, he glances up, stares at you with hungry, black eyes. yuuta drags your panties off, but he’s far too slow, teasing you. “you know how much i love sucking the blood from your pretty pussy, hm?” his voice comes out in a near growl, and his grip grows tight around your knees, spreading your legs further. “wait for it all month.” 

he runs a tongue over sharp white teeth, hungry at the sight of you spread out, bloody and bare, just for him. 

“even when it hurts?” you ask in a small voice, but yuuta smiles, his thick eyelashes fluttering. his dark lips curl at the corners, more mocking than kind, drinking you in.

“it won’t hurt for long, love.” yuuta kisses the inside of your thighs, licking every inch of skin he can manage to get his tongue on. “besides, you get turned on so easily when you’re bleeding.”

he pushes his tongue against your entrance, curling over your wet arousal. the kisses are with such care, reminiscent of the sweet boy you’re used to loving, the one who stumbles over his words and still flushes hot when you kiss him. though, that familiarity only lasts for a moment. once yuuta gets a taste of you, his hunger doubles. 

he sucks, hard, his lips around your clit, the pressure sending a wave of desire through your body. you reach down and grip his dark locks, in any attempt to guide him within your thighs. though, you’re under yuuta’s control completely, and he licks deep in you, gathering the clots of blood onto his tongue. 

“fuck,” he hums against your cunt, his nose nudging your clit as he curses. the vibrations of his words shake you, and instinctively, your thighs try to squeeze together. but yuuta is stronger than you—much stronger—and he keeps them spread apart, fingers leaving tiny imprints on your skin. “you’re so sweet. so good for me. never tasted anyone like you before.” he praises, but its hard for him to speak as he fucks his tongue into you, lapping at your juices like its the nectar of gods. 

you can’t think of anything to say, and a soft whimper leaves your lips, the sound of his name barely audible with your exhale. yuuta’s fangs are smooth against your hot body, almost soothing as he runs his tongue along your folds. 

“i’ll make the the cramps go away.” he says. yuuta’s been replaced by a much cockier, confident version of the occasionally awkward vampire. his fangs gleam as he looks up at you, and your eyes flutter shut, hardly able to focus on the sight of him sucking at your bloody pussy. “promise, princess. it’s the least i can do when you keep me so well-fed.”

you nod, humming, but the sound is lost as yuuta dives back down, the blood coating his lips, his nose, dark against his chin. he takes both your thighs and throws them over his shoulder, reaching deeper in your hole as you moan, far too sensuously for the silent room. 

“yuuta—” you start, but you don’t remember it feeling this good before, you don’t remember pain ever being taken from you so easily. the words die, and you begin them again. “your tongue—”

he smiles, tightening his grip as he sucks faster, harder. “feels better?” 

“almost,” you say, breathless. “it’s… not enough.” 

yuuta groans, but he pulls back, licking the blood off his lips. “course it’s not,” he says. “so greedy, sometimes.” he presses, small, quick kisses across your thigh, teeth grazing the skin, and slides a finger into you; then another. 

his fingers are long, far longer than his tongue, and he stretches you, your walls sucking them right back in. with a gasp, you squeeze your thighs around his head, but yuuta just sighs. 

“please,” he says, teeth against the soft skin of your thigh. “please, can i?”

he’s close to begging, even though you’re the one who’s desperate, and you nod, needing him to curl farther into you, to reach the spot that’s deep within you. the sounds grow louder, lewd as his fingers sink in and out of you, so thick within your tight cunt.

yuuta bites you, then, sinks his fangs into your thigh, and you nearly scream, arching up into him as you start to tremble. 

his usually white teeth stain a deep scarlet, and he groans against your body, pulling back to watch you. “want you to cum for me, nice and hard, okay baby? we gotta get rid of those cramps.” he drinks from your thigh again, and you’re so close, not even realizing that you’re thrusting your hips up to meet his fingers as he goes inside you. 

“y-yuuta” you say, taking two hard breaths when he abandons the open wound on your thigh, and returns to sucking your clit, rubbing you with just enough force. the ache builds up and up, and you’re right on the ledge, about to fall over, his name leaving your lips once more in a cry. 

“that’s it,” he says, pumping in and out of you, graceful and heavy. “oh you’re so pretty, you know that? i’ve lived for centuries, and in all that time, i’ve never seen anyone look as perfect as you when they cum.” 

you break then, squeezing his fingers as babbled words leave your lips in a moan. your entire body shakes, convulsing as you reach blissful release, and you slump back on the couch, your head hitting the arm rest.

yuuta slides his fingers out of you slowly, and then he sticks them in his own mouth, licking every drop of your blood and juices from his hand. his eyes are blown wide with lust, hazy and dark as he drinks you up. 

“i can’t get enough of you,” he says, his voice so hoarse that the words are almost nothing at all. “my sweet little human girl.” yuuta doesn’t move, but he’s so lost in the taste of you, even as his cock strains hard against his flannel pajama pants. “just right there for the taking. a warm body full of the most delicious blood. mine.”

you pull him close then, needing to kiss him, feeling his hard teeth bump against your own. he tastes metallic; it’s not as good as he makes it out to be. still, if it drives him crazy, turns him into an absolute addict from just the scent of you, you’ll gladly give him every drop he wants. a smile graces your lips as he groans into you, licking your mouth. 

“yuuta?” 

he pulls away for just a moment, blinking lust-blown eyes. “hm?” 

“my cramps are gone.”

tags: @satohruu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @annoyingpainterprincess

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

btw this was going to be a toji fic and then he lost the poll ... i did not know there were so many yuuta fans following me

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Subby! Jason Todd

Subby! Jason Todd who's practically drooling already after you've only just taken off your shirt. His big, calloused hands are grasping at your soft mounds of flesh like he cant get enough of them. Which, for the record, he can't.

Subby! Jason Todd who gets so squirmy as soon as you start touching him. The muscles on his stomach contract and twitch almost every time you even get close to touching his hard, leaky cock with it's precum dripping in such beautiful little beads.

Subby! Jason Todd who's chest is huffing and puffing with every soft stroke you give him. The large 'Y' shaped scar on his front side is flexing and contorting along with the rest of his skin, making the sight all the more appetizing as his head leans back against the headboard.

Subby! Jason Todd who can't help but buck his hips into your hand once you pick up the pace a little. The sight of his swollen, heavy, and trimmed balls bouncing with each move of his broad hips is almost enough to make you give in and fuck him, but you manage to hold out and play with him a little more.

"Come on, Jay... I've barely even touched you." Your tone is in such a sweet tone that its mocking, your lips forming a fake pout as you brush your thumb over his leaky slit.

"Ah-" he can't help but let out a soft, whiny moan in response, his hips and thighs twitching and aching to be closer to you. To feel more of your honey-sweet touch.

Subby! Jason Todd who nearly loses it when you sit back on his thighs and drag your sticky, weeping slit against him in a slow grind. The pressure on your clit is absolutely divine and, if you were down bad enough, you'd admit that the slightly unshaven hair on his pubic bone made it feel just that much better.

Subby! Jason Todd who has to actually focus on not cumming when you barely slide yourself onto his thick, girthy tip. The warm fluttering of your gummy walls was enough to have his head thrown back in utter ecstasy almost immediately.

Subby! Jason Todd who's already begging you to move faster and grasping at your hips so hard there may be bruises by the time the morning rolls around. He just can't help it: he wants to paint your walls with his thick, warm cum in thanks for treating him so well.

Subby! Jason Todd who is absolutely slobbering all over your breasts. He can barely even go a minute without one of your fleshy mounds bouncing around in his mouth while his tongue swirls around your perky nipple. There's saliva dripping everywhere, but the sight of Jason drooling all over himself is just too good to resist.

Subby! Jason Todd who is absolutely gone as soon as you start praising him. Sure, he was riding the edge with you bouncing on his long, thick cock as it was, but your sweet words were just too much.

"Such... Such a good boy, baby..." You're cut off occasionally by the sound of your own blissed-out moans. "Being so good and letting me ride you like this..."

"Oh, fuck-" before you know it, you can feel Jason's thick, pearly seed painting your gummy walls as his head is thrown back and his eyes screwed shut. But you don't stop your movements, and he doesn't want you to. The slapping sound of skin on skin is all the more obscene when mixed with his cum seeping between the two of you.

Subby! Jason Todd who happily goes for another round or two until you've gotten your fill of him. Hell, he still offers to eat you out afterwards as if he wasn't a babbling, drooling mess just moments ago.

Subby! Jason Todd who absolutely clings to you once you're both cleaned up and have gotten some food and water into your systems. He probably won't let go of you until the morning, but you knew that when you first begged for him to let you treat him as well as he treats you for once.

"I love you, pretty girl." He mumbles into your hair as he moves himself a little closer to you. You're both absolutely whipped and exhausted, but he still manages to find the strength to pull you that much closer. Sure, you'd both be sore and achy in the morning, but neither of you would have it any other way.

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

Masterlist

[covenofagatha]

I'm a good girl, Detective (Part 2)

Agnes takes you back to her house to show you who you belong to...

Word count: 1500+ words

Warning: pure smut, oral, strap-on, dirty talk, blowjob, Top Agatha, mentions of prostitution

“Why don’t you put that mouth of yours to good use and show me the ‘things you can do with your tongue’. And then maybe, I’ll think about rewarding you," Agnes says with a smirk.

Your mouth goes dry as you look up at the detective. “Really?” You whisper, fingers coming up to toy with her belt. 

Agnes raises an eyebrow at you. “Did I stutter?”

You swallow hard and shake your head. “No.” You make quick work of her belt and pull her pants down, wincing at her fingers digging into your shoulders so she can balance to step out of them. Your fingertips slowly drag her black underwear down and you follow the path with featherlight kisses. The hand in your hair fists tightly and you stifle a groan. 

“Stop teasing,” she barks. Her nails dig into your head. 

“Do you want to lie down or something?” you ask. 

Agnes scoffs loudly. “Why don’t you actually do something first?” But her hands leave your hair and she walks backwards until she’s leaning against a wall. You move to stand up but she cuts you off: “No. Get back down.” 

Your breath hitches. Usually in your work, you’re the one who takes control and you like it well enough. But fuck, you didn’t realize being bossed around and made to crawl by a woman twice your age would be this hot. Your knees burn as they scrape against her carpet and the grin on her face is wicked.

“Good pet,” she taunts mockingly when you finally stop in front of her. “Now where were you?”

You roll your eyes and help her situate one of her legs over your shoulder. And then you don’t even bother with warming her up before you dive right in. She lets out a muffled moan as you delve into her folds with your tongue and harshly suck on her clit. Her hands bury themselves in your hair again, pulling deliciously at it. She’s dripping all over your face already and you wonder if this is what she’s wanted all along. The heat in your stomach intensifies tenfold when a muttered “fuck!” slips out from her mouth. 

You look up at her through your eyelashes to see her biting down on her lip to hide how affected she is. Her head is thrown back against the wall, eyes shut. 

You still your mouth and her head whips down to glare at you. “Did I say you could stop?” She growls. 

“I want to hear you,” you say simply. She snarls and shoves your face back between your legs, but you listen to her breathing start to pick up. Your tongue resumes its assault on her clit and you slide two fingers in her cunt, feeling her walls clench around them immediately. She moans, but pulls you away from her. 

“Just use your mouth,” she warns. You nod and remove your fingers, slowly licking her slick off them, never breaking eye contact. “There’s my good slut.” 

Her praise affects you more than you’d like to admit, so you go back to eating her out, your hands coming around to cup her ass. Your nails dig in as you help her ride your face and she honest-to-god whimpers. You smile against her, thrusting your tongue in deep. You can feel the sweat dripping from her body as she grinds, using you to get off. 

“Right there,” she says, voice stiff. You keep doing exactly what you’re doing and it’s a glorious sight when the detective cums all over your face moments later. She’s not particularly loud, but her grip in your hair tightens, causing you to moan into her. She gasps. 

You sit back on your heels and watch Agnes come down from her high. “Did I do a good job?” you ask innocently. She soaks in the sight of you kneeling for her, your wetness covering your face. She licks her lips and reaches a thumb out to smear her slick all over you even more.

“You did alright,” she says with a shrug, walking out of the living room. Your mouth falls open in shock. She’s just going to leave you? Are you supposed to go back home right now? The ache inside you has grown and you can feel your wetness clinging to your underwear. 

“Um, Agnes?” You call after her. No answer. You can’t help but feel a little stung. Even your clients don’t just leave coldly after you’re done with them. You slump down, not sure what to do. Should you go find her?

And then you hear footsteps and you perk back up. Agnes walks back into the room and your breath catches. Attached to her hips is a bright purple strap-on. She barely even looks at you, passing right by to go sit on the couch, spreading her legs. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she says expectantly, patting her thighs. You’ve never moved so fast. She’s watching you with an eyebrow raised and you get a dirty thought. You fall right back onto your knees in front of her and lick up the strap-on. She groans like she can feel it, completely caught off guard. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” You moan around the strap-on, starting to bob your head up and down around it. “There you go, pet. Get it nice and wet for me.” Her hand rests on the back of your head, just feeling you move. 

When your jaw starts to hurt and you begin choking, you pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to her plastic cock. She bites her lip at the sight. 

“I’m glad all your practice sucking dick has paid off,” she taunts. “Now let’s see how well you ride it.” 

You smirk and settle into your lap, dragging the strap-on between your folds. It’s longer and thicker than most of your clients, but you are so wet you don’t think it’ll be a problem. 

“Such a desperate whore for my cock,” Agnes says, intently watching your face contort with pleasure. You nod in agreement and gasp as you start to sit down, just the tip entering your body. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, feeling the stretch as more of it goes in. “You’re so big.” Agnes’s tongue darts over her lips and her eyes get even darker, if possible. You pause when the cock bottoms out inside you, adjusting to the size. You’re breathing heavily and your clit is literally pulsing. The strap-on is already hitting all the right places and you haven’t even begun moving. 

You experimentally roll your hips and both of you moan. Her nails dig into your waist and she guides you up and down, watching your cunt swallow up her cock. 

“You’re getting my dick so wet,” she says hotly into your ear. “Did sucking me off get you this turned on? That’s pathetic.” She slams the strap-on up in you to punctuate her words and you moan loudly, literally aching. “Hope the neighbors don’t hear how much of a slut you’re being for me right now. Knowing you, though, they probably wouldn’t be too surprised.” 

Your mind is completely gone as you begin to bounce on her cock, one hand on her shoulder and the other one tangled in her hair. 

“Agnes,” is the only thing you can whine. You’re chasing your high, just missing a little something. Which, of course, she knows. 

The detective suddenly flips you over onto your back so she’s on top of you and begins pounding into you harder than anyone’s ever done before. Her hand finds your throat again and squeezes, making you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant with every thrust. You reach down to circle your clit but she knocks your hand out of the way and rubs it harshly. 

“Do they fuck you like this?” She asks roughly. 

“No, no one else. Never. Just you. Please, wanna cum,” you babble, praying that this time she’ll actually let you. 

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” she says sharply. Tears well in your eyes from all the stimulation, hips raising to meet her thrusts. 

“Agnes–” 

“The next time you need to get fucked like a dumb slut, you come to me,” she whispers lowly in your ear. “I’m the only one who can do it properly. I’m the only one who can give you what you need. Got it, pet?” 

“God, yes,” you promise, hands sneaking under her shirt, wanting to feel her skin on yours. 

“Say it. Say I’m the only one who can fuck you right.” 

“You’re the only one, Agnes,” you cry out. 

“Cum on my cock for me, pet,” she growls, giving one last hard thrust and swipe of your clit. Your orgasm is explosive, riding her cock through the aftershocks. Once you calm down, she goes to pull out but you stop her with a hand on her arm. 

“Can you leave it in for a bit?” you ask shyly and she smirks. She finds a comfortable position on top of you and you’re overcome by a sudden urge to kiss her. 

It’s a soft kiss at first, but it becomes deeper and soon she’s moaning at the taste of her on your tongue. She’s the one who pulls away first, wiping your lip with her thumb. 

“I thought no kissing was like the number one rule of prostitution,” she says teasingly. 

You simper and pull her back down into another kiss, rolling your hips up against her. “Good thing I’m off the clock.” 

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 3 masterlist

-

You don’t know exactly what you’re waiting for, but it doesn’t happen.

The man doesn’t appear again. No one knocks on any windows or appears on any scans though you run another one not twelve hours later. It’s not enough to convince you that it was all in your head, but it’s enough for you to start the process of putting it out of mind. 

You just can’t shake the unease following you, a shadow extending out from your feet. Your skin feels tight against your face, clinging to the muscle and bone; months under artificial light will do that to a person, sap them of something essential that can’t be replenished with just vitamins capsules and supplement injections. The human body isn’t meant for space travel. It longs for the sun and the earth under its feet. 

And now you have something new to worry about. 

Much to your relief, Hadir doesn’t bring up your earlier encounter at dinner. Though part of you wonders whether he mentioned it to anyone else, he doesn’t outwardly treat you any differently. Amiable as ever. It goes a long way towards assuring you that he must have put your earlier encounter out of his mind already. You should too. 

It’s just that—

You’re the person the crew goes to when they need fixing. Abrasions, lesions, migraines, broken bones, aches and pains. Though your training is in emergency medicine and space physiology, years of clinical rotations and field research have equipped you with an extensive medical background. Not the least of which includes psychological and neurological health. You’re the de facto psychologist on board should any of the crew suffer a mental health crisis.

And if there’s something wrong with you, who’s going to fix it?

You sit with that thought for entirely too long, but then one day passes into the next and nothing happens. When you look out the window, you only see the throughline of the universe, its heart tipped over and the milk spilling out. The ambient light in the station keeps you from seeing it as clearly as you’d like, but it’s there when you look out the window, ever-present. 

Still, you can’t help thinking about an astronaut somewhere out there, slipping into the darkness like a cold lake dragging a body down into its depths and holding it tight to its breast. 

You shake off the thought. Scrub a hand down your face. 

When your stomach rumbles, you ping the crew to let them know you won’t be in the medbay should they need you and head out to grab a bite to eat. Nikolai is already eating at the counter in the galley when you come in to make yourself supper. 

No crew dinner tonight. Though you eat together for the most part, there are days where work tasks keep everyone’s schedules from lining up. You know from the morning briefing that Alex and Graves will be busy until well into the evening working on celestial navigation and dead reckoning.

He looks up from where he stands hunched over the steel tray of food in front of him, a mix of rehydrated rajma, rice, and raita, and waves his fork in a silent greeting. 

“Is that what’s on the menu tonight?” you ask.

The big man nods, pointing towards the pantry with his fork. “New week. No more Hamburger Helper,” he says with no small amount of derision towards the aforementioned meal. 

You smile. “Looks good.”

Though the new ownership thankfully didn’t skimp on food rations, most of the crew’s daily meals were determined months ago, long before the ship’s departure back on Earth. There’s a laminated week by week menu tucked away at the back of the pantry listing each day’s repast from departure until arrival, but you haven’t given it so much as a glance since you boarded. Better to have something to look forward to every day. 

The food packet from the pantry goes into the rehydrator for the requisite amount of time and then into the crisper to add the texture back to it. Space food is never quite as satisfying as the food back on Earth, but you’ve grown fond of it in recent years, even enough to crave it back home. No matter the dish, you can always taste the faint peppery, slightly bitter undertaste, like fresh watercress. 

You’d been planning on eating by yourself back in your quarters or at a table in the mess, but you feel weird just leaving Nikolai to his own devices after exchanging a few pleasant words, so you join him at the island counter. 

“Did you have a lot on your plate today?”

“My plate?” Nikolai asks, looking down at his food. “Нет, not so much—I had big lunch at around four o’clock.”

You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “No, I meant, did you have a lot of work?”

“Ah, why didn’t you just say that? Yes, lots done today, lots more to do tomorrow. Farah and I are still working on finding the root cause for the issue with the cruise control.”

“It’s a tricky fix?”

“Yes. Complex,” he grunts, talking around the food in his mouth. After weeks of eating with him and longer working around cut open bodies and exposed organs, you’ve long learned to suppress any sign of disgust on your face. “The pilot augmentation system isn’t controlled by this ship’s AI, so it’s not an easy software fix. We thought it was component degradation from the asteroid the other day at first, but Farah had a look at it today and all seems good, so not so sure now. Maybe gyroscope malfunction. Maybe GPS receiver is having issues. Hard to say. Lots of work still to do.”

You nod as if you understand. Most of it goes over your head apart from the obvious frustration in his voice. 

“Would be easier problem to fix if we had specialist, but—” Nikolai shrugs, a rueful look on his face “—little budget, small crew. Better we have doctor for wrist sprain than specialist to fix pilot augmentation system.”

Though his tone isn’t necessarily bitter, you can’t help but prickle at the light sarcasm. Your impulse is to go on the defense. It isn’t your fault medics are mandatory. Certainly not your fault that the original twelve crew member allowance was slashed to only six. 

“Farah and you make a good team,” you say instead, ever the diplomat. Magnanimous despite the way your teeth ache in your gums. 

“Smart girl, that one. Would clone her if I could.”

His praise makes you look away only because you wish it could be aimed at you. You crave it these days. Not necessarily from Nikolai, but from anyone. The downside of these longhaul missions is that you go months without interacting with family or friends; it’s why space crews bond so strongly with one another, the only reprieve from the claustrophobic sense of isolation out in space. It’s also why you’ve felt as lonely as you have these past few months, emotionally out of sync with this crew. 

“Let me know if there’s any way I can out,” you offer as he finishes up the last of his supper, putting his tray away into the dishwasher.

Nikolai nods. Hums. “Could do with another pair of hands.”

You smile, relieved.

He starts heading towards the door, throwing a hand up behind him to wave goodbye. “Will let you know when I find some way you can be useful.”

The smile slips off your face. The doors slide shut behind him, silence filling the room. 

You don’t have it in you to eat much more. Most of your meal goes straight into the compost, along with the empty packet, and then you leave the galley as well. The last couple of hours of your day are spent sitting aimlessly at your desk in the medical unit until it’s time to head back to your quarters to shower and sleep. 

And then to bed you go. 

In the middle of the night—though the meaning of ‘night’ seems boundless out in space, like a word without a cognate—a deep sense of unease throbs in your chest. 

Sleep sloughs off you gradually and then all at once. One minute you’re twisting in the web of a nightmare and the next, your eyes are open, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. 

You sit up in bed with the dull ache in your chest growing worse. The duvet slips off you and piles around your waist, the sheets under you damp with sweat. It hurts like heartburn. 

It’s too early for breakfast and you don’t have to pee. You’re not entirely sure what woke you up actually, your last dream already fading away, the threads of it unraveling when you reach out to try and pull it back in. It’s too far away to recall any of it. Propping yourself up on one arm, you twist to the side, hoping to let the sight of the stars guide you back to sleep. 

Out of your window, like a lone buoy in the middle of the ocean, an astronaut floats in the middle of space. 

For a moment, it doesn’t register. Likely just a dream that you haven’t woken up from yet. It’s remarkably vivid for a dream though. Your room is a cool dark blue, the band of dim artificial lights encircling the window beside your cot giving your quarters the distinct feel of a night back home on Earth. It’s only when you pinch your bare thigh and wince from the sharp, accompanying sting that you grasp that you’re awake. 

You are awake and there is a man floating away from the ship. 

The light from the ship glints off his suit, illuminating the shape of him. You stare out at him with increasing concern and dread. Not consciously grasping the gravity of the situation, but aware that you need to do something. He’s farther away this time, so distant that though his white spacesuit is stark against the dark field behind him, the visor of his helmet is impenetrable. Dark as obsidian. 

He drifts aimlessly in space, his body so still that you wonder if he’s even alive. With a jolt, you wonder if, in your haste to find help the other day, he did run out of oxygen and simply floated away. Occam's razor. You did not imagine a man speaking to you from outside the ship only for him to vanish from existence; he simply passed out while you were gone and drifted off before you could save him. 

“Oh shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed, nearly getting tangled in your sheets on the way out. You don’t even bother changing into more appropriate clothes, slamming the button to your door and squeezing through the gap between the door and the wall as soon as it opens for you. 

The corridor outside your room runs from stern to bridge, and is dimly lit at this time of night. The ship oscillates through Earth-tethered day and night cycles, the lights only at their brightest at a certain point aligning with morning back on Earth to simulate the distant sun. A slight chill to the air as well, to mirror night. Artificial photic and nonphotic zeitgebers to ensure the body maintains its circadian rhythm. Necessary to prevent sleep deprivation and keep the crew from going mad.

Now though, it makes you feel prey-like. Small. Darting from your room to the cockpit like a mouse scurrying across the savanna under the cloak of darkness and moonlight. 

Your bare feet smack against the metal floor as you run, the sound following you down the main corridor towards the cockpit. You pass another porthole but don’t bother glancing out of it, too intent on reaching the main viewing deck. You’ve got to—

Get the body help him save him I’m so sorry I left you out there—

Alex and Graves’s heads snap up as you barge into the cockpit panting and drenched in sweat. You don’t bother to explain yourself, heading straight for the flight deck window instead and leaning over the dashboard. The edge of the panel digs into your pelvis as you lean into the window. 

You crane your neck to look left and right, scanning as far as your eye can see. The astronaut you saw off in the distance from your bedroom window is gone. Only stars and dust shine from lightyears away. 

It doesn’t make sense. You saw him with your own two eyes drifting out there. You couldn’t have mistook him for anything else—not with the shape of his body, the helmet obelisk black. But there’s nothing out there. Nothing at all. 

“Doctor?” Alex asks tentatively from behind you, standing up from his chair. 

When you glance over your shoulder at him, wide-eyed, reality finally begins to seep back into you. The two of them stare at you from the other side of the cockpit, their concern and wariness evident in the tension in their shoulders. 

“Um—sorry. I…”

You don’t really know what to say. There’s no excuse that seems appropriate, no way of explaining the state of you, panicked and out of breath. For all intents and purposes, it’s the middle of the night. No reason for you to be out of your quarters and so disheveled. Panting like something chased you out of bed. 

You wonder what they would see if they cut you open; if they’d find your intercostal muscles bruised from the heavy beat of your heart. 

“Somethin’ you wanna share with us, doctor?” Graves asks. His tone is far less charitable, verging on suspicious.  

You swallow on a dry throat. “No, I’m—…it was nothing. I just…I had a bad dream.”

From the way they look at you, you can tell that neither of them believe you. It's flimsy, as far as excuses go. But there’s little else they can do but take you at your word. The rules are different out here, more tolerated than back on Earth. Everyone goes a little stir crazy; you just have to know how to manage it. 

“I should go back to my room,” you whisper when neither says anything. 

You move towards the door on cautious feet, suddenly aware of how cold it is in the cockpit. Goosebumps ripple down your arms and legs, nipples beading under your shirt. Alex politely averts his eyes when he notices. If you were less distressed, you’d be humiliated. 

��Get some sleep,” Graves says, eyes following you until the doors close behind you. 

You walk back to your quarters slowly, pausing to glance out one of the portholes just to confirm that you haven’t made a huge mistake. 

A minute or an hour goes by. You see nothing out in the distance.

Back in your room, you shut off the automatic light that comes on when you enter and collapse into bed. You avoid looking out the window for your own sanity, instead turning over onto your side. Wide awake now. Nothing to do but wait for sleep to sneak up on you again, if you haven’t scared it off entirely. All you can do is think about the look on Alex and Graves’ faces and cringe, pulling the blanket up over your head. 

Sleep almost finds you again when something knocks twice on the wall beside your head. 

Your breath catches in your throat. Fear scuttles across the floor beneath your bed. Just don’t look. Don’t look at it. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for it to go away. 

Whatever it is knocks again. The window this time. 

It takes an age to work up the nerve to roll back over. When you look up at the window, a face stares back at you, so close now that you can make out dimples and thick lips turned up at the corners. A close-shaved beard.

He smiles down at you, heedless of the horrified look on your face. “Hello again, love. Care to let me in now?”

[jwonsite]

strawberry muffins - psh

pairing: fwb!park sunghoon x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: unprotected, he calls reader “good girl” like twice, slight breeding kink, hoon is a fake ass emo.

a/n: @g0niki this was for you 💯

your head spins as you feel yourself being suffocated by a pair of lips on yours, pushing you into your apartment and against the front door as it closed behind the both of you. legs tangled as he pulls you towards him, trying to somehow get you to the bedroom all without breaking the kiss.

you don’t have to guide him there, sunghoon knows your apartment layout all too well. coming over once or twice a week, or whenever he was bored, to do the same routine you guys always did.

fuck, sleep, and he leaves in the morning before you even wake up. no texts, no notes, no strings, no feelings.

deciding he didn’t want to stumble to your room he taps the bottoms of your thighs signaling you to jump up so he could carry you the rest of the way.

he carried you easily, not once breaking the kiss before placing you down on the bed and pulling away to look at you, a certain look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. it wasn’t arousal, or lust, and you couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted from you. your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and you avert your eyes from his.

“what? why are you looking at me like that?” you said as you look to the side, hands instinctively coming up to hide your face. his face almost instantly goes back to his cold, hard, almost emotionless face he always has.

“nothing,, you gonna take your clothes off or what?” he asks, getting seemingly more impatient as the minutes pass.

“wow such a gentlemen hoon! makes me wonder why i ever consider not seeing you again,” you say sarcastically, sitting up a bit to take off your shirt as he’s stripping himself from his clothing at the end of the bed.

“you would never because you know nobody fucks as good as i do,” he said cockily, winking at you with a smirk before coming to stand at the foot of the bed, his underwear still on. you roll your eyes at him before completely pulling off your pants, leaving your panties on for him to take off later.

“you want to do the honors?” he jokes, gesturing towards his still clothed dick. you crawl forward on the bed, leaning forward to give it a kiss before suckling on it through the material, the grey underwear turning a darker shade as your spit collects on it. he moaned out before grabbing the back of your head and pushing you into him.

“stop teasing or you won’t cum tonight.” he said as he held your face flat against his cock. you pulled back and pouted at him a bit before pulling down his underwear to free his aching hard on, it slapping his stomach before you grab it and sucked on the tip, wrapping your hands around the rest of his length. his hand came down to tangle in your hair, pushing your head down onto him and making you take almost his entire length down your throat.

you felt you eyes watering, trying your best not to gag as you felt his tip halfway down your throat. your hands were firm against his thighs, grabbing them harshly and leaving small crescent marks from your nails in its place.

sunghoon was a moaning mess, throwing his head back and groaning every time he bottomed out in your throat. you fondled his balls a bit and that is what pushed him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he held you down on his dick, his cum shooting down the back of your throat. when he pulled out of your mouth his cum leaked out of the sides of your mouth, sunghoon using his thumb to wipe it up before pushing his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck on it before grabbing you by the waist and flipping you onto your stomach, face down ass up.

“being such a good girl taking all my cum down your throat hm? you think you can keep it all inside when i fuck you?” he said, palming your ass before slapping down a couple of times, rubbing the sore spot after. you nodded your head into the pillow in front of you, too desperate to give him an actual answer.

“use your words princess. or do you wanna be used like a slut and not cum tonight?” he said in response, wanting to hear your pretty voice begging for him.

“fuck,, yes hoon ill be a good girl please just fuck me already,” you said desperate, reaching your hand back to grab his wrist.

“mm,, good enough i guess,” he says before pushing himself into you, bottoming out in one go. you moaned out, gripping the sheets next to you in support. he leaned forward to give you a kiss on the back of your ear, before pulling all the way out and slamming into you again, starting a brutal pace as one of his hands gripped your waist and the other kept your head pushed into the pillows.

you were moaning out his name and strings of pleas, not even being able to think straight as he fucked you. his hips didn’t stutter once as he kept fucking you hard and fast, slapping down on your ass before pulling you by your hair up towards him, wrapping his arm around your neck in a slight chokehold and holding you up against him like that.

“you like being treated like a slut hm? letting me use you how i want,” he says into your ear, squeezing his bicep around your neck even tighter, eyes rolling back as he deprives you of oxygen.

his hips begin to stutter and that’s how you know he’s close. he keeps you locked in his bicep as his other hands goes around your body to toy with your clit, wanting you to cum with him.

his hips stilled inside of you, pushing his cum deep inside as you felt the coil in your stomach snap, letting out a loud moan and throwing your head back against sunghoons shoulder.

he lets go of you, letting you fall back onto the bed before pulling out and watching how his cum drips out of you, using one of his fingers to push it back into you. you moaned slightly at the feeling of his finger inside you, but mostly becoming overwhelmed with sleep. you laid down on your pillow, eyes fluttering shut while your body is still exposed to him. hoon lets out a small chuckle under his breath, smiling to himself before getting up to go to the bathroom and get something to clean you up with before laying down next to you and draping a blanket over both of you.

“night y/n,” he says, giving you a light kiss on your forehead, light enough to deny it happened in the morning if you remembered.

________________

you woke up to the feeling of a cold bed next to you. the blanket still fully covering you as the other side was neatly put back together, almost as if nobody had slept there the night before. you let out a sigh before rolling over to grab your phone off the nightstand, squinting as the light burned your eyes a bit. your eyebrows furrowed at a notification, pressing on the text to open it.

hoon 🤍

i left you one of those strawberry muffins from that place you like down the street. i was already going there to get one for myself before work so i figured i might as well bring one back to you since you live so close. anyways, hope you like it.

you read the text from him and giggled a bit to yourself. speaking aloud to nobody at all when you say,

“i think he forgot he told me he doesn’t like muffins”

[sanguineterrain]

in your hands | jason todd

Summary: Jason thinks he's too big to be loved. You show him that that's impossible.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings/tags: bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.

A/N: as always, if you like this fic, tell me through comments and reblogs :)

the divider

Tonight, Jason comes home far away.

You clock it as soon as he walks in. He’s moving on autopilot: boots by the door, helmet on the shelf, gear in the closet. He washes his hands, hangs up his jacket, and then he stands at the doorway. And waits. 

You’re never quite sure what he’s waiting for. But you know that he’ll stay stuck in his head if you don’t step in. 

“Hey, baby,” you say, cupping his cheeks. “Hey. You wanna eat or clean up first?”

The change is instant. As soon as you touch him, Jason is there. You’ve never mentioned it to him. It frightens you too much to explore, knowing that you’re his tether. You don’t want to think about what that means, having the power to anchor a man who used to be dead.

He looks at you, meets your gaze head-on.

“Did I disappear?” he whispers.

“Little bit. It’s okay.”

You keep stroking his cheeks, avoiding his shaving cuts and the freshly split lip. There’s a bruise around his eye and on his temple. 

“Wanna wash up,” he finally says, but his hands cling to your waist. 

You pet the back of his neck. “Want me to go with you?” 

“Please?” He glances at the kitchen. “But if you’re in the middle ‘f something, then—”

“No, Jay. C’mon.”

You take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom. Jason undresses while you draw a bath. Soon the bathroom starts to fog up with steam. You pour in some Epsom salts for his muscle aches—you know he should soak more than he does. 

You turn off the faucet. Jason is in his boxers, staring at himself in the mirror. He picks at his autopsy scar, presses the puckered white flesh until it turns red. 

“Jay,” you say gently. “C’mere, honey.”

His hands drop to his sides. Jason goes to the bath, pulls off his underwear, and sinks into the water. It’s a generously-sized tub. Jason had gotten his old tub replaced for a larger one after you’d mentioned that you liked baths. Soon enough, you’d introduced him to the wonders of hot baths for his sore muscles. 

Even with its size, Jason still has to bend his knees slightly to fit. He pushes himself up easily. A little water sloshes over and dampens the edge of your shirt. Jason curses.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. 

“It’s okay, honey. You want me to come in?”

He nods. You pull off your shirt, then your pants and underwear. Jason folds in on himself to make room, but you stop him.

“I’ll just sit between your legs, Jay. No problem.”

You step into the bath. Jason holds your wrist so you can sit down without slipping. He stares at his hand on your arm after you’ve sat. 

You reach over for a washcloth and pour a lightly-scented soap. You lather it up first, then rub it over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Jason is perfectly still. 

“Can you lean over, baby? So I can get your back.”

Jason obediently leans over. You smile at him as he holds himself up with his core. You know Jason’s not just strong, that he’s agile too. He’s very good at wielding his body.

You wash his back. This close, you can see the contours of his muscles, how broad he is. 

When you’re done, you wring the soap out of the cloth and cup water in your palms to rinse the suds off of his skin. You catch his gaze in the mirror across the tub. Jason turns his head.

“God, look at me. How are you not afraid every time I come stompin’ around?”

You stop pouring water and rest your hands on Jason’s biceps. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs. “I’m like a huge, fuckin’... monster. Too big, too loud. I’m—” He swallows, bows his head. “How can you look at me?”

“Jay, honey. You’re not a monster.”

“Bruce thinks so,” he whispers, and straightens. “He can barely look at me. Every time he does, ‘s like he doesn’t even recognize me.”

His hand quietly swishes through the water to claw at his autopsy scar. 

“This is all I am. Just violence. ‘M too big for anything else.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull his head into your chest. Jason hugs you back. His shoulders begin to shake. 

“You’re more than your body,” you say. “You’re more than what the Pit made you. What you were.”

He shakes and cries into your neck. “I was small. People loved me when I was small.”

You pick up his head. Jason’s eyes are thick with tears. You lean in and kiss his Cupid’s bow.

“I love you.” You brush away his tears with your lips. “I love you so much, Jay. That’ll never change.”

“Too big for it,” he rasps.

You shake your head. “No, Jaybird. You’re never too big to be loved.”

“I’m s-scary.”

You kiss his temple, rub between his shoulder blades. Jason clings tighter.

“You don’t scare me. You never have.”

He pulls you closer, so you’re chest-to-chest. You straddle his stomach with your legs and hug Jason as tightly as you can. 

“I was good when I was small,” he says. “I don’t–I don’t know how to be good anymore. I wanna be good, I do. I don’t want Bruce to think I’m bad. I’m still good.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh, Jay. Baby. You are good. You came back to make a change. You’ve always been good. You’ve got a good heart. Nothing’s going to change that. Bruce is stubborn and stuck in his head. But you’ll always be his son. And you’ll always have people who love you.”

“What if I’m not worth it?” he whispers. “What if I’m too lost?”

“Then I’ll go out and find you. And we’ll come home together,” you say. “You’ll always find your way back home.”

He smells like soap and Epsom salts. You kiss his autopsy scar. Jason shakes more. 

“Let me wash your hair, baby,” you say.

He nods, tears on his lashes. You wet his hair and pour shampoo. You rest your lips on his cheek as you lather the shampoo, detangling tiny knots with your fingers. Jason bends at the waist so you can rinse off the soap with the faucet.

You tap his hip and Jason sits up. He slips his arms around you again and tucks his chin into your neck.

“Don’t let go,” he says, suddenly desperate. “Don’t–don’t let me go.”

“I won’t, Jay. I’m right here.”

[kenzlie]

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐔𝐓. - 𝐦.𝐬

summary: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 pleasure 𝖻𝗌𝖿!𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: oral (male receiving), hair pulling, slight slapping, nicknames, small use of y/n, playful teasing, soft!matt? dom!matt?

a/n: bruh i almost just deleted this all..

you and your best friend matt were laying down in his bed watching a movie, while his brothers, nick and chris, were asleep upstairs.

it was around 1:00AM and it was quiet, the only noise was the sound coming from the tv in front of you two and the loud thunderstorm coming from outside.

in the middle of the movie the power goes out “fuck..” matt curses under his breath, barley above a whisper. matt sits up using his forearms to hold him up on the mattress, “what? are you scared of the dark?” you tease “what? no!” matt says sitting up fully now. you reach your hand over to the nightstand, searching for where you last placed your phone.

a few minutes go by and it’s still dark, the only light was the one coming from your phone, matt placed his hand on your bare thigh, the feeling of his cold jewelry sent shivers down your spine, he snatches his hand back quickly “my bad” he said, but something told you that wasn’t just a ‘accident’. you brushed it off and told him it was fine.

it’s been half an hour now and the power was still out, “matt, im thirsty” you say before the light on your phone went out, your phone had died and you couldn’t charge it, “wait let me get my flashlight first” matt told you before going to reach for his phone but remembering it was also dead “shit.” he groans “j-just grab my hand and i’ll lead you” he says putting his hand out as you place your hand in his, good thing he couldn’t see you because you were as red as a tomato, he stands up, still holding your hand, he leads to out of the room and towards the kitchen “whatcha want to drink?” he asks, “just a water” you reply, he hands you the water when all of a sudden there was a loud thunder, out of shock, you grab onto matt, holding him close “and i was the one scared” he teases, you slap his arm playfully before laughing

its’s been exactly an hour since the power went off, you both were extremely bored, “i’m gonna try to get some sleep it’s pretty late, goodnight matt” you say before turning your back towards him “your right, im gonna go to bed too, goodnight” he turns his back towards yours before you both drift off to sleep

it’s 3AM now and something or someone was cuddled up behind you grinding softly, you toss your head back onto matts shoulder whimpering softly “m-matt..” you groan, he whines softly as you can feel him growing harder “n-need you..” matt begs, he didn’t even know what he was doing, he was clearly having a dream about something, “matt.” you say a bit louder before he wakes up, he snaps back to reality and sits up fully “i am..so sorry..” he says, clearly meaning it “it’s okay you didn’t know..” you assure him as you sit up and rub the side of his face “plus, if you needed me that bad, you could’ve just asked pretty boy” you state before reaching your hand down to palm his aching hard cock through his pj pants “f-fuck” he whines clearly desperate “need y-your mouth..” he says as he grabs your wrist

you laid down between his legs, your hands pulling his pants down slowly, “hurry” he says in a pleading tone, you pull his boxers down the sound of his cock hitting his lower stomach made your mouth drool, even with no power you still wanted to make sure he didn’t go to bed hard, your hand reaches out cuffing it before you lean forward slightly, you suck the tip earning whimpers from matt, it wasn’t long before you filled your mouth with his throbbing cock, you bobbed your head not fast but not slow either “just like that!” matt moaned loudly causing you to smirk, that pissed matt off, he grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail as his hips thrusted up into your face “fucking whore!!” he groaned out, forcing you to take him deeper, there were a couple of tears in your eyes as he slammed his cock in and out of your mouth “g-gonna cum..” he whined barley audible, you went faster as he whined and moaned before shooting his load in your mouth, you swallowed it all not leaving a drop left “god i just know you look so pretty right now..” he praised.

a/n: i didn’t feel like finishing the rest, so here 😭

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @chrissslut @xoxo4chrisss @luvb0xoxo @phoenix062 (if i didn’t tag you it was because i couldn’t find your @)

[astraystayyh]

chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?

A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.

It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.

So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.

You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.

So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.

But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.

It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.

“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.

“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.

“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.

The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”

You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”

His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.

He remembered.

“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”

You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.

“Okay.”

“To the biting?”

“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.

He finally finds you.

“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.

With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.

His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.

After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.

His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.

“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.

“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”

“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.

“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.

“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.

“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

[linopls]

kinktober day thirty

overstimulation jeongin x fem!reader warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, sex toys, slight bondage, multiple orgasms, p in v, squirting 0.5k words

you’ve vowed to never tease jeongin again.

you had made one joke about a time jeongin didn’t make you finish in front of his friends. granted, you were both exhausted and probably shouldn’t have indulged in anything that night. you both didn’t even fully undress, jeongin had pulled your pj shorts to the side and slid his pants down just enough to free himself. he finished pretty quick and took a second to rest which ended up with him falling asleep inside you.

he just kept going, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you.

“innie, its too much!” you whine and tug at his belt that’s tied you to the bed frame. 

“oh,” he snickers. “i thought i didn’t ever make you finish.”

his attention is turned back to your cunt, where he has a vibrator pressed against your clit. his laid on his stomach between your legs as he watches your leaking cunt with awe. 

“no you do, every time! you’re so good in bed, innie! i’m sorry for saying anything.” tears stream down your face and your legs shake like never before.

“no, no, no. i owe you for every time we’ve had sex and you didn’t finish.” 

you feel yourself reaching the edge, could be anywhere from the seventh to hundredth time, you’ve completely lost count. a loud moan erupts from your throat and your thighs tighten around his arm as your release spills onto the sheets below you.

“innie, please, need a break,” you cry, trying to pry him off you with your feet. 

“okay, okay,” he laughs as he turns the vibrator off and sets it on the bed next to you. 

you sigh with relief and try to reground yourself. jeongin props himself up on his knees and reaches to the belt that’s restraining your hands. as he places the belt next to the toy, he soothingly rubs your reddening wrists. 

before you can fully appreciate his comfort, jeongin grabs your hips with his large hands and pulls you down until you're flat on your back. before you can even realize what’s happening, his aching cock is pressing at your entrance and sliding in with one swift motion.

“innie!” you wail, your hands scratching at his forearms.

“what? we’re taking a break from that and doing this!”

with no warning, he begins to drill into you at an insane pace. your head falls back and your back arches off the bed, hands still clawing at his arms. you catch a quick glance at his face and see a smirk painted across his lips. 

you feel another orgasm quickly brewing and before you can even warn him it washes over you. this one more intense than any of the others, if that was even possible. you vision goes white for a second and all your muscles cramp. the squelching sound of jeongin continually pounding into you fills the room alongside a laugh from him. 

“i though i didn’t ever make you finish. and now you’re squirting all over my cock, hmm?” he cackles.

you look down to see remnants of your release shown on jeongin’s jeans, which he has just pulled down enough to free his cock. your face flushes red with embarrassment as your arms come up to cover your face. 

he scoffs and interlocks his hands with yours, pinning them above your head.

“come on baby, give me a couple more.” 

jeongin blurb hehe

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