#just. got a very vivid image of it in my head

[somelazyassartist]

I don't know why random bursts of nostalgia happen but I am very very suddenly sad that the bowling alley my grandma used to play at got shut down a few years ago. And that I will never be 7 years old again, sitting in the backseat of her car at 11pm on a Wednesday, half asleep because it's far past my bedtime, with a box of half-eaten tater tots and burgers in my lap (which the cook always cut into a heart shape for me when I tagged along after school) and my backpack full of homework and the whole A Series of Unfortunate Events collection next to me, sleepily crunching my way through a box of Boston Baked Beans (given to me by a now long gone family friend), listening to the oldies rock station and the soft rumbling her car makes and trying not to fall asleep so I can ask mom to read me a story before bed when I get home. I miss the bowling alley so much sometimes.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[of-buzzing-melodies]

Now that he's out of the hospital, he's recuperating. Yes, that does mean he's laying in the grossest corner of his home, covered entirely by bugs, mind your business.

[thehardkandy]

I keep wanting to start reading a new book before bed. UNFORTUNATELY I still haven't recovered from reading the steerswoman books last year like fuckkkkkkkk. Lives absolutely rent free and im not even ready to give up the space

[bunnypostsstuff]

Dangerous Game

I don't know... I wrote something and felt like sharing it...

Inspired by the song "Dangerous Game" from the musical Jekyll and Hyde.

I did my best to make the reader as gender neutral as possible.

Summary: Being tasked with helping Hiccup with his injuries was the worst and best thing that could have happened.

Warnings: Semi-nsfw, pretty horny on Reader's part, kissing I guess

1.9k words

Hiccup x gn!Reader

How did they even get to this point? Or more precisely, how did You get to this point? It was a routine check up, after that asshole Krogan ‘what’s his fuck’ got his hands on Hiccup for the bounty and chained his neck like a maniac, it became very obvious that the chains left back bruises.

Which, rightfully, freaked everyone out, and so here you were. On Fishlegs’s request, holding a bunch of hyssop from his garden with a bucket of cold water resting by your legs and staring at his naked back as it flexed and moved every time he moved to strike the metal.

You had told him it would be safer to have a shirt on, not just the apron. But he complained that it was too hot and restrictive and that he was perfectly safe with just the apron. 

You couldn’t argue the point about the heat. It was boiling in here even with the huge door open. Even Toothless had moved outside to enjoy the occasional breeze.

“You are not going?”

“I have been begged by Fishlegs to make sure you put the hyssop on.” 

“Ah.” 

You hummed in response and went back to looking at him. 

So here you were, looking at Hiccup’s back, your eyes following the little drops of sweat moving down his back and meeting his pants that started under his waist just below the curve of his hips.

Your favourite ones were those travelling down his spine and moving down the ribs and towards the stomach. You couldn’t see them once they travelled towards the front of his body, but you had a pretty clear image of where they ended up. 

By the gods, you feel dirty.

“I thought you would have less productive ways of getting rid of your anger.” You said turning the plant in your fingers.

“What do you mean?”

“You know something with a lot less clothes and a lot more movement.” You said without much thought. 

“What?” He slightly turned his head to look in your direction. 

Fuck. 

You cleared your throat and pinned your eyes on the plant you held like it was the only thing in the world. “You know…Sex.” You clarified. 

“Yeah, I know that’s what you meant.” He breathed, letting out a soft chuckle. The kind that wasn’t sure if something should be treated as a joke or not.  

“Oh…” was all you were able to let out. You did not mean to sound so shocked. This was a calm conversation. A calm, chill, friendly conversation. 

But it still was… weird isn’t the right word… unusual? Hiccup was attractive. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could agree to that. Another thing everyone could agree on was that he had admirers. A good number of them, in fact. 

And in this moment, you were one of them. 

Though you would never say that. It was one thing to have people that have thought about fucking you at least once leaving in different islands where you didn’t have to think about them until fate or duty brought you face to face and a whole different thing to have a person like that in the island you lived, in your hut, looking at your naked back and having very vivid images of all the scratches they could be leaving on it. 

His footsteps stopped right in front of you. You lifted your eyes to look at him as you took a deep breath in preparation, and the moment you turned upward to meet his eyes, you stopped breathing so suddenly that you almost choked on air. 

Your body stiffened, and your eyes moved as far away from him as possible.

There he was, no apron and no shirt, more drops of sweat traveling from his neck down the rest of his body. You almost felt proud of how accurately your imagination pictured the drops moving to his abdomen, towards his navel and down the hem of his pants.

The head I’d give this man—

You did not just think that. You scolded herself internally. You did. not. just. think that. 

Nope. This is where you dipped. You were leaving. You could go to Fishlegs's hut and tell him to check on Hiccup’s recovery by himself. You were sure your dragon wouldn’t mind. You put down the hyssop and clenched your hands, and moved on to cross them, taking a deep inhale and flattening your lips in a thin line. 

“Well I should get going.” You said your eyes glued to the floor, taking steady, rigid steps that moved your weight from one leg to another almost looking like you were swaying. 

“You are not going to help me put it on?” He asked surprised. 

“You got away from bounty hunters and other people trying to kidnap you today. I am sure you can manage this.” You said, your eyes moving back to the floor. “Make sure the water is cold.” You added. 

“Not even if I asked?” The question came far too casually. Which meant he was either that dense or that aware. 

You reluctantly made a slow turn of your entire body, your shoulders hunched and biting your bottom lip. You moved your head to look at him, more prepared for what to expect. 

He was looking at you with a kind of quiet intensity of someone who was looking straight into your soul. 

Fuck he knows. He doesn’t.

Why couldn’t he be socially unaware this time as well? He was so good at it during other instances. 

“Do you have a clean cloth?” You asked, doing your best to keep your voice even, taking slow, sturdy steps back towards him. You didn’t look away, but you weren't looking at him—not exactly. You kept your eyes locked on his, letting yourself get lost in the endless forest growing behind those green irises. 

“I do.” He said looking at you. The height difference was very obvious right now. “In the chest under the stairs.” He adds.

You were moving before he stopped speaking. Your steps still held that careful, rigidness in them, but you were moving faster. Maybe you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. 

Hiccup took in your appearance from the back. You were wearing linen clothing, having gotten rid of most of the leather, the airy type meant for hot weather. And no shows.

“Barefoot?” He said, rather than ask, knowingly. 

“It’s too hot outside.” You said, opening the chest and taking a clean cloth. 

“Bad habit,” he reprimanded half-heartedly, leaning against the table behind him. He could think of five different ways you would hurt your feet on the top of his head, just in his hut.

“I will not take advice from someone who works at a forge half-naked.” You shot back, almost sounding normal, almost. But your body flinched at your own words, like you had just remembered something about your current predicament.

Hiccup would pay money on a bet that claimed it had something to do with him. 

“I am far less clumsy.” He said his eyes moved from your hair down to your neck. Uncovered and far too empty, he could already picture bites and purple and red marks in the shape of his mouth decorating it. 

His stomach clenched at the thought, and he looked away. 

“I am not clumsy.” You said, walking back to him, you were holding the cloth far harder than was necessary. 

He waited until you were standing in front of him, and he was smiling. He had no reason not to. “You have the tendency to hit the corners.” He said, tapping your hip bone where another bruise from the last table corner you collided against was forming. 

Your stomach tightened, and you breathed in like the world was running out of air. “It’s not that bad,” You managed to mumble, looking away from him again and dropping the cloth in the water, soaking it and wringing it out, before placing the hyssop on it and turning back to Hiccup. 

You eyed his neck, taking in the sight of his bruises, your stomach clenched for a different reason as you watched the damaged skin. 

“What is it?” Hiccup asked, noticing the tension on your body. More worried and displeased. “You don’t like them?” He added, knowing that you didn’t. 

“No,” You said softly, shaking your head. “Do they hurt?” You asked, looking in his eyes again.

“You can kiss it better if you want.” He said in a husky voice, placing a hand around your nape, keeping your head in place. 

Your heart swelled, and the air in your lungs felt heavy like it had turned into water. “I might,” You whispered, bringing a hand on his chest just above his heart, fingertips barely touching his skin. The words ravelled up your throat like a flood going out of your mouth before you could register them. 

Hiccup took in your expression and felt every anxious beat of your heart under his fingers. You had a kind of determination that only someone who didn’t know what they were saying could have. 

Neither realised the other leaning in until your lips were on one another. Your mind was too busy catching on to the fact that you were kissing the person whom, up until that point, you called your dearest friend and the sun of your sky. 

The kiss was deeper than Hiccup expected, charged with way too many feelings. His body was begging for air, but was rejecting the idea of separating from your lips. Like his soul was tangled and merged with yours, and splitting their lips meant tearing their soul apart. 

The first kiss had left them both breathless. You were holding Hiccup like you might collapse, and Hiccup put his free arm around you like you were an anchor.

Then came another and another and another.

Each more consuming the last, your bodies drowning in the inadequacy of your closeness and every fibre of your beings crying ‘not enough’.  

Your soul was clawing on your chest, calling out, screaming, ‘take me with you, make me a part of you. Let me forget my name if I ever had one.’

Your hold on his body tightened and moved, going to his shoulders, digging your nails in his skin, the image of your scratches on his back flashing in your mind for a second, holding him closer until there was no space between you. 

His hands moved down from your nape and back down to your waist as he turned you slowly until you were the one pressed against the table and lifted you up. 

There was something holy, you supposed, about letting a “friend” you were just lusting over pick you up off the floor, sit you on the table and kiss you until you are lying on it. 

There was a loud gasp as you parted. “I changed my mind,” he breathed between pants as he finally let go of your mouth, relishing the feeling of your chest expanding towards him with each quick breath. He rubbed his nose against yours before he went back to devouring you. 

Your free hand tangled in his hair, your back arching without thinking, letting out a small hum in his mouth as you felt his hand grab the back of your leg, keeping it in place next to his waist. 

“Not having your boots on was a great idea.” He mumbled, with a kind of cheeky smugness in his voice, moving on to bite your neck. 

Fuck. You thought letting out a gasp. 

You had the suspicion that this would end with a lot less clothes and a lot more movement.

[kitimeq]

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ better than revenge 🤍 rafayel 祁 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ೃ࿔pairing: lads rafayel x reader

ೃ࿔summary: rafayel did not come home to me three banners in a row so i gave him a mommy kink and delayed gratification out of pure spite. how about this u shrimp i’m so mad.

ೃ࿔word count: 1.9k

ೃ࿔tags: 18+, smut, pure smut, let him suffer the consequences of his actions, i wrote it in like 20 minutes don’t take this seriously, p in v (because i’m a good person at the end of the day he should be grateful), delayed gratification, mommy kink, i love my men a little bit pathetic, pure filth i’m sorry, argument, but they love each other of course they do!!! begging, it somehow got angsty??? What the HECK is going on in my head i’m not sure anymore. i freaking hope i will get that god of the tides or else…….

NOT checked for errors, i’m sorry!! It is a crime of passion this time.

!!DON’T you DARE read if you’re not 18+!!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafayel was so regretful and you could see that—in the way his brows furrowed, his arms holding your frame tightly, his eyes never leaving yours, tears already glistening on his eyelashes. You could also hear that— in his whimpers and mewls, soft moans and whines that were leaving his lips uncontrollably at this point. And you could definitely feel that—in the way he was desperately kissing at your cheeks, neck and shoulders, leaving wet skin behind; in the desperate rutting of his hips against your closed thighs.

And this one time you allowed yourself to feel satisfaction because of the state you managed to put him in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, please.” He whined against your skin, his face nuzzling into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. His arms held you tightly, his hips never stopping its erratic movements against your leg, sliding your skirt up in the process, desperate to feel your bare skin against his hard member. “Cutie, please. I already apologized so many times, just—please. Please, cutie? Let me in, yeah?” He looked into your eyes again, his gaze full of pleading and desperation, and you forced yourself to stay indifferent.

“Raf, no.” You answered, even though you wanted him too. But you couldn’t give in yet, not when you wanted to mess with him more for the way he treated you not so long ago. “First you scolded me for not talking to you, even though you knew that I had a rough week at work. And then, when I visited you, you called me, and I quote Rafayel, irritably clingy.” You answered, keeping your face turned away from him.

You still remember how you came into his home today, ecstatic to see him because you missed him the whole time you were away, hugging him and kissing at his mouth and cheeks happily only for him to push you away. The image of him turning his head away from you, his hand slightly pushing you away, a pout on his lips, is still vivid in your mind, making your heart squeeze painfully.

He didn’t care that you were truly busy, your legs aching from a whole week of fighting SSS-class Wanderers, your head begging for some rest. And instead of comforting you, he gave you his attitude, rejected your affection, called you clingy. You knew that most of the time he was not speaking seriously, and that he was prone to exaggeration and dramatics, but this time, you knew that you didn’t deserve such treatment.

You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine: you waited until he calmed down, then proceeded to seduce him, and when he became desperate and ready to get down to business, you were the one who pushed him away this time, refusing to let him in.

And he wasn’t taking it very well, especially after your time apart. Your previous touches ignited a flame within him, filling him with desire so tangible it was practically pouring out of him.

“So, let’s see who the clingy one really is now.” You added, and squeezed your tights even tighter, his hot breath warming your left cheek.

“Nooo, no, no, no. You know that I didn’t mean it, cutie. It was just, just a bad joke. A mistake I really regret. I really do.” His face nuzzled your cheek, hips still moving against your leg. His whimpers never-ending. “I love when you touch me. Kiss me. Hold me. I love it, you know that, you do.”

“Well, sometimes it would be great if you actually showed it to me instead of being mad at me for having a job.”

“I will! I promise, I will. I promise. I’m sorry.” He brought your body closer to himself, his arms going up and down your waist in a comforting gesture. “Let me in, please, you—you riled me up and—and left me, and I can’t, I can’t, I need to be inside you, please.”

“Rafayel…” You breathed out, your hands going to cup his warm cheeks, his pleading eyes meeting yours. You couldn’t give in that easily. “No.”

He choked out a cry.

And you saw how he snapped, his jaw tightened and eyes closed, one tear slipping away. Then another, and another, until he completely broke down, his face now wet, a pout on his lower lip, his hands touching your whole body erratically.

“Please. I’ll be good. I will.” He whimpered, completely out of control. You knew that until you gave him your consent, he would not force you to do anything. And the way he respected your wishes, although his whole body was trembling while he knew, he felt that you wanted him too despite your negations, was starting to made your resolve wither. “I’ll make you feel s’good. S’good like I always do, just—please. Open up for me?”

You shook your head and his lower lip trembled in response, his head going to rest on your shoulder, his hair wet and cold, making you shiver. He was sweating so bad. His hips were still rutting against your leg, but you knew that it wasn’t nearly enough for him; the friction only made him feel more impatient.

He choked out another broken cry, took your hand in his, kissed your knuckles, and continued kissing up your arm. You didn’t know how long you’ll be able to keep denying him, it was the first time you saw him acting so desperate, so pathetic for you and your need to comfort him was starting to become unbearable.

His glossy eyes met yours and you saw how red his lips were from how much he had been biting them. He leaned down and placed a soft, wet kiss on your lips. One. Two. Three kisses. All of them gentle, all of them apologetic.

“Please.” He whispered into your lips. Another kiss came, as soft and warm as the ones before. “—M—Mommy, please. I’m sorry.” The word that slipped from his lips was new, your eyes widening, your core squeezing on nothing but air.

Oh, god.

“Will you forgive me? Mommy, please, w—will you?” You looked at his face between his soft, gentle kisses and you’ve noticed how red he was, the embarrassment spreading up from the tips of his ears, down to his chest. “L-Let me make you feel good. I’ll be a good boy. The best boy.”

Your head was spinning, your cheeks turning red too. You couldn’t find it in yourself to hide how much you liked when he called you that way. God, what was he doing to you?

“Mommy, let me in. I need you. I need you s’bad I—” He opened his eyes and pressed a kiss to your brow and eyes, his hands shakily caressing your hair. “Don’t be mad anymore, okay? I just—I just can’t live without you that’s why I—That’s why I said these things. I always worry that you’ll forget about me and that’s why I’m gettin’ so defensive and mean. But I know you won’t, because you love me, and I love you and—i’m sorry.” He looked into your eyes and you had a feeling that if he won’t stop talking he was going to make you cry too.

You hugged him to yourself tightly and he reciprocated the hug immediately, his head resting on your chest. He sniffed and started to calm down, his body no longer shaking.

“I do love you, Rafayel.” You said into his hair, and you made him look up again, your hands going to grab his wet cheeks. His eyes glistened with hope, his lips swollen and wet. He looked so adorable that you couldn’t be mad at him anymore. “Next time you’ll miss me, just text me okay? Tell me how you feel, and no matter how busy I will be, I will find time to at least send you a voice message. And I will try to keep you updated when I’m away on missions.” He nodded happily, and you swiped the tears off of his cheeks. “But please, don’t push me away when I miss you just as badly. I get hurt too.”

“Yes. Yes, I won’t, I promise. I do.” He answered and kissed the palm of your hand, nuzzling into it. “I’m really sorry. I will never do that again. I swear.”

“Okay.” You answered quietly and then loosened up your thighs, making a place for him between your legs. His breath came out shakily, his cock immediately landing on top of your panties. Your skirt had been pushed up long ago, the material now resting on your stomach, giving him an easy access to where he wanted to be buried in from the very beginning.“Now come to me, my little fishie.”

He pressed a wet kiss on your mouth once again, and before you knew it he quickly grabbed your panties to the side and slid right into you, making you gasp both in surprise and out of pleasure.

He slipped the tongue between your lips and kissed you without mercy, his hips snapping quickly and erratically, the rhythm uneven, the force of the thrusts relentless.

Suddenly, he cried into your mouth, his whole body shuddering and then going completely still. You felt the reason why a second later.

The warmth spread inside you, overwhelming your senses.

“F—Fuck, sorry, I—I didn’t mean to…So fast…” He managed to utter, his body still shaking in the aftershocks of his sudden orgasm. Your hands went up to his hair, stroking the strands gently, showing him that you didn’t mind, wanting him to calm down and let himself drown in the pleasure.

“Shh, it’s okay. You did so well.” His face was red, his eyes avoiding yours, and you smiled gently at him. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and swiped your hand on his chest affectionately. “My sweet baby boy.”

“Yeah, yours.” His hips started to move again, making you moan in surprise. You wrapped your legs around him and he put one of his arms under your back, lifting you in order to make his thrusts reach deeper. “Always, yours. Only yours.” The pace was getting quicker, your moans mixing with his grunts, your heartbeats although unsteady, seemed to match each other’s tempo.

“M-mommy can I—Can I come inside again? I—I can’t stop.” He almost whispered into your ear, and you shuddered, the pleasure spreading throughout your whole body in the form of goosebumps. His lips were not leaving your body, pressing kisses on any patch of skin he could reach. “I missed you too much. You’re so warm. So safe.”

Rafayel’s beautiful eyes met yours, the purple somehow standing out in the darkness of the night. He send you a gentle smile, his thrusts slowing down, the movements becoming more precise and controlled.

“I don’t want the night to end, cutie.” He said quietly, as if he was sharing a secret. His hands cupped your cheeks and he studied your face, searching for any sign of pleasure. He wanted to know if he was making you feel as good as he promised he would. “Let me make it all better. I will show you how sorry I truly am, my love.”

The night was just getting started. And after several hours of moving rhythmically against each other, loosing yourselves in your passionate embrace, the sunrise was a witness to Rafayel’s vow; your wet bodies and tangled limbs a good enough proof of his fulfilled promise.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

GOD i’m so embarrassed. I wrote it in like half an hour and it SHOWS forgive me. I’ve never in my life written something so short and filthy. If u liked it screenshot it bc i’m not sure i will let it haunt tumblr for long 💀 UPDATE: OKAY I HEAR U I WON’T DELETE IT I SWEAR!!!! I had no idea it would be SO therapeutic for all of us thats actually so sad dndbsb ENJOY!

Better hope i’ll get that god of the tides or else rafayel will not know peace…. I will continue to bully him with my pen i swear to god.

[esote-rika]

𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Smut 18+ MDNI Summary: Bringing your boyfriend to a lingerie sale causes some big problems to arise. Luckily, you’re always down to take care of him, regardless of when and where. Content: 3.3k words, established relationship, Spencer is so so so down bad, reader is a menace, lots of banter, semi-public sex, hand job, improvised gags, unprotected p in v, needy sub!Spencer, kinda switch? Idk they’re both horny for each other, size kink, reader wears lingerie and is shorter than Spencer. a/n: not proofread + am sick, pls forgive mistakes. I just needed something light and stupid after reading THG prequels and rewatching all the movies back to back so here we are. Same girlfriend reader as the last fic. Based on my darling lover’s request.

He’s not sure how he got here.

That’s a lie. He knows exactly how he got here, why he’s here, and it’s because every single atom in his body seems to become irrationally unable to say no to you. It’s pathetic, really. You don’t even have to plead anymore—though you still do, of course, pretty eyes widening just so, lower lip pushing out into a slight pout, and it makes his heart clench and his heart swell in ways that distress him. (You’re dangerous for his health, he’s sure of it, but it doesn’t even matter. If his life is cut short, he can’t think of a better way to go than being loved by you.)

Today, you hadn’t even done that. Just words spoken in a soft little whine, “My favorite store has an ongoing sale.”

How is he to deny you? The boutique isn’t too far away, and while he’d had plans to read for his day off, he can put those off for you. He can read anywhere, at any time. In pockets of vacancy at work, idle minutes during his commute. Time with you is precious, and if you want him to accompany you to a store, then that’s precisely what he’ll do.

There’s just one problem: you hadn’t really specified what kind of store.

Would he have been able to say no if you told him from the beginning that he’d be accompanying you into a lingerie store? Survey says no, probably not, but still, the heads up would have been nice. Kind, actually, because now he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, surrounded on all sides by flouncy, see through fabric in suggestive cuts. Lingerie. You brought him along as you went lingerie shopping.

Here’s the thing: Spencer Reid is no prude. He has studied the human body and anatomy extensively as a young boy, and has such a vivid, graphic memory of them from his time working at the BAU. But those had always been under the guise of science, where he could step back and assess things objectively. Often, the human parts are injured, devastatingly mangled. Viewing them requires compassion and intelligence, not lust. 

He has no idea what to do with the thought of bodies in this way—scantily covered by pretty patterns and thin fabric. Your body specifically. The very idea causes a shudder through him, the familiar heat. Focus, he tells himself, hands shoved deep in his pockets, balled into tight fists. His nails bite into his palm, and he welcomes the sting, focusing on that instead of the image of you in that navy silk slip… or in the pretty purple lace set… or—

“Spence?” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m gonna try these on, okay?”

A panicked look must cross his face, because you laugh, a hand reaching out to caress his cheek.

“I won’t be long, baby. None of these clothes can hurt you, and the sales people don’t bite.”

He’d feign offense if he were in a better state of mind, but he’s a little too panicked to come up with a response. You don’t understand. The very idea of you trying on lingerie is sending some very dangerous images to his brain. Images that, in turn, are causing very physical problems. Specifically in his crotch area. Still, he’s in public. He’s a grown man with working functions and impulse control. So he nods, forces a smile on his lips. 

Satisfied, you press a quick kiss to his jaw, and hurry off to the corridor on the far corner of the boutique, where a line of fitting rooms await. He watches the bundle of lingerie in your hands. He hadn’t even noticed what you were choosing, but Spencer decides that’s for the best. It’s easier to fight his imagination if he doesn’t know the details of your choices. Easier to sit on one of the lounge chairs and fiddle with his hands, gnawing on his lip anxiously, patiently, waiting for you to reemerge with a smile that tells him you’ve made your choice. 

Still, being alone while other women mill about is making him restless. He stands, wandering over to the fitting rooms, “Angel?”

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t like being impatient, he doesn’t even mind waiting for you but god he can’t get his mind to focus. “You almost done?”

“Not yet!” 

He nods, before realizing you can’t see him. “All right, I’ll be right here then.” he answers, leaning on the wall and staring at his feet so he doesn’t seem like a random creep. But then you’re calling out to him again.

“I want to show you.”

Oh, you really are bad for his health. 

“Don’t come out!” he says quickly, looking around. The store isn’t busy, but still, the idea of other people catching sight of you makes something in his chest tighten.

A giggle, and then your head pokes through the heavy curtains, “Okay, then you come in.”

Once again, he is powerless to say no. His feet move, one in front of the other, even though his mind is telling him no, this is a bad idea, turn back. Still, he finds himself in the enclosed space with you. A full length mirror greets him, and that’s where he sees you first. Swathes of artfully arranged black lace and soft mesh fabric that barely cover your body, fastened only by thin straps over your shoulders. 

So very dangerous.

“What do you think?” your eyes meet his in the mirror, deceptively, infuriatingly innocent.

“It’s-uh-pretty.”

“Just pretty?” your head cocks to the side, lips pulled into that pout and Spencer swears the room has no more oxygen. He’s about to pass out.

“Gorgeous,” he manages to say, “Stunning, radiant, angel it fits you perfectly.” his eyes drop to your chest and the words stop abruptly, though his mouth remains slack.

You twist to the side, examining your reflection. The fabric floats around your body, giving him a view of your perfect ass underneath. The panties you have on are a baby blue, not matching the sultry, inky ivory of the slip you’re wearing, and he wants to ask why don’t they match, but no words come from his open mouth.

“Spence, baby, you’re gonna catch flies.” your teasing remark wrenches him from his reverie. You whirl around to face him, half naked and mused, the loveliest creature he’s ever seen. He manages to tear his gaze away from the mirror and focus on the real thing, and how did he ever get so lucky with you?

“No flies anywhere.” he replies, hands finding your waist. His grip is shaky, but firm. Your eyes flash with mischief and he knows he’s a goner. 

“It’s just a saying.”

“I know.” he dips his head, unable to help himself. Soft lips latch onto your jaw, open and warm, “God, you’re so beautiful.”

“In this slip?” Your giggle goes straight to his groin. 

“In anything,” he pulls back, trying to reign in his desire, “In nothing.”

Your brow raises, and he lets out a soft sheepish laugh. 

“Sorry, it’s just…” he trails off, his hands rubbing your hips through the flimsy dress. Mind absolutely devoid of any thought except for how beautiful you look in this tiny piece, how it clings to your breasts and shows teasing hints of your nipples through the thin lace.

“What was that, Spence?” you murmur teasingly, stepping into his personal space. Bodies flush. The lack of distance between you, the familiar softness of your body melting into him brings his attention to the growing tightness at his crotch.

“Mhm? N-nothing.”

“Doesn’t feel like nothing.” There’s that sparkle in your eyes again, devious as you sway your hips against his carefully. The action makes his steadily swelling cock twitch with even more want. 

He has to swallow a moan, but the warning still comes out strangled, “Angel.”  Really, you’re closer to the devil right now, tempting him like this. He tightens his hold on your hips to steady you, brows furrowed as he tries to calm down. 

It’s too late though. You’re both well aware of the growing tent in his pants.

“All right,” you step back, wearing a mask of mock surrender, “Fine, no more teasing. You can go back out now, I’m gonna change again.”

“What?” 

One corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk, “I was being naughty, I’m sorry. You can go back out, I just wanted to show you this slip.”

Evil. You’re evil and dangerous and Spencer Reid is so utterly in love with you. And a little turned on by it.

“Angel, I can’t go back out there!” he whispers, tugging his tight pants. It’s no use. He’s so worked up his cock is beginning to ache in its confines. 

(Okay, so more than a little turned on.) 

Your eyes fall to his crotch, widening comically as though you’re seeing it for the first time, “Oh, would you look at that!” You step back into his space, hands coming up to cradle his jaw. He leans into your touch, welcoming your sweet mockery with his usual, eager docility. “Got worked up for me, hmm? All from seeing me in this slip?”

He nods, hands finding your hips again, holding you to him. “You knew what you were doing.” There’s absolutely no hint of accusation in his voice. You both know it’s true anyway.

“Mhm. And I can’t let you walk back out there like this, can I?” you lift yourself to your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, “Not after you’ve been so patient with me.”

A sharp inhale as he feels your hands on his belt. What he would give to just be completely buried in you right now, to lose his mind in your tight heat, but— “We’re in public.”

“We’re in a room.”

“A fitting room.”

“Still a room.” you’ve pushed his pants just enough to free his cock. Even being out of his pants eases some of the tension, the length springing out and jutting from his body. Long and embarrassingly red. Your hands close around it, one hand at the base and stroking up and down, the other at the tip, squeezing gently, thumb running over his slit and spreading his leaking pre cum. 

He fights back a moan and promptly loses.

“Spence.” Your voice is low, but stern, “Keep quiet.”

He nods, teeth sinking into his lower lip to contain his moans. He squeezes his eyes shut, too overwhelmed by the vision of you in nothing but a flimsy slip and panties, in this well lit, public room, giving him a hand job. No, he can’t watch, he’ll bust then and there, but he knows you’re only getting started.

Your hands work up and down his length, twisting just the way he likes, all while continuing to thumb at the tip. Unable to help it, his hips buck into your hands, shamelessly fucking your palms while his cock twitches in them. 

“Look at me,” you croon, breath hot against his neck. Once again, as though his body is wired to obey your every command, his eyes fly open. He moans immediately at the sight of you, which makes you tut disapprovingly. With a shake of your head, you stop, and he can’t help but let out a whine in protest.

“Why’d you—” “You’re too loud, baby, they’ll catch us.” 

He watches with a dazed, glassy eyed confusion as you hook your fingers through the waistband of your panties and tug the lacy blue material down your legs. Crumpled between your lovely hands, it turns into a small ball of fabric which you hold up to his mouth, “Bite down on this.”

His brain seems to snap at attention. “I-I can’t, isn’t that store property?” Leave it to his mind to worry about logistics and practicality.

You chuckle, pulling his collar down for a kiss. When his lips meet yours, he wonders why he ever questioned you.

“It’s mine,” you mumble against his mouth. A nibble at his lower lip sends tremors whispering down his spine, “We’re not allowed to try on panties in this store. Something about sanitation.”

Sanitation. The very thought makes him chuckle. It seems so insignificant now, with what they’re about to do.

Still, he accepts the explanation, and allows you to slip the crumpled panties into his mouth. He bites down, tasting hints of your arousal as the fabric meets his tongue. It becomes very clear that he needs this gag, because he immediately moans at the taste.

You giggle soundlessly, the effort to keep silent making your shoulders quiver from your laughter. “You just can’t help yourself huh?” You give his cock a few more strokes, lazy and playful, before walking over to the mirror and bracing yourself against it by your elbows. The panties nearly fall from his mouth as he watches you push your hips back, the slip riding up to expose your ass and the wet, swollen folds beneath. 

Is this heaven? It must be. Just him and his angel, who’s offering herself up and watching him intently through the reflection in the mirror.

“Come on, baby, before the sales people get suspicious.” you murmur. Your eyes flash dangerously in the mirror, but he knows it’s not a mere trick of the light. You’re getting a kick out of this too, the same way he is. 

With a choked sound, muffled by the lace, Spencer steps up behind you. Cock in hand, he lets the blunt tip glide across your soaked folds, letting your arousal mingle with his precum and coat his length. Normally, he’d use his fingers first, coax your walls into a more relaxed state, but you’re right. There’s no time for that. Someone could check up on the two of you any time. The thought makes his cock twitch, and he finally eases into your entrance, slowly pushing into the familiar warmth of your pussy.

He sees your mouth fall open from the stretch. It never gets old, this initial penetration, the way your body always seems to yield to the sheer size of him, no matter how long it has been. He knows he’s moving on borrowed time, only moments to bring you ecstasy, but still he allows himself to savor this first entrance, the tight grip of your pussy around his cock. 

And then he moves, rocking his hips back and forth, watching the mirror for your reactions, trying to make sure he’s not hurting you. But the mirror only reflects pleasure on both your faces. Your face lax, a vision of bleary eyed bliss. His own brows are furrowed with concentration as he shifts his hips, trying to hit the spot from this new angle, one where you’re upright, but bent slightly and anchored by your arms against a wall. 

One of his hands grip your thigh, lifting it up so that your knee is braced on the mirror as well, opening you up to him a little more. His cock sinks another inch deeper, teeth biting down on the panties as he feels you clench.

“Fuck!” you groan, and he knows he’s found the spot. He moves both hands on your waist, holding you steady, marveling at the way he towers over you in this position. A sense of power fills him, warm and glowing from the trust you’ve put upon him. His thrusts grow firmer, steadier, as he feels your tight pussy fluttering and clenching around him. Spencer has to fight the urge to bury his entire length in you; you’ve never done that before and he doesn’t want it to happen on some random quickie.

Still, even though he’s not all the way in, he knows he’s doing a good job, judging by the increasing gasps that leave your perfect mouth. The looming threat of being found, the promise of people beyond the heavy curtains excites him, alarmingly so. And it seems like you’re on the same boat, as you keep glancing over your shoulder, half keeping watch, half daring people to yank those curtains back and expose the debauchery happening within the tiny space of this dressing room. 

He shudders at the thought, thrusting into you more roughly than before. It sends him deep inside your walls, and a cry escapes your lips. Your gazes meet in the mirror, equally mortified, nervous, and excited. 

Spencer continues to move, fucking you in this position. If someone heard, they must have opted to ignore the sound instead, and he’s going to take advantage of that fact, bending his body over yours so that his chest is flush against your back. You clench around him in response, your body greedily eating up every inch he’s allowing himself to give you. 

“God, you’re in so deep.” you gasp, “So, so deep, feels so good.”

He recognizes this state, mindless and vocal from pleasure and he knows you're close. 

“Spence, oh my god baby, so big, you’re - oh fuck, yes!”

It makes him proud, his chest filling with a warmth only you can seem to produce, the very act of reducing you to this babbling, nearly incoherent mess but it also poses a problem. You’re becoming too loud. Too risky. In the heat of the moment, and without stopping the rhythm of his thrusts, Spencer yanks your panties out of his mouth and transfers the fabric into your own. Crumpled up, damp with his saliva, they stop the silly, pleasure drunk stream of words that have been spilling from your lips.

Your eyes meet in the mirror again, his own amused and slightly apologetic, yours barely comprehending.

“Gotta keep quiet, angel.” he murmurs, voice gravelly from disuse, “We wouldn’t want an audience.”

A whimper, smothered by your own panties, perks up his ears and goes straight to his cock. “God baby, you’re so good, letting me have you like this.” he gasps, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. 

His cock feels sensitive, ready to burst at any given moment. His thrusts become sloppy, erratic, one arm wrapping around your waist to keep you tethered to him because he can feel your legs and thighs quivering under his weight. Spencer uses his other hand to brace against the mirror, staining the once clear glass with sweat and condensation.

“Angel, ah!” he’s aware his volume is increasing as the pleasure intensifies, so he bites down on the closest possible thing—your shoulder. As teeth sink into flesh, your pussy tightens around his cock in response, and he’s done for, unraveled, spilling his cum deep into your being. He continues to thrust, recognizing the way you’re squirming against him, the nearly vice like grip of your walls on his thick length.

“That’s it,” he gasps soothing the bite with his lips and tongue, talking and fucking you through your own orgasm, “That’s it angel, come for me, please, need to feel you, that’s it, there you go.”

Normally, he’d bask in the afterglow, hold you to him until neither of you can breath and the lack of space becomes claustrophobic. But not right now. He has to remind himself you’re still in a public store, separated from people by mere fabric—heavy, curtains, sure, but still fabric. So he holds out his hand in front of your mouth, allowing you to spit out the wad of lace into his palm, and pulls out of your fluttering cunt carefully. His cock still throbs but is slowly softening. He helps you stand up.

“God, that was—I can’t believe we did that.” Spencer whispers. Unable to withhold his affection, he peppers your temple and forehead with kisses, relishing in the sweet sighs of contentment that leave your lips, now no longer cushioned by the panties.

“‘Twas so good,” you bury your face in his chest, and he holds you, supports your weight by wrapping his arms around your waist, “‘M so sweaty.”

He laughs, “Yeah, this fitting room got a little heated.”

“Ruined the slip.” you peek up at him, eyes no longer flashing with mischief but cloudy with pleasure.

“Good thing I’m buying it for you then,” he presses his lips to your sweat stained forehead, “There’s no way you’re leaving without it.”

Thank you for reading! Part of the big useless dick chronicles collection.

[stillalivebydemand893]

Wet Dreams

Story:One filthy dream about Erik,now he wants the full confession.

18+(i need a cold shower after this one)

“Why are you avoiding me, Peach?”

Erik trailed after you into the kitchen like a golden retriever in heat. Your face was still flushed from the moment you saw him today in the Campbell’s hallway .

“No,nope. Fuck off.”

You dodged around the counter like a raccoon caught stealing snacks, desperately trying to not think about the vivid, X-rated dream you’d had about him last night,the one that still had your panties uncomfortably damp and your thighs pressed together .

“You’re not even looking at me.” He chased after you, grinning like he knew. Like he always knew.

“And your face is red as hell. Come on, Sweets,don’t be like that. You know I like my prey hard to catch.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet at the word prey.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you shot back, glaring dramatically at the ceiling like you were waiting for God to strike you down with lightning before you died of secondhand shame.

“You two are doing something again,” Julia walked in, sipping a Slurpee like she wasn’t stepping straight into a scene from a smut novel. “If you fuck in the laundry room again, I’m calling the fire department. On your asses. I’m serious.”

“JULES,don’t say it out loud! Jesus Christ!”

You sank into the carpet like it might swallow you whole, mentally constructing your escape route through the fridge and out the window.

“You two are the reason Bobby avoids the washing machine now. He literally has appliance PTSD.”

Julia giggled, entirely too pleased with herself.

“No, I,what the hell.” Bobby entered mid-sentence, blinked at the group, and instantly regretted it.

“Consider it a free sneak peek at our next sex tape. A little preview,” Erik said with his trademark devil-smirk, leaning against the counter with arms crossed and zero shame.

“GROSS, ERIK!”

Julia bolted from the room, already trying to bleach the mental image of her best friend riding her brother in spin cycle position.

“Next one? You guys already have one?! I’m calling my therapist.”

Bobby dropped his soda and power-walked out of the kitchen like his life depended on it.

Now it was just you and Erik.

And that fucking smirk.

Your blood boiled.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Kinky,” he said, just as you lunged.

But he didn’t even flinch. He just caught you midair,hands locking around your waist like he did this every Tuesday,and pulled you in tight, your legs wrapped around him, your heart slamming through your chest like a warning siren.

And just like that, you melted.

“Easy, tiger,” he chuckled, nose brushing yours as he kissed it.

Goddamn him.

“You are such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but I’m your pain in the ass.” He winked.

Your eyes rolled so hard they nearly got stuck.

“Now…” He tilted his head, suddenly all slow, sexy danger. “Tell me why you were avoiding me.”

Your eyes widened. Shit. Abort mission.

“Oh hey, look—it’s Paco on the cupboard!”

“Jesus again??” He turned instinctively to check for Bobbys pet turtle, and you bolted. Straight up the stairs, laughter and shame and very bad ideas trailing behind you like smoke.

He stared after you.

“Okay, Peach…”

His voice dropped, low and lethal with promise.

“You wanna play? Then let’s play.”

Upstairs -The Hunt

He walked up the stairs slow. On purpose.

Whistling like a killer in a horror movie.

He knew exactly where you’d go.

You always picked his room.

Always hid under his bed like you didn’t want to be caught.

That only made his cock harder.

“You know, Peach,” he called as he stepped into the room, “I wasn’t really in the mood for cardio today…”

He yanked the curtains open dramatically,just for effect.

Then the closet door.

Nothing.

Until he saw it. A small, failed attempt to shove yourself between his shoes and old guitar case.

He grabbed your waist and dragged you out like it was nothing, spinning and throwing you onto his bed. You squealed. He pinned you down instantly,his hips pressing into yours, arms caging you, one hand gripping your wrists above your head.

You were panting.

He was smirking.

“Now,” he growled, lips inches from yours, “would you stop being a brat and tell me what’s got you running?”

His hips shifted,just enough to press his hard cock right into your already soaked panties.

You gasped.

“Make me.”

Your eyes were darker now,full of lust, challenge, and something else that made his breath stutter.

He stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was dealing with.

You wanted to be caught.

And fuck, he was going to ruin you for it.

“You sure about that?” Erik’s voice was low, rasping over your skin like smoke and static.

“Because when I make you beg, I’m not stopping until you scream it.”

You squirmed, but he had you ,hips caging you in, thigh pressed right between your legs.

He rocked into you again.

Hard.

The pressure against your core made your head fall back with a moan.

“Fuck, Erik”

“That’s not begging yet.”

He leaned down and dragged his mouth across your neck, tongue hot, teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt. You felt his smirk against your throat before he bit, and your whole body arched off the bed.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, hand sliding down from your wrists to your throat, fingers wrapping loosely,not choking, just owning.

You gasped.

He watched you unravel under him with the kind of hunger that should’ve been illegal. His hips rolled again,slower now, a deep grind that made the ache between your thighs pulse.

“So wet already,” he said, dragging two fingers down your stomach and under your waistband. He pushed your panties aside and dipped in, groaning.

“You’ve been dripping for me since this morning, haven’t you?”

You didn’t answer.

He slapped your thigh,light, sharp.

“Use your words Sweets.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes,fuck, I’ve been thinking about you since last night,Erik, please-”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.Good girl”

In one fluid motion, he yanked your shorts and panties down your legs, tossed them across the room, and pulled his shirt off. You barely had time to look at him before his mouth was on your tits,sucking, biting, tongue flicking over your nipples until your thighs started shaking.

“I should make you come just like this,” he said, voice muffled against your chest.

“Grind that pretty little cunt on my thigh until you’re crying for my cock.”

You whimpered, grabbing at his hair, and that only made him harder.

He pulled away just long enough to shove his sweats down,no boxers, not a fucking chance,and his cock slapped against his stomach, thick ,pierced and aching.

You bit your lip hard.

“See something you like?”

“Baby I ve been dreaming of this.”you smirked

“Oh, you’ll have it.”

He grinned wickedly.

“But not before I tease the sanity out of you.”

He grabbed your legs, spread them open wide, and lowered himself,his cock dragging along your soaked slit, rubbing slow against your clit without pushing in.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re soaked, Peach. Slippery as hell. One thrust and I’d slide right in, but…”

He rolled his hips. Just the tip pressing, then pulling away.

“You don’t get it that easy.”

“What? No,please, Erik. I’m too horny for games,” you whimpered, already breathless.

His grin was dark, dangerous, maddening.

“Oh, now you’re impatient? Imagine how I felt watching that ass of yours bounce when you walked into the kitchen.”

You blushed so hard it burned. His voice was pure sin,low, taunting, full of promise.

“Brats like you, Peach,” he murmured as he lowered his head to bite your collarbone, “have to earn their fucks.”

Before you could sass him back, he grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto his lap like you weighed nothing. Your breath hitched. You loved being on top,seeing him needy, hearing him moan your name,but tonight felt different.

Tonight, you were the prey.

“Come on, Peach. Earn it.”

His voice dripped control, daring you to take it,if you could.

Your heart pounded. He wasn’t guiding you like he usually did. This was you, raw and exposed, riding him like you were learning how for the first time.

And fuck, he looked so good under you,sprawled out, cocky grin, muscles flexed, dark eyes fixed on you like he was going to devour you the second you slowed down.

You swallowed hard, lined him up, and let his tip slide against your slick folds.

Then,you sank down.

“Fuck-”

The stretch made your body light up, made your walls pulse around him as you gasped into his shoulder.

But right as you tried to ease down slowly, he grabbed your hips and slammed you onto him, bottoming out with one rough thrust.

You moaned,loud,and he swallowed the sound with a bruising kiss, tongue battling yours, biting your lip until it stung.

“I’m getting a little impatient here, Peach.”

He smirked, absolutely wicked.

“You better ride me like you mean it.”

So you moved,hips rolling, thighs shaking as you rode him hard and messy, the piercing in his cock dragging against your walls with every bounce. You saw stars. He never looked away, his eyes glued to your tits as they bounced, hands roaming,grabbing, groping, biting your breast until you cried out again.

You were close. Too close.

And just when you were about to fall apart,he stopped you.

He slammed you down, holding you flush to him, his cock buried deep.

“What-Erik,I was about to-”

“Who gave you permission to cum, baby?”

His voice was like silk-wrapped steel.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that didn’t match the ache he was inflicting.

“You don’t get to come until you tell me why you were avoiding me.”

You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, humiliated, breathless, soaked.

“I… I had a wet dream about you last night.”

The words barely escaped.

He tilted his head.

“Didn’t catch that.”

He spanked your ass hard, just enough to sting. You whimpered.

Oh, he’d heard it the first time. He just wanted to watch you squirm.

“I said I had a wet dream about you last night,” you repeated, eyes wide, lips trembling.

He yanked you into a kiss so raw, so feral, it stole the breath from your lungs.

“Tell me, Peach. What was I doing to you in that filthy little dream?”

“Don’t make me say it,Oh God-” You covered your face with your hands.

He rolled his hips up into you, and you cried out, the friction unbearable.

“God is far away from this hell you’re in, Sweets.”

He licked the shell of your ear.

“Now tell me, or I’ll make damn sure you don’t come at all tonight.”

He smirked. He knew you’d break.

You inhaled sharply.

“You were fucking me from behind… and choking me… and telling me what a good girl I was.”

His cock twitched inside you.

His eyes darkened,gone full devil.

“Show me, Peach.”

That voice. Commanding. Possessive.

It stole every ounce of air from your lungs.

You slid off him,already missing how full he made you feel,and got on all fours on the bed, your back arched, ass high.

He moved behind you slowly, deliberately. Like a wolf about to feast.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he purred.

“Brats like you have the dirtiest fucking minds.”

He spanked you,hard. You moaned, thighs trembling.

Then again.

Your wetness dripped onto his mattress.

He grabbed your hips, spread you open, and dragged two fingers through your folds,soaking.

“Fuck-look at you,” he muttered.

“You’re dripping down your thighs for me.”

You whimpered.

“Erik… please…”

He pulled his fingers out and licked them clean like he was tasting dessert. Smirked like a man with no mercy left.

“Remember the safe word, Peach?”

He always made sure. Always.

“Yes,” you gasped, trembling. “Now please fuck me.”

That was all he needed.

He slid his cock along your folds—slow, teasing, deliberate.

You moaned, pushing your hips back, needy, desperate for friction.

“So greedy, Peach.”

He chuckled, low and warm.

“But I like you greedy. Makes it more fun to break you apart.”

His hips slammed into yours again, hard and smooth, the kind of rhythm that wasn’t rushed,it was deliberate. He knew exactly how to tear you apart one thrust at a time.

Your arms were shaking, body arching, moans pouring from your lips with no shame left to hold them back.

“Fuck, Peach.”

His voice was wrecked now.

“You take me so good. Like you were made to ride my cock.”

Your only answer was a strangled moan. You could barely breathe from the way he filled you. From the heat. From the way his fingers were starting to drift higher, from your hips,up your ribs,over your spine—until one hand curled around the front of your throat.

And there it was.

That buzz of adrenaline. That high-voltage tension.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, voice suddenly quieter, more focused.

Even now, even like this, he made sure.

“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please,do it.”

He tightened his hand,not enough to hurt, just enough to control. Enough to take your breath and give it back to you only when he wanted to.

Your head fell back, spine arching like a bow, your body helpless beneath him as he fucked into you harder, hips snapping with a bruising rhythm.

“That’s it,” he growled into your ear. “Be my good girl. Take it. Don’t you fucking run from it now.”

His grip around your neck held you exactly where he wanted you,vulnerable, shaking, right on the edge of too much.

You could barely moan anymore. It came out choked, breathless, needy.

“You love this, don’t you?”

He licked the side of your neck.

“Love being my filthy little toy.”

Your walls clenched around him, the pressure building like fire behind your ribs.

“I’m-fuck, Erik-I’m close”

He slammed into you again, and again, fingers tightening just a little more around your throat. Your vision blurred with heat, skin slick, body writhing under his control.

“Then cum for me.”

That command? It broke you.

You screamed,or tried to. Nothing came out but a cracked gasp as your orgasm crashed into you, legs shaking violently, cunt pulsing around his cock like it never wanted to let go.

He lost it the second you did.

With a broken, guttural groan, he shoved deep and spilled inside you, hips grinding, cock twitching, hand still gripping your throat like your whole body belonged to him.

And in that moment?

It did.

He didn’t let you fall.

His hand loosened instantly, warm fingers stroking your throat gently now, the other wrapping around your waist to hold you up as your body collapsed, completely wrecked.

He kissed the back of your shoulder. Then the side of your neck. Soft now. Careful.

“Still with me?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

You nodded, breath shaking, face buried in the sheets.

“Good girl.”

Face-down. Ass in the air. Hair a disaster.

Somewhere beneath your tangled moans and the aftershock tremble of your thighs, you were pretty sure you’d transcended.

Erik, still behind you, groaned like a man who’d just sprinted a marathon while carrying the weight of his own poor decisions.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, slowly pulling out of you with a wet sound that should’ve been illegal.

“I think I just blacked out. I saw the fucking void.”

You made a noise that sounded like a dying pigeon.

“You blacked out?” you croaked into the sheets.

“I left my body. I’m pretty sure I was watching us from the ceiling fan.”

Erik flopped next to you, absolutely zero grace, arm draped over his eyes.

“If I die right now, don’t let Julia touch my stuff. Especially not the drawer.”

You lifted your head, squinting.

“What drawer?”

He cracked one eye open.

“...The drawer.”

You blinked.

He blinked back.

“Erik. Is it full of sex toys?”

He didn’t answer. Just rolled over with the slowest, most suspicious nonchalance known to mankind.

“Erik.”

“Babe.”

“Is your ‘drawer’ bigger than mine?”

“…Define ‘bigger.’”

You let your face fall flat into the pillow.

“We need couples therapy and matching safewords.”

Erik reached over and smacked your ass, light and lazy.

“I like our chaos.”

Then, a pause.

“Also… you’re definitely walking funny tomorrow.”

“You literally choked me while telling me I was your filthy toy.”

“Because you are my filthy toy.”

He winked.

You tossed a pillow at his head.

He caught it.

Used it as a prop.

“So. You gonna tell me what else happened in that dream of yours?”

You groaned into the mattress.

“Erik, I already confessed that you were bending me over and praising me while choking the life out of me. You want bonus features?”

He nodded.

“Director’s cut, baby. Deleted scenes. Blu-ray extras. All of it.”

You kicked at him.

He caught your ankle and kissed your calf.

“C’mon, Peach. Give the people what they want.”

“The people???”

“Me. I’m people.”

You couldn’t help it,you burst out laughing, still half-naked, post-sex high, tangled in bedsheets and bad decisions.

Erik leaned over, brushed a kiss to your forehead, and whispered:

“Next time you dream about me, save a seat. I’ll bring the rope.”

[applecaviar]

HAIIIII 💕💕🫶🫶 I'm a big fan of your works!! ^⁠_⁠^

I have this like scenario in my head where lads men are like... Fathers and like their children ask them what's the noise they heard last night coming from their parents bedroom and see how they'll try to cover it up HEHEHEHHEHEHEH it will mean the world to me if you'll write it! Thats all mwahhhh stay slay queen 💅💅💅 period.

Lol. I loved this idea.

I hope you like it! ❤️❤️

Rafayel/Caleb/Zayne/Sylus/Xavier

You looked at your daughter, she peeked up at you from beneath long, dark lashes. She sat across from you at the breakfast table, picking at her pancakes with a fork, you could see the worry etched on her beautiful face.

"Pearl, what's wrong, sweetheart?" you asked setting your own fork down and giving her your full attention. Your heart clenched at the sight of her little face scrunched up.

Pearl shrugged one small shoulder, she stabbed another piece of syrupy pancake and poked it around her plate before finally speaking. "Daddy was mad at you last night...because of the wet bed," she mumbled, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

"What do you mean baby?"

The little girl looked down at her plate, still fiddling with the cooling pancake. After a moment of hesitation, she glanced back up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Well... last night... I heard Daddy....he said... he said you made a big mess and were being a dirty girl for wetting the bed" she explained, her little brows pinching together.

You felt the heat of embarrassment rising up your neck, flaring across your cheeks as you heard Rafayel choke and sputter on his breakfast. Quickly, you raised a hand to cover your burning face, rubbing at it as if you could somehow erase the awkwardness of the moment.

"Oh, sweetie... it wasn't like that at all. I just accidentally dropped a glass of water on the bed last night, that's all. It was a silly mistake, daddy was just being a bit dramatic"

As you spoke, you glanced over at Rafayel, expecting him to chime in and back up your explanation to your daughter. However, you quickly realized that he must have slipped away from the kitchen table while you were distracted, leaving you to handle this conversation alone.

Frowning slightly, you listened as his muffled laughter filtered in from somewhere else in the apartment.

Under your breath, you muttered, "That damn fish..."

"Mommy, when can I meet grandpa?"

You blinked in confusion at your daughter's words, your attention focused on the little girl standing before you. She was the spitting image of Caleb, with the same deep purple eyes and messy brown hair.

"Piper, sweetheart, I think you might be confused, your grandparents are in heaven remember?"

But mommy I heard you last night in your room when you were with daddy, you said... Yes daddy I missed you and it sounded like you were crying"

"Did she...?" you stammered, turning to face Caleb with shock.

He draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. "Looks like we've got a little eavesdropper on our hands," he teased, nodding towards Piper.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous giggle, burying your burning face against Caleb's chest. Leave it to your daughter to catch you in a compromising moment with her father.

"Oh, um, Piper sweetie, I think I might have been dreaming," you stammered, feeling mortified. "Mommy was just... just talking in her sleep. You know how sometimes our minds play tricks on us?"

Caleb couldn't hold it in any longer. He turned to you, his face splitting into a wide grin. "Maybe you were just having a very vivid dream."

"Daddy, were you having a vi...vidid dream too?" Piper asked looking between the two of you with curious eyes.

"..."

"How about we have a family movie night?" Caleb suggested as he reached out to scoop Piper up into his arms "We can make popcorn and everything. Whaddya say, squirt?"

Piper's face lit up with a huge grin, her earlier confusion forgotten. "Yay! Can I have a big bucket?"

"Mommy, you said we're not supposed to run inside the house, right?"

You glanced down at your youngest child, agreeing with him. "That's correct, sweetie. Running inside can be very dangerous"

However, before you could elaborate further on the importance of this house rule, Eira's next question caught you completely off guard. The little boy's brows furrowed slightly as he processed his next thought.

Then, with all the blunt honesty of a 5-year-old, Eira asked, "But then why were you and Daddy running inside the bathroom? I heard you scream, Mommy."

You couldn't help but blush as you heard Eira's innocent yet incredibly embarrassing question. Your mind raced, trying to come up with a suitable explanation, but before you could say another word, Alba's, your teenage daughter, drink went flying out of her mouth, drenching a surprised Zayne's face with lemonade.

Zayne blinked, lemonade dripping down his chin as he turned to you. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaving a sticky trail on his cheek. Alba looked mortified, her eyes wide and her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Zayne, ever the helpful husband, chuckled and gave you a small, encouraging nod, leaving you to handle this situation.

Trying to keep a straight face, you turned to Eira and explained, "Well sweetie, sometimes... sometimes grown ups have special reasons for breaking the rules. Like when it's an emergency, or..." You paused, searching for the right words. "Or when they're just feeling really... enthusiastic." You couldn't help but sneak another glance at Zayne, who was now trying really hard not to laugh.

Alba, meanwhile, had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and a hint of disgust. "Ew, Mom! I don't need to know about your and Dad's 'special reasons'!"

"Perhaps we should have a more... private discussion about the birds and bees later, hmm?" Zayne said.

"Alright, alright, no more questions! Let's go get some ice cream and forget this ever happened, deal?" you said, hoping to steer the conversation and your children's imagination back to safer territory.

"Sy, can you come with me? The twins seem to be up to something and I'm not sure what it is."

"Alright, you two little troublemakers. What are you whispering about over here, hmm?" Sylus asks, his deep voice tinged with a playful edge. He crouches down to their level, studying their guilty expressions.

Esme and Jasper exchange a glance, knowing they've been caught. Eventually Esme speaks up "Well, we want to know if you can eat other animals besides cows, fish and chicken."

Crouching down next to Sylus, you tilt your head questioningly. "Why do you ask, baby?"

Jasper chimes in "Well, we don't like that daddy is eating cats."

Sylus raises an eyebrow, glancing at you with surprise before turning his attention back to the twins. He keeps his tone light and gentle as he explains. "Daddy doesn't eat cats or any other pets. That's not a type of food."

"But daddy", Esme say, her small face scrunched in confusion. "Last night you said you were going to eat a whoooole kitten."

Jasper nods eagerly in agreement "Yes, you said... 'I'm gonna eat you whole kitten" the way he mocks Sylus's voice is amazing.

You and Sylus exchange a quick glance, realizing the humorous but inaccurate context your innocent twins have taken from his comment. Sylus clears his throat, trying to suppress a smirk as he addresses their misunderstanding. "Oh, my little gems, I think there might be a tiny mix up. When I said that, I didn't mean I was going to eat a real kitten. Mommy, could you help me explain it to them better? I don't want my two little darlings worrying about kittens being harmed."

You nod, trying desperately to hold back the fit of laughter threatening to spill from your lips at the absurd and humorous misunderstanding your twins have created. Sylus, sensing you won't be able to help, decides to take a different approach to set their young minds at ease.

"How about you both help me fix Mephisto?" Sylus suggests, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "He needs new batteries and I could really use your help."

Esme and Jasper's eyes widen with excitement at the prospect of assisting their father. They nod eagerly, the worry about kittens being eaten already forgotten.

"Can we really help, Daddy?" Esme asks, her earlier distress replaced with childlike enthusiasm.

"Yes, of course you can!" Sylus says with a warm smile. "But first, let's make sure we all understand that Daddy doesn't eat kittens or any other pets, okay?

"Mommy were you training with daddy last night?"

The living room fell silent for a moment, even Fatso, the fat cat lounging on the windowsill, paused his grooming to twitch an ear in your direction.

Aster looked up at you with those big, innocent blue eyes that were so much like his father's. He swung his little legs back and forth, his tiny sneakers dangling above the plush carpet as he perched on the armchair. The toy rocket ship he had been playing with seconds before now lay forgotten in his lap

"No honey, why do you ask?"

"Well, Mommy..." Aster began, his little voice taking on a tone of confidentiality. "I heard some weird noises coming from your room last night. Like, uh..." He paused, scrunched up his button nose, and then blurted out, "Like Daddy was hurting you and then you asked him to do it harder."

Xavier felt the color drain from his face, his fair skin turning a shade paler than usual. He sat up straight, all traces of his earlier languidness vanishing. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Aster just looked back and forth between you and his father. He didn't understand the sudden tension in the room, the way his parents had both gone still and quiet at his words. He tilted his head to the side, his blonde curls falling over one shoulder as he studied your face.

"Did I say something wrong, Mommy?" Aster asked, his voice small and uncertain.

"No sweetie...Sometimes, when Daddy and I are playing a new video game together at night, we get so excited and into it that we make loud noises. It's not because Daddy is hurting me, but because we're both having so much fun and cheering on our characters."

"Ok"

"And when I said for Daddy to do it harder, I just meant I wanted him to help his character win the game faster. It's like when you're playing with your toys and you want to make them run really fast or jump really high."

Xavier couldn't help but smile as he watched his little boy nod in understanding, his earlier confusion and worry melting away as he went back to playing with his toy rocket ship, blasting off imaginary enemies with a joyful "Pew pew!"

Feeling emboldened by your quick thinking, Xavier leaned in close to you and lowered his voice to a stage whisper, not wanting Aster to overhear, and said, "I have a few more new video games we can play tonight"

He let out a soft, playful chuckle, his eyes lingering on your face as he waited for your reaction. Just as he was about to say something else, he felt a sharp sting on his upper arm and looked down to see your hand connected to it.

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing the reddening skin where you had slapped him. "What was that for?"

[yoiisa]

Hello sofie! I bring to you a windbreaker request!

Coukd you do one with the wbk boys wherein their s/o gets a little possessive over them? Like imagine the s/o saw them getting hit on and got a little (very but tries to hide it) jealous about it. And then proceeds to stake their claim on their boyfriend? And the boys thinks it's adorable how they're getting possessive over them 🙏

Please do this with Sakura, Suou, Sugishita, Nirei and Umemiya ✌

Thanks for reading! <3 I love your fics btw💕🙏

for the longest time, i didn't think that i'd get jealous super easily, but in the past year, I have discovered that is not in fact the case. i get like territorial really easily over my friends and stuff, so i can't even imagine what i'd be like over a boyfriend (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

➜ for sakura haruka genuinely, i don't even think you'd get a chance to swoop in ➜ it took forever to get him to stop turning beet red around you alone, so if another girl tries something with him, he just reverts back to factory settings and starts yelling ➜ he'll probably immediately seek you out and give like a dirty look to whoever was hitting on him, so it kinda cuts your jealousy short a little ➜ but if he finds out you were jealous, he'll get super confused. like, genuinely, what on earth were you jealous about?

You'd started walking home without him early. Your steps were determined and heavy as you did everything you could to avoid turning around and looking behind you. The image of the girl rubbing Sakura's arm was still vivid in your head, and it was made you feel like tearing out your hair. When you stop at a crosswalk, you hear someone calling your name from behind you. "[name]! Wait, why are you leaving so early?" you turn around just to see Sakura hurrying towards you, his backpack rocking behind him as he catches up to you. He pants and fixes his bag. "What happened?" You stare up at him- his two-toned wind swept hair, the marbled amber of his eye, and the slight pink to his face. That pink is normally reserved for you, but it appears that this time . . . "It's nothing. I just have a lot of stuff to do at home. I can't stick around," you say, turning on your heel and walking out into the street. "Wait-!" he grabs your arm and yanks you back. "Look out, you almost walked straight into oncoming traffic!" A bike whips past you, the driver flipping you off. You roll your eyes and turn to look at Sakura. The two of you stare at one another awkwardly before you manage, "Thank you." "Are you mad at me?" You take a step back and ask, "Why would I be mad at you?" "I don't know!" You sigh. "I saw you flirting with that girl." He freezes, like a cat that's had water dumped onto him. "Me? Flirting? With who?!" "That girl!" you cry, gesturing vaguely behind him. "The one with the pink ribbons in her hair! She was touching your arms and-" Suddenly, Sakura wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tightly. "Idiot. You're an idiot [name]." "What are-" He grumbles into your skin, burying his face into your neck. "You don't-" he sighs and squeezes you tighter, his arms tightening around your waist. "You don't need to be jealous of me." You slowly bring your arms up and wrap them around him. "Why was she touching you?" you croak. "She accidentally bumped into me and her food fell onto my jacket. She was just wiping it off," he pulls back and his face is bright red as he manages out a hoarse, "Why would I flirt with someone else, when I have you?"

➜ on the contrary to sakura, i think suo hayato would kinda relish in your jealousy, just a little bit ➜ don't get me wrong though, he'd never encourage someone else flirting with him. when someone else makes moves on him, he's quick to shut it down in his usual passive aggressive, "mean" way ➜ but when it's just the two of you alone and he notices that you're acting more possessive than normal . . . yeah expect some teasing ➜ it's his favorite hobby after all!

"[name]," he coos, poking your cheek. You swat his hand away and turn to face away from him stubbornly. "[name]." "What do you want Hayato?" you ask finally, still refusing to meet his gaze. "I love it when you pout, it's adorable," he teases, "but don't you think you're getting a bit too sulky?" "Who's sulking? Not me." No, definitely not you. Certainly not after seeing a girl give Suo chocolates for Valentine's Day, and he just took them. You wonder idly where he kept them. Did he eat them? Whatever, it's not like you care. You should've just accepted all the chocolate offers you got as well, give Suo a taste of his own medicine, but you didn't, and now your chocolate less, even from your own boyfriend. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes begin to burn. You dig your nails into the palm of your hand, and a tiny gasp escapes your lips as Suo takes your hand. "Hey, enough of that now," Suo says softly. "Is this about the chocolates?" You wipe your eyes, but more tears seem to just fall. "And if it is? Then what? You never have the food I give you, and all of a sudden some random other girl gives you chocolate and you . . . you . . ." Suo sighs and cups your head in his hands. He brings you closer to him, pressing his forehead against yours and he click his tongue. "What am I going to do with you?" Your breath hitches as he says, "The chocolates were for Sakura, but he went to the outskirts for patrol today, so she was just asking that I give them to Sakura. I wouldn't take a gift like that from someone, anyone, other than you." You take a few deep breaths trying to calm down, but still you can't help but asking, "Then why . . . why didn't you get me anything for Valentine's Day?" "Who says that I didn't?" he kisses your nose before reaching into his bag. He pulls out a small pouch of chocolate kisses, as well as a tiny bouquet of white lilies. "Happy Valentine's Day," he says with a cheery smile, handing you the presents. You take the bag in one hand and he places a lily in your hair. He wipes the rest of your tears from your cheeks and pats your head. "My lovely girl~"

➜ i think sugishita kyotaro would accidentally encourage it ➜ i think it would be kinda hard for him to understand romantic cues, since he thinks that if you like something then you like it, and there's no nuances to it more than that ➜ he'd get genuinely very confused as to why you're upset, like sakura ➜ you have to explain emotions to him (ᵕ—ᴗ—) after all, he is just a high school boy

When you haven't been responding to his messages or answering his calls, he makes a beeline for your house. It's late and rainy and he's drenched when you open the door after he spams the doorbell. "Kyo? What the hell- are you insane?" you cry as you yank him inside. "You're mad. Why?" he asks, not even acknowledging his haggard appearance. You drag him to a bathroom and sit him on the toilet. You rush to grab a towel and begin drying him off. "It's pouring outside, why on earth would you come at this hour and in this weather?" "You're mad," he repeats, grabbing your hand. "Why?" You sigh. "I'm not mad, I'm just upset." Sugishita narrows his eyes, becoming more impatient, "But why?" "Because," you throw your hands up in frustration, "because of that girl!" His face goes blank. "What girl?" "You were giving a girl your bofurin jacket earlier today as you were leaving Pothos," you explain as you finish drying him off. "Don't you remember?" Sugishita stares at you, his expression as clueless as ever, before realization finally dawns on him. "Oh. That." You want to scream. "Yes, Kyotaro. That." "I didn't," he sighs, resting his forehead in his hand. "I didn't realize you would be that upset by it. She spilled something on herself so I-" You cup a hand over his mouth and give him a sharp look. "You're not helping your case." You gives you an equally annoyed look and sighs. "I'm sorry. I'll get it back from her tomorrow. I didn't think about it like that. I didn't want to upset you. I won't do it again, promise." You stare down at him, before reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The tips of his ears are turning red, and you can't help but smile at the display. "You better not," you mumble, before giving him a kiss.

➜ i think nirei akihiko would initially try really hard to comfort your jealousy but he overdoes it ➜ eventually he realizes that he just needs it to fizzle out naturally, so he just sits back and lets your emotions run their course ➜ he makes a note of how to deal with your jealousy in his journal, in which he has an entire chapter dedicated to just you that he's marked with tiny post it notes ➜ he also writes a tiny note to you as well, just as something to solidify your good mood

You're starting to feel really bad about the way you completely blew Nirei off earlier today. You were just so frustrated with how much time he'd been spending at Pothos with Kotoha, you felt like you were going insane! To make matters worse, he pressed the issue so much that you reached your breaking point so much quicker than if he hadn't. You'd said some horrible things, you couldn't deny that right now, but you still couldn't swallow your pride enough to apologize. After all, he'd showed some random girl the entries in his notebook. That was something he only did with people he was closest with, so why was he giving it to some random person? Whatever, the whole thing was too much for you to bear even thinking about. As you finished walking home, you checked the mailbox to see if anything had come for you. That's where you found a pink envelope. It had a Akihiko ♡ written on the back and your heart gave a painful squeeze. You rip open the envelope and pull the contents out. A small piece of paper, along with a polaroid of the two of you on your first date, are inside. You unfold the piece of paper, revealing a letter: Dear [name], I'm sorry that I upset you. I don't know how to make it up to you, but I wanna try really hard. Come over to my place tomorrow, I'll have tasty food and we can just hang out and chat and work this all out, promise! I love you always, don't forget that! - Akihiko ˙ᵕ˙ You reread the note a few more times, a few tears dropping onto the paper and smudging the ink. You fold the note and put it into the pocket of your school uniform's jacket. Then, you hurry over to Nirei's house. He's sitting on the porch, notebook in hand when you get there. Seeing him, you beam and rush up the steps to him. When he sees you, he freezes, but when he sees your smile he relaxes. You wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. "I'm sorry," your voice is muffled against his collar and he shakes his head. "It's all okay now, don't worry about it at all."

➜ umemiya hajime is the best at handling your emotions ➜ i mean come on that's literally all he does with sakura (ᗒᗜᗕ) ➜ like nirei, i think umemiya would try to go after the problem directly, but unlike nirei, he's doesn't overwhelm you with the conversation ➜ he makes sure that he spends as much time as possible with you in the immediate aftermath, reaffirming your relationship

"Locking me here on the roof is a new low, even for you." You cross your arms over chest and glare at your boyfriend, who sits cross-legged on the floor. A small blanket of tea and sweets rests in front of you, staring up at you with a soft smile on his face. "I want to work this out," he explains. "There's nothing to work out," you moan frustratedly. "I just got a little jealous, that's it. There's nothing more to it, so can you just let it go Hajime?" He shakes his head and stands, walking towards you in a few quick strides. He takes your hands in his and squeezes tightly. "You know I love you right?" "Of course." "Then don't doubt me, okay babe?" he nuzzles his nose with yours. "I love you." "I know, Hajime," you shy away from him, giggling a little bit. "Say it back." "I love you too." "Like you mean it." "Hajime." He laughs and tucks your hair behind your ear. "Next time you get upset just come to me first, you don't need to shut down because you get jealous." You deflate a little in his arms. "You're way too mature for me some times." "One of us needs to be." "Okay, enough," you swat at his arm and move to walk away, only to be pulled back in for a kiss. "Is there anything else you want to talk about while we're here?" he asks after pulling back. When you shake your head, an odd sense of tension fully dissipates from his body. "Good, now let me show you the new chilis that just started growing."

A/N: can you tell I got lazy by Umemiya? I promise to write something better for him in the future ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[max1461]

I'm really scared. Somebody please help me. I don't know what's going on, I don't know if it's in my brain, my head/neck, or somwhere else in my body.

Recap so people can help me:

Go to dentist nov 12 for fillings (upper teeth), after one particular anesthetic shot (front teeth) start to feel extremely weird

start to have crazy cognitive and physical symptoms which are too many to list. Some include:

facial pain, mostly from the cheeks up, throbbing pain in eyes, nose, and roof of mouth

inability to recognize other people's faces from cheeks up (only chin looks familiar)

eyes no longer in sync, left eye seems to move more slowly and not track things right

extremely vivid almost-hallucinations. I can tell they aren't real and that they're in my head, but they're right on the verge

almost-hallucinations are visual, auditory, smell and emotion. it's sort of like a mix with flashes of a bunch of different memories and thoughts at once, it's not coherent. many different smells, images, etc. flashing through my perception too fast to keep track of. kind of like a soup of different stuff. very scary and distracting

feels like every time I have a thought or memory, it comes up correctly in my mind at first, then it mixes into the soup and I can't get it back. it just becomes part of the soup

the imagery and so on often feels like it is "coming in from the sides", like coming in from both sides of my body/FOV/etc. it's happening all the time but when it gets really intense and starts to get "closer to the middle" I start burping continuously and uncontrollably. almost feels like I'm swallowing air and burping it back up again, but it's totally outside my control. sometimes I'm burping back to back for hours

when it gets REALLY bad it makes me throw up. sometimes just into my mouth and sometimes full on projectile vomit. would say this happens about every two or three days and the frequency has been increasing.

inability to do the following correctly: sneeze, swallow, vomit, orgasm. all feel like the same weird issue. like they start but don't really finish. so e.g. when I vomit it's like the top part of my throat is not involved? it feels very weird but like the muscles are only actuating part of the way up, and it's a very odd sensation. same when I swallow, like only part of the swallowing motion happens and the food is hard to get down because of this.

my factual recall and grasp of factual information seems to be 100% fine, no delusional beliefs etc. Even though I can't visually recall my memories (because the soup of imagery gets in the way) I can easily factually recall what happened. But I can't visualize anything correctly, I just get these crazy visuals instead

feel like I am not sleeping properly. feel like when I "go to sleep" it's just more of the visuals ALL NIGHT and I don't get any rest. basically feel like I am in a half-asleep half-awake state all the time.

I've gotten an MRI, nothing abnormal. Got an EEG, it was slightly abnormal with temporal lobe "sharp waves" but no seizures. Went on seizure meds for 4 months and it had no effect on symptoms. Got another EEG when my symptoms were really acting up and EEG was normal, at that point doctor decided to take me off seizure meds since the didn't seem to be doing anything and symptoms didn't seem correlated with EEG. Seeing another neuro next week. Intuitively it feels like something is wrong in my face, throbbing pain is CONSTANT and has been resistant to all pain meds, and that maybe if it went away I could think straight. not sure though.

Feels like there is a "hole", it's hard to explain but it feels like there's this gaping hole in my mind's eye, that's blocking my from thinking correctly and causing all this shit. And I feel it on my body to, idk where but I can feel this "hole" too. Maybe some kind of fucked up nerve in my face or something? If anyone has any thoughts or could help me with any of this please let me know.

[jensthwa]

a very show & tell christmas (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

It's been a few months since you and Mingi got together. It's your first Christmas as a couple but not your first one together. As he watches you re-organize the tree in his living room, he can't help but reminisce on the key moments that made him realize you're his person.

PAIRING: mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: stablished relationship, holidays special!

WORD COUNT: 7k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI), mingi's pov, a loooot of fluff and love talk, pet names (love, my love, babe), mistletoe kisses, heart felt gifts, messy kisses, mingi and reader briefly discuss something that i've come to learn is called sweater fetish but i don't know if the scene counts as that but just letting you know, oral sex (f receiving), reader asks mingi to 'use' her, hard but romantic sex, unprotected sex (booo, wrap it up please), marriage discussion at the end omg?

NOTES: happy holidays everyone! I've been wanting to write mingi's perspective of everything that went down in s&t for a while so I took the chance to write it for the holidays because what better time to reminisce about everything you've ever lived than december am I right? [nervous chuckle]. I hope you're having a wonderful month and i hope next year treats you even better! THIS IS PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH SERIES BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: december 25th 2024.

Mingi remembers the first time he saw you like it was yesterday. It's an image so vivid, so impactful in his life that there's no way he could ever, ever forget. 

He was playing soccer on the street, with two friends who moved away that same year and he doesn't really remember them all that well now. He kicked the ball so hard it landed in your yard as you were doing something else. Playing with dirt? He doesn't really remember, you might've been but it didn't matter because it was also the first time he realized he could fall in love.

Granted, he didn't fall in love immediately. He was, after all, just a fourteen year old boy and he didn't understand those feelings just yet. It was that transitional period of a kid’s life where the desire to connect with someone else was strong but definitely not a priority. 

Besides, he didn't realize, until many years had gone by, that the first time that he saw you and he felt time stop, he also saw a life with you: the five seconds it took for the ball to roll over to your feet after almost punching you in the face and he sort of assumed you were going to be in his life forever. 

And you are going to be in his life forever. In one way or another, but he promised you that forever a while ago, in his head, in his dreams and in the way he cares about you, for you. In the way his heart hurts when you're not around, when you two fight. In the way his heart sings when he kisses you, the way it dances and beats against his chest when you smile at him, because of him, around him. 

And when he hears you laugh? Pfft. He melts at the sound. 

He's melting even now, after being officially together a little over a year, as you laugh with your mom and his mom while decorating the Christmas tree at his house. 

Well, not decorating it exactly. You three went shopping earlier today and somehow your mom convinced his mom that the old ornaments did not go with the living room aesthetic anymore and she bought new ones for them. 

The only ones that are old now, that the redecorating party is finishing with the tree, are the ones you and him have shared over the years. 

The one you got at fifteen, that resembles a snow globe with two snowmans inside of it, holding hands and with your names engraved in wood underneath it. The one he got at seventeen that's a little simpler but you say it's your favorite: two gingerbread cookies holding a heart sign with your initials in it, one of the cookies kissing the other’s cheek. 

You two have been alternating years of getting each other ornaments and deciding which house they're staying at. This year, however, you went for a different approach to the tradition. Each of you painted an ornament, a traditional one, with something festive that alludes to one another. 

He, seeing that you've been talking snoopy for half a year, tried his best to paint the character on top of his dog house, decorated by Christmas lights and with a red ribbon to tie it to the tree that illuminates your living room up the street. 

Now, he watches carefully as you hang near the other ornaments, the one you hand painted to look like a chicken. Initially, you tried to convince him it was a penguin but it can't possibly be. It's more yellow than black or white and even if you tried to tell him it's a specific type of penguin you saw in happy feet there's nothing that indicates that it's not a chicken.

“Oh, well, it fits him.” His mother says at your explanation, hugging your mother tightly as she fondly watches you hang the ornament up. You turn around when you finish, tongue out at him childishly. 

He pretends to be annoyed, rolling his eyes and getting up to playfully tug at the tongue you're sticking out to him still “Mom, you're supposed to be on my side.” 

“I am!” She defends herself, smiling like she's totally not on his side. “It does look a little bit like you, dear. Even your little mole here.” 

You take the opportunity to press on your tippy toes and kiss the mole his mom is pointing out, only to get more aws from them. 

“I win.” You whisper to him, proud of yourself and he can't help but smile at you as you pull away. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he was in love with you. It was the first time he called you by his favorite endearment: love. 

He remembers the ice cream shop you both were at, he remembers the conversation being more of a confession that you had a crush on a friend of his, he remembers the guy serving the ice cream complaining about the fridge hardly working and he remembers the blush on your cheeks as you admitted to want to be called love because…

“That's what good boyfriend's do,” you said, ice cream on your fingers that you quickly wipe away with an already sticky napkin, “So we're going to get together and I'm going to be called love from that moment on.” 

He knew you were talking about his friend but his heart skipped a beat anyway. He had to focus on what you were telling him, not on the pretty smile you gave him or the relief he felt when he realized the one thing that would lead you straight (or not so straight) to disappointment. 

His friend was a very proud but not that  out gay man. 

But Mingi decided to not mess with it, he always let you fight your battles alone if those battles ended up with you learning a lesson and without a scratch, anyway. 

“Good luck with that, love.” 

“Ugh, no, you don't get to call me that!” 

The nickname stuck either way. Even if, at the time, he pushed those feelings down deep inside of him. 

Because you were his love, but you were also his best friend ever and he was just a dude. A boy, even. 

He didn't know better and so, eventually, you got a boyfriend. Great dude, worshipped you like you deserved and all.

Mingi remembers the way he felt when you told him you loved Han. He hated the guy, hated the way he made you smile, hated the fact that he trusted him of all people because, well, there was and there will never be someone who loves you more than Mingi. 

Han thought he was the one, you didn't. But even after breaking up with Han, Mingi stood still. He understood his feelings, his protectiveness over you, as something platonic. But he didn't really have time to think about it with your head on his chest, on his bed, over the sheets and with the door wide open because it was a school night after all. 

School night meant no sleepovers, but his mom didn't ask you to leave when she saw you with tears in your eyes at their front door. Mingi didn't ask you to leave as you soaked his sweatshirt with said tears, either. 

“I don't know why I did it, Mingi. I don't… He did nothing wrong.” 

“You said you felt he was not the one.” 

Your regretful eyes looked up at him “But what if he was?” 

“He's not,” he whispered back to you and, at the time, he didn't know why. He had no reason to tell you Han wasn't the one for you, but his subconscious knew things he didn't accept back then. “You wouldn't be doubting it at all if he was, love.” 

You ended up sleeping over that night, door wide open still, your mom texting him when she couldn't reach you on the phone. 

He helped you through that breakup, just like you helped him with his first breakup as well. 

He helped you mend your own wounds, he saw you grow stronger after the pain went away, he felt proud of you when you started showing up to your first uni parties without him having to convince you to go. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he wanted to kiss you. You two were laying under the stars, a little hazy and on a rooftop you definitely shouldn't be up in. 

That probably wasn't the actual first time he wanted to kiss you, just the first time he admitted it to himself. Your friends were on the rooftop as well, dancing around, yelling, being silly, just as drunk as you two were or worse but, for a moment, it was quiet. Now that he thinks back to it, he probably imagined it. 

The noise quieting down, that is. 

Mingi remembers that he had turned to you to ask what you thought was going on but your eyes were closed. He remembers the breath he took in as he traced the side of your face with his eyes, carefully, like the staring alone would get you out of whatever peace you were enjoying at the moment.

Have your lips always been so perfect and inviting? He answered himself immediately: Yes, of course they are perfect, she's perfect. 

He doesn't really know how he didn't realize it right then and there. When his heart soared at the thought of it, of disturbing your peace only to kiss you. 

And then the noise came back, laughing and screeching and something alarming came out of Jongho’s mouth. 

“Shit, shit. Security!”

You opened our eyes and found him already staring at you. He should've felt embarrassed to be caught, but you smiled at him before rushing to your feet, offering your hand and shaking it for him to take it. 

“Can you get up or should I stay and be escorted out with you?” 

No one got caught that night except, maybe, his heart. 

Because he realized he loved you around a week after that, as he saw you do the most mundane task ever: washing your teeth in front of your bathroom sink, still trying to rant about something that pissed you off in one of your classes. He remembers pressing his shoulder against the doorframe and looking at your and your frown through the mirror. He also remembers the frantic beat of his heart as he realized he wanted to do just this with you every day of his life. 

Going to bed together, waking up next to you and listening to you rant about things you're going to forget the next day. He never wanted that with anyone else, only you. 

You, you, you. He got so lovesick the next year after that he tried desperately to cover it up. With different activities, with people kissing his neck at parties after dancing for a while, with anything and everything that could distract him from the fact that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you. 

Not because he didn't want to explore but because every single time he tried to say something, the words would die down under the weight of years of friendship and loyal companionship. 

He couldn't lose you, he didn't even know how to make sure you liked him back! 

And so the yearning got unbearable enough for everyone in your friend group to notice it, except for, well, you. 

“At some point you have to tell her about it, right?” 

No one in the group presses on things. Woo and Gyuri (Woo’s ex girlfriend who, somehow, is still his friend and everyone's friend as well) maybe, but when it comes to matters of the heart, they let everyone be. So it surprised him when Seonghwa, of all people, spoke on it. 

“You can't keep looking at her like that from a distance and waiting for it to pass, Mingi. It's not going to pass.” 

He remembers sighing and then giving you one more glance before turning to his friend.

“She probably doesn't feel the same.” 

“Who cares? You're never going to find out keeping it to yourself.” Seonghwa gave him a tiny smile before bumping his shoulder against his, both teasingly and reassuring. “Besides, she loves you too much to allow some romantic feelings to get in the way. Just… Think about it, yeah? Not forcing you here,” he shrugged, “but we all do, kind of, maybe, want you two to kiss.” 

Snorting a laugh, Mingi remembers shaking his head no and then thinking about it for, at least, three months after that before actually making a move. 

He remembers feeling humiliated by one of his attempts to put his feelings for you to rest, he remembers confiding in you and your friends, he remembers when you agreed to tell him how to make it right the next time he slept with anyone else. He doesn't really remember asking you to show him. 

His mind disconnected after he saw the blush painting your cheeks beautifully, his heart took over him when he kneeled in front of you to kiss you that first time, when he allowed himself to give in and touch you like he had wanted to for so long. 

And then the days and the months blended so gracefully after that summer that he doesn't really recall when the weather started getting cold, just that the color of the snow contrasts against your winter coat when you both go outside after having Christmas dinner at his house, with both your parents and his present. 

They were friends before, but now? They see each other more than you two. 

Well, that's a lie, but almost. And, like all best friends do when spending the holidays together, they get lost in good conversation and company, in a bubble made out of wine and laughter, cozy enough that it allows you and Mingi to slip out of his house hand in hand easily. 

You have a little smile as you look around the street like you don't know the houses you pass on the way to yours. He wants to indulge you, but the words slip out his mouth without even thinking about it. 

“Am I walking you home because you wanted to change into something more comfortable or because you want to give me an additional Christmas gift, love?” 

“Stop ruining it! You know I'm not good at hiding things,” you click your tongue, pretending to be disappointed and kick the snow with your boot when you stop and pull him close, “We haven't got alone time in forever.” 

“Two days,” he says with a nod, arms going around you and head going down to kiss your lips tenderly for a quick second, “Three, if we count today.” 

You pout “That's like… A lifetime.” 

“I know,” he gives in, chuckling against your lips, “I'm going through withdrawal symptoms and all.” 

He watches as you close your eyes and lean in. He gets ready for it, inhaling cold air that hits his lungs as a reminder where you two are, what he's allowed to enjoy in public, and closes his eyes as he waits for your kiss that never comes. 

Instead, your nose nuzzles his softly, barely nudging the skin and you take a step back, taking his gloved hand and intertwining it with yours “I also may or may not have a gift for you.” 

Smiling in victory, Mingi fakes an annoyed gasp “I knew it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you're so smart,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and entering your front yard without letting go of him. “Hurry, I'm freezing!” 

“This was your idea, love.” He deadpans but hurries anyways and afterwards, as the warmth of the foyer allows him to shrug off his coat and leave it in its designated spot by the door, he laughs at your clear enthusiasm. 

You're already shoeless, coatless, gloveless and scarfless and waiting at the third step of the stairs, impatiently blinking at him as a signal to hurry up, again. And when goes upstairs with you, you make him promise to keep his eyes closed as he walks towards your room. 

“You're too tall, I can't cover them with my hands so promise, Song Mingi.” 

“My eyes are literally closed!” 

He hears a door open. It has that creaking sound the door to your room has and when the smell of your perfume hits him as you press your hands to his chest to stop him, he doesn't have to open his eyes to know where he is. He knows his way around these halls anyway. 

You turn him, so that his back is probably facing your room, and then instruct: 

“Look up and open your eyes.” 

Mistletoe. That's what he sees when he opens his eyes: mistletoe that is badly tape to your door frame, just above him. It makes him smile and then the best friend in him takes over when he looks down at you and your blushed cheeks. 

“Love… That's so chees—” 

“Just kiss me, you idiot.” 

And he does. He lifts you up from the floor and you bury your fingers in his hair before securing your legs around his waist and he walks the room he knows like the back of his hand until he reaches the bed. He doesn't sit down or puts you down yet, lazily opening your mouth with his tongue when you sigh against him. 

“Wait— Mm,” you speak against his mouth, words silenced by his eager tongue a second later. He has to physically throw his head back to stop himself from kissing you further, but when his eyes return to his face, his will almost falters. “That was not the gift.” 

“Okay.” He breathes out, smiling. 

“Sit on the floor.”

He does and the carpet is soft under his fidgeting hands as he watches you move around the room. You go into your closet (literally, you disappear behind the closed doors) and when you come back with a large box he blinks a few times in astonishment.

Huge box, really. It almost doesn't fit the space between you when you sit down in front of him and glance at him excitedly, a shy color to your voice when you speak again “Open it!” 

There's no way he can help the smile that curves his lips when he opens the box and finds an assortment of handmade things. Yes, the ornament that you made may have looked like something else entirely, but he starts to believe you made it on purpose when he pulls out the first gift: a bouquet made out of candy, his favorite sweets. 

“This is beautiful, love…” 

He lets out a chuckle when you steal one immediately and he promises to dig into it once he goes through all the gifts. 

There's a box with a card underneath that he goes to pick up but you stop him with a trembling hand “Save that one for last.” And he notices you're a little bit nervous, so he does, his own heart skipping at what might've inside the box, a similar yet smaller one weighing on the pocket of the coat he left downstairs. 

The other things left on the box are a few bills in the shape of hearts and a wooden sphere that he finds out, seconds later, it's a picture museum. 

“I couldn't fit every important picture we took together in a regular shaped box so I had to get this one.” You explain as he looks at the inside of the sphere. It looks like a miniature museum and Mingi feels like crying a little, so he takes your hand in his and gives it a kiss to ground himself “They're in chronological order, too, I had to consult the ancient texts to get them all right!” 

He laughs, confused “The ancient texts?” 

“Yes, my Instagram story archive.” You return, nodding and he gives your hand another kiss before letting it go to set down the museum next to the bills and the bouquet.

You let out a shaky breath when he returns his attention to the box and picks it up. You pick up the card. 

“Before you open it, let me read this to you.” 

“Of course,” he returns softly and takes the trembling hand you're extending in his direction. 

“First of all, look at how cute this is,” you turn the card and inside of it, it's decorated with kisses. Your kisses. Mingi would recognize them anywhere and he tries to take the card from you but you bat his hand away with it. “Later, let me read this to you. Um… 

“Dear Mingi,” he giggles at the formality of your tone and then forces himself to stop at the look you give him. “Dear Mingi,” you start again, “I don't have a way with words and I've re-written this letter a thousand times but I think I have come to terms with the fact that there are no words invented, no language discovered, that can accurately immortalize my feelings for you. The love I hold for you transcends everything and everyone, every concept ever created and every new idea future generations come up with. And, as I try to come up with a joke that can give this overdone confession any lightness, I have also come to terms with the fact that you're it for me. I already knew this, of course,” you laugh and he has to laugh a little, heartbeat on his throat and eyes full of tears and all, “I already knew how much I loved you. Platonically, romantically, it all has just blended into one because it doesn't really matter how I loved you, it just matters that I have the opportunity to do so, my love. I love you.” 

When your eyes catch his, the tears are already wetting his cheeks. 

“And now what didn't fit in the letter, because I chose this tiny ass card,” you laugh again, eyes already wet even though he can see you're telling yourself not to cry. “Our first Christmas together was the time I realized I wanted you in my life forever. It just felt right, like we belonged somehow and we do, Mingi. So I— Open the box.” You quickly say and when he does, the whole thing falls apart. 

Kind of. 

When he pulls the rope tied in a bow at the top and the sides fall he makes a noise of surprise that makes you laugh.

The sides have more pictures of you two and in the middle of the box there's another tiny box that he opens to find a necklace. 

With a ring that could fit him as its charm and a silver chain that's not too delicate but not too rough, just like the one he uses on a daily basis. 

The ring has your initials engraved on the inside and his initials engraved on the outside. He lets out a sob that prompts your tears to flow freely down your face and he catches you wiping them.

“I didn't want to give you this with the rest of your gifts this morning because, well, I'm shy and—” 

“You are not shy.” He speaks over you, wiping his tears. 

“And I didn't want our parents to scream marriage at us. I don't want to scream marriage at you either, my love,” you say before he gets any ideas. And it did cross his mind a second ago, but he's far from terrified of it. “But I wanted you to have something to remember me by, with our initials in it, as a token of how much I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't even know what to say. 

“A lot. I love you a lot, if you couldn't tell.” You add and he laughs and manages to scoot around the box of gifts to wrap his arms around your frame. You laugh into the skin of his neck, hugging him back. 

“I love you too,” he whispers, his lips close to your ear and his heart beating fast still. When he pulls back, you try to give him a kiss and he stops you, which prompts a confused look on your side. “You know that they say that overtime couples start to think alike?” 

“Look alike,” you correct with a tilt of your head and he gives you a look, so you backtrack, smiling. “No, yeah, couples start to think alike.” You nod and then let out a noise in protest of him getting up. 

He points his finger at you “Wait here.” 

And then he bolts downstairs, to his coat. 

It really does say something about you two, about the way your minds sync up at most needed time. Because as he enters your room, box in hand and knees hitting the carpet in front of you, he can tell you got his point immediately. 

“I'm not screaming marriage at you yet, love and I also didn't get you a letter or a chain to go with it, but—” He hands you the box and lets you open it, head immediately trying to paint into his memory the way you gasp at the ring, the way you take it delicately into your hands and examine it with care. “But I bought this months ago, in that antique shop you like so much because it reminded me of you and how could it not? Do you see how beautiful it is?”

It sparkles under your bedroom light, but he can see it from a distance: all the delicate details that make it look like there's two hands holding the pearl in the middle. In a way, it looks like two hands holding a heart. 

Just like you hold his heart. 

“As a token of your much I love you, Y/N.” 

You pout as he takes the ring and puts it on your finger. 

“You can't just steal my speech, Song Min—” 

He kisses you again. He can't not kiss you, he can't help but get you into your arms and thank you for choosing the ground to present your gift because he's anything but careful as he stands up, drags you with him, and sits on the bed with you on top of him. 

“Shit, hold on—” 

“Hm?” There's concern in the way your eyebrows crease and Mingi gets briefly distracted by how kissed out and breathless you look for a second before reaching for the floor. 

“My necklace,” he explains, reaching for the box and successfully getting it in his hand without having to take you off his lap. “Put it on for me, love?” 

“So you liked it?” You ask nonchalantly as you take the necklace, legs opening a bit more so that you're sitting further into his lap.

“You literally made me cry, Y/N. Tears,” he says, making a face that you catch before closing the clasp behind his neck. 

“Of joy?” You return in a whisper, eyes so sweet and smile so shy it makes him want to cry all over again. 

“I love you.” He says instead of answering the question, lips touching yours again, softly, wanting, forgetting you don't have a lot of time before your parents wonder where you went. 

There's no way careful thoughts can get through the fog your sighs against him create, in the way your teeth sink into the plush of his bottom lip and pull until he's moaning, the sting of pain passing by as your tongue caresses his. 

You've been getting a little bold lately, the nature of your encounters is always passionate but, somewhat, normal. Mingi loves every second you decide to give yourself to him but he also fucking loves when you do shit you like. 

Like taking control of the kiss, pulling his hair so his head can fall back and you can slowly make it messier, sloppier, even after the sweet moment you two just shared. 

Hands start to roam freely and, by the time you pull on his hair to detach your mouth from his fully, he's already breathless and hard against the fabric of his pants, mouth wet with shared spit. 

He's sure his pupils are blown, he's sure he's red on the face and fucked out already. He knows his expression mirrors yours as you take him, and the necklace, in, eyes scanning his frame before you roll your hips against him. 

He moans pathetically. 

You smile at the sound. 

“Like anything you see?” He tries to tease you to no avail. 

“You look so hot like this…” The hand tangled in his hair moves and he closes his eyes to welcome the feeling of your nails softly digging into his skin as they make their way into his neck, over the necklace and the ring resting against his collarbone. 

“With the necklace on?” 

“And the sweater.” 

He glances at his beige sweater with an arched brown and then he looks at your sweater, a warmer tone of beige than his, the neck a little high but not high enough to be considered a turtle neck, with the same expression. 

He puts the pieces together and then scoffs out an impressed laugh. 

“Where did you learn this kink, love?” 

“It's not a kink,” you defend yourself immediately, laughing when he looks at you like he doesn't believe it and then he leans in again, peppering your jaw with slow, open mouth kisses, “I just saw a video the other day and…” 

“And?” He encourages you with a shift of his hips of his own, gaining a curse that slips past your lips. 

“And then I saw you today in this.” The palm of your hand slips from his neck and into the fabric of the sweater, thumb passing over his nipple with purpose. He hisses in response. “So… We could leave it on, hm? What do you think?” 

He raises an eyebrow, trying to bite his smile back “What did they do in the video, love?”

“Oh,” you giggle into his shoulder as he kisses every inch of skin available to him, “it was a homemade video. I don’t watch anything super produced, you know that. They, uhm… Fuck, babe,” he licks his way up the side of your neck, successfully making you melt against him. “She was looking at her phone and he was eating her out,” you manage to get out. “And then she got on her stomach, legs straight a-and closed while he fucked her. Used her, kinda.” He pulls back at that, both intrigued and wanting to see if that’s what you actually want. 

“Used her to get off?” 

You nod and he leans in, nose brushing yours. 

“Is that what you want me to do with you?” 

“After you get me off,” you whisper back, smiling without any shame at your request “yeah.”

Mingi takes his time to think about it. On purpose, letting the tension linger as he presses both palms against the mattress, leaning back just enough so you can catch him checking you out unapologetically. Truth being told, his dick is twitching in his pants at the thought of helping you explore. This has always been your dynamic in bed: exploring, searching, discovering new things that make you wet, researching new ways of making you come and there’s nothing that gets him off more than the idea of you getting away with what you want. 

Even if that means sweating the fabric of this expensive sweater through. It’s okay, he has a washing machine. The way you wait for an answer, with eyes so bright and expectant, makes him bite his lip in return. 

Yeah, there’s nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you. 

He also knows you enjoy this. 

The anticipation. The teasing, the way his hand returns to your legs and slides the material of the sweater up slightly, only to neglect the idea a second after and, instead, turning his hand and letting his knuckles brush against the fabric of it deliberately, with laced intention into the touch even though his expression remains pensive at the proposal. 

A proposal he accepted, like, the second after you said it outloud. 

“Do you know how much I love your tits, love?” 

You let out a sigh as your answer and one look at you is enough to encourage him to keep going. Knuckles brushing upwards, he catches your firm nipple through the fabric. It's a little hard to do; considering you're probably wearing two layers underneath to shield you from the December cold; but he manages and you let out a needy whine. 

“Do you know how much I love you if I’m going to fuck you without taking one look at them?” 

Damn. He doesn’t really mean for his voice to sound so raspy but it does and the way your lips curve in mischief let’s him know that you catch it for what it really means: He’s so lost in it, in the sensual bickering, that he can’t help but show how affected he is, one way or another. 

And then there’s the urgency of getting on with it because you don’t know how much time you get alone, until someone calls your phone and asks for you or until your parents get tired of the wine and come back home. 

So it really does happen in a flash when you grab the collar of his sweater and smash his lips against yours with need, with a newfound spark that excites him. He practically rushes to take your bottoms off, to slide down until they pool at his ankles, to turn on the bed until you’re laying on your back and his mouth is marking your inner thighs, adding new color to the bruises already lingering there. 

You’re twitching under his touch and he has to press your hips down to keep you still when he takes your panties off and dives into your folds. Usually, he would be prepping you to make a mess. You teached him how to make you squirt months ago, the day before you officially got together and he has had the pleasure of making you see stars since then. 

Today, there’s not enough time. 

So he wastes no time in devouring you like he knows you like it. Your leg thrown over his shoulder, the sweater and the shirt underneath rising just enough for him to thrust his hips against the bed at the image of your skin. 

You try to keep it down, he sees you trying to contain yourself and under any other circumstances, he would scold you for depriving him of the sounds you make. But this time around, the view edges him. He wonders briefly what other scenarios he can propose to have you gulping down your moans, to make you gasp for air after pressing the palm of your own hand over your mouth so no more whines slip out of your lips.

He doubles his efforts, just to see you trying to contain yourself and failing to do so, again. It makes you double your efforts as well, probably just to spite him as you thrust your hips and chase your high, but it doesn't bother him. 

If anything, it makes him harder than ever. The way you ride his face, the tongue that flattens out and then curves around your clit and your conviction falters, hips falling still at the way he sucks into your sensitive nub. Your hand in his hair pulls a little and the sting of pain almost makes him come untouched. 

Chuckling into your heat, Mingi catches the exact moment your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels your limbs locking, he tastes your release when your orgasm hits you, he helps you ride out the sensation while pleased moans fill the room. 

And, usually, he would kiss his way up to your lips. He could right now too, over the sweater, the idea of the fuzzy material mixing with your orgasm it's tempting but he remembers you have to see people after this as well. 

He remembers he doesn't have much time. 

And your words are ringing on the back of his head when his mouth latches onto yours again, when you moan after tasting yourself on his tongue. 

He pulls away to silently ask the question: Do you want to keep going? 

You nod, nose nuzzling his briefly before he turns you around. Harshly, like he knows you like it. He sees you grasp the comforter and a pillow between your fingers when he sinks himself into your wet heat, he hears the muffled cry when he adjusts a little and when you close your legs to lie flatly on the bed and in-between his, he all but sees stars at the feeling. 

You're not tight. That's good, that's a sign that you're comfortable with him, trusting of him, a sign that you want you. This position makes it a snug fit, though, and when you purposefully squeeze around him he presses on his hands on your lower back with a groan.

“S-stop stalling, baby, we're running out of ti— Fuck, Mingi!” 

Pulling out and then slamming his hips back down with measured force, he marvels in the feeling of you genuinely squeezing around him, out of pleasure and not to tease him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, forehead connecting with the soft material of the sweater when he leans over you, on your shoulder and smiles when you moan at the way he picks up the pace. 

“Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck,” you mumble in response, head turning and breath fawning on his cheek that you attempt to kiss a second later, so he complies and turns his head to kiss you sweetly, a complete contrast of the way he's thrusting into you.

He falters when he notices just how hard he is going but your hand shoots back, attempts to grab his hip and your head shakes in disapproval. 

“Don't stop,” you ask, breathless, eyes scanning his face to see if he's not into this but he assumes you don't find that because he is into it, “use me, my love. That's what I want.” 

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He leans back up, hands finding a secure spot on your hips and uses you like you asked. He’s hardly the one to seek his own relief so soon. He likes to take his time with you, even when you don’t have much, and that means making you come undone at least twice before he even allows his dick to be touched, but now? 

With how turned on he is? With how full of love he is for you? 

He remembers the time, the years he didn’t allow himself to see you in nothing but platonic light. He remembers the feeling of your lips on his for the first time, he remembers the love you professed to him today and the way you make him feel so wanted, so adored, so—

“Oh— fuck.” 

His pace falters, his orgasm so close he’s unable to keep chasing for it with the same measured force he was using before. 

“Yes, Mingi,” you encourage, somehow managing to move your body upwards, meeting his own, “don’t stop, baby, please, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

He vaguely registers himself moaning, babbling nonsense as his movements pick back up. He hears your voice distantly, like he’s underwater, like the way you tell him to come inside of him and that you love him it’s what’s pulling him back up. 

And when he releases inside of you, his ears ring slightly and his forehead meets your back, eyes closed and chest heaving. He feels his heartbeat on his throat, he feels your heartbeat on your back and its rhythm matches his beautifully. 

No one says anything for a few minutes where you both try and recover from the intensity of what you just did. Something new, something that leaves you both exhausted and he can see it on your sleepy and content smile when he pulls out and you turn around, not giving a fuck that you’re bedding is probably going to get sticky with his cum. 

He throws himself besides you and your nose touches his cheek immediately. 

“That was…” 

“So good,” you say and he hugs you close, breath still ragged, “and we should definitely look into sweater fetish or whatever it’s called. I think you enjoyed it more than me.” 

He gasps in feign offense. 

“Stop projecting, love.” 

“Am not—”

“Yes, you are,” he sing-songs back and you weakly hit his arm with your fist. You don’t say anything afterwards and Mingi stops staring at the stars in your ceiling to look at you. 

You’re staring at your ring. He smiles, all the emotions that your words brought to him coming right back. 

“I want to marry you, Y/N.” 

He says it without really thinking it through. He doesn’t regret it even when you look up at him with a little panic behind your eyes. 

“Now?” 

He laughs “Someday,” shrugging, his lips connect with your hairline and you sigh, snuggling up to him a bit more “There’s going to be two more rings that I’m going to give to you and only you.” 

“Good thing you got my ring size right.” 

Your joke makes him laugh and you lean up against his chest a bit to look at him. 

“I’m going to say yes, Mingi,” you whisper and he melts against the pillow, his hand on your cheek a second later. He sees your eyes go down to the ring on his necklace and the smile that brings to your lips makes his heart pick up again.  “And then I’m going to show off my ring to everyone and I’m going to be insufferable as a wife. I hope you’re ready.” 

You fall back down on his chest, cheek just above the beating of his heart and eyes closed. The smile lingers on your lips and, as he brushes your hair back with his hand and smooths his hand under your sweater, he can’t help but smile back.

“I don’t want it any other way, love.” 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH and happy holidays! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: What are your most alluring qualities?

🂺 "Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." ~ Edgar Allen Poe~

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is meant to help uplift your spirit and highlight qualities about you that transcend space and time and manage to energetically get picked up by lil ol' me. Who then tries to put that inexplicable beauty into words. :)

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

☀︎ Pile One ☀︎ (nine of cups, magician rev., moon rev.,hanged man, page of cups, queen of cups)

⇾ Pink. Yellow. Fuzzy. This feels so warm, there's heat around my waist. Maybe you’re a dancer? Do you like to wear very big pullovers or extra garments around your waist? Corsets? I’m getting a strong emphasis with an attraction toward your waistline. Also, a very airy feeling in my ribs. ⇾ You’re fucking hilarious. Your ability to uplift any room’s vibe is extremely attractive. Strong water energy, Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, 4th, 8th, 12th house. But not as emotionally heavy. Not the thunderstorm but the sunny, dewy morning after. Literal sunshine. You may have a signature scent. Coconut, vanilla, brown sugar. Before shuffling your cards, my nose was congested but while I was channeling, I had these moments where air would pass through the room, clear my sinuses, and the tingling feeling in my ribs came back. ⇾ You’re a high. A nice clean, mellow high. The brief moments in time when your body completely relaxes and you start flowing with the wind. People are addicted to how you make them feel. Your energy feels like the first hit of that oui. wink wink. People get a hit of your energy and it feels like an escape. This is my intuitive and sensitive dreamy pile. There is a lot of emotional depth here, you’re enigmatic. Being in your presence transports people to a simpler time in their lives. A period where the sun shined brighter, the air was cleaner, and all the color in the world felt more vivid. People can sense the storm raging in the back of your head but can visually see your perseverance and ability to not let darkness rot you, keeping this light and airy energy. It’s almost superhuman, you almost seem not real. You’re impossibly infectious. ⇾ You have a lot of natural inner abundance, you attract a lot in life even if you don’t realize it. I’m getting moksha house energy, a strong wheelhouse of influential power. The duality of your sweet, caring but reserved introspective nature is sexy as fuck, to be honest. It is hypnotizing and ignites people. I also see you have attractive skin, whether it’s clear, glowy, or cute moles, I'm not sure. But something about your skin people just can’t help but want to trace and admire. Jupiter/Pisces energy. Sugary sweet and in your own world, I feel like I have a toothache. Rare kind and light energy. Your attractiveness and romantic influence on people is one of your natural talents pile 1. I can see that with the Jupiterian energy I'm getting. You got 3 major arcana cards back to back. You’re a light in the dark and people are moths to a flame.

"You're pretty like a memory"

☀︎ Pile Two ☀︎ (ace of swords, the tower, knight of swords, 6 of swords rev, the magician, 3 of wands)

⇾ Well for starters, you’re SEXXXYYYY. Not just physically, but your wit, intelligence…people’s attraction to you gives me the image of Joan of Arc’s admirers. People perceive you as gorgeous, brave, and intimidatingly capable. ⇾ I’m getting Uranian energy, Yes, something about you is very mercurial, but this is next level. In modern astrology, Uranus is a higher octave of Mercury and symbolizes putting these higher-level ideas into action. Your ability to think of a goal and go after it is attractive. Or have a belief and fiercely defend it. I don’t know if you’re aware, but you have an innate ability to monetize or profit off of your ideas and skills. Especially with all this sword energy, the 3 of wands, AND the magician. Mane, you make shit HAPPEN. You make shit shake. A lot of people say they’re going to do things they have no intention of starting or say things they don’t actually believe. You are a rare exception to that. You put your money where your mouth is, and the amount of willpower and intelligence you possess is intimidating yet so very very attractive. ⇾ There’s gotta be some major concentration in your natal chart, a stellium, a reoccurring modality, sign, not sure but your energy is uniquely focused and intense. You may sometimes battle with excess mental energy. Anxiety, overthinking, etc. You’re a harbinger of change. Wherever you go, major changes follow and there is something very important about your energy. Your footprint in this world is larger than the average person’s. Your sense of self and your loyalty to your authenticity and values is highly admirable. *whispers* maybe even enviable, watch out for negative intentions and trust your discernment. ⇾ Whether you’re a man or woman watching this, you intimidate a lot of men. You’re the creme of the crop so to speak. You are the human embodiment of a warrior. Strategic, brave, and your fire cannot be dimmed. You have this eternal energy to you. Your name will be sung long after you leave this Earth. There will be tales and songs about you. There is an emphasis on making a change and legacy here, 10th house/ Capricorn Energy. Solar and Jupiterian energy is possible too, there's a lot of king semblance here. I feel like your frame is very attractive. Defined muscles especially around your neck and shoulders. Fox attractiveness. Sharp features, or some special emphasis with your lips, jaw, and teeth.  There is a lot of sexual attraction in this pile. I was shuffling and getting flashes of old Wattpad enemies to lovers and dark academia rivalry fanfiction 😭😭. I’m getting a headrush. Maybe you feel like a headrush to people at times.  You might look good in darker, cool-tone colors or have dark hair. ⇾ You make people aware of their shortcomings and that triggers them. You trigger strong emotions in people. People see you as superior to many, you’re either singled out in a crowd positively or negatively. People either love or hate you but it is undeniable that you are sexy and very fucking capable. You also have the ace of wands at the bottom of the deck…like I said…sexy and capable.

"Don't look at me with those eyes"

☀︎ Pile Three ☀︎ (The tower, queen of swords, three of pentacles, queen of wands, 9 of wands)

⇾ This is my dark feminine pile. 🎶Sheee’sssss a maaaann eeeaaatttttttuuuhhhhhhhh🎶, Ironically, the black cat got chosen for this pile. The tower paired with the two queen cards screams shadowy feminine to me, but balanced. The three of pentacles create a bridge between your intense fire and air energy. You balance your shadowy, detached and your fiery, passionate nature and it creates this intoxicating dichotomy that people can not get enough of. ⇾ You also are reserved and guarded, people can tell it is hard to gain your trust and gain access to your inner world so people subconsciously try hard to earn your favor. When I was laying out your cards my eyes got heavy and I felt like I needed to go to bed. You have a very sultry sluggishness to you. Think about Corpse Bride, how her eyes were always low, she moved slowly, and her voice was low. You have a dark veil over your character that is very alluring. There may be an 8th house or Mars emphasis in your natal chart. Make sure to check your planetary midpoints. ⇾ I am getting a Gabriette Betchel vibe. There's a darkness around the eyes of the man standing in the nine of wands. There is a draw to the shape of your eyes, especially if they droop a little or you have sunken eyes. Maybe you like dark makeup if you’re into makeup. This pile definitely had a crush on Morticia Adams growing up. You ARE Morticia Adams. Pretty Rave Girl is playing in my head, I don’t associate your energy with the rave aesthetic but I get the sense that people fantasize about you. You’re naturally mysterious and detached and most people only have an idea of you rather than a one-on-one connection. You may face a lot of projections, there’s fog around people’s perception of you. Plutonian-type power, insanely magnetic, with Neputinian-type glamour, veiled and shapeshifting. There may be some WLW baddies in this collective. ⇾ I feel like a very small number of people truly know you, you are reserved and selective with your energy and let me tell you, that is the most attractive practice a human being can implement. You are a once-in-a-lifetime personality that people dream about embodying. YOU ARE AN AESTHETIC. Well not exactly, I’m not limiting you down to your appearance. But you are the ideal embodiment of the dark feminine, man-eater aesthetic. The other three piles felt like concepts that I tried to piece together to paint a picture, your pile feels like a tried and true timeless dark sexiness that we've seen in cinema and music videos throughout the years. There is range here though, I’m feeling anywhere between Morticia Adams to Effy from Skins. The allure of Hollywood’s bombshells mixed with the angst and self-guardedness of America’s outcasted teen icons. I’m seeing an emerald snake, if you’re into sidereal astrology you may have ashlesha placements. I could write an entire essay about the fucking bullshit you've endured and THRIVED FROM but this is already getting a lil lengthy lol. Just know that you are living testament to the saying “I get knocked down ten times but get up eleven.” Stay sexy pookie.

"You got your HP Lovecraft... your Edgar Allan Poe"

☀︎ Pile Four ☀︎ (high priestess, two of swords, 4 of pentacles, the empress, knight of pentacles, 10 of cups)

⇾ UHHHH THE DRAAMMAAA. Bae, the high priestess FLEW out. You’re angelic. No mf backtalk. I don’t know about the stereotypical angel, but something about your presence is otherworldly. So intense but hard to conceptualize, can’t classify your energy as anything less than angelic. People see you as something holy and righteous. A theme of fairness and divinity is strong here. I’m seeing the virgin (Virgo, purity) and a gavel (libra, balance and fairness.) Your energy is always in a state of balance and harmony. Temperance did not come out, but I’d bet my top dollar that it would have if I kept pulling. ⇾ I’m hearing a steady water stream and the flaps of bird wings. People come to you for peace and tranquility. Your aura is serene and healing. Being near you is like transporting to a haven with clean water, a sustainable garden, fresh air, and BUNNIES. An image of a ton of white bunnies just came to me. This is not an 18+ reading, so I won’t go into detail but bunnies represent fertility and high sexual energy. You have an abundance of creativity. The best representation of people’s attraction to you I can put into words is like seeing raw energy. There’s this movie that came out in 2017 called Annihilation and there’s a scene where the main character comes into contact with pure energy and is so entranced by it that she just stares at it head empty, blankly in complete awe. THAT is how people see you. Like c’mon high priestess, the empress, 10 of cups, don’t ever fucking question yourself. You have an undeniably divine aura. ⇾ You’re a big deal, you're energy is very enlightening and calm but there is a heavy weight to it. Everything you do in life makes an impression and holds weight. Your thoughts matter, your conversation changes lives, and your very presence makes an imprint on people’s souls. Virgo 6th house, libra 7th house, Scorpio 8th house, Pisces 12th house. ⇾ You also have a very stable, Earthy nature to you with the 4 of pentacles and the Empress. To me, this is pure wealth. You will see a lot of luxury in your lifetime. You are a giver, you have a lot to offer the world. You are the epitome of “fill my own cup and let it overflow to those around me.” You share your abundance and prosperity follows you. You have the divine understanding that life is all about balance and what you give, you receive tenfold. ⇾ People think you look really good in white. Blonde hair could be a good look on you. Any aesthetic that involves purity or innocence really suits you. Personally, I’d say you look fucking killer in red hair. ⇾ With the ten of cups, I’m getting major wish-fulfillment vibes. When suitors see you they hear an angelic chime in their ear (I hear it right now) and music starts playing. DREAM GIRL. By the strictest definition too, you’re very dreamy and your allure is cloudy, people are afraid if they touch you, you’ll float away. You could have prominent Neptune placements. Do you like to sing? Harmoney and melodic sounds keep popping up. I'm thinking of Euterpe, the muse of music. ⇾ Your abundance leaks into your appearance (look for aspects to your ascendant, especially Neptune, Jupiter, and the Sun), you look very youthful and hydrated. It’s going to sound creepy but from a biological, primal-lizard brain perspective, you look fruitful and like you'd bear many blessings and children. Your skin is well hydrated and plump, your hair is strong and luscious, and you look overall very healthy.

"Be Not Afraid."

ahhh that was so much fun! to those who resonated with a pile, thank you for giving me the pleasure of experiencing your energy and reading for you. if you liked it let me know :)

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L lawliet x Reader: domestic

Synopsis: A little fluff piece about L as a father and husband.

Word Count: ~1.2k

"dad, did you- did you know that, that when the ice goes away it's actually 'cause it's air now?"

L looks up in thought, at the vivid blue sky painted with fluffy white clouds. He was probably asking because the water in his sippy cup no longer had the ice from when he left.

"No, it's not. The ice absorbs the heat around it, and as it absorbs the heat, it melts into the water. Ice is water that has been frozen."

"...no, my teacher telled me."

"Told."

"My teacher told me."

"In what circumstance?"

The small child blinks, giant owl eyes peering up to meet the gentle gaze of equally giant owl eyes. "It's that- that the cirs-can-stand was that we put the ice on a pan and heated it up, and the ice turned into air."

"Ah, I see. When ice heats, it melts into water, and when water gets hot enough, it evaporates into steam."

"Yeah, it exasperated."

"Evaportated."

"Yeah."

L stops walking down the park path, and sits on a nearby bench. Quickly realizing his son was practically two apples tall, he lifted him up by his shoulders, and plopped him down next to him.

"Mama brusheded my hair this morning."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. But she says I got hair like you 'cause it doesn't sit right even if she puts the good gel in it."

L curls his legs up to his chest, and the small child imitates him. They ought to head home soon, you would be back from work in the hour. L's told you countless times that you could quit, but you always wave him off. "I'll be endlessly bored if I don't have any work to do," you'd say.

It was true, especially during the school year, when your son spent most of the day out. You were so hesitant to send him to pre-school, but L knew he'd only get into trouble without anything to entertain him.

"We do have similar hair types, yes."

"Dad, can I tell you something?"

L looks to the boy. So serious. He nods, a quick jerk of his head.

His son stands on the bench to whisper in his ear.

L cups the shell, and and leans in. The child circles his mouth with his small hands, and gets as close to L's ear as possible.

"I think that we can get ice cream before dinner without mama even knowing, cause she'll be out and about, and she won't even know that we got it."

L frowns. "Your mother is very adamant about her opinions of dessert before dinner."

"But she won't even know that we did."

"...I suppose...just this once."

He did make a very compelling argument.

L picks him up, and let's him rest on his hip, careful not to let any of his skin touch the fabric of his jeans. The poor thing would scream and cry at the feeling of jeans. L vaguely remembers having similar distastes to velvet.

He makes quick work of the walk to the ice cream parlor, the boy on his side pointing to everything he sees.

"Look! That's a brown-eared bulbul!"

"That's right."

"That cedar tree is taller than you."

"So it is."

"When mama was getting the groceries, she had a argument at that store and said we can't go in there anymore."

"Yes, they gave her a fee for using self check-out."

When they arrived at the shop, L orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream, and looks down at his mirror-image. "What would you like?"

The boy stands on his tiptoes, eyes peaking over the countertop to stare down the lady taking their order. "Uhhhhhhhhhh can I have....a....childses sized scoop...of...."

Christ.

"Chocolate ice cream? With gummy bears and gummy worms and rainbow sprinkles?"

L confirms the order, and the woman hurries off to scoop.

"The reason you put an 's' at the end of 'child' is to show that the word is possessive of the word following it. You do not need to say childses, because the word is singular, and the plural form of child's is children's."

"Okay."

He didn't understand.

The ice cream was served, and after paying, father and son went on their way home. Hopefully they had enough time to finish, clean up, and pretend nothing happened.

As soon as you arrived home, your son, clad in his favorite ducky pajamas, ran into your arms. He always put on his pajamas when he got home, he preferred the texture to any day clothes.

"Hi baby! How was your day?" You lifted him up, and pressed a thousand kisses to the side of his head.

L rounded the corner, barefoot with hands in his pockets, watching the domestic, picturesque sight.

"Good! Dad and I had secret ice cream."

Your eyes met L's, sharp. Uh Oh. "Is that right?"

"Mine had gummy bears and gummy worms and rainbow sprinkles!"

"That's nice, baby. Why don't you go play with your new blocks, isn't that fun?"

"'Cause you're holding me."

You set him down. "Go play!"

"Okay!"

And he runs off, leaving L alone with you.

"Ice cream?"

"It was his idea," he reasons.

"Our four year old's idea?"

"Yes." You raise a brow, he steps closer, and suddenly his hands are sliding up and down your hips. "He was very convincing. How was work?"

You fiddle with the hair on the nape of his neck. When did you put your arms on his shoulders?! "Fine," you scoff, crossing your arms. "You know how I feel about dessert before dinner!"

He takes your hands in his, and kisses your wrists.

"I missed you, my love."

Your face heats. "Cut it out, I'm serious!"

He kisses your cheek, pulling you into a tight, loving embrace. "I'll 'apologize' after dinner," he shrugs.

"..."

He pulls back to look at your face. His most beautiful wife, pouting because she's been bested once more.

"Don't let it happen again. I mean it, L Lawliet."

"Yes, of course."

He plants a kiss on your nose, then your lips, gentle but searing.

Somehow, your arms are on his shoulders again. You don't move them this time. "You're acting like you want another," you tease.

"Another might be nice."

"Another what," your son asks, grabbing at the fabric of your pant-leg. He was quiet when he wanted to be, wasn't he?

You pick him up, and kiss his cheek. "Another ice cream," you exclaim, your tone light and preformatory. "Too bad you can't have ice cream for the rest of the week."

"A week," L asks.

"Consequences," you shrug. You press your forehead to the boy's, and hold him still. "Never lie to your mama."

He giggles, and wiggles around until you set him down.

"A week is a little excessive," L murmurs, watching as his son runs back to his room.

"How does two sound? Better yet, no ice cream and no 'apologies' for two."

"A week is gracious of you."

You stretch, ready to start cooking dinner. Before you head for the kitchen, you smack his butt, and walk away. "Never lie to your wife," you warn, giving him a playfully stern smirk.

How he loved his life.

[crimsoncandy04]

Someone put the idea of angry masturbation into my head today so I'm gonna bless y'all with my power bottom Wanderer fantasies before bed because mama knows she's been neglectful but only because I've been working. Not because I don't care.

Here you go sweeties. Enjoy your food 🩵

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

You had just finished talking to Wanderer again that evening when suddenly he stormed off unexpectedly. You were immediately worried. You and Traveler had just been trying to get him to laugh a little. Did you go too far?

Maybe playfully poking his cheek, hugging him from behind trying to scare him or laying across his lap trying to hand him a bracelet you made for him when he didn't look at you was too much for him? He wasn't known to be very touchy.

Little did you know that this was FAR from the truth. And as Aether patted your back and tried to reassure you that Hat Guy was perfectly fine, a furious and very flustered indigo haired man was already far away. Hidden somewhere deep in the forest surrounding the house you had all been staying in where no one could find him easily.

As he began to pace angrily. Muttering swears to himself the entire time and struggling to calm down in more ways than one. Finally he gave in. Leaning back against a nearby tree. His breath came in ragged gasps, a mix of frustration and desire coursing through his veins.

He hated himself for it as he eyed the growing bulge in his shorts.

Such a disgusting thing. He hated that he had it sometimes but only because it got in the way. Like now...

He cursed under his breath again, his fingers trembling as he reluctantly began to untie his belt.

"Damn it all," he muttered, his voice a low growl.

"Why her? Why this...hunger?" His mind was a battleground, torn between his pride and the undeniable pull he felt towards you. You were so... appealing...in ways he'd never believed a woman could be.

It pissed him off every time he felt that warmth in him when you spoke or when you... when you touched him...

His hand moved with a mind of its own then, stroking the length of his cock. Each touch sent waves of pleasure through him, but it was tinged with bitterness. He imagined you, your eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and lust, your lips curved in a playful smirk that drove him wild. He could almost hear your voice, soft and teasing, as you whispered his name and began to undress for him.

"Wanderer...~"

In his mind's eye, he saw you straddling him, your body moving with a rhythm that was both seductive and commanding. Taking what you wanted, using him for your pleasure, and he found himself helpless to resist. The image was so vivid, so intoxicating, that he could feel the heat building in his loins, the pressure growing with each stroke.

He could feel your cunt squeezing him. Enveloping him like a sinful hug that made every inch of his body scream for more as you forced him to feel good and fill your womb with his seed.

Wanderer's breath hitched as he imagined your nails digging into his chest, your head thrown back in ecstasy. The sight of you, so uninhibited and wild, pushed him over the edge. With a low groan, he felt himself come violently, his body shuddering with the force of his release. For a moment, he was lost in the sensation, his mind blank except for the image of you cumming with him as his cool cum spurted onto his fingers and the grass below.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, he leaned his head back against the tree, his chest heaving. He felt a mix of satisfaction and self-loathing.

"Curse you," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Curse you for making me feel this way. I hate you so much..." But even as he said the words and pictured your face, he felt himself getting hard again.

Shit. This would take a while.

He hated how much power you had over him. And he despised how much he wanted you to use him.

[theanimeroom]

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

💎 bf!toge inumaki who uses his cursed speech on you while eating you out. this wasn’t the first time you’d requested this out of him, but alas, he was too worried about hurting you. he’d seen the things that he was capable of when he got too reckless, and the last thing he wanted to do was turn you into a vegetable.

“bonito flakes,” his voice was stern, shaking his head adamantly as you stood in front of him with a pout. you could tell by the look in his eye that he wasn’t willing to budge on the matter, but you weren’t very keen on giving up. you asked him day after day, only to be met with the same response.

you’d understood inumaki’s concern completely. even you had gotten a glimpse of the destruction he could cause if he ever said the wrong thing, but you couldn’t help the way that your thighs instinctively squeezed together to relieve the pressure building between your legs every time.

you’d linger in the back of the group at the end of every mission, eyes staring holes into the back of the man’s head as you tried not to get consumed by the rather scandalous thoughts that plagued you.

the constant stream of images kept you from being able to let go, growing more insistent and vivid every time he ended up between your legs.

the knot in your stomach would strain, the brief thought of his husky voice filling your ears never failing to send you spiraling.

“toge…” the gasp slipped from you before you could stop it, eyes rolling as your back lurched from the bed. your fingers found purchase in the strands of hair that covered his eyes, giving you a full view of the violet hues. he peered up at you, marked tongue swiping between your folds as you tried to keep your body still, per his request.

"bonito flakes," he said as he pushed your trembling thighs open once more. you muttered out an apology as you tried to remain still, but you just had too much trouble following the man's instructions.

your hips launched off of the mattress as his lips curled around your engorged bud, sucking lightly before his hand reached around to tuck itself under your leg. a firm press on your lower stomach followed by a soft “tuna,” left you whimpering.

“m’ trying,” you whimpered, yet you couldn’t stop your body from jerking each time his lips connected with your puffy clit. it was too much, it felt like you’d been close for hours. a soft moan from inumaki went straight to your cunt, hips instinctively rolling into the warmth of his mouth. you wanted to come, wanted to coat his face in your arousal until his lips and nose were glistening. a brief dip of the man’s head allowed him to lick at your sopping entrance, a firm lick upwards sending the tip of his nose bumping into the sensitive bud. “oh my fucking-”

desperation seeped through your veins as you squeezed your legs together so tight your knees grazed each other, effectively trapping the purple eyed man in your heat.

his hand grasped your thigh tightly, groaning as his source of oxygen was suddenly cut off. another throaty moan slipping into the air at the vibration, you rocked your hips into the man’s face. foregoing his ability to breathe, you chased your high with fervor, the feeling of needles pricking at your skin a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. inumaki’s mouth slipped open, licking a fat stripe against your cunt rough enough to make your legs shiver, the grip loosening just enough to force them back open.

your brows furrowed deeply as he finally managed to pull away, breathing labored as you chased the feeling of his lips and tongue against you. a desperate whine was the last thing you heard before toge’s usually soft hands dug into the back of both your thighs, pushing the limbs as far apart as they could reach until-

“don’t move.”

the words flooded your system, eyes shooting open to bulge as wide as saucers when your body froze in place. with a heavy pulse your cunt leaked against the bed, arousal covering every last inch of your being as you attempted to curl your fingers, only to be met with no movement. your gaze shot down to the man between your legs, breathing growing even more labored when you immediately met his eye. he was observing you, trying to make sure that you were okay, but the sight of those violet irises and marked tongue left you with limited vocabulary.

“please,” was the only thing you could manage, eyes begging silently for him to drag you over the edge and into the depths of pleasure. at your approval inumaki dove back in, eyes never leaving your face as you watched him eat you out to his hearts content. where your legs would usually shaking and body convulsing, you could only mewl as you were forced to take it, eyes glazing over as two fingers slowly traced your entrance, collecting your arousal around the digits before easing their way inside of you.

another moan permeated the air as they reached the second knuckle, inumaki once again wrapping his lips around your clit before curling his fingers in your warmth.

the pressure would have launched you off the bed had you not been compelled, expletives leaving you left and right as you felt the knot in your stomach starting to unravel.

“gonna… gonna come!!” you’d moan, face contorting as that was the only part of your body that you still had control over. you felt him pull his face away for a moment, eyes peeling open just long enough to watch him stare up at you. he curled his fingers until they were fucking your g-spot, gaze never leaving you as he flexed his jaw. it looked like he wanted to say something, contemplation written on his visage until he seemingly made his decision. holding your attention as he pressed soft kisses along your inner thigh, you held your breath when his swollen lips parted slightly.

you briefly wondered what would come out of his mouth; tuna? salmon? or maybe he would just say-

“come.”

the word was firm and commanding, your mind barely having time to comprehend it before immense pleasure crashed through you in waves. his tone ran. straight between your legs, his usual tone being replaced by something deeper, darker. it reminded you of all the times you'd heard him during battle, forcing his words into their mind before they could even react. you could barely breathe with the way his fingers prodded against you, the pace only quickening as you cried out for him. “toge!”

“harder.”

it felt like his voice was echoing in your mind, it permeated your senses, leaving your body as a vessel for him to take advantage of. the thought made your head spin and pussy throb.

“FUCK,” you could barely keep up as the world started rotating around you. your body felt like it was cracking under pressure, mind and body numbing from pleasure. your legs shook instinctively, tears staining your waterline when his tongue started to lap against your clit once more. you pleaded softly, begging your arms to move so you could wrap your fingers around his soft tufts of hair. "s'too much.."

his movements slowed when your breathing started to sound too labored, you staring at the back of your eyelids until inumaki's voice broke through your haze.

“mustard leaf?”

there’s your sweet boy. you whimpered as he lowered your legs back down, a surprised grunt escaping when you tried to shift your body, your mind actually taking over control of your limbs once more.

a small, fatigued smile crossed your face, looking down at him with drowsy eyes. “i’m okay, baby.”

inumaki watched you for another few seconds as you caught your breath, making sure that you weren’t just trying to placate him before climbing towards the top of the bed. you gazed at him as his eyes ran from yours all the way down your body, a brush of his lower half against your upper leg reminding you that you were in fact not done for the night.

inumaki grinned as he took in your expression, placing a soft kiss against your lips before peering back at you.

“salmon.”