#just step back and decide what's best for you

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 23rd. tom riddle — wet dreams, house rivals.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: tom’s been infiltrating your dreams, and you decide it’s time to call him out on it.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNIIII, coercion!!!!, dark!tom, mind manipulation, religious undertones, gryffindor!reader, enemies if you squint, fingering, squirting, begging, dream sex, tom riddle is his own warning, so much praise, dirty talk, verbal sparring.

You've never been a heavy sleeper. Even as a child, the smallest sound—a creak in the floorboards, a shift in the walls—would jolt you awake. For years, you chalked it up to some ingrained survival instinct, some form of trauma response to whatever part of your childhood still haunts you. You got used to it.

But lately, it isn't sound that been waking you. It isn't movement or foundation shifts, either. It's the dreams.

Dreams—strange, lucid, intense dreams of him. Always him. Dreams that make you feel like you're drowning, like you're flying, like you've found a new level of intoxication that you'd never imagined possible—and each time the dreams wake you up, the sheets (and whatever bottoms you may have been wearing) are always soaked, and your thighs are always shaking.

It's maddening.

They feel too real to be anything but a violation, his presence bleeding into your subconscious regardless of how much you try to fight it. You know it means something is wrong. You'd tried to rationalize yourself into going back to sleep, telling yourself it's just hormones or some form of stress, but you're too smart to believe your own excuses.

You know it's more than that.

He's haunting you in your sleep—in the most unexpected way. The dreams are always lucid enough that you can feel it—you can feel him—his mouth on yours, his hands on your hips, his dick bullying your fucking cervix and his magic on your clit—leaving behind nothing but hunger. Hunger that's so intense it makes you want him in a way it almost scares you.

You tell yourself you hate him, you've always hated him—but denial only lasts for so many days, as you realize you can't look at him or talk to him without the dreams forcing their way to the forefront of your mind, making you remember the feelings and the sensations and how much, despite hating him, you want them to be real.

You wanted to believe it would pass. That this was nothing but a phase, a trick of your overactive mind. But deep down, you knew the truth. Tom Riddle has wormed his way into your head, into your dreams—out of spite—and he's not letting go.

So after a hell of a week of this—with damn near zero hours of sleep—you decide to seek him out. To put an end to this madness. Once and for all.

It takes every ounce of courage and Gryffindor-like reckless bravery you can scrape together just to go through with it, but somehow you do. Somehow, you make it across the castle, make it to his door. You're in your pyjamas, for Merlin's sake. It's 1 a.m., and the slick still coating your thighs from what had to have been your tenth lucid orgasm in a matter of a week is a humiliating reminder of why you're even here at all.

And when the door opens, you have the strange feeling that he's been expecting you, even as he makes a great show of acting surprised to see you, looking you up and down with a lazy, smug glance that makes your pulse quicken so viscerally you lose the last shred of sanity you were pathetically clinging to—

"What the fuck—" you prowl forward without hesitation, forcing him a step back into the room. "—are you doing to me?"

Even if you're not imagining some form of surprise in that smug little smirk, he does his best not to let it show.

"Me?" He says, all pretend innocence, flicking his hand out to shut the door behind you with some spell you don't care to name. "You'll have to be more specific."

You glare at him, refusing to acknowledge how unfairly attractive he looks in just sweatpants and an oversized shirt—because of course, even casual looks like this are a weapon in his arsenal.

"Cut the bullshit, Riddle," you snap, and you're not sure if it's your lack of sleep or some form of desperation-fuelled bravery, but you're suddenly invading his personal space, poking an accusing finger into his shoulder. "You're fucking haunting me—"

He blinks. "I’m haunting you. And how am I doing that?”

There's a part of you that knows it's a trap—that this is probably exactly what the smug bastard in front of you has been wanting, but your brain is so deprived of sleep and your body is so starved of respite that you decide 'fuck it'—you want answers, and you're going to get them.

"You're in my dreams," you say, bluntly, forcing an exhale alongside it. "You've been in them every night for a week straight. I haven't slept a bloody minute."

That's when it happens—the tiniest flash of amusement in his eyes, so brief you might've missed it if you weren't ready to tear his fucking throat out.

"You're accusing me of giving you dreams?" He asks, in a tone that makes you want to grab him by the front of his shirt and make him cut the bullshit, and you can't tell how much of your own expression is irritation and how much is lust. "You think I've somehow managed to invade your mind?"

"Don't be condescending," you spit, trying to focus on the spot between his eyebrows that makes the heat in your core roar the least, "and don't act like you're incapable. As much as I can't bloody stand you, we both know damn well your mind magic is strong enough to do this to me—"

"Mind magic," he echoes with an amused snort, "you think I'm doing some kind of mind magic to invade your dreams, is that it?"

He's so damn good at this, you think—infuriatingly good. The way he's playing it off like the idea is absurd, completely laughable—

"Fucking precisely.” You can't hide the heat from your voice. You don't care to try. "These aren't just dreams. They're—they're strong. I feel you. Your hands, your tongue, your—"

Dick. You can't even bring yourself to say it.

And the bastard just smirks, like he's reading your mind anyway. Like he knows. That glimmer in his eyes—arrogant, insufferable—only confirms it.

"Hm," he says with something bored, running a hand through his hair. "Your subconscious—"

"It's not a bloody subconscious thing," you cut him off, uninterested in whatever bullshit he was about to feed you. "It's you. You're invading my dreams—I feel you—my body fucking feels you—"

He laughs at that. Like some sick, sadistic freak. He actually laughs—

"Listen to yourself." He says, with a mocking tone that makes you want to shove him. "Are you that desperate to hate me that you're pinning your dreams on me?"

"Hate doesn't even begin to cover it," you spit, stepping closer, your frustration boiling over. He shifts slightly, his back brushing the wall. "You've got a hell of an ego, but even you have to know this isn't something I'd want. I wouldn't put you in my dreams willingly if you paid me to do it—"

He hums, smirk never faltering, if anything it fucking grows at the tirade.

"You've been dreaming of me for a week," he points out, coolly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. "And now, here you are—standing in my dorm in the middle of the night, dressed like this." He takes a step toward you, now. "Do you know what that's called, sweetheart?"

Your lungs hitch at the pet name. Your mind is at war with your cunt and it's losing—

"Delirium?" You choke out, noticing another flash of something in his eyes as the gap between you closes. "Insomnia? Sleep deprivation?"

He gives you a mocking arch of the eyebrow.

"No," he says, in a tone that makes you seethe. "It's called obsession."

"Oh. The irony," you can't help but hiss at him, heart pounding because he's in your space and you're in his and this shouldn't be getting to you the way it is. "It's rich, coming from you, that you'd put that on me when—when you've been mindfucking me every goddamn night—"

"Mindfucking you?" He repeats, almost lazily, as his gaze drops, sweeping over you—your pyjamas, the clear lack of bra, the flush creeping up your neck. "Is that what you think I've been doing? You think—"

The way he doesn't even deny it—doesn't argue the accusation—makes your blood boil in a way you can't control.

"It's the only explanation. You've been—you've been—" you cut him off but your sentence falters because his gaze is moving so deliberately, dragging over you like he's cataloging your weaknesses, and the anger curdles into something raw and desperate. "God, Tom, I just need it to stop. I'm so fucking tense and tired. I'm so wound I can't even focus—I'm wet all the time—"

His eyes snap up to meet yours at that, and he gives you a look you can't even begin to interpret. You bite your tongue, realizing the words that left your mouth just a moment too late to pull them back, and you know you've lost the upper hand in this, somehow. You feel the ground slipping from under you and you hate the way your body shivers as he takes another slow, deliberate, step forward.

"Is that what you are?” He wets his lips. "You've come all the way here, in the dead of night, in your pyjamas, half out of your mind with exhaustion because you're wet. Isn't that right?"

You know better than to answer, though you feel yourself walking straight into the trap he's set.

"Piss off," you snap, but the bravado in your voice is paper-thin as he takes another step forward. He's so close now that his scent overwhelms you—leather and spice, something sharp and smoky that makes your head spin. You recognize it, of course you do; it's the same as in your dreams, and the familiarity makes your knees feel unsteady. "You're—"

"Don't act so offended," he leans closer, his voice a low murmur, quiet, almost silky as it wraps around you, and suddenly you barely remember what you were so pissed off about. "You can't even deny it. I made you cum tonight, didn't I? In your dreams."

Your teeth grit. "You know you did—"

He takes one more step and now you're backed right up against his desk—and gods, Tom's tall, so much taller than you—and it feels like he's looming over you, caging you in.

"Mhm." There's a flash of triumph in his eyes as you lose your words. He leans down, breath grazing your ear just as he brings two fingers to your temple, pressing the pads against it. "Let's watch, shall we?"

Watc—oh no.

A cold sense of dread washes over you as you catch on to what he's insinuating, merely a second too late—

"Tom—"

He whispers something, something that pulls you under, and the next thing you know—in a flash of consciousness you didn't even consider possible—you're staring at yourself inside a dream you remember all too well. A dream sequence where you're moaning and trembling beneath him, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in unabashed pleasure as he drives into you, hips snapping with thrust after thrust after thrust—

And it's one thing to have felt it in the safety of your dreams, in the dead of night when you woke slick and desperate, clenching around nothing. But this—this is visceral. You can't look away because it's projecting inside your mind: the flush blooming across your chest, the arch of your back, the way your lips part with every desperate breath. You hear the obscene sounds spilling from your mouth, mingling with his low, guttural grunts—and worst of all, you can feel it.

You can feel every ounce of pleasure he's giving you, as if he's giving it to you now.

"Mm," you hear him hum from infront of you—it's too much—you're lost in the memory, the dream, and it's a strange, voyeuristic, intimate experience to watch yourself and him like that. "You're worse off than I thought."

You’re gripping the wood of his desk so hard your fingertips are numb, heart flying out of the room as his hand slowly slides from your temple down to your jaw, holding you in place—

"Stop it." You manage to hiss at him, trying to force some semblance of control back into yourself—the last thing you need is to start melting against this bastard. "Tom—"

"You feel that?" He murmurs, breath brushing your neck, and you can't even focus on anything but the sensations he's forcing through your memory—seeing him above you, feeling him inside you. "You do, don't you? This is exactly what you've been feeling all week, isn't it?"

You want to snap at him, cuss him out, but oh god—

"Damn you," you hiss, even as his hands slide down to your hips—and it almost feels as if he's touching you twice, as if there are two sets of hands on your body. "Fuck, Tom—"

"Mm, you look good from this angle," he murmurs, and you fucking keen as you watch, in your mind, his hands slide over your stomach, pushing up your shirt and exposing your tits, groping as he fucks you. You keen as you feel it. "You love this, don't you? You want this."

"I—" you gasp, trying to convince him, or yourself, or goddamn anyone. Still fighting some invisible battle between resistance and submission because you hate that he's right. "I—god, what are you doing to me—"

"What am I doing to you?" He whispers, and you're not sure if the question is rhetorical, or if he's giving you permission to ask it. "I'm not doing anything that you aren't letting me do."

Your knees feel like they're about to buckle, and it's taking all your strength just to stay standing because the pleasure playing out in your mind is pouring into your veins and you can't even fathom how it's possible but you can't do anything to fight it—

"Oh, god—" you moan, unbridled, your physical body slumping back onto the desk as you feel the slick between your thighs, growing with every goddamn thrust. "Oh my god—"

He takes the opportunity of you slumped back against the desk and instantly leans down, bringing his lips to your ear—

"Not even god could keep your legs underneath you." His hand creeps up your thigh. "You're helpless."

"Helpless," you repeat, with a shaky gasp, and you hate how much the word turns you on. This is the first time you've ever been called helpless, and you're not even sure that you care. He's got you in his clutches, he's winning, and it's so infuriating and so goddamn perfect. “Tom—please, please touch me. I need to—fuck—"

You feel his lips brush the skin of your neck in a way that has you trembling with want, but—fucking hell, that's not what you need—you need his hands on you, you need him to just—

"What do you need?" He cooes, and there's a sly tone to his voice that makes you want to throw yourself at him all over again. "You need to cum?"

You moan, low and needy, writhing against the desk because this fucker—he knows exactly what he's doing. He’s got the upper hand here and you want it back. You want—

"Yes," you manage to gasp out. "I need you to—I fucking need you—inside me—"

As soon as that leaves your mouth, the dream fades from your vision and he's urging you to lay back. There's a soft thud as he places a hand on the desk next to your head, and he leans down, bringing his lips back to your ear, and you can't remember a time when you've ever wanted anyone else this bad.

"I'm touched," he murmurs, fingers slipping to the waist band of your pyjama pants, "that you want me that bad."

"I hate you," you manage to gasp out, but that's a lie, and you think he knows it. His fingers on your skin as he pulls your pants down make you ache for him, and you're struggling to not make another sound that will give him ammunition. "Why do you have to—"

"Why do I have to what?" He asks, and you know he's just trying to get a reaction out of you. "Tease you? Make you helpless?"

Your pants get hardly half way down your thighs before he decides it's enough and slides a finger through your soaked slit, and you can't hold back the moan that tears itself from your throat.

"Fuck, you're soaked.” He hisses through his teeth. “You've been sitting in your dorm for days, hm? Dreaming of me touching you, wishing you could touch yourself without thinking of me—do you want to cum, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you gasp out, and you're not above begging at this point. "Yes, god, please—I want to fucking cum—"

"There we go," he cooes, and he's enjoying this more than you'd like to acknowledge. "You know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that?"

"I'd say at least a week," you throw back, in a vain attempt to keep a shred of your dignity, but that's hard when he's circling his fingers around your clit and your body is jerking against the desk beneath you. God you really are helpless. "Because that's how long you've been plaguing my head, giving me wet dreams like some goddamn incubus—"

He chuckles at that, and you hate him a little less when he slips two fingers inside you, "You think I'm a demon?"

"You certainly act like one," you choke out, because he's crooking his fingers and your mind is going fuzzy and he's not going to let you get the upper hand back, even for a second. "Fuck—oh, yes, yes, yes."

"You've got me all wrong," he says, with a smile that would be boyish if it wasn't so sinister. "Demons come to punish you. I'm here helping you get that relief you've been needing so badly."

"Just want t-to help me," you moan as his long fingers work you open, thumb brushing your clit, "out of the kindness of your heart—"

"Out of the kindness of my heart,” he repeats, with a mocking tone, and it's the way he murmurs those words that's making your thighs clench around him until he grabs the fabric of your pjs bunched around them and pushes your legs up to your chest, working his fingers impossibly deeper. "Out of the goodness of my soul—it's what I do, darling, I'm known for my benevolence—"

"You're a good man," you know he can tell you're being sarcastic, but his fingers are filling you so fucking full you're nowhere near ready to start a fight again when you're this close to losing your goddamn mind on his desk. "You're such a good man, Tom—“

"Mhm," his breath tickles your ear. "What else am I?"

"So good with your fingers," you're moaning, and he's going to get a bigger ego than he already has. You're too far gone to care. "God, you're so good, I'm going to—"

"Yes, you are," he answers, and it takes you a second to realize that he's not correcting your words anymore. He's simply telling you that you are, in fact, about to fall apart for him. "Give it to me. You've earned it."

You almost want to snap back at him, you almost try to, but you're so far gone the words don't form on your tongue and you're not sure you'd be able to fight the fire pooling in your stomach.

"Oh, fuck—“

He doesn't even let you finish that, he just dips his hips down, bringing his hand that's not buried in your slick up to cover your mouth, muffling those strangled screams before they spill out and echo down the hall—

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. "Be a good girl. Let it all out for me."

And it's that; that stupid combination of cooing warmth and the phrase 'be a good girl' that sends you over the edge, and you're muffling your gasps and moans and screams against his palm because gods, what would happen if someone heard you? What would happen if people realized what Tom Riddle was doing to you—your house rival, your sworn enemy—

"There we go," you're falling apart and he's watching you as if he owns you, as if this is where you belong—writhing beneath him, release squirting out around his fingers. "Ride it out for me. Such a good girl, you needed this so bad, I can tell you were aching for this."

You're struggling to say anything back, the only thing that comes out is a strangled moan of his name, and you've always known how bad he was, heard from other girls how good he could be with his hands, but this—you've never had this, never been this before.

"Such a fucking mess," he's murmuring, his voice low and rough and so goddamn beautiful. “How'd that feel? Hm?"

"So—so good," it feels like the words are being forced out of your throat, and you're struggling to think with enough clarity to form anything that's not an embarrassing moan of how much you needed this. "Needed it, need more, I—"

"More?" He murmurs as he slips his fingers free, and he's bringing his other hand up to your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he brings his soaked fingers to your lips. "Greedy girl."

You're not thinking about the implication of him calling you that, you're not thinking about how you should fight back, you're not thinking about how much you hate him—you’re just thinking about the sinful taste of you on his fingers, when they press against your tongue. Without a second of hesitation you suck them clean, tasting yourself, and it's obscene. You're obscene. But you don't care, it just makes that ache in you grow worse—you need more, you need him.

Dear god, what happened to you.

“So good," he murmurs, the praise dripping like honey from his tongue. You hum and he exhales. "I'll find you tomorrow."

"You'll find me tomorrow?" You repeat, as he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, and you're struggling for air, your chest heaving beneath your rumpled shirt. "What are you going to do, come into my room?"

"I'll come into much more than your room," he says, with a laugh that dances with promises of sin. "Now go. Before someone finds you here."

You push yourself up on trembling arms, pulling your pants up your thighs, your heart hammering in your chest because—god, that was incredible, you want more of it, and you can hardly even believe it happened. With a breath, you force yourself to move.

You look back at him as you get to the door. Your legs are shaking and you're not going to hold it against yourself for needing the wall to support you as his eyes rake over you, the corners of those lips curled up his signature smirk, and you want to hit him so goddamn bad—but then he speaks, like he read your mind, and it snaps you out of it—

"No dreams tonight." He says. "Scouts honour."

"You're no boy scout," you throw back, and your voice is a little breathier than you'd like. "And this changes nothing."

He smiles, slow and languid and knowing. "Of course."

You want to roll your eyes at the condescension dripping off his tongue, but you're worried that if you stay here any longer the only words on your tongue will be 'do it again'.

"You just owe me." You say as you crack the door open.

"I owe you," he agrees, and you think that his smile is just a little too genuine—like he would give you anything you wanted, just for another taste of that. “I'm keeping score, darling. Sleep well."

You hate him for calling you that, you hate his stupid smile, you hate the way he knows he's got you.

What he doesn’t know, is that you’re going to make him pay.

"Good night," you mutter, and then you open the door and slip out into the hallway.

[transkeiichi]

one of my best friends from middle through high school and even into adulthood despite the distance passed away when we were like 20ish.

it was so tragic. i was devastated. but at her wake everyone wore ratty punk and metal band tshirts, full goth make up, lots of long haired dudes in grateful dead tshirts. it was wonderful, honestly. there were way more people i could tell were there for her mom, but i instantly knew who was there *for her*. it was probably 2/3 her moms church and 1/3 people who knew a single thing abt her.

and everyone who was there for her mom hated us. they said we werent being respectful - i kept asking to who? who arent we being respectful to, her mom whos pissed we all look like we got out of a drunk party the night before and wandered into the funeral home in whatever we fell asleep in? probably half the people there did, and she would have adored that.

the funeral goes on, and this preacher gets up there and starts fire and brimstoning. me and her high school friends look at eachother totally fucking confused. what the hell is he saying? hes going on and on about how much her daughter (who also passed away - not going into these details) loved to go to church every wednesday and sunday. how my friend loved to take her daughter to Bible studies. how when the fucking meals on wheels showed up her daughter would dance around the parking lot of their government funded section 8 housing singing hallelujah and kids gospel songs and praising jesus.

we were pissed. the little group of weird emo bisexual girls-soon-to-boys, who grew up with her, sat in the back of the funeral and steamed. i whispered to one of them "if she could get up out of that coffin and leave this bullshit, she would." i guess that was more rude than lying about a dead persons life because some old lady turned around and gave me a nasty look. i asked her who are you? howd you know dana? whens the last time you saw her step foot in a church, cuz i havent seen her in one since we all quit going at 14 because the youth leaders stopped providing free food and that was the only reason wed been going.

she didnt have a response. but i was rude, not the man lying about her, or lying about her daughter. her daughter was only like 2 btw, she could barely walk or talk let alone dance around and sing. and meals on wheels was an incredibly embarrassing experience for her as a young, single mother raising her child. everyone judged her for getting pregnant in hs and while unmarried. she had to pretend to be christian when they came around cuz theyd always give her pamphlets and tell her god loves her and she was afraid they wouldnt stop by her apt anymore if she didnt say those things back.

her tombstone has a bible verse carved in it, because even after death she has been forcibly christianified no matter how many times she told me she didnt believe in god, she believed in kurt cobain, and she hoped if she got reincarnated she came back as a cat.

none of that shit mattered and when i expressed how fucking rude this shit was, i was told the funeral wasnt for her it was for comforting her mother. i said so if i decide to lie abt u after u die and say you were an atheist just like me and ur scared of the black void after death, thatd be ok?

no one likes that question.

anyway, this particular subject is a sore spot. this was my friends blog, let me know if u think she might have been a Secret Christian @1000silentneedles-blog (warning her header is Very Flashy)

I know I just restating the point of that post but respecting religious freedom will sometimes require you to respect someone's belief that religious beliefs are categorically untrue, and there are a lot of people who are unable to handle this, and even more people who think they agree with this but haven't really grappled with what it means.

[hmusunoo]

DIET PEPSI | K.TH

SYNOPSIS 》 Homework, exams, parents expecting the world from you and more, you just wanted a break. Better yet, you needed one. And who better than getting the resident campus bad boy plug Taehyun to help you out with that.

PAIRINGS 》 plug!taehyun x goody two shoes fem!reader

WARNINGS 》 plug taehyun, drug use, reader is really awkward and innocent she know's nothing about drugs, brief mentions of overbearing parents, unprotected sex, dry humping, car sex, corruption kink, loss of virginity, taehyun is a little bit of an asshole, cowgirl, slight hair pulling, not really proof read.

WORD CNT 》 6.3k

LIBRARY & BOOKSHELVES

You sit at your desk, the glare of your laptop screen searing into your eyes as you attempt to focus on yet another problem set. The numbers blur together, taunting you with their complexity. To your right, your history textbook lies open, mocking you with its dense paragraphs of information you’re supposed to have memorized by tomorrow. The clock ticks steadily in the background, a relentless reminder that time is slipping away. Your parents’ voices echo in your mind, a cacophony of expectations. "You have to be the best. We’re counting on you."Their words are like invisible weights, pressing down on your chest, making it harder to breathe.  

You don’t remember the last time you felt truly free. Even when you’re not studying, the guilt lingers. Shouldn’t you be doing more? Shouldn’t you be better? The questions swirl in your head, their answers always out of reach.And so, you sit there, the cursor blinking impatiently on your half-written essay, while your stomach churns from too much coffee and too little sleep. The thought hits you suddenly: This isn’t sustainable. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes, but the words and numbers are still there, painted on the insides of your eyelids.

You need to breathe. You need to escape.

The idea comes to you like a whisper, soft but insistent. Remembering what Sakura told you earlier in the day, about the one guy in school you never thought to talk to before. Kang Taehyun. He was no good, he was what everyone around town and campus called a waste of space. You had half a mind to text Sakura asking for his number. The thought feels almost rebellious. You didn’t know a single thing about weed or how to smoke it. All you knew was that he was the one person around here you could get it from. 

Would he even sell it to you? You didn't know, but you were going to try. You grab your phone before you can second-guess yourself. You sent her a quick tentative text swelling with anxiety at the questions you knew awaited you. 

It seemed your anxiety was for nothing though, as a short and sweet text from Sakura popped up on your screen not even a minute later: ‘I knew you’d cave (; here 999-000-3456’. You knew as soon as you saw her you'd be bombarded with a multitude of questions but for now you will be thankful for the solace she gave you. 

You didn't know the proper etiquette of ordering? Weed, so you didn't think it would be best to call Taehyun. You decided a simple text would do just fine. 

You: hi, how much for weed? It’s Y/n L/n btw. 

Taehyun: wtf? 

You: Sorry, can I buy some weed from you? 

Taehyun: i dont sell that. You have the wrong number. 

You: what? My friend Sakura gave me your number. She said you would have something to help me. 

Taehyun: Are you a fucking cop or something? 

You: No???

Taehyun: Whatever. if you're serious, meet me at lakeland park in 15 minutes. If I see any weird shit I'm leaving. 

Lakeland park was nearly a fifteen minute walk from you. He was giving you no time to overthink it instead grabbing you coat in a rush and bolting out the door. You pull your coat tighter around you as the wind bites at your cheeks. A fifteen minute walk isn’t far, but on a cold, dark night like this, every step feels heavier, the shadows stretching longer. Your breath clouds in the air as you walk, the rhythmic crunch of your boots on the frost-covered pavement the only

sound accompanying you. You’re not the kind of girl who sneaks out at night, let alone to meet someone like Kang Taehyun. He’s reckless, arrogant, always in trouble, the kind of boy your parents warned you about since middle school. But tonight, the weight of the day of every perfect grade, every strained smile, every pesky exam and desk filled with homework has crushed you into doing something reckless. Something that doesn’t feel like you. The park looms ahead, its iron gates blackened and wet with the mist that clings to the air. You hesitate at the entrance, fingers curling around the cold metal. It’s not too late to turn back, you tell yourself. But that same voice whispers that turning back means retreating to the suffocating predictability of your world. Straight-A student. Perfect daughter. Reliable friend. You just couldn't do that, you needed this. Bad. 

The park is deserted. The streetlights cast pale orange pools of light onto the pathways, but the spaces in between seem darker than they should. You clutch your phone in your pocket, your thumb hovering over the power button. Just in case.

The sound of a car engine idling pulls your attention to the far side of the park. There, parked near the frozen pond, is Taehyun's car. Its headlights are off, but the faint glow of the dashboard light outlines his silhouette. You almost stop in your tracks as he leans out of the driver’s side window, his dark hair tousled, an annoyed look on his face. 

“Didn’t think you were serious” He said as you walked up to the car. “Get in.” 

You hesitate, your hand brushing the cold handle of the passenger door. Pulling it open before you could allow yourself to overthink it. “I was told you could help me.” The inside of the car is warmer than you expected, the faint scent of marijuana smoke and leather wrapping around you. 

Taehyun shrugs a bored expression on his face as he leaned his head against the leather seat. His stance made you nervous. You could feel words bubbling up inside of you waiting to jumble out in a heap just like you always did in awkward silences like this. “I Just have a lot of stuff going on with school and my parents and-” 

Taehyun snorts, his amusement cutting sharper now as he interrupts the beginning of your rambles. “Well, don’t expect a medal or anything.” He leans back in his seat, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night. What do you want? How much?” 

“I have twenty dollars..” You trailed off your voice smaller now. 

Taehyun sent you a curt nod reaching down to the glove department between the two of you. He pulled out a bag filled with a green substance, assuming it was the weed. “Here.” He tossed the bag down in your lap lazily. You picked it up in your hands inspecting it with keen eyes. 

“Do..do i just eat it?” You asked him as you began to open the top of the baggie. 

“What?” He asked leaning forward, the nonchalant expression he once held was gone, now a look of shock in its place. “No. You smoke it.” 

“Oh.” Was the only response you could muster up. A red sheen coating your cheeks with embarrassment. “I-i don't know how.”

Taehyun laughs sharp and cold. “Little miss perfect has never smoked before what a fucking shocker.” His tone had a sarcastic lit to it. One that made your stomach churn with uneasiness. 

“I’m not a junkie.” You spit out at him. “I just need help with some stress.” 

“Are you implying that I'm a junkie?” His asked with raised eyebrows and an expression that spelled ‘i dare you to say that i am’

“N-no” You stuttered “I’m just making a statement about myself.” 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. “What’s next, huh? Gonna jay-walk across the street on your way home? Or maybe—and this is a real stretch—you’ll leave your dishes in the sink overnight.” He grins, wide and mocking. “Oh no, the horror.” 

Your face burns, but you refuse to look away. “I’m not as boring as you think.”

“Sure you’re not,” he says, dragging the words out. He sends you a smirk. “Let me guess—late night study sessions? Babysitting? Volunteer work at the animal shelter?” 

You cross your arms, your nails digging into your sleeves. “I came here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, and it’s adorable,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re like a puppy trying to bark. Cute, but not exactly convincing.” 

The jab stings more than you’d like to admit, but you steel yourself. “At least I’m trying to do something different.” 

“Oh, you’re different, all right,” Taehyun shoots back, his grin widening. “Most people would’ve bailed by now. But not you. You’re too stubborn to realize when you’re in over your head.” You fiddled with the baggie still in your hand “I mean look at you, you thought you had to eat the fucking bud.”  

You glare at him, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why do you even care? If I’m so ‘adorable,’ why not just drive off and leave me here? No one is forcing you to sell to me ” 

Taehyun shrugs, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful—but no less infuriating. “Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe watching you squirm is more fun than anything else I’ve got going on tonight.” 

“Whatever.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. 

“So now that we've established that you do indeed smoke the weed and don't eat it. I’ll take that twenty and be on my way now-” 

“Can you teach me how to smoke it?” The words fell from your lips like spit fire before you could even think about them. 

“Seriously.” Taehyun sent you a deadpanned look. “Do I need to like, hold your hand while we're at it?” 

“Well no..” You trailed “I’ve just never done it before..” 

“I can tell,” He said, annoyed. “Whatever I have got nothing better to do.” 

He reached back into the saame glove department that he got the weed baggie from, pulling out a small pack of papers in his fingers. 

“These are wraps” He explained handing you the wraps. “We’ll put the weed into it before we smoke it.” 

“You're going to smoke with me?” You asked Taehyun, mulling the wraps in your hand as you carefully analyzed them. 

“Yeah, im not doing this shit for nothing do i look like a fucking teacher to you.” He snapped. Taehyun reached his hand out, yanking the baggie of weed out of your hands and although he did it with minimal force the action still shook you. He really was such a stark contrast to who you were. He was rough, arrogant and cocky. You were shy, timid and very inexperienced in everything he was comfortable with. This was a recipe for disaster. 

Taehyun continued by showing you how to ground up the weed then stuff it into the little paper carefully. You watched as his lips poked out, licking the paper to seal the week inside. Really, it shouldn't be something you're finding hot but you do. 

“This is a blunt” He explained. You watched him with careful calculation soaking in everything he said to you. The blunt dangles lazily between his fingers, the faint ember glowing like a tiny, taunting beacon in the dim light of the parking lot. He’s leaning against his beat-up car, all leather jacket and sharp jawline, looking like he stepped out of a 90s music video. You tried to steer the thoughts away. Just mere minutes ago you were rolling your eyes at him for poking fun at you, now in the dim light of the overhead dash coupled with the hues of the park street lamps you had thought he looked..well, beautiful. 

“Alright, princess,” Taehyun says, his tone as sharp as the smirk tugging at his lips. “You begged me to teach you, so here you go.” 

And there you were back to rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t begging,” you snap, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. You know your voice sounds weak even as you say it, and his smirk deepens, like he’s already won some unspoken argument. The nerves for what you were about to do finally really creeping in on you. 

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, handing you the blunt like it’s some kind of sacred ritual. “Just don’t go crying to your choir group when you cough up a lung.” You take it with more confidence than you feel, holding it between your fingers the way he does, even though you’re certain it doesn’t look half as natural. You leaned slightly forward in your seat, over the glove department that was between the two of you. 

For a quick fleeting second you could have sworn you saw his eyes flicker downwards catching the flesh of your exposed skin. You wore a hoodie half zipped down to reveal your black tank top with tiny little lace on the top. Your cleavage was slightly visible at this angle and he surely noticed it. 

“Now, put it in your mouth,” he instructs, deadpan, and you glare at him because you can hear the barely contained laughter in his voice. 

“Do you always have to be this crude?” you mutter, but you follow his instructions anyway, the filter feeling foreign and dry against your lips. His eyes flicker over you, quick but deliberate, before he leans closer. You freeze, the scent of leather and marijuana smoke filling your senses as he reaches up to flick his lighter. The flame catches, small and precise, and his hand shields it as he tilts it toward you. 

“Breathe in—gently,” he says, his voice softer now, almost serious, though you swear there’s a hint of amusement dancing on his face. You inhale, maybe too sharply, because the burn hits the back of your throat like fire, and you’re coughing almost immediately, doubling over as your eyes water. 

He barks out a laugh, loud and shameless, but there’s something about the way his hand hovers just shy of your back, like he’s deciding whether or not to steady you. “I told you to go easy,” he says, shaking his head. “What, you thought you were gonna look cool on the first try?” 

“I hate you,” you choke out, still coughing, and he grins like you’ve just made his night.

“Cute.” He mutters. “That’s cute.” he says, and for a second, you think you catch something softer in his expression—like he’s a little proud of you for trying. 

You straighten up, glaring at him through watery eyes. “Let’s go again,” you say, more determined than ever. 

He raises an eyebrow, surprised but impressed. “Look at you, all rebellious now,” Taehyun teases, taking the blunt from your hands, putting it to his lips and effortlessly inhaling. You wish you could say it wasn’t so erotic looking, the way his lips envelop the blunt, sucking in and then blowing out like he's done it a million times over. Because well, he has. He looks over at you again, eyelids narrowly heavy. You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, though, like he’s seeing you differently. But before you can dwell on it, he’s all smirks and sarcasm again, holding out the blunt with a mock bow. “Alright, princess. Round two.” 

And as you fumble your way through another attempt, you can’t help but notice the way his expression turned darker, almost lustful as he watched you bring the blunt back to your lips tentatively.

The second drag is smoother. Not by much, but enough that you don’t hack up your lungs again. It still burns on the way down, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue, but there’s something else now—a strange kind of lightness creeping into your chest, like you’re not quite tethered to the ground.  “See?” Taehyun says, his voice smug. “Not so hard, is it?” 

You roll your eyes, but the edges of the world are starting to blur, the space inside the car feeling smaller and softer all at once. “It’s weird,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “But… kinda nice?” 

Taehyun chuckles, resting one arm over the back of his seat as he watches you. “Yeah, it’ll do that. Just wait. You’re gonna feel like your brain’s floating soon.”And he’s right. A few minutes later, the buzzing in your chest has spread to your head, leaving you light and a little disoriented. You can’t stop yourself from giggling, the sound spilling out before you can catch it. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, arching a brow. He took the blunt from your hands, taking a drag from it. The smoke flew out of his lips in ‘O’s’ like some kind of party trick. 

Unfamiliar heat pooled in your belly at the sight, your thighs fidgeting in your seat. “I don’t know,” you say, leaning your head back against the seat. “Everything feels… floaty. Like I’m a balloon or something.” Your eyes felt heavy as you stared at him with a dopey smile on your face. The softness of the lights from the overhead light casted down on his face like a glowing frame of his face. It was a beautifully confusing feeling this way. You had found yourself wanting something from him you've never had before, something way worse and more irreversible than smoking for the first time. 

He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re high as hell,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. A sharp keen to his eyes as they darken at the sight of you, leaning back against the seat, head turned towards him. Your glassy eyes staring up at him doe eyed.  

Your gaze lingered on the way his fingers tap absently against the steering wheel. “You’re not as much of an asshole as you act, you know,” you say, your voice unfiltered and soft. 

His head snaps toward you, his eyes narrowing. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You act all tough,” you say, shrugging. “But you’re still here. Putting up with me. Teaching me. You could’ve just told me to screw off.” 

“If I recall, I did do that when you texted me.” Taehyun says slowly, his speech becoming slightly slurred. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. His gaze flickers over you, like he’s trying to decide if you’re messing with him or not. Then he shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle, the sound sending a bolt of electricity through you and straight to your core. It was an unfamiliar feeling for you. You had never felt such intense heat and want for someone. You didn't know whether to blame the weed or your hazy mind, either way you weren't sure you minded. 

“Guess the high’s getting to you,” he says, but his voice has softened, the sharp edges dulled. His own lust lingered heavily in the compactness of the car. You are both hyper aware of the shift in the dynamic of the car. You smile lazily, sinking further into the seat. The hum of the moment feels bigger than either of you, like the space between you has shifted somehow. He handed the blunt back to you but with a shake of your head you refused it, already feeling relaxed. Your body is like jelly as you slumped against the seat of the car. 

You tilt your head to look at him, his profile is sharp in the dim light, the amber glow of the lighter from earlier still dancing in your mind. “Why are you staring?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. 

“I’m not,” you lie, even though you can feel the weight of your own gaze on him. 

“Yeah, you are,” he says, leaning back slightly in his seat, his fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel. “What’s going on in that good little head of yours, huh?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words get stuck somewhere in your throat. The buzz in your chest has spread, making everything feel too big and too small all at once. You shift in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you are to him, how the scent of smoke and leather clings to the air between you. “I don’t know,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches you with that same unreadable expression. And then, like the space between you is pulling him in, he leans forward, just a fraction—enough to make your breath catch. “You’re high,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself. “That’s all this is.” His breath fanned against your lips close enough that even a mere inch forward your lips would be touching. 

You shake your head, though the movement feels sluggish. “It’s not just that,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. 

Taehyun’s hand twitches where it rests on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he looks almost unsure, like he’s teetering on the edge of something he can’t pull back from. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t want this.” 

“I do,” you insist, your gaze locking with his. The pull between you feels magnetic now, impossible to ignore. The heat in your belly felt like fire only being fueled by the constant darkening of his eyes and his pure adultured need for you. You may be inexperienced and naive but you were stupid, he wanted you as badly as you wanted him. 

He lets out a low, almost defeated sigh, his fingers running through his messy hair. “You’re gonna regret this Tomorrow.” But he doesn’t move away. 

You lean forward first, closing the already minimal space between you. It’s tentative, the barest brush of your lips against his, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull back. But then he doesn’t. 

Taehyun’s lips press against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing the waters. There’s a hesitance in the way his hand hovers near your cheek, as though he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you. But when you don’t pull away—when you lean into him instead—he seems to let go of whatever was holding him back. 

The kiss deepens, his hand finally coming to rest on your jaw, his thumb brushing against your skin. There’s nothing rushed about it, no desperation, just a quiet intensity that sends your heart racing. You don’t know if it’s the blunt, the high, or him, but the world outside the car has completely disappeared. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in this strange, unspoken pull that you can’t quite explain. 

“You’re gonna blame this on the high,” he murmurs with a groan. “If we don’t stop, I don't know how far it will go, princess.” 

You shake your head, your eyes still closed. “Don’t stop.” for a moment, neither of you says anything, the quiet hum of the night wrapping around you like a blanket. 

He doesn’t move away. If anything, he’s closer now, his hand sliding from your jaw to cup the side of your neck. His thumb brushes just under your ear, and the touch sends a shiver skimming down your spine. “How far have you gone before?” 

You shake your head “Nothing further than kissing.” 

He pulls back a small look of bewilderment on his face “Are you sure about this?” 

You nod, disconnecting yourself for a second to look at him, although your mind was hazy nothing about the decision to go further with Taehyun was, you were sure you wanted this. “Yes” You spoke with a surge of confidence. “I want this, so bad.” 

Taehyun reconnects your lips in a messy entanglement of lips and teeth, his hands grabbing at your waist to pull you closer to him even in the confines of his car. “Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. It’s not a demand—it’s a plea, barely restrained, like he’s fighting himself and losing.

You don’t tell him to stop. You can’t. Instead, your hands find their way to him, one resting on his shoulder, the other fisting the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll pull away if you let go. “I’m not going to,” you whisper, and your voice shakes, but not with fear. 

He kisses you again, harder this time, like he’s been holding himself back and can’t anymore. There’s nothing hesitant about it now—his lips press firmly against yours, and you meet him with the same urgency, like you’ve both been waiting for this moment longer than either of you is willing to admit. 

Taehyun’s free hand slides to your waist, gripping you just hard enough to make your breath hitch. The space between you feels nonexistent, every inch of him pressing into you in a way that’s both overwhelming and addictive. You’re not thinking anymore—not about where you are, not about how this started, not about the million ways this could go wrong. All you know is the way his hands feel against you, the way his lips move like he’s memorizing the shape of yours, the way your entire body feels like it’s on fire. 

You tug at his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. Taehyun’s fingers dig into your waist, grounding you even as the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. The high from the weed makes your skin a buzz and your mind spin. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Taehyun mutters against your lips, his voice rough and raw, like the confession slipped out without his permission.It makes you want him even more. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion you can’t put into words into the way your lips move against his. Your hips raise slightly, searching for some semblance of friction. 

The small space of the car feels suffocating now, the air thick and heavy as his hand slides up your side, brushing just beneath the hem of your sweatshirt. His touch is searing, leaving trails of heat in its wake, and you arch into him instinctively, a soft sound escaping your lips.

“Careful,” Taehyun murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, but there’s something else there, too—a flicker of restraint, like he’s holding himself together by a thread. “You don’t know what you’re starting.” 

“Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice steady even as your heart pounds in your chest. He had you craving something you had never indulged in before, something you knew you would miss as soon as it ended. 

For a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind, to figure out if you mean it. Whatever he sees in your expression seems to be enough, because his lips crash into yours again, his hands gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He grabbed at your sweater, unzipping it until your frilly tank top was revealed underneath. When his lips leave yours, they trail along your jaw, slow and deliberate. 

The feeling of his lips sends a shiver down your spine, and you tilt your head instinctively, giving him more access.“God, you’re dangerous,” he mutters against your skin, his voice rough and almost reverent. His hands move up the expanse of your body and torso cupping your breasts in his hands. A gasp leaves your lip, a chill crawling up your spine. 

“These fucking tits.” Taehyun growled. “How has no man ever touched these before?” Your chest heaved as explored the entirety of your upper body, cradling your breasts in his hands. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and the high from the weed feels distant now, overshadowed by the way he’s making you feel. Every nerve in your body is alive, hyper-aware of his every touch, every breath, every unspoken word.

“Take this off.” He growls his lips ghosting over your collarbone as he tugged at your tank top in his big hands. You met his hands at the hem of your tank top, lifting it in one fail swoop over your head. Your top half is now completely bare and out in the open for his eyes to see. 

You didn't think his eyes could darken anymore then they already have but to now avail his irises became nearly black pools of desire. Your heart was thumping hard in your chest as your breath left you in harsh pants. He made quick work of running his hands to his grey sweatpants, yanking them down just enough to pull himself out of his boxers. His cock spring free, the rip red and angry. 

Your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. He smirked at you with a knowing look. “Cute.” He muttered. “You never seen a dick before or something.” You could tell he meant it as a joke but one single look at your expression made him realize just how little experience you’ve had. 

“I..” You trailed “I haven’t.” Your face was flush red from the embarrassment of your admittance, you hadn't even really watched porn. Seeing a dick was so obscure to you, so unheard of. 

“Come here.” Taehyun softly said as he held his hand out for you to take. You lifted your legs to gently maneuver your body over the center console of the car. The sudden movement coupled with the high that was still lingering had you feeling a bit dizzy. 

You sat on Taehyun’s lap. His hard cock now resting against your thigh. Awkwardly and out of instinct you lifted your arms to cover your breasts that were now smack dab in his face. A man’s dream you thought to yourself. 

“No, don’t do that princess.” He took a hold of your arms gently in his hands pulling them back until they were at your sides. “Don’t hide.” He toyed with the hem of your shorts and he brought his other hand to your hips, gently guiding your hips to rock back and forth against his cock. 

A gasp fell from your lips at the movement. He started slowly rocking your hips steadily against his to create just the perfect amount of friction. Your clit throb in your shorts wishing you were completely bare against him. 

“That feel good?” He asked you with a grit to his teeth trying his hardest to keep his groans at bay. You nodded dumbly, a whimper falling from your lips as you continued to allow him to guide your hips against his. 

“I..i think i need more.” Your voice was airy, a sigh that sounded a lot like a moan slipped from your lips. “More, please.” 

“Hm.” He hummed grabbing ahold of your hips with both of his hands, his grip tighter than it had been all night. “Pretty little princess wants more huh?” He was teasing you, rocking your hips faster against him. 

“Y-yes!” You squealed, as a foreign feeling twisted in your stomach, the intensity knocking you forward trying to steady yourself on his chest. 

The sudden stop of your hips had you whining as Taehyun roughly gripped your hips in his hands stopping your movements. “The first time you cum will be with my cock buried deep inside of you. Not from you grinding on it like a needy little whore, do you hear me?” 

“Taehy-” You began to whine. 

“Do.you.hear.me?” He asked again tougher this time as he snaked his hand up your neck to the nape grabbing a fist full of your hair in his hands yanking your face to be level with his. 

“Yes!” You repeated for the second time tonight. “Want your cock..” 

“Good girl.” Taehyun let go of your hair soothing the spot with his palm. “Let's get these shorts off now, yeah?” You nodded with a hum as you lifted yourself off his lap to give Taehyun easy access to slide your shorts and panties down at the same time. 

“Are you going ok?” He ran his hands up and down your sides soothingly. 

“I am” You reassured him. You bent your face down to meet his lips in a short kiss as you pulled away Taehyun smirked, chasing your lips with his own, causing a giggle to leave you. 

His hand reached down, carefully circling your heat with his fingers. “You're so wet.” He hissed, dipping a finger slightly inside your awaiting core. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him toy with your pussy lip and clit delicately. Your legs slightly shook from the touch of him. 

“I think you’re ready.” He nodded more to himself than you. “You think you’re ready baby?” The pet name caught you off guard stunting your ability to answer so instead you nod. 

“I need your words.” He said, more harsh than you expected. 

“I’m ready.”  You confirmed. His hands found your hips once again, lifting you up until the tip of his dick was lined up at your entrance. The knot in your stomach tightened as the reality of what was about to happen set in. You were really about to lose your virginity. Here in a car, in the middle of the night to a boy you had just officially tonight. The thought excited you? It was so purely unlike you that you couldn’t wait to do it. 

Taehyun helped guide you down on his length, the stretch of him burning as you slowly moved down inch by inch on his cock. “Oh.” You squeaked, using Taehyun’s shoulder as leverage. “Oh-” You said again. The one syllable seems like the only word you could even begin to utter. 

“Careful.” Taehyun grit the words out. “That’s it.” 

The feeling of him inside you had tears pricking your eyes as the intensity of the moment took over. 

“Stay still princess” Taehyun’s voice was soft as he gave you instructions on how to take him, talking you through it. You sat still on his lap as his cock was not fully satiated inside of you. The feeling was odd..a good odd. You felt full, entirely consumed by him. The dead of night surrounding you adds onto the ambience. 

“Move whenever you want sweetheart, you're in charge.” The heat of his hands on your bare skin coupled with the heat in the car and the weed lingering in your veins gave you the boost of confidence you needed to lift yourself up and slam yourself back down on his cock. Carefully at first, testing the waters. Taehyun’s grunt of pleasure only adds to the fire growing inside of you. You needed to make him feel good, it was now the most important part of this. 

“Fuck” He grunted as he leaned his head back against the seat heavily lidded eyes looking up at you as you bounced atop him. The pleasure was creeping up on you, the burn now a dull feeling easily forgotten about. “Keep doing that.” 

His praise served as a catalyst for you to keep moving your hips up and down on his cock. Your thighs shaking at the overwhelming pleasure and the workout you were receiving. 

“So good.” You whimpered out, the only sounds around you were the ones of the constant smacking of your ass against his lap and the moans you let slip from your mouth uncontrollably. 

“Good girl.” Taehyun babbled, resetting his arms behind his head, watching you. “That’s a good fucking girl, fucking that cock for the very first time.” 

“Am i doing good?” You chased his praise almost as fast as you chased your impending orgasm, the heat pooling in the bottom of your belly like the fire getting ready to boil over and explode. 

“Yeah baby, you're doing so good. Keep bouncing on my cock. Just like that.” Soft mews left your lips reaching your fingers out to drag down Taehyun’s clothed chest. 

“Can I help you out?” Taehyun pants desperately pawing at your hips. “If it hurts, let me know, I'll stop right away.” 

“Ok.” You whimpered pathetically. You'd allow him to do anything to you right now just as long as you continued to feel as good as you were. His hands gripped your hands tightly in his hands before shooting his hips up with one single snap. 

A gasp of surprise left your lips as he reached angles you didn't even know was possible. 

“Holy-” You breathed out “Fuck, fuck.” 

Taehyun’s hips snapped up drilling his cock into your weeping hole over and over. His balls lewdly slapping the underside of your ass. “I’m close.” He hissed, not letting up on his thrusts. 

“M-me too, I think.” You winced at the mixture of pain and pleasure consuming you. The feeling that bubbled up inside of you waiting to explode like a ticking time bomb. 

“This tight fucking pussy wont ket me go.” Taehyun’s words sent you flying towards your orgasm, becoming a mess of yourself on top of him. He followed suit not longer after pushing his hips inside of you a few more times before stilling himself. 

“Fuck.” He huffed rubbing the sides of your thighs as rested your head against his chest trying to catch your breath. 

“Are you ok?” He asked with a slightly worried tone. 

“So good.” You said raising your head to look at him. “Thank you” 

“For the sex?” He quirked an arrogant brow at you, a laugh bubbling in his chest. 

“Well, yes and the weed, and teaching me how to smoke it and-”

“Ok, ok” He laughed. “No need to thank me so much.” 

“But I do.” You said with sincerity. “You helped me alot tonight.” 

“I can always do it again..” He trailed off with a slightly nervous tone in his voice. 

“Is this a drug dealer's way off asking me out after taking my weed and literal virginity in his car?” You joked, sending him a goofy grin. He shrugged in an attempt at being nonchalant despite his best efforts. 

“Is this the goody two shoes princess saying yes?” His tone was just as goofy and airy as the both of you felt. 

“It is.” You smiled at him. “Yes, a thousand times over.” 

“Eager are we?” Taehyun jokes. You laughed, hitting his chest lightly. “Shut up and fuck me again Taehyun.” 

“Don't have to ask me twice.” 

taglist. @st1llm0nster , @blossommi , @beomiracles, @kkamismom12 , @izzyy-stuff , @biteyoubiteme , @hyukascampfire , @thetxtdevil

[no-144444]

winners and losers- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

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As you stepped out of the car, you were Champion of the World. The first woman to do so. The only woman to do so. You were a legend. You were going to be remembered, whether people liked it or not. 

You ran straight over to Oscar, knowing he was the only one you’d ever want to celebrate with. He caught you as you ran over and practically jumped on him. He caught you, holding you against him as he beamed with pride. 

He rested his hands on either side of your face, the both of you being covered in champagne by the rest of the team. “You did it,” he cheered. 

“We did it,” you reminded him, then pulled him into a tight hug. 

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You weren’t a party animal, so you’d decided you wanted to go to a movie, and as you stood outside Oscar’s room, you really wondered what the fuck you were doing. You wanted to ask him to come with you, but as your hand finally met the wood, your heart dropped. You realised how a movie sounded, and well, you already felt conflicted enough from rejecting him. 

He opened the door immediately, a comfy hoodie and sweats on, his hair a bit messy, and his eyes half closed. You felt a little overdressed in your jeans. 

“Y/n?” he smiled when he registered that it was in fact, you. 

“Hi,” you smiled. 

“Hi,” he smiled back, leaning against the doorway. “W-What are you doing here?” 

“I was going to go see a movie, if you wanted to come with me. There’s a cinema down the street,” you explained. “Obviously, if you’re exhausted or just not into movies, that’s fine. I was just wondering.”

Was Oscar Piastri into movies? No, not really. He probably couldn’t even name 3 Christmas movies, and everyone knows Christmas movies. Was Oscar Piastri exhausted after a tense weekend? Absolutely. But was Oscar Piastri going to give up the chance to sit right beside you for 2 (perhaps 3) interrupted hours and enjoy the silent pleasure of your company?

Fuck no. 

So you were both at the cinema in under 5 minutes. You’d insisted on paying for the food, which he insisted on paying for the tickets (ever the gentleman), and you both quickly got to your seats. Neither of you really knew what the film was about, you’d just wanted to turn your brain off for a few hours, and he planned on staring at you the whole time. But not in a creepy way. 

Quickly, the film started, and you were hooked, your eyes darting all around the screen, following the characters. Oscar’s eyes stayed on you. More specifically, the way your hand was holding his. He froze when it happened, unsure what to do, but after a few minutes his body un-tensed and his brain started working again, and he started gently smoothing his thumb over your skin. You were soft, as soft as he remembered you to be when you two had danced together. 

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You hadn’t planned on crying when the mother in the film died, but it hit you like a bag of bricks and you genuinely left the theatre crying. Oscar, ever the gentleman, noticed immediately and pulled you into one of his perfect, Oscar hugs. The ones that make everything feel like it’s ok. You quickly started rushing out apology after apology, but he was quicker to shut you down, citing random studies saying people who cry at movies are more emotionally intelligent and strong. You didn’t feel very strong holding onto him so hard you thought you might break one of his ribs, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

The walk back to the hotel room was once again, filled with the silence you both loved dearly, but holding his hand. When he walked you up to your hotel room, he stood at the door, watching you open it with your key card. 

“Night,” he smiled, ready to collapse into his bed. 

You stared at him for a moment, clearly in quiet contemplation. He just looked right back at you, enjoying the view. Your teary eyes and irritated nose were pretty adorable in his opinion, and even in the low light of the hotel corridor, your eyes still sparkled just like usual. 

You took a step closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, making him almost gasp out loud. 

“Night,” you smiled and rushed inside, jumping into bed and overthinking the tiny cheek kiss you’d given him. 

Sleep also evaded him that night, too wired to think about anything other than your lips on his skin and how he could make it happen again. 

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Halfway through the second triple header, in Qatar, you found yourself… regretful of that night in Baku, and feeling increasingly good about that night in Vegas. Oscar was no different than before, still the constant pillar of strength keeping you afloat in your mad world. You found yourself wondering about his feelings, wondering if you had them too and just didn’t realise. You liked his unruly hair. You liked his stupid jokes. You liked how much he went on about cricket. You liked his family. You liked his dorky knowledge on things. You liked the way he didn’t realise how beautiful he really was. You liked him. A lot more than you’d ever liked anyone else before. You hadn’t realised when it happened, but Osccar was one of the reasons you woke up. Oscar was who you got in the car for. Oscar was your person.

Fuck. 

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Oscar jumped out of the car, rushing to get to the paddock in time. He had woken up late (again), and he just had to get your morning coffee, so he was already running a little bit late. As much as he tried to hide it, it did kind of hurt to be rejected by you. I mean, what was he thinking? An F1 driver being into him? It was a silly pipe dream he wished Lando never exposed. 

He quickly rounded a corner, and finally, you were in his sights. You sat at a table, wearing a white dress and white shoes, talking with someone on the phone. He thought you looked beautiful. That white dress. Was it silly that he was thinking about weddings? 

“Morning,” you called out, a soft smile on your face. The shadows cast from the sunlight made your eyes shine even more, if that were possible. 

“Morning,” he breathed out, sitting across from you and pushing the cup over. You took it with a grateful nod and continued listening to the person on the other side. He took a sip of his own drink and just let himself stare. He saw the way a strand of hair fell over your forehead, he saw the freckles on your face, the way you scrunch your nose up, the way you… the way you were you. And he loved it all. All the sarcastic jokes, all the batshit screaming on the radio, all of the insane and deeply romantic things you’d done together. 

You put your phone down. “Hi.”

He smiled. “Hi.”

“How are you?” you asked, gently messing with the lid of your cup. 

“I’m good, thanks. How are you?” he asked, feeling as though you were hiding something. 

“I’m good,” you nodded. “I got you a gift,” you blurted out, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You did? What for?”

“Christmas,” you said like it was obvious.

“It’s November-”

“We’ll have no time in Abu Dhabi,” you explained. “And I really wanted to give this to you myself.”

“Ok,” he shrugged, his heart swelling as those words. You wanted to give it to him yourself. 

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” you instructed and he did so without hesitation. Something was placed in his hand. A small, rectangular box, he assumed. “Open them.”

He opened his eyes and was met with a gold bracelet with a tiny walkie-talkie charm on it. It was beautiful and heartfelt, and somewhat of an inside joke between the two of you. He let himself giggle slightly, looking back up at your mischievous smile. “I love it,” he answered truthfully. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” you smiled. “You’ve really been my rock this year, and I really appreciate it. Thank you Osc. No one asked you to step up and be my friend, but you did, and I really appreciate all of the support.”

He smiled, taking your hand. “I’d do it again anytime. You’re incredible, and you deserve to know that.”

You smiled bashfully. “So are you.”

He couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. And he couldn’t help but hope it meant more.  

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Up to fifth gear, down to third. 

It was methodical. You were world champion, you’d won it back in Las Vegas, but you still had to fight for the Constructors, and Ferrari were not going down without a fight. You finished Qatar with a podium, but not enough to secure the championship, so onward to Abu Dhabi it went. 

“That was a good race today. Y/n up in P3, just behind the Ferrari’s and Lando in P5. We picked up some good points, but we’ll really need to push in Abu Dhabi, alright guys?” Zak smiled, and everyone groaned in agreement. 2 triple headers after one-another was truly torture, but whatever, you’d be at home in Monaco in 2 weeks time. No racing, no people, just you and your evergrowing reading list. 

Oscar nudged you. “What’s your plans for Christmas?” he asked. 

“Nothing, really,” you shrugged, trying to keep your voice down as Zak continued his pep talk. 

Oscar frowned. “Alone?”

You nodded, completely happy with your answer. His frown deepened. “Come to Australia,” he offered. 

You shook your head. “I will not impose on your family Christmas-”

“My entire family loves you Y/n, please. It’d be as much for them as it is for me.”

You smiled. “You really want me there?” 

He nodded, a bright smile on his face. “I do. I really do-”

“Those your wedding vows?” Lando spoke up. 

You just rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Ask your parents if it’s alright first, yeah?”

He beamed. “Will do.”

Australia for Christmas, that would be new. 

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To say that Oscar didn't have his own agenda when asking you to come to Australia would definitely be a fat lie. After the night in Baku and the night in Vegas, he was becoming increasingly sure that you did like him back, and he thought that getting you to relax in Australia would let you feel comfortable enough to confess to him. Sounds slightly sinister, he knew, but he also knew his mother would murder him the second his feet touched Australian ground if she found out he was leaving you alone at Christmas. 

He had time now. He just needed you.

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[fullflowerking]

A. Removing my name because some of you can't behave 😁

B. I don't remember my wings that well, but definitely closer to a lighter shade. Perhaps bronze or sandy brown

C. I was a lower ranking angel, tasked with observing humanity. Not intervening

D. See above

E. I didn't fall, I reincarnated to earth as a human being and I still consider my species to be an angel

F. I remember being in a beautiful garden at some point. My mind felt light and airy, and I "felt" things around me with spatial awareness instead of objectively viewing it. If you asked me to describe a single plant or creature in this garden I wouldn't be able to.

G. I resonate with the element fire because I was born in December. My dad was sick with cancer when I was born, and they told him he might not live. After I was born, he got better. I always attach this to the transformative power of fire, and my angelic abilities are still attached to me in utero.

H. I'm a biblical angel, so I guess more likely the Christian god. I don't remember him though, just a faint memory of Him being present.

I. I feel I became confined to earth after observing humans for so long. I think at some point I wanted to be involved more than I was, so I decided to join.

K. The advantage of being an angel on earth really depends on your definition of an advantage. My definition is having more freedom, being able to touch, see and experience the world like a proper mammal rather than like a divine being. You miss out on a lot when you lack the 5 senses.

L. A disadvantage. There are many. When you're an angel, you don't get tired, you don't need to go to the bathroom, you don't need to eat. Suddenly all these things that make you human become an exhausting task that you have to be involved in, all the time. There are more, but I want to keep this short.

M. I was around during the holy war. The crusade before crusades. I remember a few angels starting to feel less angelic over time, and it was like a ripple effect amongst the loyal. Suddenly, the side I was on with my brother Michael felt less and less like the winning side, and more like the side you pick when there's no better option. I desired the same freedoms as the other side but I suppose I was too cowardly to take it.

N. No one around me knows my identity. I feel like it's unnecessary to tell anyone. I can never go back to what I was. The best thing I can do is live my life as heavenly as I can in my current life.

O. Funnily enough, I started suspecting i was something more at a very young age. I didn't know quite what. I remember having mental shifts in the church growing up, and having visions about winged creatures when I was around 10. I discovered angels outside of the Bible and for the first time I felt like these things were the best thing I could use to describe myself.

P. Lol. I was hoping this question would come up. O fortuna is at the top of my list. It always gives me chills. Any songs in Latin or slavic-based languages always makes me go into mental shifts.

Q. To feel angelic, I watch movies with angels in them, read books with angels in them, exercise and ride my bike to just feel the wind against my face. I go to the park with a long black coat on and listen to music, and just watch people. Sometimes I talk to them, but not often because I can be quite introverted.

R. See above. I also veil on occasion, especially when I'm around religious buildings or graveyards or when meditating. (I do not pray to the Christian god)

S. I'm not repelled by religious buildings. I'm also not attracted to them. But when I step inside a place that has been cleansed, anointed or used for worship, I can get mental shifts and my vibration raises to the point that I believe that religious figures and children can feel.

T. Good question. Unfortunately I don't know what my halo looked like. I'm assuming it was closer to light than a physical object, maybe light that my divinity gave off. Like a rainbow spectrum or pure white. 🤷‍♀️ no clue.

U. If I did, I don't remember.

V. Not prophetic dreams, but I've had vivid dreams and nightmares about snakes, naked human beings, violence, starvation and fire. I have had many dreams of what I believe to be pre-flood events on earth, where animosity & disbelief became more rampant between Him and humans.

W. Nope

X. Anywhere that has a beautiful garden. I also like fountains, aquariums, the forest and jungle

Y. Nope

X. I remember being in Europe at some point. I don't know exactly where, I just remember hearing some francophone language being spoken, and there was a lot of political unrest. Unfortunately, the details were never that important to anyone, and as I've mentioned before, I didn't see things the same way as an angel as I do now. My best guess would be middle ages or less. They seemed to be very complicated with the Catholic church back then.

I hope you enjoyed my answers as much as i enjoyed answering them

Angelic Ask Meme

I’ve been meaning to make one of these for a while…send some to my ask, and feel free to reblog!

A-what is your angelic name? B-what did your wings look like? C-what are you an angel of? D-what order or rank of angel are you? E-did you fall? If so, why? F-describe a random angelic memory G-what element/s do you align with? H-do you remember or follow any gods? I-do you know or suspect why you are earthbound? J-what other angels were you close to? K-an advantage to being an angel on earth? L-a disadvantage to being an angel on earth? M-were you around during the war? If so, what side were you on? N-does anyone irl know you’re an angel? O-how long have you known you’re Angelic? P-what is a song that reminds you of being angelic, or of an angelic memory? Q-what is something you do to feel angelic? R-have anything you wear that makes you feel like your angelic self? S-are you attracted to places of worship, or repelled by them? T-what did your halo look like? U-any angels you had a rivalry with? V-ever have any prophetic dreams, or things like that? W-are you an empath/psychic/medium/etc? X-any places on earth that remind you of home? Y-ever had irl contact with other divines in this life? Z-have any past earthbound life memories?

[scrumdidiliyumyum]

Something special |||

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader

Prologue - > Part 1 - > Part 2 - > Part 3

How could he have known that you were with your friends?

You sat there for a while, in the cold car with the sudden realization that that man you had quite literally just met knew something he shouldn't have. Were you overthinking it? Were you just to tired to really comprehend the actual situation, your mind instantly going to something more darker and blaming an innocent man?

Maybe you were paranoid, just maybe. He was a vigilante for goodness sakes. He helps people, saves them. He most likely just assumed that you were out and about, hanging out with buds. There wasn't any need to jump to such big conclusions- to make an innocent man the target of your paranoia.

As you sat there, you tried your best to control your breathing, feeling it go out of control every time the thought of him knowing more than he should've creeped back into your mind. Maybe you really were just going crazy for all you knew.

Your hand shakily reached up to the ignition with the key to start the far, you couldn't think about this right now. Not in the middle of who knows where, alone, in a car. You tried, keyword tried, to push it away, to shoo away the bad thoughts until you were in a safer environment to be allowed to do so.

You drove back to the manor, trying to keep your mind in a happy place. Thinking of things to distract yourself, not noticing the skillfully hidden figure watching your vehicle make its way onto the street.

You slowly made your way towards the manor doors, not wanting to go in. God, why didn't you ask to stay over at a friend's house? If anytime was good, now would be, when your head was working against you and you could've used a friend to help you with it all.

Ah.

Your mind went back to a few certain people as you thought that. As much as you would've loved to, staying at a friend's house when some people were, "keeping an eye out on you," Suddenly disappearing probably wouldn't be the smartest move on your part.

You let out a sigh as you slowly opened the doors, looking around for a minute before making the hike up the stairs and back to your room. You kept looking around, at all the little places you memorized from walking through these halls for years. Something you were hoping would change very soon.

You jumped out of your trance as you felt a hand tap on your shoulder, whipping around and coming face to face with Duke who still had a worried look on his face. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it as he beat you to it.

"Are you alright? I was worried when you disappeared all of a sudden." You held back to urge to roll your eyes, "yeah I'm fine don't worry. Really, there's no reason to be worried." You stood there awkwardly for a second before slowly turning to make your way back to your room.

Duke suddenly put that to a halt as he said, "hey, you shouldn't stress yourself out so much. I know you wanna work hard, but maybe try to relax, yeah?" You looked back at him, trying to think of what to say.

You would've been mad if it was anyone else, should've been mad nonetheless, but you never really knew Duke. He was always nice, and you both were older, teens when you both had first met. Despite everything, he still treated you the kindest.

So you sighed, before fully turning to face him. You softly smiled at him before saying, "thanks Duke, I'll keep that in mind." You patted his arm before walking back to your room trying to ignore the face he made, just wanting to sleep and prepare yourself for whatever tomorrow intailed.

Man you wished that you were old enough to drink.

You adjusted your uniform, tidying up as best as you could. You were a tad bit nervous, more than usual as today was the day you decided to quit a club. You had to step out of your comfort zone, and maybe it wasn't a big deal to some, but for you it was a really big deal.

All the times you had walked through those halls, hoping for something more from the very people that lived there, it hurt more than everything. And it still didnt hurt any less, but you were gonna make it okay, because you did have people to rely on, people who would be there, who would gladly hang up your photos and take time out of their day to be with you.

You wanted more then everything to start doing stuff you liked, be with people you liked, so that's exactly what you were going to do.

You gathered up the rest of your stray items and set them into your bag. Nervous yes, but overall thrilled to be doing this, patting your self before making your way towards your door to get to school.

You looked at a picture from one of the many photo booths you had run into the night before, hung up on your wall of you, Aryan and Ethan, all smiling, happy and making weird faces.

For the first time in awhile going to school didn't seem to hard.

"I'm sorry, I'm what?"

Your debate teachers face scrunched up slightly as he started to explain, "well, you're out, that's it." He paused before continuing, "technically, isn't that what you wanted? So I don't see the problem." You felt nothing but absolute confusion as he said that, slowly processing his words.

You did amazing, was, were, one of the best debaters, you were always helpful, willing to offer a helping hand to those that needed one, inside and outside the class. So what was the problem? Why were you suddenly cut off the team?

Him sighing and gesturing for you to lean in brought back your attention, "look, kid, to be honest, your amazing. But, this other kid, don't really know his name, started with a D? I don't know, but he waltzed in here, saying how he wanted you off the team, and started going on about you and stuff, something like that."

He scratched his head, "usually, I would just shoo people like that off, but he had a signed paper and everything!" He waved his arms around to emphasize the paper, "look, I'm sorry kid, I figured you knew about it since... well, y'know."

You could feel a huge headache coming on, desperately needing a pill. You paused your thoughts as you took what he said to mind. You stumbled on your words, "I- I'm sorry, Damien?" He nodded his head, getting a grim look on his face, "don't get me wrong, I've dealt with some freaky kids, but that one was definitely pretty freakish."

You were about to make your way into another rant, when you decided to leave it as it is. As much as you wanted to fight him on it, you know it wasn't his fault. You took a breath and forced yourself to calm down and smiled at him politely before taking your stuff and storming off, making turns through the halls towards your car.

You were going to talk to him, yell, whatever. Yes, you were going to quit the club, or a club, but just because didn't mean he had the right to butt in. It was your choice to make, one that seemed to be a good one, one that make you excited until you got there only to find out Damien had gotten you kicked out in the first place.

You and Damien never had a close relationship, always having some sort of rift between the two of you no matter what you did to try and repair it. And for once, for once, you decided you were gonna move on, live your own life, and he decides he doesn't want that?

No.

You weren't gonna just let him decide this. This was for you to decide, and you weren't gonna let him make something that should've been a new chapter into something else as he had done one too many times. You really didn't want that to happen right now, especially when this particular thing was supposed to be a turning point for you.

Maybe you were being dramatic, but in all honesty you couldn't care less. Sure, maybe at the base of it all, what you were really mad at was not just this, but all the other times he was ruined things for you, turning stuff that made you happy into stuff that made you cry and sick everytime it entered your sight, the fact that you were always to weak to put a stop to it.

You just hoped that you would be strong enough to tell him this time.

You slowly made your way towards Damien, having searched for him for a good while. You were filled with anger earlier, but it slowly faded away and out of your body once you noticed Dick standing by him.

You didn't know how to confront him with Dick by your side, at most he wouldn't care, right? You hoped with every fiber in your body that they would push whatever you decided on saying to the deep depths of their minds. As you neared them, the moment they took notice of you, you almost had to double back and go throw up from how nervous you were.

But, you held your ground and continued walking until you were infront of them, trying to hide how harshly you were breathing and the mini panic attack you were having on the inside. "Damien, can I talk to you, somewhere private?" You said with as much confidence you could muster. He stared for a moment before responding, "why? We can talk right here."

The small bite in his tone reminded you exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. Taking a deep breath, "fine. Damien, why did you get me kicked out of my club? It's my club, and you shouldn't have to go behind my back to talk to my teacher." You waited, trying your best to ignore Dick just staring at you.

He rubbed his eyes, sighing, before giving you a fierce look, "look, whether you like it or not, you're my sister. What you do directly effects me and father. And I'd rather not have to deal with you passing out in public, with everyone as a witness."

You scoffed at what he said, " your sister? Well whether you like it or not, it's not for you to decide! What I decide to do with my life outside- actually, inside this manor as well, had absolutely nothing to do with you, or anyone else that lives here."

You breathed harshly out of your nose, trying to keep a cool head but failing miserably. You took in a deep breath before starting another rant, " and y'know what Damien? I passed out once why does everyone think I'm suddenly this super fragile person?" -You barely noticed the way he winced from the pure venom of which you spat his name- "I honestly hate-"

Suddenly Dick covered your mouth, pausing after doing so as if not even meaning to. His eyes jolted around for a bit before settling on whispering, "please don't say stuff like that, okay?" You stared at him, pushing his hand off your mouth. "Say what? That I hate your guts? Is that what the problem is?"

He almost looked surprised at the hatred in your voice, before letting out a sigh, "look, I'm sorry okay? You're probably tired, and just need to go lay down-"

You laughed incredulously, absolutely shocked at his words. Had he even been listening? You decided that you had had enough of his- no, enough of their bullshit. It wasn't your job to cater to their every whim.

You decided then and there to just leave. You rubbed hard at your face, as if to try and rid of the tension and unadulterated anger coursing through your body. Was this whole family crazy? You honestly couldn't care less, you were tired, hungry, and just wanted to be somewhere safe.

You suddenly looked at the two annoyed, "I'm gonna stay at a friend's house tonight. Bye!" Quickly turning around, you started to make your way back down where you had come from. You pushed anything they had said out of your head as you tried to mentally retrace your footsteps back.

Because you had already spaced out, you hadn't noticed Dick speading towards you, completely blocking your path. You jumped at him suddenly invading your view, giving him a questioning look. He looked back at Damien a few times before muttering a quick, 'I'm sorry' and snatching your phone out of your hand.

You looked at him incredulously, at this point really wondering if it was all a dream. Dick stood there, trying to convince you to go to your room. "Look, I'm sorry, can you please go back for now? I promise I'll give it back later I just-" He paused as he looked back at Damien, the both of them having a silent conversation.

Suddenly Damien sighed and spoke up, "go away, I need to talk to Dick." You could feel his stare bore into the back of your head. You scoffed and just left, figuring it wasn't worth the fight. Although you wanted to try and grab it, you tried to soothe yourself with the fact that you still had your computer to contact someone- anyone.

Running Walking away, you could faintly hear Damien start to talk to Dick, 'I thought we told you already-' but you quickly pushed it out of your head. All you could think of at the moment was how pissed you were with those two, what was their problem??

Frankly, any other day you wouldn't have left. It was your phone, and they couldn't just suddenly decide to team up and take it away. But, you didn't care anymore, you were done with having nothing to deal with, then now having to deal with everything.

You tried to soothe yourself with the fact that this time tomorrow you would be out of here.

You walked into your room and slammed the door, sliding down against it trying your best to calm down. For all you knew they could've broken it. You mentally beat yourself up for not just snatching the phone back. The thought of that made you remember something as you sprung up, making your way towards your desk.

Pulling multiple draws open before your eyes finally landed on what you were looking for, you quickly grabbed it out, pushing along the few trinkets that resided on top.

Your laptop.

You needed to message someone, maybe Aryan? Would she even answer? Or maybe Ethan, he might-

.

You paused before quickly turning back towards the desk, once again looking through the drawer that held your laptop. You looked through it multiple times, taking everything out before moving towards other drawers.

After moving everything out, looking once again through the mountain of items that sat om your floor, even going as far as any other desks, drawers, hell, your backpack. Yet no matter where you looked, you couldn't find it. Did someone steal it? Did Aryan- or no, even Miss Honey take it?

Where the hell was your camera?

The dim room was faintly lit up by the big computer screen, shining onto nearby objects and the young man who sat at the desk it resided on. He watched the video, taking in every detail of it. The small giggles that got let out every now and then, the way you threw flour at the other girl in the video, laughing and smiling brightly.

Tim looked over the video, and the many others that were on the sim card over and over again. It was so weird- he never really cared about you, still didn't really. Then what was that aching tug in his heart? but nonetheless, seeing you there, no longer the small kid that he could always sense trailing somewhere behind him, it was weird.

He remembers the first time he met you, you coming up to him with a smile, bandages on your knee, hair wild. It was amusing seeing someone so full of life and color in such a desolate and dark manor. With how sleep deprived he was, he genuinely thought for a second that he went to the wrong manor.

But you weren't little, you weren't the same joy filled kid that he ran into so few times. You were older, and because he didn't know you it was easier to just place you as a faceless nobody.

Well, until you were brought to his attention.

It was like a parasite, the way he slowly heard more and more people talking about you, worrying about you. It honestly didn't make sense. You really weren't special, you had a few quirks here and there, but that was about it. What was so different?

After he ransacked your room, looking through drawers and settling on stealing a camera, he connected it to his computer and looked through the contents. There was a mountain of pictures, ranging from sunsets, to photos with friends, to even the beautiful shimmering ocean.(when did you visit the ocean?)

As much as he hated to admit it, he understood where the rest were coming from. The fact that you hadn't ever touched the dark vigilante life- never having the get your hands dirty from another person's blood, it made you so much different than them.

You were human, something to be treasured, to be kept safe and sound. He couldn't help but think of how different you seemed as of late. In the few times he saw you, he saw a quiet wallflower. But now? Seeing you so of life almost made him... admire you in a way.

The humanity you had, having the ability to be happy and share your love with those around you so freely. He could tell from each picture and video he looked at, the way you talked, looked, it made it so clear that you were someone overflowing with love.

And he longed for you to share it with him as well.

Hey guys...long time no see....

(*´Д`)

I wanted to drop this chapter for christmasss!!! Sorry it isn't Christmas themed though (-。-;) Can you guys tell how readers slowly starting to get more pissed off?? I'm VERY excited to not write a breakdown wink wink Anywaysss I've said this a million times but MERRY CHRISTMAS Or HAPPY HOLIDAYS if you dont celebrate SENDING HUGS AND KISSES TAGLIST : @wizzerreblogs, @darktrashpoetry, @daddyissuesehe, @chericia, @iluvcatzz, @fightmebissh, @fionnalopez-blog, @otterluver05, @kitkatkitmeow, @caged-birdies-blog, @ocean-mochi, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @nickey-diano, @nickey-diano, @cloudserenity, @seleneprince, @degenerates-posts, @definitely-not-sammie, @pix-stuff, @nervousalpacalady, @mys0cksrwet, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lilyalone, @alliwantisadonut, @shadowytravlerlover, @dreamsarenicer, @dhanyasri, @blackbirdsblackberries Thank you for the support 💓 I'm going to bed now (´Д` )

[quarterlifekitty]

Desperate times

A sequel to this post and poll. Started feeling a little jigsaw-y…. Decided that I wanted to continue this post— what would it be like if their methods didn’t work? If they had to up the ante?

The top two winners of the poll won’t have to find out, because they’re getting you back! The rest? Well…

cw: dubcon/noncon, stalking, unhealthy relationships, somno, daddy kink stuff, intox, violence, baby trapping, and more stuff I don’t really know how to describe lol

❌Gaz is making a spectacle. Formulating the ultimate romantic gesture— a in a public place. He’s used your family and friends to lure you there on their invitation. Can’t you see how all of them want you to take him back? Look at him, on his knee in the middle of the botanical garden, promising to be better for you if you’ll just give him another chance. They’re all waiting on your response. Come on, luv, just give them what they want.

❌Soap is moving onto step 2, and that’s getting you drunk. Not so hard when you and your friends go to an upscale bar. He conveniently runs quite late meeting the 141 there, so to you and your friends, there’s just a handsome group of strangers sending some pretty girls free drinks. And everyone knows the girly drinks have the highest percentages. The rest of the gang will pick off your friends (payment for doing him this favor) and he’ll be ready to swoop in and take you home. Aren’t you lucky he was there? Just let him get you into bed. Ach, he really shouldn’t leave you alone in this state… best stay the night. A bit of advice? Don’t squirm when he gets to work— reminding you of the good times.

❌Ghost keeps it going strong with the scary voicemails. And they keep getting worse. The grunting, and threats, the desperation coating his voice. Not nice to keep your man waiting, birdie. They’re followed by photos. Printed out physically, slipped in your mail slot or under your door, bare. No envelope, no address or signature. All dated with black sharpie, all recent. You looking both ways, getting ready to cross the street. Changing out of your work clothes when you get home. His gloved thumb gently brushing your lip while you’re sleeping. His cum on your toothbrush. That one is dated as two weeks old. Just let him back into your life, birdie.

⭕️ Price feels his heart sing when he sees your name on the caller id. He gives the perfect, respectful response. It’s good to hear from you. Is everything alright? When he agrees to meet up with you, he doesn’t let it show how eagerly he’s been waiting for the chance. Tells you that you look good. Life must’ve been treating you well since he last saw you. He seems so genuinely pleased for you… He almost lets his calculated restraint slip when you say you’d like to give things another go. Asks if you’re sure. If he were being honest, in his eyes, things never ended. This was just a rough patch. But he’s glad you’ve come around to seeing it his way. He’ll have you moved back in by the end of the month, swollen with his kid by the end of the next. It’ll weigh you down, make it easier for him to slip the ring on.

⭕️ Honest to god, König sees the halo glow behind your crown when you meet up with him, and agree to a second chance. He promises that he’ll be better— you won’t want for anything, he’ll be so good for you. He’s acting like you’ve agreed to marry him. Maybe because in his mind, you have. That’s inevitable, seeing as he’s never going to lose you again.

❌ Nikolai starts getting a lot less… clean with your potential paramours. Gone are the bribes, the simple threats and ghosting— in are the bloody heaps of men that are just alive enough to twitch. This could all stop. Just be his good girl again, come back to your ivory tower. Papochka won’t be upset, he’ll just be glad to have you home. His patience for you is endless, but for the rest of the world? Well, do you really want to find out?

[hhmnya]

ㅤ ꢾ꣒ㅤㅤ SECRET SANTA──PSH.

resumen ｡｡ he gives you a second gift.

( 성훈 ) femreader ㅤㅤ✦ㅤㅤ 619wc implied friends to lovers ㅤ──ㅤ w not proofread

you step outside of jake's apartment building, pulling your coat tighter around you once the cold air hits your face. you stand on the curb, waiting for your uber as you stare up at the sky.

secret santa: a classic christmas game, one that your friends decided to do before you all left to your hometowns. you had gotten yeojin, buying her a weighted blanket. eventually you were the last one without torn up wrapping paper around your area and the only person yet to give a gift was sunghoon.

he handed you a small box, wrapped so pretty that you almost didn't want to tear the paper. you did, though, and inside was a bracelet. which you immediately recognized as an expensive necklace, definitely not within the fifty dollar budget the group had decided on.

a smile takes over your face when you remember the shy look sunghoon had given you, his cheeks flushed red while your friends scolded him for buying something out of budget.

"you're not cold?" you turn towards the voice, flinching out of surprise. you glance up and glare at the man standing next to you.

"oh my god, you scared the fuck out of me," he laughs, backing away as you hit his shoulder. regretting the action, you stuff your hands back into your coat pockets to warm them up and mumble quietly, "you're actually awful, sunghoon."

"i'm not that bad. i spoiled you today."

you tilt your head in confusion before you smile in realization, "oh, you did. it's pretty, by the way. thank you."

he hums, letting the conversation die out. the two of you stand silently in the cold, but it's not uncomfortable. that's what you like about sunghoon—he's the kind of person you don't have to be constantly talking to, he provides you with the kind of comfort that hot chocolate does on a snowy day.

"there's a second part to your gift," he says, breaking the silence. he kicks at the ground roughly, avoiding your gaze.

"what do you mean?"

"the necklace isn't the only thing i'm giving you."

"wait—hello? how much did you spend on me?"

"i only spent money on the necklace."

you don’t follow, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. maybe you’re just oblivious, but you have no idea what he's talking about. he's giving you two gifts, but one of them was free? that makes zero sense in your mind.

"i like you," he says it with so much confidence, like it was the most simple and obvious thing in the world. it makes you feel like you should've known this whole time.

you're in a daze and by the time you get a hold of yourself, your uber pulls up, a notification going off on your phone to alert you.

you don't notice—too distracted—when sunghoon glances at the license plate, storing it away in his mind just in case.

"you should go, it's late," he guides you to the car, opening it for you.

well that's just unfair—he's pushing you away, clearly avoiding your reply to his confession. his confidence was obviously an act he put up.

rolling your eyes, you lean up and place a kiss on his cheek. courtesy of the streetlights, you can see sunghoon's cheeks turning redder with every passing second.

"i'll see you next week. maybe we can hang out?" you shift nervously, looking up at him expectantly.

he nods immediately, the biggest grin you've ever seen spreading across his face—he looks like a kid who's just gotten his dream gift.

"yeah, yeah. definitely."

when your uber drives away, you freak out in the most discreet way possible. this was genuinely the best christmas you've had in a long time.

anna's note. happy holidays guys ily all and i especially love hoon :3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ click4more.

[knightjpg]

 As soon as you close the bathroom door behind you the loud thump thump thump of the bass crashes over you again. 

Probably for the best. Your slightly drunk makeout session with the bloke you've been mooning after ended rather abruptly when he turned green and made for the toilet bowl. At least this way you can't hear him gag his guts up. 

You smooth down your hair, readjust your clothes, and try not to feel too disappointed. Maybe you built it—him—the fantasy—up too much. Got too in your head about it, too shy to actually talk to him. Because while your cheeks are still flushed and you feel too-warm and sweaty— 

He was kind of a mediocre kisser.

Which isn't a sin, you remind yourself as you shoulder through the party crowd. Who knows? With two less beers in him he might actually do an okay job at it. You should at least give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Someone bumps into you and very nearly sloshes their drink over your arm, and this is where you decide you've had enough of the sticky heat, the too many bodies pressed together, and the grating music drowning out everything else—seriously, who picked out this playlist? 

You press on ahead to the hallway. There's still people here, but it's much cooler and the pricks of an oncoming headache are slightly soothed removed from the immediate source of their irritation. You text your friend—and more importantly, your ride—and ask if she's had enough yet and can you leave, pretty please? 

Five minutes turn into ten with no answer, and you sigh. You're going to have to go out there again and find her. As you shove your phone back into your pocket your eye lands on the rack of coats. 

It's overflowing; some of the jackets have fallen down on the floor, along with scarves and hats and gloves and everything else that you need for England's nasty winter weather.  

Unless you're crazy enough to just show up with a dark denim jacket and call it a day. 

It's the first thing you see when you look at the rack. That must be a sign, right? A little thrill runs through you when you pick your way carefully around the fallen clothes, trying not to step on anything, and grab the jacket off its hook. 

You pause when you see the patches; faded drawings, mostly, bullets and a bomb and the Scottish flag. 

You don't remember seeing those, but then you were a little distracted with other things. And no one else would be crazy enough to wear just a thin jacket, would they? In the same colour, no less, made from the same rough denim. It looks a little larger than you remember, but clothes always do when they're not being worn. 

You smile and bury your face into the rough material, pouting when the scent is off. Must be all the other jackets messing it up. 

No matter. The cute little reminder you'll leave behind will stick, and that's what's important. A mixture of lingering arousal and interest—not quite a claim, but definitely enough to prompt him to at least call you later. 

And maybe this is a little bit for you, too. It's satisfying on a primal level, soothes the lizard brain wired to do thing you were made to do: 

Be something to claim. 

When you're satisfied you've scented the jacket properly you hang it back up with the others and brace yourself before diving back into the heart of the party. 

It takes long enough for you to actually start to worry, but you do eventually find your friend. Safe and well, you might add, giggling over what a handsome bloke with a quick easy smile and warm brown eyes just said. 

“I've been looking for you forever!” you shout over the music. 

“I've been here the whole time!” your friend replies, then looks at her prince charming with doe eyes. “With Kyle!” 

“Who?” you lean in. 

“Kyle!” the guy says himself, and you give him a shy smile. 

“Hi!” Then you lean back to your friend. “Can we go?” 

“What?” 

“Can we leave?” When she frowns, confused, you repeat, “Leave?” 

“Oh!” her face falls, and she glances back at Kyle. “Little longer?” 

Yeah, you know how that goes. It must show on your face, because Kyle says. “You need to go?” 

“No, no!” your friend says quickly, and shoots you a pleading look. 

Christ. Fine. You owe me, you mouth before turning and leaving the lovebirds to it. 

Now what? 

Your nose wrinkles when you have to step over a big stain on the floor of unknown origins. Get some fresh air, that's what. You'll see if there's anyone you can split a cab with, maybe, or call Em. She's usually still awake at this hour. 

You shrug on your coat, grab your bag, and make for the exit. 

It feels like you're taking a breath for the first time since you arrived here when you step out. The contrast of the cool night air smacking you in the face after all that heat and noise has you shivering, but not in a bad way. The music still thrums behind you, but it's muted and removed. 

You sigh in relief. These kind of parties really aren't your style after all. But you didn't want your friend to go by herself, and well... 

You knew your crush was going to be here. Not that that went well, exactly, but you're trying to feel optimistic about future encounters. Maybe next time he won't talk over you or pant bad breath into your mouth. 

There's only one way to find out. He'll have to call you first, of course, but you're pretty sure that— 

“There ye are, bonnie.” You startle as two large hands wrap around your waist from behind, and your surprise turns into confusion when you smell— 

Well, you.  

When you turn your head your eye catches a very familiar dark jacket. The Scottish flag sewn to the front pocket winks at you. 

Wait a minute.

“Been lookin’ fer ye f’rever,” a man with a thick brogue and a boyish grin says. His mohawk brushes your temple when he leans into nuzzle his nose against the scent gland on your neck. 

“Ready ta go home?” 

accidentally scent-marking the wrong person’s jacket, consequently attracting the attention of a possessive (and obsessive) alpha

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

pretty paper

husband!joe x fem!reader

summary: you need joe’s help wrapping presents… what better way to get him to comply than asking him to unwrap you after?

warnings: 18+, MDNI. p in v, wrap it before ya tap it!! oral (m. & f. receiving), hair-pulling (slightly), spanking.

word count: 2.5k.

note: merry christmas eve 🎄only one more fic left of fic-mas! it’s been fun. title is from the song pretty paper by willie nelson, but the lyrics don’t really apply here. hope you enjoy this one!

you were going to make joe wrap christmas presents with you.

sure, he’d probably be tired from practice and from the game earlier in the week, but you needed help. it was a blessing and a curse that gift-giving was one of your outgoing love languages.

you’d always been told you were thoughtful and a good listener, and that’s what really helped you pick the perfect gifts for your loved ones. you made a mental note every time someone mentioned something they liked or wanted to you, and then you were really able to let that shine through in moments like these, holidays or birthdays.

the issue with this being your outgoing love language was that you were a bit of an overzealous shopper - you just didn’t know when to stop. you had a mountain of presents to wrap now, and it was going to take you forever, unless you enlisted joe’s help.

you concocted the perfect plan to get him to help you.

you knew precisely when he’d be home, and you planned to have every gift sitting in the den, along with wrapping paper, tape, scissors and bows. you would cook him dinner, offer him to go take a shower if he didn’t at the facility, and then the begging would start. you knew he’d deny you, but you didn’t care. you were prepared to bring out the big guns.

about an hour and a half before joe was set to arrive home you headed upstairs to take a shower, washing your hair and quickly yet carefully running a razor over the parts of your body you wanted smooth.

you got out when you were satisfied, quickly wrapping a towel around your body, and then one around your hair. you lotioned up, put on deodorant and a spritz of perfume, and then you applied a thin coat of mascara.

you dried your hair halfway before getting frustrated with how long it was taking, and you thought half dry would be good enough anyway, so who really cared.

you checked the time on your phone and realized you only had about forty-five left. you quickly padded over to the bedroom and dropped your towel in the dirty hamper before opening your top drawer.

you pulled out the brand new lacy red lingerie set, admiring all the pieces as you laid them at the foot of your bed. you slipped the thong on first, pulling it up and making sure it felt right and was snug in all the right places.

the garter was next, you stepped into it and pulled it up to your waist, positioning it perfectly. you put the bra on last, fastening it on the tightest option to make sure your cleavage looked just right and that you were spilling perfectly over the cups, just a bit like you wanted. you walked to your closet, admiring yourself in the floor length mirror. you looked damn good.

inside the closet you grabbed the last pieces of your attire. you slid on a pair of red thigh-high stockings that had bows just at the top, and you fastened your garters to them.

next you slipped a pair of old gray sweats on, followed by your favorite band tee. you had to play it cool with joe to get this to work, so the most everyday inconspicuous outfit option was the best choice.

once you were satisfied with how you were dressed, you lugged all of the gifts downstairs, placing them on the floor and on the couch. you ran back up to grab the other essentials and then placed them on the coffee table before heading to the kitchen and starting dinner.

you decided on making steak and a few different vegetables, that way it wouldn’t take so long and it’d still be a pretty good dinner. you cleaned your hands and started cooking, seasoning the meat well before tossing it in the pan. you started the vegetables next, and then you washed your hands before grabbing your phone and turning on your favorite playlist to jam while you cooked.

joe arrived home exactly on time, and as he walked through the door you saw him look over at your set-up in the den, giving it a side-eyed glance.

he walked into the kitchen where you were and immediately wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him and pressing his lips to your forehead. you laid the spatula you were holding down and then wrapped your arms around joe’s torso for a tight hug.

“dinner looks and smells great.” he says. he sounds tired, but he doesn’t seem to be in a bad mood. you’ll take that as a win.

“go ahead and sit down. i’ll make you and plate and then we can eat and after you shower maybe we can watch a movie or two.” you say, knowing that’s not what you want him to do.

joe sits at the dining table, his gaze fixed on you. “i showered before i left, so… i’m good.” you bring his plate and yours to the table before grabbing drinks for yourselves.

he thanks you as you hand over his silverware and starts eating immediately, as do you. you don’t do much talking during dinner, but you never really do. a comfortable silence settles over the room, and you and joe both are content being near each other.

he helps you clean a bit when you’re done eating and then he heads into the den with you on his heels. he side-eyes the presents and wrapping paper again.

“do you have some elaborate plan to get me to help you wrap these or something? tryin’ to butter me up with dinner?” he asks, turning to face you. he pulls you into him again and runs a hand through your hair as he smirks down at you.

“it’s not gonna work, i’m not helping you wrap these.”

he’s still smirking as he speaks to you again. fine, time to bring out the big guns.

“that’s fine. just sit down on the couch and pick a movie. i’ll start wrapping.”

joe sits on the couch and you sit on the floor. you keep your eyes trained on him as he scrolls through the endless holiday movie selection before settling on a mutual favorite, the santa clause.

“this good?” he asks, his eyes still focused on the screen. “perfect.” you answer. you take a small present and a roll of the paper and carefully measure it before cutting. you wrap it up nicely and add a little bow to it, along with writing the recipient’s name in cursive on the top. joe gives you a little glance, but he doesn’t move to help you and he doesn’t say anything.

“ugh. it’s hot in here.” you complain, pretending to be warm. you fan yourself dramatically with your hand. joe looks over at you puzzled. “it feels pretty good to me, you’re hot?”

“burning up actually. i’m just gonna…” you start, your fingers tracing the hem of your shirt. joe stares at you, eager to see what you’re about to do. you lift the shirt over your head in a fluid motion, tossing it in the corner. his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

you lock your gaze with his and he licks his lips before speaking, his voice almost coming out as a croak. “is-is that new?” he asks, leaning forward. his feet are now on the floor rather than propped on the couch, and his elbows rest on his thighs, just above the knee.

you’re still sitting cross-legged on the floor facing him, but you lean back and hold your weight on your hands behind you, giving joe the full view of the lacy red bra and what it’s doing for your cleavage as you toss your hair over your shoulder. he can’t resist, he comes down off the couch and leans over you, taking one of your breasts in his hand while attaching his lips to your neck.

“ah-ah.” you tut, pushing him off. “you only get to unwrap me and the rest of my pretty paper if you help me wrap these gifts.” he rolls his neck and moans as he leans back, the noise sending a thrill straight through your core.

“there’s more? it’s a whole set?” he asks, making no effort to hide the fact that his gaze was lingering on your barely covered chest. “it’s a set.” you say, smiling to yourself.

you knew this would work. now, was bribery okay? not always. but if it meant you got help wrapping these presents AND to fuck your husband afterward… it seemed like it could be okay, just this once.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶ ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

joe was wrapping presents like a mad man. they all looked pristine, too. it figured that he’d be great at wrapping presents considering his whole job mostly revolved around his hands, but you were impressed.

once you promised him he’d get to unwrap his present after this, he wouldn’t stop wrapping them as fast as he could and handing them off to you for labels and bows. there were two gifts left to do and you each took one, cutting your paper and taping them up all nice and neat. you placed them into the neat stack and let out a contented sigh before looking back at joe. he was smirking, but you knew he was playing cool. that hard tough exterior was ready to crack any moment.

you stood from the floor, stretching out your limbs, your arms held up over your head. “goddamn.” you heard joe mutter. your fingertips slipped into the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down your legs quickly. you stepped out of them as you stood exposed in front of joe. his mouth hung open as he took in the sight of you, your lacy red lingerie set and thigh high stockings.

“this is the best present i’ve ever received in my life.”

“wanna unwrap me?” you tease, stepping closer to him. you grab his right hand and place it on your breast before grabbing his left and placing it right on your ass. “fuck.” he moans, bringing his lips back to your neck. his tongue leaves a hot, wet trail along the column of your throat as his hands knead your breast and ass, and your hands tug at his hair as you softly moan at the pleasure.

joe breaks away from kissing you to grab your hand and lead you down the hall to your shared bedroom. once inside he starts shedding his clothes quickly, and although it’s not the sexiest way to go about it, you’re still ready to jump his bones. you can see his cock straining in his boxers as you step toward him again. you trace your fingertips along the waistband and he shudders.

you pull his boxers down quickly and fall to your knees in front of him, lightly wrapping your hand around his cock. slowly, you lean forward, taking the tip into your mouth and giving it a small suck. you pull off and trace your tongue along the line of his cock before taking it fully back into your mouth and bobbing your head.

what you can’t fit into your mouth you work with your hand, and joe’s fingers dig into your scalp as he tugs at your hair. you look up at him through your lashes and you moan, sending the vibrations straight through his length.

joe pulls you off and helps you stand, guiding you toward the bed quickly. you get up and lie on your back, watching joe as he stalks toward you like predator to prey. he crawls over you on the bed and unfastens the garter from your stockings so he can pull the thong off you, and he tosses it to the floor.

you spread your legs for him confidently, showing off your glistening folds and the wetness that has spread to your thighs. joe moans again, leaning forward. “you’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, you know that?” he asks before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your clit.

your response back is a moan, and you instinctively want to close your thighs around joe’s head, but he holds them open with his large hands. he licks a long languid stripe up your core, licking and slurping as he devours you wholly. his mouth teases you all over, licking and sucking you as you grip the bedsheets with white knuckles.

after what seems like forever he stops, and you whine from the loss of contact as he crawls up your body. you look down and you can see that he’s still rock hard, his cock red and angry.

“that’s enough, princess. i gotta fuck you now.”

“please, joe.” you beg, scratching your nails down his back. his large hands grip your hips and roll you over, and you arch your back as his hands pull your hips into the air. he teases you with the tip for a few seconds before sliding into you fully.

“fuuuuuuuuuuck.” you draw out, your hands fisting the sheets again. joe stays still, but his large right hand comes down hard on your ass, a loud crack sounding through the room. you hiss at the contact and squeeze around him.

joe pulls back fully before gripping your hips and slamming into you again, his pace immediately rough. your moans and cries reverberate through the room as joe slams his hips into you. he watches your ass bounce against him as he fucks you from behind, the sight enough to make him cum almost immediately.

your fingers find your clit as joe continues fucking you, and you rub tight circles over it as joe works you to the edge. “i’m close, joey.” you warn, and he smacks your ass again as he nails you with a particularly hard thrust. that’s all it takes to send you toppling over the edge, your orgasm rushing over your body, heating your skin as if you’d been soaked in hot water or coated in hot wax.

joe cums soon after, you can feel the hot white strands painting your insides as his fingers bruise your hips from their strong grip. he pulls out and you wince, rolling over as you watch him plop down next to you. neither of you say a word for a few minutes, you need to catch your breath. your eyes are heavy, but joe makes a sudden movement that startles you.

he goes back down to the foot of the bed, positioning himself between your legs again as he begins to pull off one of your stockings.

“what’re you doing?” you ask him, his mouth trailing slow kisses up your ankle and calf. “look at all this stuff you’re still wearing,” he says, planting a kiss to your inner thigh. “i only got your panties off.”

his eyes rake over your heat again as he watches his cum drip from your swollen cunt. “i’m not anywhere close to finished unwrapping you yet.”

photos and dividers used are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @joeyburrrow @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @yomamaslays4lyfe @gazebotori

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

no specific chapter tags

read below or on ao3

Day 11: 2024

They didn't work on calls together often. Or, at all, really. But today was an exception. Today, Tommy was on the ground and the fire required help from five different stations. It took hours to get it under control, and then they were getting everything cleaned up. Tommy was pretty sure he could get back to Harbor without ever seeing Buck.

However, as that thought crossed his mind, and because the universe had it out for him, he was suddenly face to face with Buck, who was staring at him with his mouth hanging slightly open.

"H- Hi, To-"

“I started going to therapy,” Tommy blurted.

Buck cocked his head to the side. “Y- You did? When?”

“I made an appointment two days after we,” he paused, took a breath, “after I broke up with you.”

“Oh, that's... that's good, Tommy. I mean, I- I guess that's good. That's good, right?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, it's good.”

“Well, then. Good.”

There was a few seconds of awkward silence.

Until.

“I've been wanting to text you since we broke up.” Seemed like it was Buck's turn to blurt something out.

“I've been wanting to text you too.”

“Yeah, the bubbles.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “The bubbles?”

Buck shook his head. “Nothing. It's... nothing. I just feel like we left a lot of things unsaid. Most things were left unsaid, actually. I'd like to change that. I'd like to try to change that.”

Tommy pursed his lips, trying to maintain his composure. It was getting more difficult by the second though, so he let go. “Buck, I'm a disaster,” he admitted, shoulders slumping. “I mean a huge, giant, massive disaster. There's been- There's so much that I...” his voice trailed off as he tried to find the right words. “It's years, and years, and years of traumas that built up, and I just kinda pushed them away and built a wall between me and all of that so that I could appear to be...”

“Comfortable?” Buck suggested.

Tommy smiled sadly. “Yeah.”

“I get that,” Buck replied. “It wasn't like I was really my best self either. I- I think I never let myself see past your wall. I knew there had to be more there, and I ignored it because you seemed so confident all the time and I kind of, maybe, took advantage of that.”

“No,” Tommy disagreed, stepping closer to Buck. “I never let you see beyond the wall, because the second it tore down I knew that it would just be this huge mess pouring out all over you and you don't deserve that, Buck. You deserve someone who actually has it together.”

“Tommy, what makes you think I have it together? I don't know what I'm doing. I think that's pretty obvious from the last time we spoke. I kinda made a fool out of myself.”

“Buck, it wasn't you,” Tommy tried to explain. “I decided from the start that I'd let you set the pace, and that was my mistake. I didn't realize your pace would feel like warp speed to me, and I would spend every day just trying to catch up. That's not fair to either of us.”

“Well i- it's not your fault that I'm so impulsive that I jumped over at least three steps when I asked you to move in with me and I just expected you to jump too. That wasn't fair either.”

Tommy took a deep breath, smiling slightly. “Sounds like I'm not the only one who's been going to therapy."

Buck laughed, rolling his eyes. “Every Tuesday, 4pm.”

“I'm Thursday's at five.”

Buck opened his mouth to speak when a voice came over the radio. “Leaving in five, Buck,” Bobby said. “Gotta head back.”

“Be there in a minute, Boss,” Buck replied.

He looked back up at Tommy. “I'd really, uh, like to talk to you, Tommy. Wh- When we're not in the middle of a shift. I'd, um, I'd like to get to know you. All of you.”

Tommy felt vulnerable. Exposed in a way he hadn't ever let himself feel before, and he and Buck hadn't even really said much. “I'm still trying to get to know myself."

“That's okay. I realized a few years back that that never really stops. I'd still like to talk. I think we both need that.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “Yeah, I'd like to get to know you too. All of you.”

“Okay. Good, um, j- just text me, okay? Whenever. I'll... I'll be here.”

“I will,” Tommy assured him, then added with a smirk. “I won't just bubble you.”

Buck smiled. “Ah, so you did know what I was saying?”

“Of course. I saw your bubbles too.”

Then Buck was clearing the rest of the space between them, wrapping his arms around Tommy in a hug. “Merry Christmas, Tommy,” he whispered, face practically buried in Tommy's neck.

Once Tommy's brain caught up to what was happening, he returned the hug, holding Buck tight.

“Merry Christmas, Evan.”

[xoxochb]

christmas with percy 🥹🥹🥹

the inspo came from this nonnie linked here !!! also was planning to post this on christmas but I decided to post it early for the ppl who are already on 12/25

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

it’s too silent in your home.

a little to silent for anyone’s liking, let alone yours since this was abnormal for your living situation.

upset, you sit up in bed, noticing instantly the lack of warmth practically engulfing and suffocating you beside you. you frown and look around the room.

there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

you groan and throw the covers off of yourself, stepping onto the floor beside you and beginning to walk downstairs— where you find it’s still just as quiet. you match the same quietness, thankfully just the same with your socks pattering over the wooden floorboards as you reach the bottom of the stairs.

“percy?” you call out. there is no response.

you roll your eyes and begin to search the house beginning with the bathroom, nobody, kitchen, nobody, the upstairs bedroom and bathroom, nobody, the basement, definitely nobody, and lastly the living room, where you see the faintest light illuminating.

you sigh. you should have checked here first.

walking into the room, your christmas tree is surely lightened up, and sitting directly in front is none other than your darling and mischievous husband, wrapped up lousily in red ribbon, with a bow sticking to the top of his head.

“what the fuck are you doing?” a smile veils your lips.

“I am your best christmas present.”

“you’re an idiot. how’d you do this?” you walk closer to him, ripping the bow of his head as he winces from his hair sticking. you kneel down and kiss his forehead.

“unwrap me. if you want you can even take my clothes off too!”

you slap his head, but begin to unwrap the ribbon from his frame.

“y’know, sweet girl— I know you said that you didn’t want a lot of presents, but also you always say that every time I try to spoil you, but just listen—”

you unwrap the remaining ribbon. “percy jackson, how many presents did you get me?”

he looks down and avoids your gaze. “twenty five…”

“you do spoil me.”

“I think it just comes with the marriage.” he looks back up to you with a boyish smirk, taking your hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb over your knuckles.

“I think I would’ve been just fine if it was only you underneath my tree.”

“yeah? me and my di—”

“now you’ve ruined the moment, perseus!”

[greengoblinswifey]

Winter’s Embrace— Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

summary— Spending Christmas in a cozy cabin, you help Bucky reconnect with the holiday spirit in more ways than one and have the best Christmas gift he’s ever experienced.

warnings— mentions of bucky’s past trauma, fluff, L bombs, praise kink, daddy kink, oral, fingering, face fucking, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— Merry Christmas Everyone, have a wonderful day🎄🫶🏽!

Bucky wasn’t much of a holiday person. He didn’t hate Christmas, but the memories of simpler times before the war, before Hydra, often left him feeling hollow. You knew this, and that was why you decided to whisk him away to a secluded cabin in the mountains for Christmas. You hoped a change of scenery might help him associate the holiday with something warm and new, something just for the both of you.

The cabin was a cozy little thing tucked into the snowy woods, decorated with warm pepper lights strung along the edges of the wooden roof. Inside, a stone fireplace crackled with a soft orange glow, and the scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air. You’d spent the afternoon decorating a Christmas tree, playfully arguing with Bucky about where to hang the ornaments.

“Babe, you can’t put all the gold ones on one side,” you teased, standing on your tiptoes to fix one of the baubles he’d clumsily placed.

“Well, I’m just trying to balance it,” he said with a smirk, stepping behind you to steady your waist as you reached higher. “And don’t forget, doll, I’m working with one arm here. I deserve a little grace.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Fine, you win. But next year, we’re getting a way taller and bigger tree.”

He chuckled, his deep voice sending a warm shiver down your spine. “Next year, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Later that evening, after the two of you shared a simple dinner, Bucky pulled out a box you hadn’t seen before. He hesitated, holding it for a moment before placing it on the table.

“What’s that?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Something I didn’t mean to pack,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I threw it in by accident when I was grabbing decorations.”

Inside the box were a few fragile ornaments, clearly from decades ago. One of them, a little snowman with a crooked top hat, caught your eye.

“This is adorable,” you said, holding it up gently.

Bucky’s gaze softened as he stared at the ornament. “My sister made that when we were kids. It’s one of the few things I still have from, uh, back then.” His voice faltered, and you reached out to hold his hand.

“You’ve been through so much,” you said softly, threading your fingers through his metal ones. “But you’re here now, and you’ve made it through all of it. You deserve this happiness, Bucky. You deserve this Christmas, and so much more.”

He exhaled slowly, his lips curving into a small smile. “You’re the reason I even try, you know that? Without you, I’d just—I don’t know.”

“Don’t do that,” you said firmly, squeezing his hand. “You’re more than your past, Buck. And I’m here for all of it, every memory, every moment. Even the bad ones, if it means I get to be with you.”

The fire crackled softly as he cupped your face in his warm hand, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re my whole world, sweetheart,” he murmured, his blue eyes locked on yours. “I didn’t think I could have this. I didn’t think I could have you.”

You leaned into his touch, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. It deepened naturally, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice barely above a breath.

The warmth of the fire and the way his hands roamed your back made you feel safe, wanted, and completely at ease. Before you knew it, he had scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with a look of pure adoration.

“I need this Buck, it would make tonight all the more special,” you whispered, as Bucky placed you gently on the plush bed.

“Anything for you doll.”

Bucky stripped you of your clothes, leaving your body bare as he kissed from your collarbone trailing down to your thighs.

“So so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, “I got so lucky.”

You squirmed under his touch as he nipped on your inner thigh before inching to your clit, his tongue slowly flicking it.

“Buck, please,” you whined.

“That’s not my name right now, sweetheart,” he said, voice gruff before swiping his tongue along your folds.

“Daddy—m’sorry, I just need more,” you whimpered.

He granted your wish, his mouth engulfing your clit and sucking. Your body shivered as he held your legs spread eagle, savoring your sweet taste. You tasted better than anything he’d eaten all Christmas season.

“You taste amazing baby, fucking hell,” he groaned, licking from your leaking entrance back up to your clit. He slipped a finger inside your pussy, curling it and pumping steadily as his tongue focused on sucking and flicking your bundle of nerves.

“Daddy, that feels so good, don’t stop, m’ gonna cum,” you whimpered.

Bucky hummed in content, holding you down as you squirmed and pumped his fingers even faster. Your clit was swollen and throbbing on his tongue as a powerful orgasm neared.

“C‘mon angel, cum for daddy, all over my tongue,” he commanded.

Ever the obedient girlfriend, your fingers tangled in his brown hair, and you ground against his mouth as a stream of liquid spurted from your pussy.

“Mm— that’s it’s, that’s a good girl,” he cooed.

He helped you ride out your high, his fingers pumping inside your pussy as he slurped your juices before you were shaking from overstimulation.

“Can you fuck my face, daddy?” you asked shyly, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

“Anything my angel wants, she gets,” he whispered.

Bucky climbed over your body, shedding himself of his bottoms and revealing his thick, hard cock. You took ahold of it, barely able to wrap your hand around it and placed a kiss on the leaking tip.

“It’s always so pretty daddy,” you whispered, placing wet kisses all over his cock.

He wrapped your hair in his flesh hand and thrusted his cock into your mouth, immediately making you gag.

“Fuck, you’re okay, right baby?”

You nodded and buried your face into his cock, gliding your tongue along the veins on his shaft. He snapped his hips forward, fucking your mouth as he praised you.

“You’re such a good cock sucker baby, so amazing, don’t think I’m gonna last long with that mouth of yours,” he moaned.

As he slammed into your mouth, you used your soft hands to massage his balls, feeling them tighten under your touch.

“Shit, it’s coming, take my cum down your throat, angel,” he gasped, unable to hold back.

You pushed your head down until you were almost touching his pelvis, massaging his balls as his hot load shot down your throat. He continued fucking your throat as you swallowed every drop and looked down at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Good girl, fuck, I love you,” he sighed, moving down and placing a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

He moved further down, dragging the tip of his cock along your wet pussy.

“Ready angel?” he asked, lining his cock with your entrance.

You nodded frantically, desperate to feel his hard cock, deep inside you, raw.

He slowly inched inside you, both of you gasping in pleasure. “You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he whimpered, staring into your eyes.

“Mhm—harder daddy, please,” you whined.

Bucky began steadily pounding into you harder, your pussy making noises that could be heard throughout the cabin. He rolled his hips beautifully, his cock brushing against your cervix and your g spot simultaneously. You could feel him throb each time you moaned and clamped around him.

“You feel so fucking good, you take it so well,” moaned.

He leaned down, kissing your temple and then your lips as you wrapped your legs around him and met his hard thrusts. Your pussy clenched around him tight, desperate for release.

“Shit baby, cum for daddy, I need you to cum with me, I won’t last with the way this tight pussy is just gripping the fuck outta me,” he murmured.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your eyes locked onto his, the moment so dirty yet intimate as your jaw fell agape and the coil in your abdomen snapped.

“Daddy, I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming,” you cried out, your release ripping through you.

“Me too angel, I’m gonna cum inside you, take every drop,” he panted.

Your body shook under him as you felt him fill you up just as your pussy soaked his cock and the towel under you. He placed kisses all over, slowly pumping his cock as you milked him of his warm seed.

“You did so good angel, I’m so proud of you,” he smiled, kissing your lips.

“I love you so much, Bucky.”

“I love you too, doll.”

The next morning, you woke to the smell of hot chocolate and the sight of Bucky standing by the window, holding two mugs and watching the snow fall.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” he said with a soft smile, handing you a cup as you sat up in bed.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, your heart swelling as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

The morning passed in a blur of laughter, teasing, and exchanging gifts. Bucky had outdone himself, presenting you with an delicately engraved bracelet, a stack of books you’d mentioned months ago, and a soft cashmere sweater that matched the chocolate tone of your skin perfectly.

“You’re so sweet,” you said, shaking your head as you pulled him into a hug.

“You deserve it,” he said simply, kissing your temple.

Your gifts to him included a leather-bound journal, a vintage pocket watch, and a pair of gloves for his metal hand that you’d custom-ordered. The way his face lit up at each gift made your heart ache with love.

“Seriously, doll, you didn’t have to do all this,” he said, pulling you into his lap as the two of you sat by the tree.

“You’re worth it, Buck,” you said, cupping his face.

The day ended with the two of you baking cookies—well, you baked, and Bucky mostly snuck bites of the dough and curling up on the couch to watch It’s a Wonderful Life.

As the credits rolled, he pressed a kiss to your hair and murmured, “This might be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. “It’s only the beginning, Buck. We’ll make so many more.”

And for the first time in years, Bucky truly believed it.

Bucky smiled as you adjusted the settings on the small digital camera you’d brought along, the vintage style device fitting perfectly with the cozy holiday vibe of the cabin. “C’mere, you look so fine,” you said, waving him over to the couch where you had draped a plaid blanket for your makeshift photo session.

He chuckled softly, sitting down beside you. “You really want to document this?”

“Duh!” you said with a grin, leaning closer to frame the two of you in the shot. “This is our first Christmas together, Buck. I want to remember it forever.”

“Alright,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “But if I look ridiculous, you’re deleting it.”

“Deal,” you teased, snapping the picture.

You ended up taking dozens of photos, some posed, some candid, and some of Bucky caught mid laugh as you tickled his sides to get him to smile. When you were done, you set the camera aside and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I also have this,” you said, handing him a tiny gift bag from under the tree.

“What’s this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he pulled out a small, personalized keychain engraved with the words “Home is wherever you are.”

“It’s cheesy, I know,” you said, suddenly shy. “But I thought—”

“I love it,” he interrupted, his voice soft. He attached it to his keys immediately, turning it over in his hands. “Thank you, angel. You always know how to make things special.”

Later, the two of you ventured outside, bundled up in coats and scarves, to build a snowman in the fresh snow. You laughed as Bucky insisted on giving the snowman a “metal arm” made of a stick he found, complete with a dramatic pose.

When the sun began to set, you returned to the cabin to warm up by the fire. Bucky brewed hot chocolate while you set up a board game, the two of you spending hours teasing and laughing over your competitive streaks.

As the night wound down, you turned on the record player in the corner, selecting a soft, jazzy Christmas tune. Bucky took your hand, pulling you into an impromptu dance in the middle of the room. His hands rested securely on your waist as yours looped around his neck, and the two of you swayed in time with the music.

“I never thought I’d have this again,” Bucky murmured, his forehead resting against yours.

“Have what?” you asked softly, brushing your thumb over the nape of his neck.

“This,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Happiness. A home. You.”

You kissed him tenderly, your hearts full of love and the promise of many more Christmases to come.

[clarkeybabey]

❝ i wanna tell the world that you're mine, girl ❞

# summary; accidentally walking in on him streaming

# playlist; they don't know about us - one direction

# word count; 587

# note; something short for you. i have two part twos in the works but a Christmas special will be coming your way on christmas ;)

Arthur's been in your bedroom for the last half hour sitting at his PC, judging by the screams coming from the other side of the door, recording a YouTube video. Or at least that's what you thought.

You're in the kitchen sipping your second glass of cheap wine, standing over a pasta recipe you'd seen on TikTok, wondering if he'd be ready to eat sometime soon or if you should just put some into a container for him to have when he was finished. You turn the heat down, set the spoon on a paper towel, and place the lid onto the pan.

A knock sounds through the wood that goes unanswered, you follow it with an even louder one to no avail. Deciding just walking in shouldn't hurt anything, his editor knows you exist and it'll be cut from the footage with just a few clicks.

You step over the threshold leaving the door ajar and walk towards him. His back is obviously to you, so reach and gently slide a side of his headphones off his ear. When your fingers graze his skin, despite your effort he still startles slightly.

"Sorry, dinners ready," when his eyes meet yours they're almost pleading, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. Your brows furrowed in confusion at his lack of reply, until you notice the Livestream chat flowing so fast you can't make out but a few words.

Without even the idea of uttering another word, you turn on your heels heading for the door. Your fists clench involuntarily at your sides, the stinging pain of your fingernails digging into your palms not bothering you nearly as much as the feeling of your heart speeding up and your face beginning to warm.

Tears brim your eyes, anxiety making your skin suddenly feel almost like a pincushion. He's stressed so much about keeping your relationship relatively private, not that he wanted to be a secret but he knows how some supporters get.

The couch seems to be the best place for you to just sit and try and breathe through the panic attack that you feel brewing deep down. You let your head fall into your hands, the heels of your palms pressing your eyes so hard into their sockets, that you're certain if you open them stars would blot your vision.

Your mind is fuzzy as you try to even out your breathing, its starting to feel like weights are on your chest, in the distance you can hear the sound of the bedroom door opening, and gently closing, and the padding of his feet getting closer until it's just in front of you.

A strangled breathe racks through you when you attempt to speak, "'m so," he's quick to cut you off, "None of that, baby," he interrupts what he knows will be a string of unnecessary apologies, "You have nothing to be sorry for, I should apologize for making people finding out seem like such a big deal."

"I just... You did it to protect me, to protect us, I understand why."

He's kicking himself internally at how stressed this has obviously made you, "We've lived together almost eight months," his voice is calm, and his warm hand finds your cheek grounding you. The hand on your cheek tilts your chin up, his eyes finding yours, "something like this was going to happen eventually, please don't beat yourself up over this."

You nod, leaning into his touch, "Now, come say hello, they wanna meet you."

[star-suh]

Movie Night and We’re Not Watching the Movie but is Still a Movie Night

Seok Matthew x Male Reader

cw: dom top matthew, degradation, sweat, spit, bareback, hole slapping, fingering, rimjob, facesitting, breeding, feminization, chest play, musk kink, impregnation kink.

an: if i took a shot every time i wrote matthew/matt in this fic i would’ve already died of an ethylic coma or wtv that’s called.

—

matthew is hosting a movie night with all his friends, they were planning to watch a horror movie, after all halloween is just weeks away. due to some inconveniences only yn showed up at the front door of matthew’s apartment. “did i come too early?” an oblivious yn asks, “not really, the others have to stay in their jobs or do some other important things.. so it’s just you and me tonight”. “ok” yn step inside the other’s house and plop himself down on the coach in front of the big tv waiting for matthew to arrive with food and drinks.

“no no no no don’t go there!!” yelled yn grabbing matthew’s arm as if it was some mystic shield to protect him from the evil spirits of the movie. this action drew a smile from matthew who kept on eating the popcorn. “you are a scaredy cat, why did you even accept a horror movie if you don’t like them?” matthew blurted out, receiving a punch from the aforementioned, “horror movies are best if you watch them in company” and as he finishes his phrase a loud bang was heard on the house causing both men to jump in surprise and hug each other in fear, “what was that?” yn questions, “i don’t know” matthew answers, “let’s find it out” he adds.

after walking around the living room in tippy toes they find out what the sound was, the ac just broke and stopped working, “oh my god. not now please” matthew hit the device multiple times hoping that it could go back to work again, “matthew it's no use in doing that. you have to wait tomorrow so the technician could come and fix it” yn says grabbing matt’s shoulder.

they decided to watch the movie till the end but the heat was getting uncomfortable, “is night now but it's still hot, what the hell” yn spoke, fanning himself with his hand. “yeah” matthew did the same but with his tank top, “is so annoying” immediately afterwards he gets rid of the piece of clothing, remaining shirtless on the sofa besides yn while using the clothing to cool himself down a bit. this took yn by surprise who couldn't help to glance at certain occasions at the other’s sculpted body. his big sweaty arms touching his, his sweaty tits sitting pretty there and his toned abs with beads of sweat rolling down to his crotch area. “fuck” matthew says out of nowhere, clearly annoyed, “this fucking hot is getting on my fucking nerves”. “woah buddy what was that, angry much?” yn says. “shut up, i don't like being all sweaty and sticky” matthew wipes the sweat off of his forehead and slicks back his hair so it won't stick on the already wiped out surface. “you look sexy tho” seconds later yn realized what he just said when matthew looked directly into his eyes, “did i say that out loud?” he asks, embarrassment present in his tone. matthew just nods, “oh” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth.

“well, who would've thought you were a slut yn” matthew says, breaking eye contact and looking towards the screen, “what?” something inside yn lits up, why did he like being called a slut? is it because such a hot man said it?. “we're here watching a movie and enduring this heat and the only thing that crosses your mind is my body. you're a slut” he remarks. “well damn, sorry for speaking my mind” he replied turning his head to the side to not look at matthew, “you know what's the worst?” the other guy asks, grabbing yn by the chin and turning his head so they can make eye contact again, “you liked it. i saw your blushed cheeks. you can deny it but your body is betraying you” matthew gently pats yn’s bulge with his index finger “didn't know you were into that. slut” he whispered that last word near yn’s ear. god, yn swear he could've cum right at the spot by just that word, seeing this side of matthew lit a fire inside yn, something that till now only matthew has been capable of doing.

“what the” yn mutters embarrassed, “ma-matthew wait it’s not what it looks like”. “cut it. i know what you are” matthew sexily cups one of his tits with his hands “and i know what you deserve”.

matthew was the first one to attack, latching his lips on yn’s, kissing him passionately, with hunger, his tongue dominating the other’s, saliva spilling out of their mouths. the messiest kiss they probably had in their lives. “matt-” yn tried to stop him but he couldn’t, his cheeks painted in a bright pink hue. “what happened to the whore of before? too much to handle?” matt questions, “typical sluts, they go out whoring themselves out but when they finally get some dick they back out like pussies” . after that matthew puts his middle and index finger on the other’s mouth, “be a good bitchboy and lick them good” meanwhile he starts to undress him by ripping his shirt and pulling out his shorts and underwear, “slutty body” he murmurs. yn gagged on matthew’s fingers, tears pooling on his eyes. he then pulls them out and yn coughs, the top lifts up the underwear barely so the bottom’s hole is uncovered, “let’s make this pussy slick”.

he firstly caresses around the ring of muscles covering in yn’s saliva, then puts the middle finger right on the hole, slapping it lightly and gently, “mmm warm pussy” he licks and smacks his lips. the first digit entered yn’s back entrance, “hngh ahhh” yn moaned, matthew brushed his lips against yn’s, the latter opened his mouth to kiss the other but matthew didn’t comply, he only teased and then put the second digit inside. “matthew too much” yn drooled, “pfft” the top replied “weak whore”, he grabbed yn by the back of his neck and pushed him against his tits, “suck them, and lick all the sweat off of them”. while yn licked those pretty manly tits matthew keeps fingering him with now 4 fingers inside. both moaned in unison, the pleasure being immeasurable already. next, matthew leaned on the coach while yn lowered himself slowly, sitting on his face. his already fingered hole clenching right away when it feels the top’s tongue barely touching it, “sensitive already?” matt laughs.

with his strong sweaty arms around yn’s hips, matthew guided him to ride his tongue, pushing him up and down with threads of saliva connecting his mouth to the other’s hole. tasting that warm sweaty pussy, “mhn i love this”,the room echoing with sloppy, gushy sounds. when yn goes up, matthew rubs his dilated hole and slap it harshly and when he goes down, the top’s tongue enters completely past the rim and wriggles inside, sending waves of pleasure throughout yn’s whole body.

yn has now completely given into pleasure and matthew’s domination, “who’s a bitchboy?” matt asks slapping the pink tip of his dick on yn’s puckered hole, “me, i’m a bitchboy” the bottom replies and is rewarded with matthew putting his dick inside all at once, “yeahh” they both say in unison, yn rolled his eyes back. “you like this, don’t you, needy cockwhore?”, the other nodded. matthew rams himself inside yn, not an ounce of pity nor concern on his thrusts. “how’s my sex toy doing, want more?” matt asks, “yes please” at this point yn looks like a gooner “look at you, all dumb over my cock”.

yn loved how verbal matthew was, degrading him left and right, calling him all types of names like pathetic slut, manwhore, cockslut, sex toy, human cumdump, all of them sounding like pretty words to yn, ringing in his ears like a beautiful melody. “i wonder if they all had made it to the movie night you would be acting like a manwhore too”, he pants, “because that’s what you would like right. being passed around by everyone, you wanna be their personal fleshlight?” each word was laced with venom, even a bit of jealousy deriving into hard thrusts that made yn’s ass recoil, his legs trembling and wiggling as if they were made of jelly, making him almost incapable of maintaining his position in all fours. their passionate encounter was the only thing in their minds that they forgot about the heat, the sofa was soaked in sweat, their bodies dripping on it. each thrust splashing some of the salty beads everywhere. yn turned around to face matthew and leaned on the coach, matthew spits in between his dick and yn’s hole resuming his thrust right away, “give me some of it” yn begs, “sure” a thick thread of spit falls down matthew’s mouth right on yn’s mouth, he swallows it and sticks his tongue out, asking for more. therefore they began to spit and swallow, matthew collects saliva inside his mouth then yn opens his mouth to receive it, matthew spats and yn swallows savoring it. sometimes matthew just spits on yn’s closed mouth and they shared a sloppy kiss, when their mouths separate strings of saliva falls down their chins and onto their bodies.

yn appreciates the top’s hot body drenched in sweat that consequently drips onto the bottom’s ass and his musky scent being spreaded in the air. it’s so manly, it feels intoxicating for yn, like a drug he’s not going to be able to forget anytime soon. matthew plunges his thumb alongside his shaft on yn’s ass, “i want to break this pussy yn, make you beg for my dick, beg me to put my loads inside you”, his hands snaking around yn’s neck “tell me you wanna be my cumdump” he presses lightly around it, cutting yn’s breath support making him feel lightheaded, “yeshh pleasseee” he slurred, cockdrunked. “fill me upp.. fill your whore up with all your cum.. make me pregnant”. that was matthew’s last straw, he couldn't contain himself anymore and with an almost beastly grunt he came inside, his ass contracting while he made sure to leave the last drop secured on the other’s abused walls, “i fed your pussy with my milk” he pants, “you better not waste it, i’ll be sure to pump more inside until you are fully knocked up” he touches his lower tummy. yn happily nods ”that’s the only purpose of your whore matt, to always carry your loads” yn stands up and massage his friend’s balls, “we should buy a plug so not a single drop escapes that loose pussy” matthew proposes “and we should finish the movie too” he adds, somehow embarrassed realizing how he acted. “i’m looking forward the next movie night” yn stands up and goes to the bathroom to clean himself a little, leaving a flustered matthew sitting on the couch with his dick getting hard again after seeing his cum sliding down yn’s legs.

[moosesarecute]

December 24th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

You woke up bright and early. Azriel and the boys were going for their annual snowball fight, and you were going too, because Az refused to be that far away from you.

Mor, Feyre and you waited in the cabin in the meantime. Walking in, you expected to see the interior of the usual cabin where you had spent many drunk evenings. However, it was quite a lot different than what it used to look like.

Even though Feyre’s paintings weren’t bad, far from it, it still made you feel uncomfortable. It made you realize all that you had missed.

“Feyre had a few days at the cabin when she first learned about the mating bond,” Mor explained to you. It was nice to know that she knew your feelings without you needing to explain. “It’s a change, but we’ve learned to love it.”

Feyre looked slightly embarrassed as Mor spoke.

Your gaze landed on Azriel’s eyes. They looked almost right. The color and shape was perfect, but she was missing the special shine in his eyes. His eyes always widened a little when he became excited or thought something was funny. And that’s when they shined the brightest.

“Earth to Y/N,” Mor said and her voice pulled you out of daydreaming about your mate.

The three of you had quite a nice time. And you finished Rhys’ present of a repaired suit jacket.

That meant you were finished with presents and finally, you could relax.

The time went by fast and suddenly you were covered in the usual feeling of shadows looking all over your body for injures. They could relived go back to Az and tell him that you were fine.

And not long after, the boys came inside.

His slightly confident walk told you everything you needed to know.

“Hello, my champion,” you said as a greeting. He tried his best to be polite, but he smiled brightly at you.

“Hello,” he answered and pulled you inn to a quick kiss. “I missed you.”

You smiled up at him.

“You’re cute,” you said. “And I missed you too.”

“Can’t wait to cling onto you for at least two months,” he said.

“I don’t mind that.”

“Where are we going?”

Azriel had taken you on your usual daily flight. You weren’t allowed to fly, but he carried you. As the flight was coming to an end, he flew down to a small building. You had walked past it before, but you didn’t know what was inside.

“I wanted to see if Jonathan was working. I want you to meet him.”

Jonathan had somehow managed to get Azriel’s letter to Nick and then Nick gave them to you. The letters, together with the magical Winterberry Juice, had helped you get your memory back. You would be forever grateful and you realized you really wanted Azriel to meet Nick.

Azriel walked a few steps in front of you, but his fingers were intertwined with yours. You knew he would be overprotective for quite a while, but right now you didn’t mind much.

He walked up to the front door. A note hung on the door:

After a while working in Velaris, I’ve decided to travel back home to the Winter Court. I’m going to lead the family business full time now as demand have increased.

It wasn’t signed. However, on the ground, just left of the door lay a red rose on top of a small doll dress. It was one of the dresses you had made for Nick’s dolls.

“I made this,” you told Azriel as you picked up both the rose and the dress. “I made it for Nick!”

Azriel only studied the rose you held in your hand.

“Jonathan told me that Saint Nickolas, or Nick, would leave a rose on his mate’s grave every Winter Solstice.”

“Maybe we should leave one on his grave today? It is after all our Winter Solstice today.”

You walked hand in hand to the cemetery. Azriel sent out his shadows and soon after, all of them swirled around the same grave. It was a beautiful grave placed just under a tree. It had many flowers and other plants that decorated it.

Azriel carefully laid down the rose beside a second rose that already laid on the grave.

Both of you stood in silence for a while and just watched the grave in each other’s company. Your thoughts wandered over to how grateful you were to be beside your mate. You tightened your grip around his hand and he wrapped his wing around you.

“I’m happy I have you,” you told him.

He kissed the top of your head and held you just a little tighter.

Everything was going well.

The dinner was amazing. You made dessert and gingerbread cookies.

“Auntie Y/N,” Nyx said as he crawled up on your lap.

“Hello, Nyxie. Have you opened your presents?”

You had dressed an old teddy bear in the doll-dress you made. He had clung to it the entire evening. And you had carried him as often as he wanted. You already loved being an aunt.

Everyone had opened the presents from you and even though you had rushed through making them, everyone still was happy with their gifts.

“I’m looking forward to our personal seamstress being in action again,” Cassian said as he opened his present. “No one fixes things like you do!”

As all your gifts had been opened, you realized that you had forgotten someone. Someone really important.

Azriel.

Who did you forget to get a gift for you mate?

You couldn’t help the dread that filled you body.

“I’m just going to the toilet,” you told your family and rushed out of the living room. You were going to Azriel’s room. That’s where most of your own thing was as well.

You looked and looked and looked, but you found no present worthy of your mate.

You felt quite stupid.

“What’s going on?” Azriel’s voice was suddenly heard behind you. However, you knew that he probably already knew what you were stressing about.

“I don’t have anything for you,” you told him. Your wings sunk as you spoke.

Azriel just smiled at your words and closed the distance between the two of you.

“Y/N, my dearest, I’ve gotten you back after years of thinking you were lost forever. It’s the only present I need this or any other year.”

He then kissed you and brought you back to the living room.

Azriel looked at you as you said good night to Nyx. He knew you would be the best aunt and he had been right.

He looked at the smile that brightened up your entire face and he could help but smile himself. His shadows were nuzzled deep into your hair. He was almost certain that they were what held your hair up.

“Happy, brother?” Rhys asked him. He knew that both Rhys and Cass stood behind him and that they probably were teasing him over his behavior.

He only nodded without taking his gaze away from you.

You had just given Nyx back to Feyre and was speaking with both of them.

You sat back down beside him. He couldn’t help but to study your soft eyes.

“What?” You asked him.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly.

You definitely didn’t believe him, but you dropped the topic anyway.

For the past three Winter Solstice’s Azriel had been blackout drunk at this time of the evening. This year, he couldn’t imagine doing the same.

He wanted to take inn every single detail of you and the celebrations you loved so dearly.

Everything was finally as it should.

Thank you all for reading! And Merry Christmas 🎄

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