#letting him go probably was hit for his ego and/or feelings

[elllisaaa]

seventeen as two feet songs - hhu vers.

-> pairing : seventeen hhu x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.9k words

-> genre : smut, angst

-> warnings : depiction of toxic relationships, oral (f. receiving), riding, unprotected sex, hate sex, use of 'brat' & 'slut', hair pulling, doggystyle, cursing, spanking, begging, sub/dom dynamics, handjob, choking, jealousy & possessiveness, alcohol consumption

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist | 1k event masterlist

hhu vers. | vu vers. | pu vers.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - QUICK MUSICAL DOODLES

"you remember, you remember my love"

→ Ending a relationship was never easy, and it was even more difficult when you were parting ways because of something that was out of your control. Because your love story with Seungcheol didn’t end because you stopped loving him, or that he did, but because of his company. So when he crossed paths with you at the birthday party of a common friend, it was like he was struck by thunder, he didn’t hesitate to try and make things right. 

“- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby…”

You answered with a whine, pulling on his strand of hair to push his head back in between your thighs. And he immediately went back to it : his tongue lapping at your juices hungrily, his teeth occasionally scraping at your sensitive clit and his fingers teasing your entrance. Despite all this time apart, he still knew how to please you, how to make you feel insane. 

“- Cheol… Fuck, don’t stop…”

He hummed against your folds, keeping up the pace he knew you liked so much. Because he missed you, missed your taste and the sounds you made, missed your hands in his hair and the way you moaned his name. 

“- Go on, princess, cum on my face.”

"our love is burnt, our love is burnt in the sun"

→ When you were still together, you were often visiting Seungcheol when he worked late in his studio. And you knew it was bad to pick up that habit again, but you just couldn’t help it. You needed him, even if you only got half of what you really wanted. 

“- Shit… You feel so good princess…”

That old nickname still made your insides swirl, still made you feel like the most special person of his life. You closed your eyes as you started to rock your hips back and forth on top of him, holding onto his muscular shoulders for support. And you loved the way he looked, abandoned to the pleasure. And he loved the way you looked, blissed out in between his arms. 

“- I missed you…”

His words shouldn’t have hurt you that much, and you shouldn’t have let it hurt you that much. So you leaned in to kiss him, in hopes it would stop your thoughts and worries. Because you knew for a fact that Seungcheol wasn’t ready to let go of his career for you. But he felt too good to let him go. 

“- I’m so close Cheol…”

As you fell apart on top of him, Seungcheol felt like he was alive again. But he knew very well that this couldn’t last. But he was like a butterfly inexorably attracted by light : he couldn’t stop.

JEON WONWOO - LOST THE GAME

"i won’t fight with you girl, know that you’re right and know that i’m wrong"

→ Wonwoo wasn’t one to hate people, or even to dislike them. His friends would say he was too nice, you would probably say that he was too naive. Because the problem laid there : you. You were his problem, the one that kept him awake at night because of how infuriating you were. 

“- You can’t always be right Y/N, your ego is showing.”

He felt quite proud of the way you seemed offended by his comment, because you needed a reality check in his opinion. 

“- My ego ? Quite bold to say that when you’re the one who can’t help but brag about everything he ever did.”

Just like he always knew what to say to anger you, you always knew how to hit a nerve too. And Wonwoo hated how easy it was for you to make him feel like he was going insane just listening to your reproaches. And it was such a shame to have a personality as bad as yours when you looked too pretty to be looked at. If only you weren’t so damn annoying. 

“- Well, unlike you, I do something with my life.”

This time, you didn’t let it slide, and Wonwoo knew you wouldn’t. He was ready for the way you would scream at him, or even try to slap him across his face. But he sure wasn’t ready for the way you grabbed him by his collar and kissed him. But for once, he didn’t put up a fight, and it didn’t matter if he lost. 

"and what can i do ? i know it’s over, ‘cause i lost the game, i can’t get lower"

→ “- You’re just a fucking brat with an attitude. As soon as you get my cock you become a slut, don’t you ?”

You wanted to answer, you really wanted to talk back like you always did, but the way Wonwoo had you bent over the couch, his cock hitting all the right places, rendered you unable to say anything more than a mumbled string of incoherent words. 

“- Where did that big mouth of yours go, babygirl ?

- S-Shut up…”

A harsh slap landed on your ass, and your voice broke as you moaned louder. It was really a crime that such a madenning guy was also the most handsome man you had ever seen, and quite possibly the best fuck you’ve ever had. 

“- That’s not what good girls say when they want cum.”

You were not one to beg, you never begged for anyone before in your life. But the way Wonwoo made you feel, the way he seemed to be able to please you without even trying drove you insane. And Wonwoo didn’t like your lack of immediate response, his fingers tangling in between your strands of hair and pulling on it harshly. His lips brushed against your ear as he sped up the rhythm of his thrusts, his low groans turning you on even more. 

“- Answer, slut. 

- Please… Please let me cum.”

And as Wonwoo made you fall apart on his dick, you really wondered who had lost the game in the end. 

KIM MINGYU - TELL ME THE TRUTH

"i feel myself go insane, i’ve got a lot i cannot say"

→ Mingyu had never been good at separating sex from feelings. Every time he tried that friends with benefits thing, or even just had a one night stand, he couldn’t help but catch feelings for the girl. He just couldn’t help it, he was a romantic at heart after all. But when you made out with him, a little bit drunk at a party, and you asked him if he wanted to finish the night at yours, he said yes. And that’s where it all started.

“- What did I say ? Hands off, baby…”

Mingyu whined, but he still obeyed and put his hand back onto the mattress, letting you slowly jerk him off, fully naked on top of him. This wasn’t how your friendship was supposed to go, but was he really mad about it when you had his eyes rolling to the back of his head as soon as you wrapped your lips around his tip ?

“- Oh my god… Y/N…”

He heard your borderline mocking chuckles, but he didn’t care how desperate he looked : you made him melt with just one look, he just couldn’t resist you. 

“- You like that ? You like it when I take care of you.”

Mingyu nodded eagerly, thrusting his hips up into the tight ring of your fist, loving your hands on him a bit too much. So much that he knew he was falling for you. So much that he knew he had to do something about it before he lost it. 

"so tell me the truth, my baby, baby, is it me, is it you ?"

→  “- Can I come over tonight ? I miss you…”

This phone call had become a regular occurrence, maybe too much. But Mingyu couldn’t say no to you, he just couldn’t, even if every time he woke up to an empty bed and the scent of your perfume lingering on his sheets broke his heart a little more. Still, he let you come over whenever you wanted to.

“- What’s going on with you today Gyu ? You seem… Out of it.”

Your hands were still cupping his cheeks, and you were looking at him with such genuine worry in your eyes that Mingyu wanted to tell you the truth. But he could still feel your lipgloss coating his own lips from your hungry kisses, and he didn’t know if he was ready to risk losing that. 

“- It’s nothing.

- It is. I know you, don’t lie to me.”

As if that would convince him to talk, you leaned down to put your lips on his again. Mingyu’s hands tightened around your waist, fully pulling you down on his lap and making you both moan from the pressure. 

“- I think I’m in love with you…

- You just had to say that, baby.”

Your honey-like voice seeped into him like venom, intoxicating and addicting. Yeah, he was never going to be able to move on from you, and he didn’t want to, and you didn’t want him to either. 

CHWE HANSOL - HAD SOME DRINKS

"i know you’re mine to lose, don’t give a fuck, yeah actually, i do"

→ Hansol knew from the start that you were a baddie, a girl that he couldn’t keep all for himself. You were a social butterfly, and you always needed to live new adventures, to meet new people, to do new things. One day, that new thing was him, and the next, it was someone else. And Hansol tried really hard to convince himself that it didn’t bother him, but actually, it did. 

“- You’re being ridiculous right now, I owe you nothing.”

Your words hit sharper than they should have. Hansol knew he had no right feeling jealous over you flirting with another guy when he was the one who heavily insisted on your relationship staying “casual”. He had no right to but he still felt jealous. He still felt like he was going insane only looking at you smiling at someone else. 

“- You owe me nothing but I’m the first one you call when you need someone to fuck you right, uh ? Tell me, does he know that you like to be treated like a slut ? Does he know how dumb you go when I wrap my hand around your throat just like this ?”

Hansol wasn’t one for public demonstration usually, but the way you couldn’t help but bite down on your lips and close your eyes as he squeezed around your neck made him forget about everything else. 

“- Hansol… 

- You know damn right it’s my name you’ll be screaming tonight and not his.”

"i had some drinks and said some things to you"

→ You were used to drinking, obviously, but you were still surprised by how much your whole world started to spin when you had too many drinks, by how easy it was for you to laugh about anything in that state. And apparently, it was also very easy to fall back into Hansol’s arms, even after his little scene from last week.

“- You’re wasted, Y/N.

- And you’re really, really handsome…”

You noticed a hint of a smile stretching out the corners of his lips but it didn’t last long as he stood up to support your wobbly legs.

“- I’m gonna take you home, you’re not even walking straight anymore.”

Maybe you should have fought him, maybe you should have gone and found your friend to go home with her instead. Maybe you should have because you knew you couldn’t be trusted about what you said when you were drunk. But you didn’t do any of that and you let Hansol pick you up on his back to get you home.

“- You know… I wouldn’t really mind being yours…”

Hansol didn’t answer. But he didn’t need to - you could feel his hands squeezing your thighs, and you could hear his heart beat faster. And he hoped you would remember this in the morning. 

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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[writeonwhiskey]

summer in seoul: ch 12

a/n: sorry this took a little while! enjoy! word count: 3.8k

After a quick breakfast, Felix, Han, Lee Know and Jeongin are leading you out of the building. You all quickly duck inside the waiting car, and it takes off without them mentioning the destination at all.

You glance around at them, trying not to feel out of place, and take in how they’re dressed—caps pulled low, sunglasses, face masks. It reminds you of how Chris always dresses when you’re out in public together.

You now know the reason behind it. But they don’t know you’re in on the secret yet, which only makes the whole group cosplay even funnier.

“You all feeling under the weather or something?” you ask innocently.

They exchange a quick look.

“Just…sensitive to sunlight,” Felix mutters, tugging his bucket hat lower.

“Seasonal allergies,” Han adds with a sniff for emphasis.

“I have pimple,” Jeongin says.

Lee Know just shrugs.

You bite back a smile. “Right.”

You let them off easy, leaning back into the seat. Throughout the ride, Felix talks to you the most—he seems to take you under his wing, knowing it’s easier for you to communicate with him—but the others do their best to make you feel included, too.

“You guys going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“It’s a secret,” Han says.

“You’ll like it,” Felix assures you.

You eye him suspiciously. “Why does everyone here seem to like secrets so much?”

“It’s not bad,” Jeongin replies.

“Chan said to keep you entertained,” Han adds with a shrug. “So that’s what we’re doing.”

There’s a brief pause before you respond. “So I’m basically being babysat by the local welcome committee?”

“Exactly that,” Felix nods, “and we offer snacks.”

You laugh quietly. “Do you guys always hang out like this? You don’t have to go to work or anything?”

Another shared look—slightly awkward. They let Felix take the lead.

“We’ve got pretty similar schedules,” he says. “But, yeah, we do spend a lot of our free time together.”

“Well, thanks for letting me tag along. I appreciate it. I probably would’ve just stayed in the hotel room all day.”

“We couldn’t let that happen,” Han says.

“Yeah,” Felix grins, glancing out the window. “You’re in Seoul. You’re obligated to at least try a claw machine.”

“Claw machine?” you repeat. “Are we going to an arcade?”

The car begins to slow, pulling into a narrow side street lined with colorful signage and a glowing neon arrow pointing toward an underground arcade.

Han shoots you a grin. “Ready to lose?”

You huff. They have no idea how competitive you are.

“Let’s do this.”

You follow them down the stairs into the dimly lit space. It’s packed full of flashing lights and whirring machines, and smells faintly of popcorn and cotton candy. But there’s hardly anyone inside, and when the boys take off their face masks you can only assume they either come here enough to know it’s dead on a Sunday or they’ve rented out the entire place. You hope for the former.

“Do you want a card or tokens?” Felix asks, already making a beeline for the machine at the entrance.

“I’ll win with either,” you reply.

Felix laughs, swiping a game card and handing it to you. “Confidence. I like it.”

Jeongin is already gone, halfway across the room in front of a basketball hoop game. He waves Lee Know over.

“Time to crush this kids ego.” Lee Know cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders.

You watch as the two of them start a head-to-head round, the machine lighting up with a countdown. Felix pulls you toward a claw machine nearby with rows of pastel plushies and keychains stacked inside.

“You have to call which one you’re going for,” Felix says.

“The bunny,” you tell him.

“I’m getting this bear,” he points to it.

“We’ll see.”

You and Felix choose separate machines and swipe your cards. As the claw dangles and jerks around inside, you go quiet to focus. You nudge it to the left, hold your breath, and press the drop button. The claw lowers, catches onto the pale blue bunny, lifts—and just before it hits the edge of the chute, it drops.

“Nooo,” you groan.

“That’s how they get you,” Han suddenly reappears at your side with a bucket of popcorn.

Felix’s first attempt isn’t any better. His claw completely misses its target.

“Okay, okay that was just a warm-up round,” Felix announces as you both slide your cards again.

Two attempts later, you manage to finally snag the bunny. It drops into the prize chute and you jump up and down, hands raised in the air.

“Damn, bro,” Han says, shaking his head at Felix. “Can you beat anyone in any game?”

Felix looks mildly betrayed. “It’s all luck sometimes.”

You smile sweetly, holding the bunny to him. “For your efforts.”

“A souvenir of my shame, you mean,” he mutters, but he grins as he takes it.

By the time you’ve all made the rounds—air hockey, racing simulators, shooting games—your competitive streak has flared and your card balance is dangerously low. Lee Know crushed Jeongin in four basketball games in a row. Han’s surprisingly good at Dance Dance revolution and Felix set a high score on the punching machine with a spinning back kick that had your jaw on the floor.

Somewhere between rounds, Lee Know disappears and returns with bottled water and kimbap for everyone.

“You guys are seriously good hosts,” you tell him as he hands you one.

“Chan would want us to keep you alive,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, he would definitely hurt us if we didn’t make sure you were adequately fed and hydrated,” Felix agrees.

“Is he your leader or something?”

They freeze for half a second—just long enough to notice.

Han recovers first. “He’s more like…our very stressed out parent.”

You narrow your eyes at them, but they’re already pretending to be very interested in their food. It’s obvious they’re deflecting, but there’s something kind of endearing about the way they do it. They obviously want to make sure you have a good time, but they’re under the impression they are protecting Chris’s secret.

“Well your dad-friend raised some very chaotic sons.”

“Thank you,” Felix says brightly. “We try.”

The rest of the afternoon is spent stopping by a few shops, the guys convincing you to try on things you never would’ve picked for yourself. Somewhere between a pair of oversized sunglasses and a bright patterned jacket, you stop resisting and lean into the mayhem with them. They’re relentless, but also surprisingly good at picking things that actually suit you.

By the time you all pile back into the car, you’re carrying a modest haul—though nothing compared to the bags Felix has. Back at the apartment building, Lee Know and Jeongin head off to their own place, each juggling a few bags.

Felix passes them his own, “You know where my closet is, thanks.”

Lee Know rolls his eyes, but Jeongin does his best to take all the bags in his hands.

Inside the apartment, you see Seungmin and Changbin seated at the dining table, casually flipping through their phones—and across from them sits someone you haven’t seen before. At least, not in person.

There’s something about him that immediately commands attention. His hair is pulled half-up, half-down, with loose strands framing his face. This must be the member that was in Milan for a fashion show. That phrase still doesn’t feel normal to even think.

He’s dressed in what could technically be called casual wear, but it’s fucking Versace. He makes it look both laid-back and runway ready at the same time. He glances up from his phone and when his eyes land on you, he smiles.

“You’re back already,” Felix says. “y/n, this is Hyunjin. Hyunjin, y/n—Chan’s friend.”

Hyunjin gives a small, polite nod and a casual wave. “Hey.”

You return the gesture.

“Didn’t expect you back so early today,” Han says.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin shrugs. “I slept like five hours in two different airports. I’m running on caffeine and vibes, right now.”

“You’re thriving, sweetie,” Changbin reassures him.

When Lee Know and Jeongin return, everyone decides to play charades. The next hour passes in a blur of ridiculous guesses, reenactments and accusations of cheating. You’re in the middle of trying to guess Han’s elaborate pantomime of…a chicken…a rocket ship…you have no idea, when Felix turns to look at you with a frown.

“Chan’s not gonna make it back tonight.”

“Oh.” You try not to let the disappointment show. “Everything okay?”

“Just work stuff,” he says. “But he said to make sure you get back to your hotel safely.”

The news puts a slight damper on the mood, but you finish out the game with them anyway. When they invite you to stay for dinner, you politely decline.

Felix insists on riding with you back to the hotel, chatting casually during the drive—nothing important, just easy conversation that keeps your mind from wandering too far.

Even without Chris, the day didn’t feel like a waste. If anything, it gave you a clearer understanding that they’re so much more than just a group. They’re connected in a way that’s hard to describe—a closeness that seems deeply earned. A kind of found-family bond.

When the car pulls up to your hotel, you turn to Felix with a smile.

“Thanks for today. Really.”

He nods. “Anytime.”

You pause with your hand on the door, then glance at him again. “You’re definitely, like, the second coolest member of Stray Kids.”

His mouth drops open—realizing you’d been fucking with them the entire day with your questioning. Before he can respond, you stick your tongue out and hop out of the car, shutting the door with a grin.

The window rolls down a second later.

“Not cool, y/n.”

The following day, after your author’s meeting, you still haven’t heard from Chris. As you go over your notes from the meeting, you can’t keep your mind from drifting to thoughts of him.

You wonder why he texted Felix about not being able to come back yesterday and not you, if everything’s really fine, what exactly pulled him away—what’s kept him away all this time. And then you remind yourself, as gently as possible, that it’s not your place to worry like this.

You try to reduce it to simple human compassion. The same empathy you’d feel for any friend going through a rough time.

Still, that doesn’t dull the ache of how far away he suddenly feels. Before you think too deeply about it, you pull out your laptop and type their group name into YouTube. You tell yourself it’s only to understand more about the world Chris calls reality. But it’s just blatant curiosity at this point.

To your surprise there’s an endless supply of content: music videos, live stages, interviews, behind-the-scenes clips, and even game shows. Each one feels more surreal than the last. You fall into a two-hour rabbit hole, slack-jawed as you watch the very same boys you spent yesterday with (and Chris, whom you’ve fucked), send their fans into a frenzy merely by existing.

It's jarring, trying to mesh the different versions of them all together.

Just as you pull up a live stream of a 4th of July firework show back home, your phone buzzes. You can’t stop the wave of relief that washes over you, seeing his name.

Hwarang [8:27pm] Hey

You don’t hesitate to reply. 

You [8:28pm] Hey. You okay?

Hwarang [8:30pm] I’ll be fine You busy?

You glance up at the fireworks bursting on your screen. You’re the exact opposite of busy. 

You [8:31pm] Not at all.

As soon as the two checkmarks next to your message turn blue, your phone starts to ring. You nearly drop it out of shock—he’s never called you before. You clear your throat, press the answer button and place the phone against your ear. 

“I’m sorry,” he says as soon as the line connects, his voice soft and low.

“For what?” 

“Goin’ MIA again.”

You remain silent for a moment. Given the parameters of your ‘relationship’, this is supposed to be something you both find fun. He’s not supposed to feel bad for being preoccupied. However, you do appreciate his acknowledgement. 

“Work comes first, you don’t need to apologize.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I wanted to text you but I was in such a shitty mood I didn’t want any of it to rub you the wrong way.”

“You’ve only ever rubbed me the right way, Chris,” you tease.

He chuckles. “Can I come see you?”

“Now?”

A knock at your door startles you once again. You immediately know it can’t be a coincidence.

“Chris…” you trail off, walking towards the door. 

“Hmmm?”

You pull the door open to reveal Chris, masked up and leaning against the wall next to the doorframe. 

“I was in the neighborhood,” he smiles, looking at you as he continues speaking into his phone.

“Uh-huh,” you say, stepping aside and allowing him to enter. 

He takes his shoes off and continues into the room, finally hanging up the phone and sliding it onto the table. He takes off his backpack, then removes his mask and tosses his hat next to his phone. He then brings you in for a hug, squeezing you tightly for longer than necessary, but you don’t mind. 

“You hungry? Thirsty?” you ask when he releases you. 

“I’m good,” he sits down at the small table. He glances at the video playing on your laptop and you promptly shut it. 

“Feeling a little homesick today,” you mumble with a shrug. 

“What would you have been doing today if you were home?” He inquires, pushing the other chair out at the table for you to sit. 

“I would have helped my mom host her annual barbecue and gorged myself on hamburgers and hot dogs, set off fireworks—the typical celebrations,” you reply, taking a seat. 

“Sounds fun…sorry you have to miss it,” he replies earnestly. 

“There’s always next year.”

A silence falls over you as he leans back in the chair, stroking his chin with his pointer finger. He seems to slip away for a moment. 

“What were your worst-case scenario picks?” you ask.

“Huh?” He arches an eyebrow, then it clicks. “Oh…well, the first one was that all of our fans would riot and hate me for breaking a promise.”

You nod, encouraging him to keep going, happy he actually partook in the exercise.

“The second was that another groups image would be irreparably damaged by some careless things I said.”

“Do you mind sharing what actually happened?” 

You don’t want him to feel like you’re prying, but his worst-case scenarios leave much to be considered.

He falls quiet again, and for a moment you worry you’ve overstepped, but then he continues.

“I have this weekly live stream I do with our fans—Chan’s Room…”

You nod, showing him you’re listening. But you hope your face doesn’t give away the fact that you watched clips of it before he arrived.

“It was going strong for a couple of years, too. I mentioned another group in a backhanded sort of way and a few groups they assumed I was talking about, were bombarded with unwarranted hate.”

You have no clue how deep their fandom goes, but it sounds like they’re ready to fight for him at the drop of a dime. 

“And the future of the weekly stream has been up in the air right now. I’ve apologized, tried to make things right, but…it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to keep doing it.”

“And you enjoyed them?” you ask, curiously. 

“I loved it,” he replies with a sullen smile. “I got to connect with our fans every Sunday and talk with them, catch up with them, joke with them…it made us closer, I think.”

“So it’s canceled? The decision is final?”

“It’s not official, but after yesterday’s meeting I know it will be eventually.”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry, Chris.” You reach out, squeezing his knee gently.

He gives a half-assed shrug, but you can see right through him. The tension in his jaw. The flicker of pain in his eyes. “Life goes on.”

“C’est la vie.” 

His lip quirks up. “English, Korean, and French, eh?”

“I’m just full of surprises,” you smirk.

“Speaking of…” he leans back slightly. “Do you know the exact date you leave?”

You narrow your eyes at the shift. “Yes…but I’m not sure I should tell you now.”

“I’m not planning anything crazy,” he says, though his grin is suspicious. “When do you leave?”

“Says the man who arranged a full itinerary and sunset dinner cruise?”

His grin only grows. “When?”

You sigh. “The 18th.”

“And what meetings do you have lined up?”

You cross your arms. “You are up to something.”

“Come on…” he pleads. “I just want to know when I’ll have you to myself again. I’m out of town for a couple days, then I’m back for a bit. After that…”

“I’m gone,” you attempt to complete his sentence. 

“Well, I was gonna say I’ll be performing at Lollapalooza,” he smirks, “but yeah, that too. Of course. Absolutely.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m busy on the 10th and 17th.”

“Noted,” he says, tapping his temple. 

He suddenly reaches out, grabbing the arm of your chair and dragging it toward him.

“I leave tomorrow morning,” he announces, resting his hands on your thighs. 

“You should probably head home and get some sleep, then.” 

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I’d rather be right here. Besides, we were interrupted last time.”

You place your hands over his and lean in. “Did you come to my room to cash in on a promised blowjob?”

He doesn’t flinch—just grips your thighs and pulls you forward until you’re straddling him.

“That’s one idea.”

He stands with you still wrapped around him, lips brushing yours as he walks the two of you to the bed. He lays you down, crawling over you.

“I need to keep my mind busy, right now, though.”

His mouth crashes to yours hungrily. The fire between you reignites instantly, your legs lock around his waist, your hands slipping beneath his shirt, nails raking across his back.

He pulls away and yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, then drops to his knees on the floor. His fingers dig into your hips as he drags you to the edge of the bed.

“You gonna miss me?” He asks, lips ghosting kisses along your thigh.

“Do you want me to?” you ask, looking down at him. 

He pauses. “Yes.”

“Alright…let’s see if you can make me miss you.” You challenge him. 

He lowers his head between your thighs without another word. His tongue parts your folds, then he purses his lips together as if he’s going to whistle to blow cool air onto your pussy, causing your hips to jolt upwards.

You grip his hair, tugging him forward. He groans as he devours you, mouth sealed to your pussy, tongue moving in tight circles. His hand pushes against your stomach, encouraging you to lie back. You obey, shuddering as he explores you. When he slips two fingers inside, your body arches in response.

“Chris—fuck—”

His rhythm is relentless. His lips, his fingers, his moans all drive you toward the edge, your eyes flutter shut. You cup your breasts, whining and moaning as he alternates between giving you what you desire and teasing you. 

You grab his hand on your stomach and try to force him up.

“You want me to stop?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you reply.

In a blur, he’s above you again, stripping off his clothes. You fumble with his jeans, the urgency between you palpable. His gaze is fixed on yours as he positions himself at your opening. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him down to kiss you, thrusting your hips forward to take him inside. You moan and bite on his bottom lip as he pulls away.

His gaze locks on yours as he pushes his hips forward at an achingly slow rate. You gasp at the stretch, at the feel of him.

“You gonna miss me?” He asks again, eyes teasing you just as much as his cock. 

You press your lips firmly together. Partially just to be defiant, but you also don’t want to lie to yourself or him. You can’t miss him. 

He thrusts deeper, lips brushing yours. He starts off slow and sensual at first, then faster, harder. His thumb finds your clit, circling as he fucks you.

Your moans grow louder, your hips raising to meet his each time. He presses his forehead against yours. Having him inside you right now is no different than any of the other times, but a feeling is brewing that you cannot shake.

“Come for me, y/n,” he whispers. “I want to feel it.”

He straightens and you watch, entranced, as he continues thrusting his hips back and forth, still teasing your clit. But the way he’s staring at you is unnerving. You feel like you’re on a runaway train heading straight for trouble.

But if you’re being honest, you’ve known this since the fucking dinner cruise and haven’t really done a single thing to stop it. 

You sense your release approaching and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you again, wanting him as close as possible. You bury your face against his chest as you cry out his name. He groans as he comes, too, his body trembling with the force of it.

He stays there, slumped against you, catching his breath. He presses kisses to your face, your jaw, your forehead. The air is thick with sweat, sex, and a raw need that neither of you want to acknowledge.

“What time is your flight?” you whisper. 

“7:00am.” 

“Are you sleeping here?”

“I shouldn’t…I still need to pack.”

You nod. He kisses you once more before rolling out of bed. You watch him dress, your body still humming with pleasure.

True to character, he disappears into the bathroom and returns with a warm towel to clean you up with gentle care. 

“I’ll text—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off. “When you say it, I expect it. Just…keep in touch if you have time. If you want.”

He nods with a small smile. “Deal.”

He finishes cleaning up his mess on you and you take the towel from him.

You walk him to the door, waiting as he puts on his backpack, then his hat, then his mask. When his shoes are on, too, he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“Have a safe flight,” you murmur against his lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, nuzzling your nose before finally pulling away. He releases you and opens the door, stepping into the hall. “So you gonna miss me or what?”

“Bye, Christopher,” you deadpan and shut the door in his face. 

a/n: when i was editing this, i realized i used the "runaway train" line back in 2023 when i originally wrote this and i was like hmmm should i take this line out? is to too on the nose with the release of railway?? but it made the cut hehe. [ read chapter thirteen here ] (coming soon)

taglist: @hanniesbubuwife / @valworld17 / @luckyroll3 / @fancybarbii / @mlink64 / @ehstay / @gncbnahc / @no1likeneo / @beppybeesnuggets / @lattyjiji / @akindaflora / @spookiesakura

[jakeytkiszka]

No Saints

4.2k words.

warnings: enemies to lovers, yelling, crying, hurt feelings, bruised egos, talks of feelings, SMUT– 18+ ONLY, oral (m. and f. rec.), sex, dirty talk, sleeping with the boss type shit, lemme know if I missed any!

Masterlist

——————————————————————————

If someone had told you that you would be working your dream job on tour with a band, you would have laughed. And if they would've told you that you would be working backstage for Greta Van fucking Fleet, you would have laughed even harder, probably until you cried.

But here you were, running around every show like a chicken with its head cut off, ensuring the band was ready, the outfits were right, and they weren't setting something on fire.

You think your favorite was probably Sammy. All goofy jokes and late night conversations about anything and everything. Josh was always down to talk about something whimsical while you sewed the hem of his jumpsuit. Danny was just quiet, laid back and always so easy to chat with.

And Jake.

Jake was… something else.

Irritating. Arrogant and cocky. All lazy smirks and nonchalant, smart ass comebacks. He pissed you off. And with how the two of you bickered, you were surprised you hadn't been fired yet. Maybe the other three liked you enough to keep you on, overruling Jake. (Unbeknownst to you, Jake liked you just as much as they did, and there was no way in hell he'd let you get fired.)

Tonight was no different than the others, Josh was preening in the mirror, Danny was playing the drums on the coffee table, Jake was lounging on the couch like he owned the place, and you were stuck glueing Sammy's rhinestones back on. He and Daniel had decided that playing a game of ping pong– including Sam diving after the ball and practically faceplanting– was necessary for a preshow warmup.

And you were rapidly sticking the rhinestones on, shaking your head as you neared the end, “You two have got to find less raucous hobbies before the shows,” you say, hoping they weren't going on crooked.

“Sorry, Y/n,” Sammy says, smiling at you from the floor, “We're all very competitive."

“No shit,” you murmur, squinting as you stick the last one on there, “Next time, don't do that in your stage clothes.”

He grins, wordlessly letting you know– No promises. As if you expected anything less from the two.

“Aren't you bossy,” Jake murmurs from beside you on the couch.

“I'm not bossy,” you defend, shooting him a quick frown.

“Yes, you are,” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you say quietly.

“I think we should hit the bar after this,” he says loud enough for the others to hear, “I could use a night out.”

“Yeah, why not?” Josh says from the mirror, turning to the four of you, “We all could, tour's been wonderful, we should celebrate.”

“Y/n, you wanna come?”

You can practically hear Jake roll his eyes as Sam asks you, and that tempts you to take him up on his offer. But you decline, “No, I'll pass tonight,” you say softly, “I'm tired, you four are exhausting.”

“You're exhausting,” Jake retorts quietly, earning a sideways glare from you.

A stagehand pops his head into the door at that time, “Show time!” He calls, all nerves and frantic energy.

You cheer each of them on, even Jake, wishing him luck as he stands. He shoots you a wink, lazy confidence radiating from him.

You hope he messes up.

——————————————————————

Maybe you shouldn't have wished for him to mess up.

He's mad, you can see it from backstage. His guitar strap broke midshow, and when he came to get another from you, it was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you fucking serious?” He snaps, looking around you as if it might suddenly appear.

“I– Jake, I had it right here, I swear,” you defend, panic setting in. You were going to lose your job.

Suddenly, one of your peers finds another, handing it to Jake with a proud smile. Jake shoots you a look, one of frustration, before he's back out on the stage, as if this encounter never happened.

The show ends with everyone praising the success, a few side eyes thrown your way, and you feel like shit. You could cry, and you probably would if it weren't for the sake of professionalism.

“Y/n!” You turn at the sharp snap of your name, finding the production manager making his way to you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck!

“Yes?”

“Where the fuck was his fucking guitar strap at?!” He says, stopping directly in front of you.

“I don't know where it went– I had it in his case right there before the show, and–”

“It doesn't just fucking walk away,” he interrupts, pointing a finger at you, “If you can't do your job and help this shit run smoothly, you're fucking done, do you understand?”

You don't mean to cry. But the tears are welling up faster than you can stop them. “Okay, I'll do better.”

“You will do better, you're not getting paid to fuck shit up–”

“You're not getting paid to talk to her like that.”

As if your night couldn't get worse. There's Jake, right behind you. The production manager straightens up, the anger quickly leaving his face, “I'm sorry, she just–”

“It wasn't her fault,” he says firmly, “I moved the fucking strap and forgot about it. You're not gonna talk to her that way because you're not fucking prepared.”

He nods, his face pale, “Of course. I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize to me,” Jake says simply.

He grits his teeth, “I'm sorry, Y/n.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. And then you're left alone with Jake, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersing.

“You alright?”

You nod, turning to him as you wipe your eyes, “I'm sorry about your guitar strap, Jake. I promise I'm usually more prepared–”

“I know you are,” he says, “You don't have to apologize for anything. You're doing a great job, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he's gone.

What the fuck?

——————————————————————————

You knew they'd be hungover.

Being crowded on a tour bus with four grumpy hungover rockstars is not something you'd wish on anybody.

Sam's got his head in your lap, sunglasses over his eyes. He had demanded you play with his hair, claiming it made the headache go away. Dany was sprawled out in one of the recliners with Josh in the other, and Jake was sitting in the booth, leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“I need water,” Sam says pitifully.

“I can get it,” you say automatically, knowing he wasn't asking you, but you volunteered. You gently move his head from your lap, standing to stretch your achy legs. You make your way to the fridge beside Jake, opening it and pulling out a water bottle for Sam.

You look over at Jake, “Do you need anything?” You ask, an attempt at being nice.

“I need you to leave me alone,” he retorts.

“Douchebag,” you mutter, glancing at him again, finding a smirk upon his lips.

“Next time we go out, Y/n's coming with us,” Josh says, “I think she needs to go out and have some fun.”

“I have enough fun dealing with you four,” you say, handing the water bottle off to Sam.

“That's why you're single,” Sam says offhandedly, “You won't go out and try to meet someone.”

“Fuck you, Sammy,” you mutter.

“Maybe one day,” he says with a smile, “I'm too hungover right now.”

You scoff a laugh, your eyes somehow making their way to Jake again. You catch the glare he's sending the two of you before he slips his sunglasses back over his eyes.

Jerk.

——————————————————————

“Can you maybe not fucking stab me?”

“Can you stop fucking moving, then?”

“You've got a needle right at my dick, Y/n, it's hard to trust you.”

You straighten back up, shooting a glare up at him, “Jake, I'm not gonna stab your fucking dick. But if you keep it up, I'm going to try to.”

He stares down his nose at you, a frown on his face. You cross your arms, waiting for him to comply. Rockstars.

He huffs, glancing at the clock, “Fine. I've got a show in 15 minutes. Hurry it up.”

“You're the one who ripped the crotch out of your pants,” you mutter, picking the needle back up.

“You're the seamstress right now, shut up and do your job.”

You pause at that, glancing up to see the genuine frustration on his face. You simply nod, continuing your work. You finish around two minutes later, giving him a quiet okay.

“All done,” you say flatly.

“I'm sorry,” he says in response.

“It's fine,” you shake your head, “You're right.”

“No, I'm not. You're– You're not just a fucking seamstress here, Y/n.”

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile as you push yourself up from off your knees, “Preshow jitters.”

He shakes his head, staying silent for a moment, “Thank you.”

You nod, “Don't mention it.”

——————————————————————————

You're irritated.

The boys decided they wanted to spend the night in a hotel.

A very shifty hotel, with a whopping two rooms available. A room with two beds and a couch, and a room with one single bed.

Josh, Sam and Danny all agreed to take the room with the couch. Which left you sharing a room– and a bed!– with Jake.

You're both standing in the doorway, staring at the bed in front of you. Jake's got irritation written all over him, his sunglasses pushed up messily into his hair, his hand gripping the handle of his suitcase a little harder than necessary. His jaw is tense, and you don't say a word.

“This should be cozy,” he says quietly.

“I can go sleep on the bus,” you offer, nervously twisting your hand around the handle of your own suitcase, “I really don't mind–”

“I'm not making you do that,” his voice is firm, “And to be quite honest, I don't wanna do that either because I'm a little selfish and I wanna sleep in a bed.”

You hum a laugh, “A bed does sound nice.”

“We're both adults,” he says, “It's… It's a pretty big bed.”

“Yeah, it's a nice size,” you agree, both of you awkwardly nodding.

And with that, he lets out a breath, making his way to the adjoining bathroom. Your shoulders slump, the tour bus sounding more enticing by the minute. You sit on the edge of the bed, and any thought you had of sneaking back out to the bus is gone. It's so comfortable, like a plush cushiony cloud.

You lay back on the mattress, letting your eyes fall shut. With a bed this comfortable, you can definitely stand spending a single night with Jake.

You don't move when the door opens back up, and you hear him snort a laugh, “Comfy?”

“Very,” you reply, “It's like a cloud. I forgot how nice a real bad feels.”

He hums in response, and you can hear him shuffling around the room. You finally push yourself up, knowing you should probably change into your pajamas before you fall asleep in your uncomfortable jeans.

You quietly go to the bathroom, ignoring the sight of Jake wearing only an old t-shirt and his underwear.

Fuck.

You change quickly, eager to get back into the bed and sleep. It'd probably be the best sleep you've gotten in weeks.

You wish your pajamas were just a little cuter, but you don't know why. Who were you trying to impress– Jake? You want to slap yourself for thinking that.

You make your way back out, finding he was still standing, doing something on his phone. You slip by without a word, the room feeling tense and awkward.

You ease under the blanket, surprised at yourself for being so happy about a sleazy hotel bed. But it was so nice. You make sure to stay on one side, facing the wall with wide eyes as you lay there. You tense slightly when you feel him move beside you, getting into the bed.

It's quiet as he flicks the lights off from the nightstand.

“This is nice,” he says softly.

You hum in agreement, scooting a little closer to the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “You can relax, Y/n.”

“I am relaxed.”

“I'm sorry for what I said tonight.”

You pause, before you turn your head to look at him, “It's alright, Jake.”

“No it isn't,” he disagrees, “You're more than that and regardless of how we feel about each other, I should have never deduced you down to that.”

You want to focus on the meaning of his apology, but one part catching your attention, “And how do you feel about me?”

He sighs, “You annoy me.”

You knew he didn't like you, you knew you weren't his biggest fan either, but it wasn't something ever talked about. Hearing him say it just… hurt.

“You're always… It's like you're so fucking perfect.”

You blink, “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he says without any heat, “Everybody fucking loves you. You're always able to fix everything, and it's just… annoying.”

You frown, processing his words, “Is that why you're mean to me?”

“Yes,” he says honestly.

“I am not perfect, Jake. Nowhere near it. You're the one with the god complex.”

“What?” He sounds surprised to hear you say that.

“Your ego is bigger than any room you're in, you know that?”

“My ego?” He pauses, “I don't have an ego.”

“Yeah, and I don't have crippling anxiety before every show.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, as if he's surprised to discover you think he's so vain, “I've never– I'm an ass, aren't I?”

“To me? Yes. Everyone else? No.”

“I can't help it,” he says quietly, “You make me feel incompetent.”

“How?!”

“You're just… good at everything you do. It's irritating.”

“Hand me a guitar and then we'll see if you can say that.”

He laughs, the sound breathy and genuine, “It's feels like a competition with you. Everyone loves you, you're everyone's favorite.”

“But I'm not,” you say honestly, “I'm pretty sure the other crew members think I'm sleeping with one or all of you. They're not… They're not very nice.”

“Who?” He says, as if he'll go out there right now and set them all straight.

“I'm not telling,” you say firmly, “Because if you say anything, it'll look worse on me, and they'll be mean.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you really think I'm arrogant?”

“Honestly?” He hums an affirmative, “Yes. It's like you know you're the best thing to happen to modern music.”

“That's a reach.”

“You asked.”

He huffs, “I'm not even– You sound jealous.”

“Jealous?!” You lean up on your elbows, glaring at him in the dark, “Says the one who just admitted that he doesn't like me because other people do.”

“Says the one who just admitted the exact same thing.”

You blink at him, “Are we ever gonna get along, or just fight the whole time?”

“I dunno,” he says, leaning up and mirroring you, “Are you ever gonna cut it with the innocent, charming little sweetheart bullshit?”

“Are you ever gonna cut it with your egotistical, arrogant, cocky asshole bullshit?”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “Shut up.”

“You shut up. Just because you're my boss out there doesn't mean you can treat me like shit here–”

“I don't want to fight, Y/n,” he says, his words clipped, “I'm tired of it.”

“Then don't fight with me,” you say, as if it's the simplest solution.

He lets out a soft laugh, as if you caught him off guard.

“You're uptight,” he says, leaning closer to you.

“You're irresponsible.”

“You're a control freak.”

“You're frivolous.”

“You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen.”

“You're a liar.”

“I'm a lot of things, crybaby, a liar isn't one of them.”

You swallow heavily, “You're an asshole.”

He nods, his lips now brushing against yours. He uses one hand to push your blankets back as he scoots closer to you, “What else?”

You can hardly focus on your insults as he moves to hover over you, using his knees to separate your thighs for him to settle between. He's still hovering, careful not to touch you aside from the backs of your thighs resting against the front of his. “You're a fiend.”

He lets out a quiet ooh, as if he's mocking you. You frown further, your heartbeat skipping at the condescending attitude he's giving. You aren't sure why it's making your body heat.

“Keep going,” he says, leaning in and placing a single kiss to your jaw.

“You–” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath to center yourself, but he nips at your throat, “You make me so mad.”

“Is that the best you've got?” He asks, his hand toying with the drawstring of your sleep shorts.

You let out a shuddery breath, “What, are you getting off on this?” You hate how weak your voice sounds.

“Maybe,” he says casually. You open your mouth to retort something about him being a pervert when he presses his hips against you. You can feel him even through the layers of clothing separating you, warm and hard. It makes your entire body heat. The pressure is gone as quick as it came, he lifts his hips once more as if he's teasing you.

“I've spent most of my time here feeling like I was never good enough for your expectations, Jake, and now it's this easy?”

“Imagine how I felt, Miss Perfect,” he says without any heat, “You're the only person I know who had their shit together the entire time.”

“Except for when I lost your fucking guitar strap.”

“Doesn't it get tiring thinking so much?” He asks, tracing a finger along your cheek.

“Yes,” you whisper honestly.

“Then don't,” he says, as if that will solve everything.

“You think I haven't tried that?” You ask sharply. You're silenced by his finger pressing over your lips.

“Just tonight,” he says softly, “It's just you and me. We don't think about anything else.”

You're almost hesitant, you know how impossible it is to shut your brain up, but his lips are on your neck again, like he knows that's what you need to melt into him, and you nod, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He asks, pressing the tiniest kiss just below your jaw.

“Yeah,” you breathe the word. “But what if–”

His lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence.

You kiss back without much thought, your hands grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer. He grabs your waist, yanking you tightly to him. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip before he bites down, earning a quiet whine from you. Your hands slide up, around his shoulders, pulling him practically on top of you as you move to lay on your back.

His hand lands beside your head on the pillow, the other is still holding onto your waist, slipping down to your hip. His hold is tight, like he wants to grab you and have his way with you. And you want him to.

You let your legs fall open as he settles between them. You nearly buck your hips as he moves his lips to your throat. You let your head fall back as he kisses and nips at your throat, your mouth open with gasping breaths and whimpers.

Then suddenly, his hips are pressing against yours, grinding against you as he kisses along your skin. His lips reattach to yours, and you let out a dreamy sigh as he moves just right against your clit.

His hand appears at the waistband of your pajama shorts, snapping the elastic, “Wanna get these out of the way?”

You nod quickly, a breathy yes falling from your lips. Your eyes widen only a little when he pulls off your shorts and underwear in one quick movement, leaving your lower half completely bare. And when he presses himself against you this time– Oh. The somewhat rough material moving against your swollen clit feels better than you thought it would.

He kisses you again, a quick nip at your bottom lip, before he pulls back just enough to watch as he moves you against him.

You bite at your bottom lip as he spreads your thighs, almost hoping he can't see too much of you in the dim lighting.

He ghosts his hand over your dripping heat, “Is she as pretty as the rest of you, baby?”

“Shut up, Jake,” you say weakly.

And then he's moving back. You open your mouth to ask him what he's doing, when he grabs you, moving you however he wanted. Your eyes widen when you find yourself with your legs spread around his shoulders, and his face inches away from your center.

“She is fuckin’ pretty,” he says, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, “You've been holding out on me.”

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, dropping your head against the mattress. “Are you sure you want to do– that?” You ask, lifting your head back up to look at him.

“What kind of men have you been with?” He asks, running a single finger along your wet heat.

“I– I dunno,” you stutter, cursing yourself mentally.

He hums in displeasure, using his fingers to spread you open. You hate how he takes a moment to stare at you, to take in every detail of your most intimate areas, but he mutters a quiet curse, and his mouth is on you before you can object to his staring.

You let out a much too loud noise, slapping your hand over your mouth as he smiles against you. He pulls back enough just to speak, “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart, we don't want my brothers hearing you.”

You nod rapidly, keeping your hand over your mouth as he suckles at your clit. He lulls his tongue over the swollen bud, before he moves down to your weeping hole. Your eyes squeeze shut as his tongue slips just past the entrance, humming against you.

He grabs your hand, moving it into his hair, groaning when you tighten your grip. You're embarrassingly close, and the moment he eases his fingers inside of you, you know you're a goner within the next two minutes.

You whine his name, hating how pathetic you sound. He curls his fingers up in response, his tongue flicking over your clit relentlessly. “I'm close,” you warn, rolling your hips. You roll your hips on your own, feeling yourself near your own release. It wouldn't take much longer, and you whisper his name in hopes he'll help you along.

“Gonna cum so soon?” He asks, his hands on your hips stilling you completely.

You whine, fighting to move over his mouth once again. “Jake–”

“Use those pretty manners,” he says lowly, “Always so well behaved, don't act up now.”

“Jake please,” you say, huffing when he slowly, slowly, licks along your slit, “Jake help me, please.”

He hums in consideration, pushing back only to slowly drag his tongue once again, “Little more than that, crybaby.”

You feel yourself clench around nothing. The nickname he has for you making an appearance now has you aching. “Please let me,” you tighten your grip in his hair, “Make me cum, Jake.”

That seems to do it for him, his own hand slips back between the two of you. He pushes two fingers inside of you, curling them up before he begins fucking them into you, curling and twisting relentlessly. His tongue is moving just right against your clit, and you begin rocking against him, whimpering a soft curse.

It doesn't take long before you're falling apart, soft cries and your body twitching as he works you through it. Your blood is rushing in your head, and you can barely make out the filthy words he's gritting out as you ride out your release.

You grab at him, melting completely when he eases up, letting you recover. Before he can say anything, you push him back with a hand at his chest, and you slip to the floor on your knees. He lets out a low hum, moving to stand in front of you.

You decide not to take your time, not to work him up or tease him, you just want his dick in your mouth.

So you all but tear his underwear down, your mouth watering at the sight before you. He was big. Long and thick and hard, you should have expected that. You wrap your fingers around him, and swallow him down as far as you can without any preamble.

He lets out a quiet curse, his hand immediately tangling into your hair, “She does look pretty with a cock in her mouth,” he says quietly, as if you weren't meant to hear it. You both know well enough that you were meant to.

It doesn't last long before he's got a hold in your hair, and his other hand is around your throat.

He begins shallowly moving his hips, holding your face in place as he fucks your mouth. You would be content to let him do this to you as much as he wanted. And part of you wanted to try this right after you had pissed him off…

You can't move your head, so you work your tongue along him as best you can, suckling at him with every thrust. He pushes in, the blunt head nestling deep against the back of your throat again. He holds you down on him long enough for you to get dizzy, before he pulls out completely.

He angles your face up once again, his hand on your throat giving a light squeeze as he keeps you still. You're still held there, awaiting his next move.

“Get on the bed,” he says, moving his hands to help you get up off of your knees.

You eagerly move to the bed once more, your heart pounding as he rids himself completely of his underwear. He grabs you, flipping you around so you're in his lap before you can process it. He's leaned back against the headboard, his hands at your waist and he's kissing you again.

You roll your hips, anxious to have him fill you up already.

He wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you up just enough for him to line up with your weeping entrance. When you settle back over him, your eyes widen. He lets out a low growl as you lower down on him, your eyes wide at the fullness. He feels huge inside of you, stretching your walls, sitting snug against that special little bump inside of you.

“Fuck, Jake,” you say, letting your head fall to his shoulder.

His hands are tracing soothing patterns on your hips, his head falls back against the headboard as he lets out a strained laugh.

You begin rocking your hips, slowly, just to get a feel of how fucked you really were. His grip tightens as he lifts you up slightly, before pushing you back down on him.

You whimper, feeling every bit of him inside of you. You continue to rock your hips as he moves you up and down. You feel full in the best way, unable to even form a coherent sentence aside from telling him how good he felt.

He stops moving you, leaving you to do the work on your own, “C'mon,” he says it like a challenge, “Fuck me, pretty girl.”

You let out a slightly irritated sound, doing as he says regardless. You lift your hips, easing back down at a slow, hopefully teasing pace.

You're gripping his shoulders for dear life, your temple resting against his jaw as you move your hips. His mouth is right by your ear, leaving you no escape from the filthy things he's murmuring.

“Just like that,” he rasps, “Such a good girl– Always so good at doing what you're told, aren't you?”

You feel yourself clench around him, and you gasp out a weak, “Fuck you.”

You feel him grin against your skin, “You are.”

You whine at that, digging your nails into his shoulders. His grip on your hips is firm, his fingertips pressing in enough for you to hope for bruises.

Your thighs burn, but you ignore it in favor of chasing your high. It's just out of arm's reach, and you know you'll need his help or your own. And you'd rather die of humiliation than ask him, so you snake a hand down to your clit, just barely rubbing over it before he knocks your hand away.

Before you can do much as whine about it, he's replaced your hand with his own, rubbing tight, slow circles over your aching bud.

“I'm gonna cum,” you warn, your hips moving of their own volition, speeding up despite your aching thighs.

“I know,” he says, still holding you by your hair, his eyes intently focusing on your face, “I can feel it.”

“Fuck, I'm���” It's slipping away from you, your own body too tired to continue working as you were.

He begins fucking up into you, his own hips slamming against you as he continues to rub over your clit. Your entire body is shaking, the build up starting right back up where it left off.

You whine his name, earning a sound nearing a growl from him. “C'mon, baby,” he demands, an air of desperation in his tone. He wants you to finish, to feel you squeezing him as you fall apart around him. And that's what does it for you.

It hits you hard and fast, even more intense than all the other he'd given you that night. Your mind blanks, going black, before flashing white hot. You try to push him away again, the attempt feeble as he wraps his arms around you and pushes you back against the mattress, fucking you relentlessly through it. You don't complain, you couldn't even if you wanted to, you know he's chasing his own orgasm as well as working you completely through yours.

“Fuck, Jake–” It's intense, you're verging overstimulation, but you wrap your legs around him. Your eyes are watering, tears trailing down your temples and into your hairline.

He lets out a pleased hum, “My little crybaby. Does it feel good for you, pretty girl?”

You nod quickly, your nails digging into his back. You know he's going to be marked up, but you know you are too. His mouth has been as relentless as his cock.

It doesn't take him much longer before he lets out a curse, and his hips falter. You whine in approval as he grips your hips tighter than before, and you squeeze purposely around him as he finds his own end. You let out a soft yes, yes, yes, as he fills you with his release.

He stays still inside you for a moment, leaning over you and pressing kisses to your sweat-sticky skin.

You feel empty when he pulls out, cold and lonely as he collapses onto the mattress. Your chest is heaving as he moves to lay beside you, his own chest rising and falling as he fights to catch his breath.

It hits you then.

You just fucked your boss.

You push yourself up with shaky arms, raking a hand through your knotted hair.

“Jake.”

“Stop,” he says softly.

You look over at him, worry clear on your face, “I just–”

“You're thinking too much.” He says, pulling you back down to lay against him. He wraps an arm around you, “It's gonna be fine.”

“Am I gonna lose my job?”

He lets out a loud laugh, “You're not going anywhere.”

[beritybaker]

Water and Poetry

For @steddiebingo summer prompt "secret admirer," and main prompt "partner"

Rating: G | CW: Minor Injury, Lab Accident | Word Count: 3,664 | Tags: Post S1, Canon Divergence, Lab Partners, Artist & Writer Eddie, Lifeguard Steve, Pre-Relationship, Fluff | ao3

The knightly King keeping watch over the aquatic realm—

Does he know how lovely he is, high atop his tower?

Should he be more lovely, it would be a burden to look on him,

A greater danger than the waters he guards.

Eddie knows he’s not really a poet. He’s a dork who’s read too many medieval fantasy novels, and it shows. But that hasn’t stopped him from spending his summer slipping his mediocre verses about Steve Harrington’s beauty into the locker with his name on it at Hawkins Pool.

It’s harmless, right? It’s not like Harrington even knows he exists, and maybe it’ll do something for his self-esteem. Not that the King really needs it, Eddie supposes. But somewhere, deep down—in a part of him that is definitely not secretly hoping Harrington will find out and be so flattered he begs Eddie to go to homecoming with him in the fall—he feels like it’s the right thing to do.

So all summer long, he writes sweeping odes to The Hair’s hair, sonnets romanticizing his suntan, and even a silly limerick about how heroic he looked telling off a kid for trying to dunk his brother. It’s a win-win: he gets to practice his writing and admire a good-looking guy from afar, while Harrington gets a little ego boost in his locker every few days. So what if Steve probably assumes there’s some nerdy girl who’s into him? And so what if Eddie has to make excuses to sneak off and break into the employee locker room so Jeff doesn’t get suspicious? No harm, no foul.

But then Eddie’s second senior year begins, and he has to end up in third-period chemistry.

His first morning back at school has been typical. He’s already done the first day at this school four times before; he has the hang of it. Eddie expects the rest of the day to follow with a similar level of normalcy, but that notion flies out the window when a certain King of Hawkins High wanders into his class ten minutes after it started, looking like he just ran across campus.

Eddie, who’d been doodling a warrior elf at the edge of his syllabus, fumbles with his pencil so wildly that it slips from his hand and rolls across the table. He leans over to reach for it, but knocks over his nearly-empty Mountain Dew bottle in the process. Both the pencil and the bottle hit the the scuffed linoleum, with a clatter. The girl across the aisle gives him a dirty look for causing a ruckus—or maybe for having a soda in the chemistry lab at all—but Ms. Denham ignores it in favor of berating the newcomer.

“Mr. Harrington. How kind of you to make an appearance,” she remarks, arching an eyebrow.

Eddie rises from the floor in time to see Steve’s sheepish grimace. “Sorry. I read my schedule wrong. Thought I was in gym third period. Got all the way out of my street clothes and on the track before I…” He must catch her unimpressed look, because he trails off, then swallows. “Well. Never mind. Sorry I’m late. You can dock my grade or something.”

The teacher’s eyes soften, but her voice is still stern when she warns, “Don’t let it happen again.”

Steve nods and heads for the only open stool left—which happens to be next to Eddie. As Ms. Denham continues explaining her plans for the semester, Steve draws nearer, and Eddie loses track of what she’s saying. He can’t hear her over the Greek chorus he imagines in the corner by the emergency shower station, screaming OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO—

“Hey, do you have a pencil I can borrow?”

That voice, though. He’s used to hearing it after the blast of a whistle, shouting a warning at someone roughhousing in the pool. Even at a whisper, it cuts right through and silences the chanting, blank-faced ghouls Eddie invented.

Eddie realizes he must be taking too long to answer when Steve’s pretty brows knit together, and his pretty lips form more words in his pretty tenor. “Are you okay, man?”

“What? Yeah!” Eddie squeaks. This time, Ms. Denham does shoot him a look. He lowers his voice and says, “Sorry. You asked for, um…?”

“A pencil,” Steve says. “If you’ve got a spare.”

“Oh. Y-Yeah. I mean…sure.” He pats the front of his vest and feels for something pencil-shaped, then mutters, “Hold on,” and rolls his eyes toward the ceiling as he digs through the inside pocket. Eventually, he produces one, though it’s got so many teeth marks it looks like a wild animal got ahold of it.

Steve doesn’t complain. His eyebrows shoot upward a little, but he doesn’t comment out loud. Instead he takes it and says, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Eddie swallows the knowledge that it’s so chewed up because of him, anyway. The number of goddamn poems I drafted with that thing…

Eddie doesn’t take in much over the course of the next forty minutes. Trying to focus on anything but the fact that the Knightly King of the Aquatic Realm is two feet away from him is a fruitless effort. Ms. Denham is wholly unable to keep Eddie’s attention for more than a moment at a time.

That is, until right before the bell, when she drops a fucking bombshell.

“You’re all seniors in here, so you know the drill when it comes to labs. Write your own reports, but you’ll do all your work with a partner. To make it fair and easy for me, you chose your fate when you sat down today.” There’s a murmur through the room—some celebratory giggles, some groans of despair—and she continues, “That’s right. Get comfortable where you are, because you’re sitting next to your lab partner for the rest of the year. Barring a restraining order, I don’t want to hear any whining about it, either.”

Eddie feels frozen to his stool. He risks a glance at Steve and finds his face totally unreadable.

Maybe he can get a restraining order. On what grounds? “Steve Harrington, being far too attractive, is hereby no longer allowed within fifty yards of Edward Munson, and is therefore unable to partner with him in chem lab.” Sure, it’s ridiculous. But the universe had the audacity to be ridiculous first, when it gave Harrington a face like that, and then again when it made him late enough to have to sit next to Eddie.

Before his sanity can spiral down the drain completely, the bell rings. It makes Eddie jump out of his goddamn skin. Stools scrape against the floor as his classmates leave, and he hasn’t quite been able to recover before Steve says, “That’s really cool.”

Eddie turns, almost gets lost in his eyes, but forces himself to follow the line of Steve’s arm (God, those biceps…) to where he’s pointing at Eddie’s half-finished elf doodle.

It is at that moment, with the tip of Steve’s finger resting on the page, that he realizes he should’ve disposed of this sheet of paper as soon as Steve walked into the room, by any means necessary. He should’ve wadded it up and shoved it in his mouth, or taken his lighter to it and risked setting off the sprinklers. He hadn’t been drawing the elf that way on purpose, but if he were to erase its pointed ears and long tresses, or give it a little color, it would be the spitting image of Steve himself.

“Did you draw it?” Steve asks.

“No, it’s on all the photocopies. Somebody must’ve drawn on Denham’s master,” Eddie replies, unable to hold back his sarcasm. He’s got a lot to deal with at the moment, and he doesn’t have enough mental capacity to curb his natural way of speaking.

To his surprise, Steve chuckles. “Yeah, okay. That was a dumb question,” he allows.

Eddie’s heart starts hammering, like having Steve admit it is a turn-on or something. Is a humility kink a thing?

“What is it? Some kind of elf knight?” Steve goes on, oblivious to his impending anxiety attack.

“A paladin,” Eddie corrects.

“A pala-what?”

“It basically is a knight, yeah. In fantasy stuff.”

“Huh. Okay. You know, I’m friends with some guys who are into that stuff,” Steve says.

Eddie narrows his eyes, disbelieving. He knows all the other nerds at Hawkins High, and as far as he’s aware, none of them are all buddy-buddy with King Steve. “You are?”

He nods, but frustratingly doesn’t elaborate. Instead he looks at the drawing again and tilts his head. “You know, he’s kinda familiar. Like I’ve met him before.”

Check the mirror. “Not sure why. I was just doodling.”

Eddie holds his breath while Steve stares at the elven version of himself. He studies it for entirely too long—so long that Eddie starts to feel light-headed. When he finally speaks again, it’s in a soft, curious tone. “Hm. Maybe he’s just got one of those faces.” He smiles and looks back up at Eddie. “Well, Munson, I better get to gym, since I’m sure that’s where I’m supposed to be in a couple minutes. See you around, partner.” He claps him on the shoulder and winks.

The Greek chorus has returned, now murmuring variations of, Munson, Munson, he knows your name…

Steve is long gone by the time the bell rings again, but that’s what shocks Eddie back to his senses. He shoves his things into his messenger bag and hurries to his next class, feeling lucky that Mr. Jameson won’t mind if he’s a bit late to auto shop. Even if that was something for him to worry about, it would be playing second fiddle to the knowledge that his lab partner is the guy he had a secret crush on all summer.

It’s gonna be a long year.

“So we’re just supposed to keep adding more of this stuff until it turns clear?”

Eddie glances around at the tables nearby, then back at the flask of pink liquid in front of them. “Apparently.”

“Well, that’s thrilling,” Steve mutters. He leans his elbow on the edge of their lab table, cradling his chin in his hand, and lets out a long sigh. “I thought chemical reactions were supposed to be exciting.”

“Maybe we’ll get to set something on fire in the next one.” Ms. Denham’s description of this so-called experiment was dull enough that Eddie, even in Steve’s presence, is more bored than he is nervous. That’s not to say the nerves aren’t still there, but after a few days of sitting next to him for an hour, he’s at least able to put them on the back burner.

Steve snorts a laugh. “I really shouldn’t be surprised you’d be into that.”

“What, setting things on fire?”

“Yeah. You’ve got ‘pyromaniac’ written all over you.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“That’s exactly what a pyromaniac would say about being called a pyromaniac.”

“Fair enough.” Eddie smiles. “But can we stop saying that word? It’s starting to lose all meaning.”

“It’s kind of a funny word, isn’t it? Pyromaniac. Pyromaniac.”

“Stop it,” he giggles.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t? Set me on fire?” Steve shoots back, grinning.

“Maybe,” Eddie counters. “And you’ll never see it coming.”

Steve’s laugh really is a beautiful thing. Almost as beautiful as his face. It’s a delightful little melody, but with a dorky guffaw underneath. When Eddie’s ears are blessed with it now, a new flurry of butterflies is unleashed in his gut.

“Are you boys planning on getting started anytime soon?” Ms. Denham calls out. When Eddie looks at her, he finds her glaring at them over the rims of her glasses. “You only have thirty minutes. If you don’t finish in class, you’ll have to come back at the end of the day, and I won’t be here to answer your questions.”

“Right. Sorry,” Steve says, though he looks like he’s trying to hold in more laughter. He turns to Eddie. “You wanna help me fill up the burr-ette thingy?”

“Sure.”

They set the thing up the way Ms. Denham demonstrated, shamelessly glancing at the surrounding tables again to make sure they’re doing it right. Then Eddie reaches for the funnel and the bottle that were on their table when they walked into class. The bottle is labeled with a sticker that reads HCl, in the same looping script that Eddie is used to seeing on the blackboard at the front of the room.

“I’ll do the honors. I’m used to handling dangerous substances,” he jokes. “Watch the tube and tell me when to stop.”

“Got it,” Steve says, and he hunches a bit to get eye-level with the equipment.

Glass clinks as Eddie places the funnel at the top of the tube, then he uncaps the bottle. As he starts to pour, he thinks, This is going shockingly well. However, this is precisely when he makes his first mistake.

He looks at Steve, and he’s struck by what he sees. Something’s different from other times Eddie’s been unable to take his eyes off him—at the pool, running into him in the hallway, seeing him around town. This time, it’s not because he’s hot; it’s because he’s adorable.

He’s wearing the same dumb goggles as everyone else, with the edges digging into his cheeks and the elastic around the back of his head making his hair stick up on the sides. He’s watching the burette intently, so focused that his nose wrinkles and his tongue sticks out between his teeth. It has to be the single cutest thing Eddie has ever seen in his life.

His second mistake comes a moment later, when watching Steve makes him forget what he’s doing. The reminder is the sudden feeling that his left wrist is on fire.

“Shit-fuck!” he cries out, and he watches as his skin starts to turn red.

Before he knows it, there’s a hand on his other wrist. The bottle is swiftly pried from his fingers, and he’s being dragged over to the nearest sink. He complies easily, though it’s not because he knows he needs to rinse off right away.

Steve’s got his fingers wrapped firmly around Eddie’s unmarred forearm, and he walks with purpose. He turns on the tap and shoves Eddie’s left arm under it at the same time, so that cool water washes away the chemical and soothes the burn a bit. It barely registers, and though he desperately wants to chalk that up to shock, Eddie knows it has a lot more to do with the firm-but-gentle grasp on his elbow. That grasp keeps his arm under the running water as Ms. Denham comes rushing over.

“Eddie, dear, are you alright?”

He can’t answer her. Not while Steve is standing right next to him, touching him, his body so close that Eddie can feel his every breath.

“Eddie,” Ms. Denham repeats.

“Eddie?” Steve tries, and Eddie meets his concerned gaze.

Slowly, he nods. “I’m, uh. Yeah. I’m okay. S-Stings a little.”

“Of course it does,” the girl who sits across the aisle from them snarks. “You poured hydrochloric acid on yourself, you klutz.”

Before Eddie can think of a good comeback, Steve shoots the girl a look. “Mind your own business, Becks. It was an accident.”

“The kind of accident that happens when you’re goofing off.”

For half a second, Steve looks like he’s about to murder her with words, but Ms. Denham jumps in before their argument gets out of hand. “That’s enough, Miss Garrison. Get back to work.”

“Yeah, you should focus. We don’t want any more accidents,” Steve mutters, though he somehow makes it loud enough for the whole class to hear, and a couple girls on the other side of the room snicker behind their hands at Becky Garrison’s annoyed expression. Eddie would, too, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s afraid of facing Ms. Denham’s wrath. She seems sympathetic, but he knows how quickly that can turn on a dime.

“Let’s turn the water off. Get a good look at the damage,” she suggests.

Steve dutifully turns off the tap, and though Eddie’s clearly burned, it’s not all that bad. The spot where the stuff first touched him shines with the beginnings of a tiny blister, but the area around it is just bright red.

“Hm. Small, but nothing to shake a stick at. You really did well bringing him over here straight away, Mr. Harrington.”

He nods in acknowledgement, but his eyes never leave Eddie’s face. It’s like he’s trying to figure out how much it hurts, just from the downturn of his lips.

“Still, you really should go to the nurse, dear,” Ms. Denham adds.

“I can take him,” Steve offers. He says it so quickly, head whipping around to address her as he does, that Eddie has to shake his head a little to clear it.

“How kind of you, Mr. Harrington. I’ll write you both a hall pass. Don’t worry about your station. I’ll clean it up.”

Soon, the two of them are making their way to the front offices, with Eddie holding his arm above his chest like Steve suggested, and Steve eyeing him anxiously in his periphery.

“Are you really okay? You seemed weird at the sink,” he says after a while.

Eddie exhales a humorless laugh. “I’m fine. And I’m a weirdo; it’s weird for me not to seem weird.”

“Fair. But can we stop saying that word?” Steve fully looks over at him, smirking gently. “It’s starting to lose all its meaning.”

With a small smile, Eddie replies, “You started it.”

“You’re right. I guess I did.”

They fall silent again, though it’s a little less tense.

Only a short distance from the nurse’s office, Eddie speaks up again. “Thanks for, you know…jumping in there. You’re like a knight in shining armor.” Shit, don’t say that. That’s pushing your luck, dude.

“Like your paladin?” Steve says, his voice soft.

“Sure. I guess.” Eddie swallows. “So, um…why’d you volunteer to walk me to the nurse? Was it to get out of gym or something? Which is totally fine, by the way—I commend the ingenuity.”

“No, man, I’m just…worried? Like, I want to make sure you’re alright. I got burned by the same stuff over the summer. They use it for the pool, and I got a little splash of it on me. That wasn’t very fun, so I can only imagine what it’s like to have some dumped on your arm.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”

“Bullshit,” Steve laughs.

“Really! Like I said, it stings a little, but I’ve had sunburns worse than this.”

“If you say so.” He shakes his head. “I do have another question, though.”

Something in his tone makes Eddie’s guts shift. “Hm?”

“What happened, exactly? Did you get distracted, or…?”

“Yes.”

“By what?”

Eddie huffs. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I think it’s best if I keep that information to myself, Harrington.”

There’s a long pause before Steve pointedly asks, “Were you writing another poem in your head or something?”

Eddie stops in his tracks. He can’t take another step. It’s so sudden that Steve is a couple paces ahead before he notices and turns around. “I—you—what—?”

“Look, Eddie,” Steve sighs, “I know it was you putting those notes in my locker this summer. I mean, I didn’t know it until I was in class with you, but your handwriting is really distinctive, and with all the fantasy stuff…”

Staring with wide eyes, Eddie knows he must look like a scared animal. He is a scared animal, with no thoughts other than holy shit and run. But his sneakers are rooted to the spot, and he couldn’t escape if he tried.

“All week I’ve been trying to think of a way to bring it up without scaring you off or sounding like an idiot,” Steve goes on. “’Cause the truth is, man…I liked it. I really liked seeing those notes every couple days. The saddest part of the pool closing for the summer was knowing I’d have to wait ’til next year for another one, if they even started up again. It was nice knowing somebody out there was writing that stuff about me, even if they didn’t feel like they could just come up and talk to me.” He purses his lips and stares at the floor, and his voice is faint when he adds, “Even though they totally could’ve.”

He meets Eddie’s eye, and Eddie can’t believe what he sees staring back at him. It’s bashfulness and hope—the King himself, looking at Eddie like he holds the key to his happiness, like he’s waiting for an indication of how he’ll use it. The problem is, Eddie doesn’t know how; he’s spent the better part of two decades thinking he wouldn’t ever have someone look at him like that, so he never bothered to figure out how to respond.

The best he can come up with is, “Well. Um. That would’ve been good to know a couple months ago.”

It’s probably the wrong thing to say, but if it is, Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He snorts a laugh and replies, “If I knew it was you this summer, I would’ve asked you out back then.”

Eddie’s heart stutters. “And…now?”

“I still will,” Steve says, smiling brightly. “Are you free tonight?”

Without actually thinking about it, Eddie says, “Holy shit. Yes.” Even if he does have plans, a date with Steve fucking Harrington takes precedence.

Steve rewards him with one of his signature chortles. “Good. I’ll find something fun for us to do.”

“Deal.” Whatever it is, Eddie doesn’t think it’ll matter all that much. He’ll be doing it with his muse.

[dailyrickastley]

Once upon time in 1987...

[sourkiki]

niki during sexxx!! like fav positions, how he would sound, what he would call his gf like pet names or dirty and what phrases would he use the most during it!! can’t stop thinking definitely hard thoughts ��💥💥🤯

ALBUM'S CONTENT: explicit mature content, headcanon+drabble format, established relationship, dom! 西村力 x fem! reader, unprotected sex (wrap it up) ❀ 843... ᧔♡᧓ catalogue.

FROM PRODUCER: this is more of a headcanon rather than a drabble because uh, i'm too lazy whoops

Favorite position: missionary.

As much as Riki likes having sex with you, he prefers to have you in positions where he can see your face. Why? Simple. It’s so he can see how good he’s making you feel. It’s a common thing for him to have you in a missionary position. This allows him to have a clear, undisturbed view of seeing your face filled with nothing but pleasure. This also gives him an ego boost as he knows he’s the first and last to have you like this. If you try to cover your face, Riki will move your hands away, pinning them above your head, leaving you helpless as he fucks into you. 

“Ngh, R-Riki, fuck,” you whined, back arching off the bed at heavenly it feels with his cock hitting the same spot, again and again. Your boyfriend grits his teeth, tightening his grip around your wrists while the other holds onto your hips for support. Your legs were loosely wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slide in deeper. You swore you could feel his cock kissing the entrance to your cervix, making your mouth form a silent ‘O’ shape. 

Favorite position: cowgirl.

Sometimes, Riki likes letting you take charge. He doesn’t mind putting in the work but the mere thought of you leading turns him on. He likes it the most when you’re seated on his lap, like he’s your throne and you’re the queen. He won’t do anything, other than having his hands on your waist, letting you ride him, use him to your hearts’ content. 

“Shit, baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, unable to look away from the stunning, arousing sight of you bouncing on his lap. To add fuel to the fire, you were even wearing one of his shirts that completely engulfed you with your collarbones covered in hickeys exposed as it hangs off your left shoulder. Riki had pushed the shirt up, giving him a crystal clear view of your pussy lips stretched as wide as possible as you sucked him in. 

Sounds.

Maybe this is just me but Riki isn’t the type to be shy of making sounds. He’s not very loud but he isn’t quiet, either. So he’s somewhere in between. The most common sounds he’ll make is probably either a moan or a groan. He does this whenever he has you seated on his face or when he’s fucking you, mind spinning with how tight and warm you feel around his cock or mouth. 

No drabble because I’m too lazy for this shit. 

Speeches.

As discussed with my fellow freaki, we believe Riki will switch between degrading and praising. But it heavily depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s in the mood to take things slow, be a tease and edge you into oblivion until you’re a trembling, sobbing mess beneath him. 

“Riki, please..” You pleaded, a tear droplet trickling down your face when your boyfriend pulled his fingers out.

Your pussy was practically pulusing, begging for its much-needed release but Riki wasn’t satisfied yet. He smirked, eyes darkening at how desperate and needy you’ve become. And it’s all because of him. He didn’t give any warning, pushing his fingers back in, eliciting a startled gasp from you. You whined, hips jerking forward to take more of him inside, wanting to feel more—

But he pulled out again. 

Riki coos, faux sweetness in his voice. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. You can be good for me, can’t you? Only good girls get a reward, so don’t cum, or you’re not cumming at all. Not until I say so.” 

But whenever he’s going through rough times in his life, Riki’s demeanor does a switch. Screw the slow, soft sex. Now, he just wants to get rid of his pent-up stress and what other way to do it other than by releasing his stress onto you? 

“W-Wait, too much,” you weakly protested, still feeling the aftereffects of your unknown climax but your boyfriend didn’t listen. In fact, he wasn’t already listening the moment he laid his hands on you. His bangs fell forward, hovering over his dark, lust-filled eyes as he continued thrusting into you with newfound determination. At this point, you could only lay there helplessly, letting him fucked into your dripping, loose pussy. Some of your body fluids trickled down your inner thighs and seeing this, Riki scoops them up and pushes them back into your cunt, making your legs twitch. You weren’t even aware that your hips had jerked forward, meeting him in the middle. 

“Fuck, look at you, dripping wet for me. You kept saying no but your pussy still lets me in,” he sneers, reaching down to give a light smack on where you’re connected with one another, drawing a high-pitched whimper. You tightened around him and that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Maybe I should make you sit on my cock everyday, split you open to keep this needy little thing full. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He continues, drawing breathless whimpers and mewls from your bruised lips. 

taglist: @minjunis, @byshens, @emisluvr. @riqomi, @rikisoup

[girlinterupptedsblog]

Your ex calls you in middle of the night because he misses your pussy so much

Pairing:desparate ex!rafe cameron x reader

Summary: it’s been months since you last heard from Rafe—until tonight. He calls you in the middle of the night, desperate and whiny, ranting about how no one else compares to you. How he misses you, your body, and the way you make him feel. You should hang up, but instead, you just listen, soaking in his frustration, his suffering—because, deep down, you love that he’s ruined without you.

Warnings: Toxic dynamics, heavy desperation, explicit sexual talk, emotional manipulation, ego-stroking, and Rafe being completely down bad.

You blink yourself awake, disoriented, the shrill ring of your phone pulling you from sleep. The room is dark, the only light coming from the screen, his name glowing against it like some kind of warning.

Rafe.

Your stomach twists, but you don’t hesitate to answer. It’s been months, and he hasn’t called—not once. Not until now.

The second you press the phone to your ear, you hear him. "Fuck, you actually picked up." His voice is rough, thick with something that almost sounds like desperation. If you didn’t know him better, you’d think he was on the verge of crying. But Rafe doesn’t cry. Not really. He just gets whiny when he doesn’t get what he wants.

"What do you want?" Your voice is hoarse from sleep, but there’s an amused lilt to it. Because whatever this is, it’s already entertaining.

"You." He breathes the word out like a confession. "Fuck, I miss you so bad."

There’s a shuffle on the other end, like he’s running a hand through his hair, maybe pacing. Then, his voice drops lower. "I miss your pussy."

You should hang up. You should be disgusted. But you don’t, and you’re not. You just smile lazily, stretching against your sheets as you wait for him to keep going. Because he will.

"She was nothing like you," he mutters, like it physically pains him to admit it. "I thought maybe—fuck, maybe if I closed my eyes, it’d feel the same. But it didn’t. It never fucking does."

He’s rambling now, and you just listen, letting it all sink in. The regret, the desperation, the way his voice gets breathier like just the memory of you is enough to drive him crazy.

"Not one of them squeezes me the way you do," he groans. "None of them make me feel like you do. The way you take me—shit, you ruin me every time, you know that?"

You hum, running your fingers through your hair, completely unbothered. "That so?"

"Yeah," he says, exhaling sharply. "Miss your mouth, too. The way you taste. The way you fucking whimper when I—"

You cut him off with a laugh, your ego swelling with every word. He’s pathetic. Absolutely fucking ruined. He can pretend all he wants that this is about sex, but you hear it. It’s not just your body he misses—it’s you.

And maybe that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. But, god, it does.

"Poor baby," you murmur mockingly. "Did you think you could replace me?"

He groans again, and you swear you hear his head hit the wall. "Don’t do that. Don’t—fuck, don’t talk to me like that. You know I can’t take it."

"Then why’d you call?"

Silence.

And that’s your answer.

He just breathes for a second, heavy and uneven, before he finally admits it. "Because I need you."

You shift in bed, your smirk growing as his breathing gets heavier. He’s unraveling, and you don’t even have to say much. Just letting him talk—letting him suffer—is entertainment enough.

"You’re so fucking mean," Rafe whines, his voice breathy and strained. "Sitting there all quiet, just listening to me lose my fucking mind."

Your eyes flutter shut as you grin to yourself, biting your lip. You can practically see him—probably shirtless, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair, pacing around like a caged animal. Maybe even lying in bed, all restless and desperate, palming himself to the thought of you but getting nowhere.

"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you taunt, dragging his name out slow. "You’re the one who called me. You’re the one who can’t stop thinking about me."

He groans, and it’s so needy you almost feel bad. Almost.

"I fucking hate it," he breathes out. "I hate that I can’t—I can’t fucking get off anymore. Not since you."

Your stomach tightens, but you keep your voice calm. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he huffs. "Tried, y’know? After you. Fucked every girl who’d let me. Thought if I kept trying, if I just found the right one, maybe it’d feel the same." He scoffs, and there’s an edge of anger in his voice—anger at himself, at them, at you for doing this to him. "But it never fucking does."

You let the silence linger, dragging it out just to hear him squirm.

"She didn’t even get me hard at first," he admits, and he sounds so frustrated, like he can’t believe this is his reality. "Had to close my eyes and think about you. Had to fucking imagine it was your hand stroking me, your mouth on me."

Your chest swells with satisfaction, a delicious warmth curling in your stomach. "Poor thing," you mock softly, barely containing your amusement.

"Not funny," Rafe mutters, but there’s a slight whimper at the end of his words, like he knows he’s at your mercy.

"Oh, but it is."

His breath shudders on the other end. "I miss it. I miss you."

He’s breaking now, voice barely above a whisper, and you just soak it in.

"Miss how tight you are. How fucking good you feel wrapped around me. Nothing—nothing—compares. They don’t squeeze me the way you do, don’t pull me in like you. Like you never wanna let go."

You hum, dragging a hand down your stomach, not even touching yourself—just feeling the power you have over him. "Sounds frustrating."

"It is," he rushes out. "It fucking is, and I hate you for it. Hate that you ruined me for anyone else."

You giggle, and it’s so cruel.

"Guess you should’ve thought of that before you lost me, huh?"

His breathing stutters. Then, barely audible: "I didn’t lose you. You’re still here."

You don’t answer. You just listen to him breathe—ragged, desperate, broken.

The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You can hear every shaky breath Rafe takes, every little sound he makes as he tries to hold himself together.

"Say something," he finally mutters, voice strained. "Anything."

You smirk to yourself, shifting lazily against your pillows. "Why?"

"Because I fucking need it."

The desperation in his voice is almost pathetic—and god, you love it.

"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you hum, dragging his name out like you’re savoring it. "Want me to tell you I miss you too?"

He exhales sharply. "Yes."

You laugh softly, shaking your head even though he can’t see it. "That’s not happening."

"Fuck—why are you like this?" he groans, and there’s something so helpless in the way he says it. Like he’s actually suffering. Like it physically hurts him that you’re not giving in.

You don’t say anything, just listening as he unravels.

"I think about you all the fucking time," he breathes. "Every time I try to fuck someone else, I can’t even—fuck, I can’t even finish unless I’m thinking about you."

Your stomach tightens, a rush of heat curling between your legs. He’s so gone, so completely wrecked, and it’s all because of you.

"That bad, huh?" you tease, biting your lip.

"Worse," he mutters. "So much fucking worse."

You hear a rustling sound on the other end of the line, like he’s shifting, maybe palming himself through his boxers, so frustrated he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

"I should make you beg," you say idly, stretching your arms above your head.

He groans, and you swear you hear the sound of his head hitting the pillow. "I fucking am."

You giggle, twirling a piece of hair around your finger. "Not enough."

Rafe whines—actually whines—and your stomach clenches.

"Please," he breathes out, and he’s so fucking gone. "Please, baby, talk to me. Say something. Anything. I just—fuck, I just need to hear your voice while I—"

He cuts himself off, but you know what he was about to say.

And god, you should hang up. You should. But instead, you smirk, shifting slightly in bed as you murmur, "Keep talking, Rafe."

[pacofprunes]

DARK / TOXIC SQUID GAME REACTIONS TO YOU TRYING TO LEAVE THEM

CONTAINS — namgyu x reader, thanos x reader, myungi x reader, inho x reader, sangwoo x reader, saebyeok x reader

WARNINGS — toxic relationship, domestic violence, baby trapping, manipulation, guilt trip, prepare yourself for namgyus that’s the worst probably, mentions of suicide (thanos)

masterlist

THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI-SUBONG — manipulates you / would let you leave and crawl back to him

doesn’t take it well at all. he’s going to laugh and think you’re joking, but after realizing that you’re not, he’s quickly going to scream at you. telling you that you’ll never find anybody better than him.

“do you really think anybody else will want you? if you leave me you’ll never find anyone else. you’ll never find anybody better!”

he’ll start breaking shit. punching walls, shit, he’ll even break your own phone if it’s in arms reach. if you still insist on leaving he’ll say he’s gonna overdose. he tells you that he’ll kill himself if you step out that door while pressing a blade up to his arm. if all else fails, he’ll totally act like he didn’t just beg you to stay and scream at you to go then and not to come running back.

“fine bitch, go ahead and leave! but don’t come running back to me for nothin’.”

in reality, he’s definitely stalking your socials, making fake accounts you haven’t blocked him on, stalking your friends accounts to see other photos of you, visiting the club every night (not that he didn’t already do that) to try to see if you’d show up. after about a month or so of doing this and going out and fucking other girls to get over you, he can’t do it anymore. he’ll send you some fake heartfelt text that he probably used ai to make and call you while making himself sound like he was crying, trying to make you feel bad and convince you that he’s changed and that he can be a better boyfriend. if you fall for it, you’re doomed. the relationships only going to be a million times worse than before. instead of knocking glass over and breaking shit, he might slap you. in public, he might grip your wrist ten times tighter, scared you’ll run away. when he finally lets go, his fingers will be embedded in your skin. he might even guilt trip you into getting a matching tattoo with him. “if you really loved me and forgave me then you would.”

if you really don’t go back to him though, no matter how many times you block him, you’ll get a new video sent to your phone from some unknown number of him fucking a new girl. he sent you the videos in hopes of making you jealous or something. he’s not going to stop for a long time. if you don’t go back to him, he’s going to harass you for the rest of your life. and if you do go back? you’re in for a world of hell.

NAMGYU / PLAYER 124 — would threaten you, would actually harm you

“you’re one funny bitch. you know how much shit i got on you?”

he finds it admirable, honestly. but still, fucking hilarious, that you, you, think you can leave him. what? when did you grow some balls? yeah, no. you just hurt his ego and that’s about the stupidest thing you could ever do to him. he’s not very empty with his threats. if he says he’s leaving? he’ll leave. (for like a week…) if he says he’s gonna hit you? you’re gonna be bruised for a while. if he says he’s gonna kill you? well, you haven’t gotten to that point yet. but keep this up and you sure will.

he keeps every nude and threatens to release it. sure you’re his and all, but that doesn’t stop him. so what if some other guy sees your body? he could care less. now if another guy touches you? let’s not think about what would happen. threatens to send the pictures to your family and threatens to send every sex tape of you two that he filmed behind your back.

“what the fuck is wrong with you namgyu? when the fuck did you film that?”

don’t raise your voice at him. once he hits you and you fall to the ground, he’ll keep kicking at you with his foot over and over until he thinks you’ve had enough. don’t speak up to him, don’t speak against him, and don’t piss him off. just sit there and be pretty, okay? he’s going to be bolder now. next time you two have sex he’s just going to shove the camera in your face. he’s going to manipulate and force you to take nudes for him since you don’t want to anymore after he threatened to send them out. sometimes he’ll force you to strip and then he’ll just take the pictures himself. all in all, sometimes he might just say no and leave it at that. but if you keep pushing, he’s going to threaten you. and if you still keep pushing, he’s going to go through with those threats. you really are just some whore to him, don’t think he’s above killing you.

MYUNGI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★— would let you leave and crawl back to him (except he’s the one who crawls back), babytrapping

“really? fine, if that’s what you want then leave.”

he acts like he doesn’t care because he thinks his annoyance will make you turn right back around to him. he acts like he doesn’t care because he’s trying to not get so bent out of shape about it and move on quickly. but when he hears your footsteps disappear and the door shut, he immediately balls up his fists. you seriously left? he didn’t expect that, but whatever. he doesn’t need you.

he tries to move on but after barely even a week, he can’t do it. he contacts you, but when you block him, he makes more and more numbers. he thought you’d be running back to him, not the opposite. he sends you pictures of you two together in hopes you’d change your mind, but when you just keep blocking him, he’s knocking on your door demanding you open it up. he tries being nice but when you don’t open it, he starts banging on the door. really? you’d been together for months and you’d already gotten over him? no. no no no. you don’t get to just move on! what the hells wrong with you? when you still don’t open the door, he leaves and goes back to his place and sits on his bed while he ponders his next move. he decides for now just to stalk your page and harass you from more and more numbers. he’s not going to stop until you at least respond. oh, you’re gonna get a restraining order? you’re funny. you think that’ll stop him? don’t go back to him. if for some reason you give in, the next time that you two have sex, he’s going to make sure that you can’t leave. he’s sure that you’ll look so pretty with your stomach swelled up.

INHO / YOUNGIL / PLAYER 001 — straight up says no / baby traps / makes you feel like you’re going crazy

straight up, no. you want to leave? no. he doesn’t even care for an explanation on why, you’re not leaving. completely ignores your words and changes the whole topic. everytime you try to say you’re leaving he just completely overrides you with something different.

“inho, i’m serious. i’m leaving you! i’m packing my shit right now and i’m not coming back, i swear to you.”

“what did you want for dinner again? i have to go back out to get some groceries so there’s not too much…”

maybe it’s on purpose, maybe it’s not. but it makes you feel like you’re losing your mind. then he will deliberately go out of his way to make it seem like you’re crazy.

“i’m leaving because of what you’ve been doing behind my back, inho. it’s fucked up and you’re insane.”

“baby, you could follow me around tomorrow. i’ve got no idea what you mean.”

and he says it all with that stupid small polite smile that he gives everyone. you just want to strangle him. if somehow he can get you in bed with him after you just got so pissed, he’ll be more passionate than ever. he’ll treat you nice, focus on your pleasure before his and then quickly when you’re blissed out, he’ll pull out of you, slip the condom off and slide right back in. you don’t notice at all, but he makes sure to tell you like the cocky fuck he is. but he does it while he’s thrusting and when you can tell he’s about to cum. poor you, it’s too late to stop him :(.

“i’m about to fuck a baby in you — agh, i — i took the condom off. gonna have a beautiful—fuck—fucking baby with you.”

how could you leave now? do you have enough money to take care of a child without him? and would you really deprive your child of their father? you’ll get an abortion? he’ll find a way to keep you locked up in your house. you’re still going to leave? he’s going to guilt trip you to the max. and if that still fails? once again, he’s just going to find a way to keep you locked up in your house. he’ll figure it out as you go on, but for now, have your happy little family with him.

KANG SAE-BYEOK — straight up says no

she’s not going to entertain you at all. she might not even say no, opting to just stay silent instead. if you get in her face about it because she’s ignoring you, she’s just going to push you away. if you keep nagging her about it, she’s going to slap you. if you decide not to drop it, she’ll drag you by your hair and lock you in a room. are you stupid? don’t start this shit first thing in the morning.

“saebyeok, this isn’t working. we should go our separate ways.”

“no. did you hit your head or something?”

you should just drop it and move on with your day. nothing you say is going to convince her and if you piss her off too much, like said before, she’s just going to lock you away until you stop sounding ‘crazy’. she’s very cold, but she’s generally pretty nice to you still though. she’s a good girlfriend to you, just a little possessive, but it’s never gotten out of control. you just didn’t think the relationship was working and that it just wasn’t the right time. all in all, if you don’t push to much, you won’t see the shitty side of her that she never shows you. however, if you keep pushing the idea, she’s going to give you a real reason to break up with her.

SANGWOO — would let you leave and crawl back to him

“you want to break up? fine.”

it leaves you shocked at the sound of him not caring. it was as simple as that. you want to break up? bye then bitch! it hurt. it almost made you want to change your mind and say never mind and just stay with him, and that’s exactly what he wanted. that’s exactly why he said it like that. but that didn’t work and you just walked out the door. that’s fine though, you’d come back to him, he knows it.

he makes sure to post old photos of you two on his Instagram. not ones with your face in it, duh, but he posts the photos that you took of him where you’re behind the camera or ones where your arm or your hand is slightly showing. he knows you still stalk his socials. he’s posting these knowing that it’s going to hurt your little heart and make you crawl right back. he leaves every photo of you two up on every platform, not deleting a single thing. for a little while, he even keeps his pfp the same. you two holding hands. whenever he posts something, he always makes sure to put something in the caption that he knows you love. you liked tulips? he’ll put a tulip emoji in the caption. you loved cats? he’ll put a cat emoji in his bio. all these subtle things where you won’t know he’s doing it on purpose, but it’ll be so much of a coincidence that you’ll think this is a sign to run back to him.

he’ll tell his friends to ask about him to you whenever they talk with you.

“how are you and sangwoo doing?”

“oh he talks about you all the time.”

he tells them to act like they don’t know that the two of you have broken up. he makes sure to get in your head and eventually? you’ll come running back. if for some reason you don’t, he might have to pull some strings. spread some rumors about you so that your friends want nothing to do with you and so all that you have to run to for comfort is him.

[maxxiemoa]

~Snotlout x reader Pt 1~

An: Guess who went to the theater again to see httyd. MEEEE! Guess who has a little crush on Gabriel Howell. ME!

Summary: Snotlout is being his normal big egoed self. But ever since hiccup and Astrid got together he promised Hiccup he’d stop flirting with Astrid. But of course that meant Snotlout had a new object of affection, you.

Sfw

Snotlout was a real Viking. Big, loud, and egotistical. You’ve seen the way he throws himself at girls. He flexes his muscles and waits for them to swoon. You didn’t find him appealing. He was too arrogant. Despite this you still hung out with him. He was friends with your friends so it’s not like you could really avoid him.

As usual while you were sitting in the mead hall with your friends Snotlout came bashing in showing off the huge fish him and hookfang caught. Hookfang could probably eat it in seconds flat and just like that it would be gone and Snotlout would have nothing more to boast about.

You didn’t so much mind his need for attention as much as you minded the way he expected the attention. Like it was his right. You knew his father didn’t pay him much attention but it still bothered you that Snotlout would pout and throw a fit if he didn’t get the attention he wanted.

He came over to the table that Astrid, Hiccup, Fishlegs, the twins, and I were sitting at. I didn’t bother to look up from my stew to see where he would sit. I pretty much knew his routine. Sit right next to Astrid, flirt with her, get punched, and waddle over to sit next to the twins.

You felt the spot near you get warmer and realized that Snotlout sat down next to you. Why you? His spot is next to Astrid or pouting next to the twins. Why is he next to you? And why is he so close? You could practically hear his heart beating.

“Snotface why are you so close? Do you mind?” I slide over on the bench to create some distance between us.

He lets out a sad “hey” at the name calling but just slides over to meet my side again.

He smells of fish and sweat. If he was on the other side of the table that would still be too close. “Snotlout please, you smell like fish. If you wanted to sit so close to me you could have at least washed.” I groan at him attempting to shove him over on the bench. But to no avail. He once again scoots closer. “I give up” I say throwing my hands up. I get up and walk out the doors of the hall.

Later in the day I go out to the big hill that looks over the village, its a nice place to relax. I was drawing up some fun armor for my dragon and just enjoying the way the wind feels blowing on my face and through my hair.

Suddenly a big gush of wind hits me. The strong flap of hookfang’s wings nearly knocks me over. “Snotlout what are you doing?” I ask not so much caring as I am just looking for an explanation to why my nice afternoon is being so rudely interrupted.

“Hiccup said you hang out here sometimes” he says like it’s obvious.

“And you are here……because…..?” I try to my best to not jump on his head and wrestle him to the ground for being so annoying and self centered.

“I wanted to see what a pretty girl like you was up to.” He shoots me a smile and slides off of Hookfang. “So what are you doing? Reading?” He points to my sketch book. “Ohhhh drawing. I didn’t know you could draw” he plops himself down next to me. Thankfully he isnt practically sitting on my leg.

“Yeah I come out here to get away from it all and just create. Sometimes I just doodle and sometimes I draw up some armor that hiccup helps me make.” I’m not quite sure why I’ve decided to tell him all of this but I chalk it up to assuming he won’t leave me alone if I ask.

He leans over to take a look at my sketches. “Woah! Those are really cool. Do you think you could draw hookfang and I up something?” I giggle and agree. I can’t help but notice he smells much better than early. More fresh and less like fish. “How was fishing?”

He shoots up from his spot next to me and he is beaming. “It was great. Hookfang and I found this spot by the beach and there are tons of fish. They are much bigger than ones I’ve seen before. There are also a few shiny colorful ones. We didn’t want to fish them because they looked so nice swimming around. I can take you to see them. It’s dark but I can take you in the morning.

“Were there any fancy red fish?” I ask him patting the spot next to me.

His eyes light up and he takes a seat. “There were! There were mostly some orange and purple ones but there were a few other colors. I think I saw a pink one but hookfang called me crazy.”

I’ve never really seen this side of Snotlout before. He was calmer and passionate. Like he really wanted to share with me rather than boast.

“So said you could take me to see them in the morning?” I say wrapping my arms around myself. The wind has started to go from cooling to chilling.

Snotlout moved in a little closer and offered up his body heat. “Hookfang and I will come by your house in the morning. You should bring your dragon too. There are plenty of fish to eat.”

I lean into his side and take in his warmth. “Yeah. Sounds like fun..but can we head back to the village. It’s starting to get really cold up here. “ he nods his head and we start walking back to the heart of berk.

The next morning I hear knock at my door. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and shuffle to the door. “Hmm, Snotlout it’s still so early. Why are you here so early?” I ask with my eyes half closed.

“I thought seeing the sunrise on the beach might be nice or whatever” Snotlout looked around the house and picked up my childhood toy pony. “Who’s this?” He asked prancing her around.

I laugh at his playing “Thats stargazer. My mom made it for me when I was little.” I take it from him and put it on my bed. “So are you ready to go see the fish?”

“Sure am” he put his arm around me and guided me to where hookfang was. “You wanna ride with me princess? Hookfang is like a seat warmer”

“I am going to ride my dragon…but thanks for the offer Snotlout” I duck out from under his arm, pat hookfang on the head, and hop on my dragon.

Once we arrive at the beach hookfang bucks Snotlout off his back. After he got up out of the sand he ran over to me and offered me a hand off my dragon. “Wow what a gentleman.” I take his hand sliding off my dragon and straighten out his helmet. “Does hookfang always throw you?

“We are just practicing an emergency escape plan incase we ever have to split up really fast. Hookfang would never throw me off his back on purpose. He respects me” just as Snotlout said that Hookfang huffed and knocked him over with his wing. “Bad hookfang! There will be repercussions for this!” Snotlout shouts with sand all in his hair.

I laughed a little bit. “Oh hookfang you naughty dragon”. I helped Snotlout up and brushed the sand out of his hair. “Hmm. I don’t think I’ve seen you without your helmet. You actually have really nice hair Snotlout.” I say still brushing the sand from it.

“Yeah my hair is pretty awesome isnt it. You can like totally play with it whenever you want or whatever.” I could feel his ego starting to drop.

“You wanna show me the fish now?” I ask walking over to the water.

He walks over to the edge of the water and points to a shiny purple one. “That one is nice but it’s not as nice as the red one we saw yesterday”. I hang off of Snotlouts arm and wiggle with excitement. He turns to me and says “I’ll make sure you see a red one.” I smile at his determination and take a look at the beach. The way the sun is coming up above the water is beautiful. “Snotlout look” I point to the horizon.

We watch the sunrise as we look for the pretty fish in the sea. Our dragons are playing around and getting to know each other better. Snotlout and I have taken a seat on some rocks near the waters edged. It’s just high enough to look right over the water without feeling like we will fall in. But even so he has an arm wrapped around my back just incase.

“You are really nice company when you aren’t worried about impressing people. Why do you care so much anyways?” I say leaning on him a bit more.

“I don’t care. People should just know how cool I am. I’m a great Viking” he puffs out his chest flexs his muscles and nearly knocks me off the rocks. “Snotlout!” I loose my balance on the rock but he quickly grabs my hands and I regain my balance. “I almost just cracked my skull opened on these rocks because you are so worried about how you appear to others.” I scoff.

He sighs and doesn’t look at me. “I just want people to know I’m strong. Youve seen my dad. Hes a great big ol’ Viking. Hes tough and nothing can take him down. He doesn’t do feelings, he makes people fear him. I need to be just like him. I want him to be proud of me.”

I feel bad for him. He shouldn’t have to beg for his father’s approval but I just wish he would be his own person. Just act the way he truly wants to. “Snotlout. You don’t have to be your dad. You are different from your father. You train dragons. You are apart of Berks best riders. You are known all around the village. You are Snotlout and you are impressive in your own way.”

Tears well up in his eyes and he try’s to blink them away but to no avail. I hold his face and wipe the salty tears off of his face. “It’s ok to just be you Snotlout. People will like you for who you are. Not for who you are pretending to be.”

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"GET WELL SOON!!"

MARK GRAYSON X FEM WB!READER

Bio: Mark got beaten up again, so you try your best to cheer up your sick boy. Based of this post

He's invincible for Christ's sake, so how does he get beat down like some D-tier hero? This sucks. It just sucks sitting down in bed with a broken leg and a fractured wrist. God, this sucks. It's just sucks. Everyone else is out fighting crime, and he's home watching dumb trash TV. He's about to lose it; if he doesn't get any action, he just might go insane from all the boredom. But he can barely get up, and his mom gave him specific rules not to leave the house when she's not around, and the other guardians are watching out so he won't leave bed. Ugh, this just isn't fair. It's just a broken leg and a bruised wrist; he can still kick ass, he thinks.

SLAM

"What the?" Mark sits up but instantly feels lightheaded from all that lying down. "Do not fear, fellow citizen, for Invincible is here!" you yell, wearing your signature yellow, blue, and black costume, flexing your very non-existent muscles at him with a big smirk. "I am here to cheer you up," you say with a wink, hitting him with some corny finger guns. Mark let out a surprised laugh; he couldn’t believe his eyes. This was probably the worst impression of him ever, like when parents hire a fake Spider-Man to come to their kid's birthday party. But he'll play along; plus, you really do look good in that suit. "Wow Invincible showed up to cheer up little ol' me," he chuckled, covering his mouth with his good hand.

"Yup!" you said confidently, pointing at yourself with a grin. "I'll do whatever you wish," you said, doing a little spin for him, making him laugh a little bit more. But you see, saying you'll do whatever he wishes was your very first mistake; your second mistake was not letting him check you out in this little invincible suit. "Oh really? You'll do whatever I say and some more?" he questioned, rubbing his chin with a good hand. "Well, that wasn't what I—" Oh, what the heck, he's bedridden; it's not like he could do anything. "Yeah, that's actually what I meant. Your, dear Invincible, will do whatever you ask!" Big mistake, huge.

"Can you do a little spin for me, Invincible? I want to see the suit; I mean, I never got to see it up close." You felt a strong surge of pride, and you couldn't help but do a little spin for him, slower than the first one, so he could see everything from the front to the back, the way it hugged your curves so nicely and how stretchy the material was so that it wouldn't be too tight. There were some parts that were a bit too tight, like around the chest area, but it was no biggie. Mark let out a whistle, watching it, which just boosted your ego more. "You like?" You did a dynamic pose for him. "Oh, I love it!" You couldn't control the little giggles that escaped your lips. "I made it myself. I wanted to wear it to a convention, but I felt this was better." Lies, you really made it for him. "Well, you did an amazing job, baby. I mean, Invincible," he said with a soft smirk on his face.

You sat on his bed, just for him to pull you into his lap. You keep forgetting how strong he is, even when he's half-broken. "Are you sure you can hold me? You're still a little... well, broken," Mark frowns and flexes his very existing muscles. "Does this look broken to you?" You wanted to laugh and blush at the same time. "No, sir!" You saluted him. "Good girl. Now, can the great Invincible show me her secret identity?" he said, gently rubbing your hip in a little circle, just for you to shake your head. "Nope, secret!" You giggle, "Not one peak," you shook your head again, and Mark makes a mock-upset face. "UGH! You're not fun. How about this: why don't you take care of me, then?" he asked, a wicked little grin on his lips. "Like what? I could make you something to eat—" Then his lips were pressed against yours. Oh, that's what he meant.

Mark's way of kissing was kind of like conquering you, if that made sense. His arms were wrapped around you, pulling you closer until you were both chest to chest. He devoured you with one kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, needing you, drinking in every whimper and gasp while letting out heavy breaths of his own. Then you heard a rip followed by a tear; his hand was clawing at the back of your suit, ripping it like confetti. "H-Hey, quit that!" But he didn't; he kept on ripping like you were some Christmas present waiting to be unwrapped. He had ripped the front and the back of the suit, making you pout. "You could have just unzipped it." It took you so many nights to make this. "Sorry, sweet thing." He wasn't sorry; you could see it in that devilish smirk. "No panties, huh? Invincible..." And here comes your shame: "It didn't look good because of the panty lines," but to be honest, it really didn't look good with the panty lines either. "Or you were planning this." His fingers flicked your clit, making you gasp, and his thumb slipped between your folds, feeling your wetness. "Definitely planned." He acted so cocky, like his cock wasn't throbbing at the idea of you in a custom-made hero suit just for him. "Come on, Invincible, why don't you cheer up your sick boy?"

"M-Mmh-" his hands were practically glued to your tits; even with a broken wrist, it didn't stop him from grabbing and pinching just to make you smirk as you bounced on his cock, barely even taking him in. Your mask was already lifted over your head; he needed to know your "secret identity." It was actually an excuse to see your cute little fucked-out expressions, like how your eyes would roll to the back of your head if he bucked his hips while you were riding or how you let little tears leave your eyes when overstimulated. "F-Fuck, baby!" you whined, feeling him fuck into you mid-ride. You pushed his hips down to stop him from bucking again. "Y-You asked me to take care of you," soft pants left your kiss-swollen lips. "Let me do that; you're hurt." He let out another needy whimper; it was getting harder and harder for him to keep control of himself when you looked so cute like this, with little baby hairs sticking to your forehead from sweat, how your hips always stuttered just a little when you tried to grind down on him, and the way you let out small curses in between when he was just too much. So Markus sat back and watched the view of his little Invincible.

But a part of him didn't like how you were doing all the work, his pretty girl, so why not help you just a little? And by a little, he means a lot. He wrapped both arms around you and pulled you closer to him so the two of you were face to face. Both of you let out pathetic little "ahh ahh ahh" sounds as you fucked like rabbits in heat. Mark bent his good leg up so he could get a better angle, hitting that spot that left you quivering. You tried to get out of his grip but remembered he's the hero here. "F-Fu... my g-god... y-you're so... w-warm... and... tight, shit!" He bit his lip hard; just feeling you was enough to make him cum, but he had to hold out. "Fuck!" He looked to see your blissed-out face. "God, you're so pretty like this," he breathed, nipping at your lips, trying to pull you into one of his very sloppy kisses, and it worked like a charm. You felt him grip your thigh, a sign that he was close, but at the same time he was moving, there was no way in hell he was pulling out or letting up on his pace. He moaned into your mouth, his cock twitching as he came inside you, thick hot ropes of cum painting your insides. "I-I really did like the suit," he choked out in between gasps, just for you to slap his chest; there was literally no suit left.

[hazeytae]

pervy!bnd

♡ perverted thoughts- obviouslyyy, kinda cnc, somno, groping, vouyerism, panty stealing, panty sniffing, in public, exhibitionism

🗒️: btw my hard thoughts are open!! send in hard thoughts for bnd :3 or fluffy thoughts too! i wanna hear everyones thoughts 🙊 SEND IN ASKSSSSS ASAP! id like to get anons too if u like my writing :)

sungho.

pervy!sungho who whenever he sees you wear short shorts and a tank top with no bra he literally goes feral. the sight of your boobs bouncing with each step and your ass threatening to fall out your shorts- he feels so bad! youre in this innocent outfit but he cant help the impure thoughts flooding his head. when your doing the dishes and he cant stop watching how your tits jiggle when you move your arms, he has to use a pillow to hide his growing boner or maybe even take a trip to the restroom to sort himself out. he doesnt even want you going out in public wearing shorts! let alone a low cut shirt? and it may sound controlling but its just the way your ass spills out those shorts he cant let anyone else seeing that. "where are you going dressed like that?" kinda guy

riwoo.

pervy!riwoo who feels sooo terrible but whenever you wear a loose off the shoulder shirt n bend over he cant help but steal a look down your shirt. he feels so bad, he knows he shouldnt be looking but he swears he cant help it! poor boy cant help the perverted thoughts that come into his mind- but he swears hes not a pervert. when your peacefully sleeping and your off the shoulder shirt slightly slides down and practically your whole breast is out- he feels awful. should he fix your shirt for you? he knows he should out of respect- but instead he needs to cop a feel :( cupping your titty and feeling your hardened nipple with his fingers he almost cums in his pants right then and there. your whimpering kinda scares him- hes worried you woke up and he got caught but thankfully for riwoo your still asleep. your whimpers got him closer to cumming in his pants than ever- and he has to resort to humping your thigh.

jaehyun.

pervy!jaehyun whos a panty stealer andd sniffer...!! he feels so gross but he makes excuses for himself, trying to convince himself its not perverted or weird! youre soo confused when your favorite pair of panties mysteriously goes missing, you swore you put them in the laundry and they shouldve been washed by now! but nope, you were wrong, jaehyun had taken your used panties out the laundry hamper :( he knows its perverted as he sniffs your panties while fisting his cock- or wrapping your panties around his cock feeling the fabric cumming all over your panties n soiling them. he ends up keeping them in his side drawer and thats rxactly where you find them! youre so confused as to why jaehyun had them in his side drawer- until you feel his cum on your panties.

taesan.

pervy!taesan whos a littleee bit more lowkey with his perverted tendencies. but! that spare key to your apartment does him wonders. he was just gonna stop by to see you- nothing perverted about it! but the second he opened that apartment door and he heard your sweet honey-like moans coming from your bedroom he couldnt stop the tent growing in his pants. he crept up to your room- too scared to push the door even slightly open, but he eventually gets over it when your moans become louder. you dont notice the sound of the door creeping slightly open because of the loud buzz of your vibrator and the loud sounds of your wetness on the dildo. taesan cums in his pants the second he sees this- which is such a hit to his ego! but how can he help it when your spread wide open with the prettiest sounds? you dont even know hes there and that somehow makes it better for him. he shouldnt be watching you and hes fully aware that he should probably walk away or at least look away- but he cant. youre just way too gorgeous and he cant miss out on this.

leehan.

pervy!leehan who cant keep his hands off you... he has a bittt of a problem of always trying to touch you in public ! walking through the mall and he has his hand in your back pocket- might be something people see as romantic but hes literally groping your ass right now. sitting at a booth having lunch together and he cant stop himself from touching you under the table. every second of the day he finds his hand somewhere near your clit, rubbing it gently across the table from you. pulling you right into the dressing room and hes flipping your skirt up to admire your pussy before eating you out. rubbing his fingers across your folds while you look through racks of clothes. he knows its weird, he knows it is literally indecency- but how could he keep his hands off of you when you look so good and your pussy is always so wet and welcoming for him?

[namjooningera]

Hi, first timer here. May I humbly request for a drabble with Yandere Nanami wherein his darling gets sick and tries to avoid Nanami, but fails and gets coddled in return

You absolutely may!

Yandere JJK react to you being sick

Characters: Nanami, gojo, geto, Toji

Tw: sickness, forced physical touch, poisoning (?) 👀

AN: I decided to go with all the characters cuz I actually like this prompt! However nanamis will be longer since you asked for him specifically :D btw y’all I’m thinking of adding Choso! Tell me what y’all think ;)

Nanami:

You cough and shake, body trembling. Nanami’s at work, you know that because he isn’t on his side of bed. His watch and phone have been picked off the nightstand, the windows were sealed shut again, and the clock on the night stand buzzed with the numbers

11:23 am.

It’s late. Well, sort of. It’s the late where you don’t usually wake up. Sure you don’t wake up as early as Nanami does, but you at least wake up before the afternoon.

Before, you’d wake up as early as possible, well, when you had a life, that is.

But your sniffling, your nose is clogged and your body aches. Your throat, restricted. You can barely swallow down that dry saliva because dammit your throat aches. You need some water to smooth your sore throat, but you find the glass at the night stand completely empty.

You slowly crawl out of bed, on all fours, body weak and mind empty. You’re tired, you feel dirty, and you feel like you could pass out.

You basically limp to the kitchen with your glass in your hand, at any point knowing you could drop it. It’s just so heavy in your weak hand, and it fucking slips.

It slips onto the floor and shatters. You sigh, staring at the broken glass on the floor. No worries! Right? You’ll pick up a broom and clean it up later.

That’s a future you problem

Amongst all the other problems you have. You get another glass from the cabinet, filling up your cup and downing the water. It hurts so bad, like a shards going down your throat but the slight relief it gives, helps.

But you can’t stand for long, your bottom hitting the kitchen counter, hands grabbing the edges for support. You stumble into it, trying to move, but your eyes get blurry.

Your body is weaker, your vision is weak, eyes droopy and legs starting to give out.

It’s fine- you’re fine. Is what you tell yourself. You can’t let Nanami know about this. He’ll take care of you- then his ego will boost ten fold. He’ll probably get more clingy and desperate, protective. He won’t let you go for a second then after your no longer sick, he’ll think he has some control over you know. That you owe him. That’s what you think anyway. Not that he actually cares about you (oh he certainly does), but you’d like to keep it in your head that he’s being fake, that he’s a bad man. Because you know as soon as you realize his actions are purely out of love, that he loves you, perhaps you’ll actually start to gain empathy for him. Feel emotions.. you shouldn’t.

He was your favorite coworker, best friend. You grew up with him, or at least from high school. He’s taken care of you before, but now you just don’t trust it.

Your back, starts to slide down the kitchen counter, and you hazily sit against the kitchen cabinet. You look at the time.

“11:46 am”

Ok great, he won’t be back until 7 right? That’s how it normally is if he has some out of city mission.

But your eyes get droopy, your dizzy, your vision is blurred, mouth dry and oh-

Your head is heavy and falls over onto the floor. You’re on your side, shivering. It’s hot but your also shivering, you can’t tell if your freezing or if your heating up. Your mind starts to shut down and so does your body- the sweat that drools down your forhead, the body heat that illuminates your skin.

You lay unconscious on the kitchen floor.

Nanami’s excited.

He’s able to come home early today. Around 3pm? He was so glad. It turns out this out of city mission was actually a lot simpler then told- or maybe it was gojo beating them before he could even arrive. Turns out gojo finished them off quick so he could have a chance to eat out in another city with Nanami. Nanami rolls his eyes at the thought. Luckily he was able to escape after a while of entertaining Gojo Satoru for that long. He could come home early to his darling and he was excited.

Excited to spend the mid-day with you too. He opened the door excitedly, a sliver of a smile adoring his face as he opened the door, bakery sweets in hand (he had to buy some to cope with Satorus constant crude comments).

“Sweetheart! I’m home!”

He says cheerfully, but his smile drops just a tad when you don’t come to the door to greet him. He just shrugs anyway, going off to the room to find you and tell you about his insufferable day, but feed you sweets and tell you, you make it all better.

But as he passes the kitchen, he immediately stops, his head is thrown in your direction and he sees you. On the floor.

You’re on the floor. Why are you on the floor? Why’s there broken glass? Did you hurt yourself? Purposely? On accident? He runs over, his feet sliding over the glass, he winces but ignored it, dropping on his knees, looking at your sweaty cold body. He was confused at the glass, his aching feet, your cold but heated body passed out on the floor.

“D-dear? My love?” He whispered. His voice lingered with panic, major panic actually, he was terrified.

“Dear please!” He raised his voice for the first time ever, breaking one of his own rules he had for himself.

Your ears are ringing, but your eyes finally start top open and you look up at him.

“N-Nanami..” even though your angry at him, furious, you look up at him, and you know the fear in his eyes are genuine.

And you see your best friend.

Your high school best friend. The sweet man from high school. Patient, kind, caring, quiet, your lovely best friend. The one that you.. had more then just friendly feelings for. I mean how could you not? He was so sweet and perfect. Always spoiling you, taking care of you, making sure you ate and we’re always well kept. He made you laugh too, unintentionally most of the time but still hilariously. And oh was he handsome. He’s always been, and it always made you wonder why he never dated. Never say anyone or had something as simple as a crush. You always thought it was probably because he was too busy, the jujutsu sorcerer life isn’t easy, it’s time consuming and utterly dangerous, no fit for a relationship.

You look up at Nanami. He’s your best friend. A year rolls down your eye, dropping to the floor.

“Sweetheart? Don’t cry? My love, what happened?” His voice was shaking, he was scared.

You haven’t seen him like this before.

Hah, no that’s a lie. You have. And it was.. quite.. violent.

And right before you got kidnapped.

You get it now.

He did do this, kidnapped you and all, for your own safety. To make sure he’d always have you his palms, his hands, so that you’d never break.

But look at you. Even now. Even though your in the safety of his home, his surveillance, your still ill and wounded.

Your shaky breaths leave your mouth and your lidded eyes look up at him. He swallows hard. He considers taking you to the hospital- but no. They’d take you away from him. But he’d also rather have you completely safe and hurt free. If letting you’d go meant you’d be better, then so be it.

But his hands shook as he went to touch you. He didn’t want you to leave. Once he lets you go you’ll be gone forever.

His hand caressed your cheek, a tear bubbling in his eyes, and that’s when you know. When you know what’s in his mind, what he’s thinking.

“I-I’m fine..” Your voice incredibly shaky and desperate.

Just get away. You think. Leave me alone. Fuck. You want him gone, you want this asshole- the idiot who betrayed you- who kidnapped you who hurt you- you want him gone and off your back.

“You’re not fine. Your not! Sweetheart I- what happened?”

“C-could be uh-“ you cough, “food poisoning?” Perhaps, but you’re unsure. You’re both unsure.

He picks you up. His arms shaking and feet stinging from the small shards of glass that stick up his heels. He carries you to your room, placing you softly on the bed with a shaky exhale leaving his lips.

His face is pale and sweaty, he looks more sick then you.

“I’ll call you an ambulance okay?” Shaky tears leave his eyes. He holds your hand tightly, towering over your spread body.

“W-wha?”

He sighs, a sad smile on his lips.

“I-if that’s what I have to do.. to.. stop this.”

You think. You could get away, have that chance. But you also think it isn’t worth it.

Looking up at your best friend, the tears leaving his eyes, that soft smile he’s looked at you with before. Fuck. You know there’s something deeper to this, he didn’t do all of this on purpose. His obsession, obsession with protecting you and shadowing you and god just his constant paranoia and possessiveness until he kidnapped you- it had to be at a fault not from him right?

And looking up at the man you called your alley, your best friend, your crush. You had to save him. Maybe then, once you do, you two could be normal again? You could learn to forgive him, he’d let you go, and heal. And once he healed.. perhaps you two could be something more? More than a forced relationship.

Your hand tightens over his. Barely, but he feels it.

“S-stay.”

His eyes widened and he looks down at you. “Honey? What?”

“D-don’t wanna go Kay? Can take care of m’self.”

He grumbled at that. “Absolutely not. Your body is heated to hell and your shivering. You look terrible.”

You huff. “Rude.”

“Dear please let me take you to a hospital? Or to get checked out at least, please?” He’s so desperate, it’d be sweet if it wasn’t for the situation you were in, with a lovesick yandere. But you knew he wouldn’t let you go until someone could heal and take care of you. You sighed to yourself.

“Just go buy some medicine? Will be fine…” you mumbled.

“Do you have to be so thick headed? I know you’re in pain. At least let me take care of you.”

“Just leave me alone!”

Your scream threw him back, stepping back from you. “I…I understand.”

He left the room, his eyebrows bunched up and his mouth in a scowl. You felt disgusting, but hoped some nap could help. A nap that would wake you up from this horrid shit, perhaps this was all a dream.

Alas, you wake up. And it’s not a dream. And you feel even worse, actually. Your throat is completely closed, you can’t speak for fucks sake, your entire body is covered in a thick inch of sweat and you feel sticky. Your clothes are too tight and your hair feels wet, sticking onto your forehead. Your stomach is empty but still feels twisted, and god your body is so weak. So weak you can’t get up, so weak you don’t think you can even move your hand to grab the glass of water on your nightstand.

Everything hurts. You can’t avoid Nanami now, you need him.

“N-Nanam…” your realize your voice is basically gone to dust, you can’t speak and you can’t call out for him, and that’s when the panic starts to set in.

What if he left the house and won’t be back until late night? What if he doesn’t come check on you? What if he’s so upset for you avoiding him and pushing him away so he doesn’t help you?

But as your thinking all these thoughts, the door slowly starts to crack open, you see some blonde hair peeking out and an eye.

“Nan…nana..mi..” his eyes widens and he ran over to you.

“You need me?”

It’s like he was waiting out there for you to call him, right outside the door until you wake up and asked for him. You push that thought to the back of your head.

“Sweetheart- your burning up even worse then before. Please, please let me take care of you at least. I’m begging you, my love.”

You grumbled, looking up at him from your pillow. The soft expensive fucking sheets that nobody should be allowed to buy, clutched and balled up in your sweaty hands.

“F-fine.” You mumbled.

He smiled, but not one out of happiness but out of relief. “I’ll be the best care taker you’ve ever seen, my love. You’ll be better in no time.”

Gojo-

Satoru is possible the worst man you could be sick around. He gets fucking clingy and won’t leave you alone for a second. Treating you like some newborn baby who needs the utmost care at every waking moment.

That’s why, when you feel a oh so familiar cough rise in your throat, a chill in your spine and a just lovely heat illuminating from your forehead, you don’t tell him.

You pretend like it’s not even there. You think it’ll pass anyway. It’s probably some cold, some small bug that you’ll get over in a few days.

But it’s not that easy, especially when the medicine cabinet is locked and Satoru barely leaves you alone.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Your try to play off the fast you just chocked on your own disgusting heavy cough, as if you weren’t just about to puke from how gross and vile that cough felt.

You cleared your throat and continued to watch the TV. Satoru put on some lame show and you decided you had nothing better to do, so you plopped down on the sofa to watch, too. Well, plopped down on the entire other side of the sofa.

It’s funny though, he thinks you don’t see the way he slowly scoots over closer to you every second. It’s pathetic, really. But if you didn’t hate him so much you’d actually find it kind of endearing.

“Hey, uhh. You have any pain killers? Or just.. medicine.”

He looks at you suspiciously. “Why?”

“Just.. have a headache. You know..”

He raises his eyebrow at you but nods. “Follow me..”

He leads you out of the living and to the kitchen. Where he unlocks a cabinet with a key that he pulled out of who knows where.

He grabs some pain killers for your so called “headache” and while he’s taking a pill out, you sneak behind him and try to grab some cold cough medicine.

And obviously, you get caught immediately because who wouldn’t.

“I knew it! You are sick!”

“No! I just uhh..”

“You just uhh.” he mocks you. “You’re sick- I can see it all over your face. Can’t fool me.” He snickers, grabbing the cold couch medicine, and you, by the arm, and drags you to the living room where he forces you to situate yourself on the sofa while he stands.

“How long have you been sick?”

You shrug.

He scoffs. “Fine. You know what? Your not getting these,” he waves around the cough medicine, “until I get a hug. A hug for every pill you want.” He huffs and strikes his chin upwards, acting all mad and pouty.

“What? Your kidding. Satoru this isn’t funny.”

“It’s really not.” He answers.

“Fine. I’ll cough all over you and get you sick too.”

He huffed and bonked your head a few times. “Hey! You want the cough medicine or not? Don’t you wanna get better?” He teased with a very annoying smile on his face.

But your desperate, and you can feel your throat start to clog and a cough starting to gear up, you know what you have to.

“-ugh fine!”

….

It’s a few hours later.

Satoru was fucking elated. Floating on cloud nine, while you, were stuck in his arms. He had been clinging onto for who knows how long. As soon as you gave in and gave him those hugs, he wouldn’t let go.

Yes, he gave you those pills, yes you feel relieved and less sick, but god was it really worth it? Worth your dignity and sanity?

“One more episode pleaseeeee.” He whined, knowing damn well that he could just force you to watch with him anyway, but it was as if he wanted that reassurance that you wanted to watch with him too.

Which you didn’t.

“No satoru. I’m sleepy, okay? I’m tired.”

He mumbled something incoherent and grumbled, but then a smile appeared on his face.

“Oh no problem! Let’s just go to bed then!”

You didn’t realize what he meant until he grabbed you off the couch, carrying you off into your room giddily and jumped into bed with you.

He cuddled up to your side and sniffed into your neck, inhaling your scent and almost rubbing himself into your nape.

“S-satoru move..”

He chuckled and just squeezed closer to you. “But you’re sick sweetie.” He said with a faux pout, the kind where you know he was taunting you. “I need to be with you at all times to check your temperature and make sure my girl doesn’t get worse~”

Geto-

Suguru geto is a weird man.

He goes off everyday to his cult, his huge estate that wraps around his cult.

You don’t know it all started, what lead him to kill the leader and take over. No, you do know. You just wish you knew why. You wish you could’ve stopped him before his corruption. But alas, here you are.

But this time, Suguru is upset with you. Before he left to “work”, you had called him names and yelled at him. Told him to get away from you and that you hate him. You don’t know why you suddenly blew up, you’ve been eerily calm these past few days, but your upset. He’s been forcing himself on you, not sexually, but he’s been trapping you two together.

Following you everywhere you went, acting all calm when you got upset as if he wasn’t the problem. At one point he tried to get into the bathroom while you were showering, yes that was the last straw.

In your robe you yelled at him and called him out, and at one point it got out of hand, you started saying things that didn’t even have to do with why you were mad.

He left upset, he didn’t say anything. Just silent as he listened to your screams then left silent, too. And that was the scariest of them all.

But the truth is, you weren’t really upset about the fact he was trying to barge in when you were showering. Sure that would’ve been annoying and outright perverted, but you were mad for a different reason.

The way he almost found out that you were in fact, not showering.

But instead, using the showers loud water noise to cover up the fact that we’re puking.

When you saw the door handle start to turn as you coughed into the toilet, you quickly threw on a robe over your pajamas and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You were angry because he almost caught you. The truth is, you’ve been sick for a while now. You know it’s some stomach bug, you get every now and then but you don’t want Suguru to know.

Because once he knows, it’ll just be another reason to control you. To coddle you and guilt you into staying with him.

But honestly the look on his face before he left- god did it make you feel guilty. You almost bit your inner cheek off seeing that. After all you still had.. unsolved feelings. He’s your best friend for fucks sake- no. He used to be your best friend. Before his corruption.

But you can’t help to think that perhaps- the Suguru you know is still there somewhere. He had to be right? That’s why he still loves and cares for you like he used to. Just now, it’s unwanted and forceful.

He comes home late tonight. You know why but you don’t say anything, you don’t comment on it. You’ve been reading, laying on your bed. Normally suguru comes in, lays on the bed and acts like he’s your husband who came home. Telling to you about his day, and asking about yours, as if he didn’t know.

But today, he doesn’t.

And you’re confused, but you don’t comment on it. And you don’t go to find him either because honestly you could care less.

But the thought lingers in the back of your mind, that uneasy feeling in your chest, heavy. You try to ignore it and read your book. But you can’t, your distracted and you can’t focus .

You decide you need some water, you get up and put your book on your nightstand. But as you walk to the door, about to pull the handle, Suguru comes storming in.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” He said angrily, basically threw the door open almost hitting you on the way, grabbing you by your mid arms.

Your confused. He doesn’t have cameras in the bathroom how could he know- oh.

You remember your slip up. The slip up you forgot.

When going to the kitchen to grab a glass of water after puking your guts out in the bathroom, desperately wanting to get that disgusting taste out your mouth and throat.

But then as you made your way to the kitchen for some water, you choke and feel yourself gagging. You throw up into the kitchen sink, coughing your guts out.

You thought that the cameras weren’t in the kitchen- and if so you forgot anyway. To focused on trying not to sob as that disgusting mass left your throat and emptied out your stomach.

“I don’t know what your talking bout Suguru..” you mumbled, trying to act stupid.

Obviously that doesn’t fly with Suguru and he just holds your arms tighter. “I saw you, don’t lie to me. Why didn’t you just tell me?” His voice was angry until it broke at his last words.

“Do you just not trust me anymore?” And god the desperation and sadness in his eyes actually hurt you for a second, the guilt in you starting to bubble up. But you push that aside and shrug your shoulders at him.

He grinds his teeth and pulls you into him. “I’ll earn back your trust, my dear. Or I’ll force it into you.”

Your eyes widen at the last part and you look up at him. He has to be joking, right?

“Excuse me?”

“Your going to bed rest for the rest of the week. I’ll be home the entire time.”

And you realize all your private time away from him has been taken away for the entire damn week, locked in a room, a bedroom, in bed, with Suguru. Fuck. But still, you did feel a twinge of guilt, so even though you heavily didn’t want to stay locked in a room with him, you unhappily agreed, but agreed either way.

Suguru just smiles at you. He doesn’t mean to be harsh, he cares. And he’s smart enough to know what your allergic to and what gets your stomach upset.

It’s just so weird how a curse managed to make it into y’all’s home, undetected by the both of you, and somehow infected you unknowingly.

Oh well.

What you don’t know can’t hurt you right?

Toji-

He’s overprotective and you know that.

That’s why, before you even know your sick, he’s all over you and checking you. He things it’s subtle (spoiler; it’s not) and he coddles you to death.

“I’m gonna take a day off today.” He’s doing it because of you and not one of his stupid excuses. And he says it, while his one arm is around your neck, the other around your belly, trapping to against his chest, your back to him, in bed.

“C-could you let go? I’m over heating..”

He groans and cuddles into you closer. “Few mo’ minutes, doll.” He mumbled into the back of your neck.

“I’m not sick I told you! Get off!”

Except it’s like your extreme refusal that your sick, the refusing his help and refusing him, just ends up in you sick.

You lay on the bed in front of him, while he pulled a chair up to you and spoon fed you soup. You can tell he enjoys it, a sly tug at his lips saying ‘I told you so’, he doesn’t have to say it out loud you just know.

You whine and tell him to go away, you don’t need him to baby you or stay home from work. That you’re perfectly fine taking care of yourself.

“Yeah? You refused me tryna’ help you and ya think you can take care of yourself fine?” He says, basically angry.

You huff and let him push a spoonful of hot soup into your mouth. “

“Why don’t ya just shut your mouth and let me take care of you. So damn bratty.”

You sigh and clutch at your blanket. You have nothing better to do then surrender to his touch because you feel so damn weak.

He slightly smiled at you, seeing you finally quiet down and let him feed you without a fight.

What a smart girl. He thinks.

It’s like you know the antidote is in the soup.

….

So that was crazy guys. Anyways! Should I add choso and Sukuna? I love them sm 😋 (tbh kinda scared to write Sukuna cuz he’s insane)

[batchilla]

False Accusations (You know I KNOW right? Chapter Two)

Let me first say thank you for all the kind reception part one received. It was … a surprise, and a welcome one.

Also, a massive thank you to @sunnie-angel for beta reading. If you haven’t read their work… Do yourself a favor and check out their masterlist!

This Chapter takes place over a few days in two mini stories., and I would appreciate being told if at any point this causes confusion. Currently how I’ve done it is as tilted segments. Content warning: this chapter has themes of sexual harassment in the workplace up to the point of groping (from an OC), and corruption. Proceed with caution. Be safe.

The morning after. You are going to murder your partner, Grayson. Perhaps with a gun. Maybe your own two hands. Or maybe you just need coffee.

It's probably the coffee thing. Coffee, then you’ll decide if you're going to kill him and how. As you sit at your table, surrounded by notes you’d made at 4am, the urge to throttle Grayson slowly subsides. You hadn’t slept a wink. You’d had a weird night. But if you were going to do this, help him find this killer… you’d need a plan for if it all goes to hell. A diversion. A plan so that if you’re made, maybe the killer will think you’re on the wrong track. A dummy investigation. But simultaneously one that you won’t overthink, so that you can devote your time and brainpower to the truth. Luckily for you, you have the perfect person to pretend to accuse. After all, your partner, Grayson, is an incredibly weird guy. 8:55 am finds you walking into the station sipping your third coffee of the morning, only to find Grayson sat at his desk. Shirt pressed, tie perfect, hair shampoo commercial glamourous yet slightly messy. The urge to murder your partner returns, just a little. How dare he be so… normal? So unaffected? How dare this man fight crime by night, and be smiling at you as he is now, chipper and bright and perfect, before 9am? The nerve. Maybe you could hit him with a patrol car and claim it was an accident. “Morning detective… Long night?”

Oh.. This fucker. Your partner, Grayson, is the most annoying man alive. You hate how badly you have to fight the urge to grin at the sheer audacity.

She looks exhausted, the poor thing. Dick remembered the feeling, but at some point he’d adapted to running on less sleep than was by any means reasonable. He hoped she wouldn’t need to. That this would be over in a few weeks and she’d be back to getting a full eight hours. “Morning Detective… Long night?” She glares at him like he’s caused personal offence. He raises an eyebrow at her to prompt a response. Inside though, he panics. Had he done something wrong? Could she suspect? No. no of course not. But whatever she said next would surely be important. It was a test of sorts. What would she say she’d spent the night doing? Would she betray his alter ego? Could she sell the lie if she didn’t? “Just had a night in, had a little too much to drink,” she shrugs, opening her bag and removing a notebook. Casual, calm, partially true and nearly impossible to disprove short of a blood test or breathalyser, and even then there was deniability. Dick nods, and looks back down to his computer to hide the grin that splits his face in half. He knows he can’t dwell on it, knows he can’t act on it, but it’s completely unfair that she was that smooth. That helpful. She’d agreed to help him - as Nightwing - instantly. Her words about how Blud owed him a debt had played in his mind on loop for the rest of his patrol. He knew what it felt like to fly. To flip through the air at dizzying heights, gravity a mere afterthought. It was cruel, frankly, that he’d found someone who made him feel even better than that, only for her to be someone he couldn’t be with out of principle and professionalism. It wasn’t that he objected to her as a partner - short of his family, she was possibly the best he’d ever met. Frankly, if she was transferred to Gotham, the bat signal would be turned on far less frequently. And he didn’t object to rules about dating fellow officers, especially one’s partner. Objectively it made sense. But it didn’t change the fact that her smile was the best part of his day. That on the rare times she laughed he could swear he heard an angel just straight up quit its position in the heavenly chorus out of pure envy. That when she’d said she’d help he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her face and kiss her till she was breathless. But he can’t. Or at least Dick Grayson can’t. A new voice breaks him from his spiralling thoughts. “Detective Grayson.” The man standing behind his partner's desk has a hand on the back of her seat, preventing her from swivelling around. 

“We haven’t met yet, I’m Sergeant James McElroy. Seems you spent most of my first day back stuck on a stakeout.” “Pleasure.” he responds, with all the charm he’s learnt to use at galas and parties, forcing down the venom incurred by the way his partner had seemed to lose a gallon of blood at the sound of his voice, and the way she had seemed not to breath since the name was spoken.

He's not touching you. Of course not. He knows better than to do anything so blatant. It's how he’d gotten away with it for so long last time. He doesn’t touch you, or say the things he was so clearly thinking. He would masterfully walk the line between making you feel unsafe, alone, and naked, while never crossing over into anything actionable. Till one day he had. It had been in a crowded lift where he’d used the crush as an excuse to grab and to feel, whispering something vile in your ear. 

He’d figured he’d gotten away with it when you tried to tell your captain and he’d asked if you had a witness. You’d thought he’d gotten away with it too. Till a uniformed officer, Janet Rodwell, had stepped up to have your back. You should have known, really. For the second time in 24 hours you feel like a fool. But while the first time it had been accompanied with a dizzying realisation of love, this time the realisation is dark and chilling to your core. You’d thought you’d won, that it was over. But he’s back and he’s not touching you, but you feel the ghost of his hands all over. You can’t win. He’d been sent away and you thought you were safe again, but he’s back and he’s a sergeant now. Because Bludhaven, as it is, rewards men like him. You can’t bring yourself to look over your shoulder at him, so you look straight ahead, across your desk and to your partner’s adjoining one.

It's not Dick Grayson’s eyes you meet though. They aren’t cheerful, carefree and beautiful. Well, they are beautiful. But they are angry, intelligent, and fierce. You meet Nightwings gaze, and you feel the claws around your lungs relax, even if they do not recede. 

His partner did not rattle easily. Did not panic unnecessarily. 

Pinned down by the Penguin’s smugglers, he’d thought their goose had been cooked unless he could work at his true capacity, so he had shot out the lights and gotten to work. He’d taken out nine, but been unable to find the tenth, until he’d heard the struggle. 

She’d taken him down blind, without drawing her gun. When he’d asked her why she hadn’t, she’d told him she’d lost sight of him in the chaos, and was unwilling to risk it. He wished he hadn’t shot the light out so he could have seen it. 

Still, he had been oblivious. It had hit him like a batarang to the face last night, in that moment where she agreed without hesitation to help him find a serial killer. He’d known she was beautiful, and brilliant. That he had a crush. 

He’d realised last night he was in far, far deeper trouble than that. So, if she was frightened and upset by the presence of this man, then Dick would take his looming over her as a serious threat. He trusted her gut. “You haven’t introduced yourself to my partner, Detective—-” He’s cut off with a dismissive wave that boils his blood. “Oh we’ve met. In fact, she was my partner first. Until the misunderstanding.” There are many ways to snap someone out of a panic. He’s seen sheer rage do it many times. As it does now. “There was no misunderstanding,” she says, her voice firm, her teeth gritted. “Well. I want you to know-” he moves from directly behind her, to her side, leaning down over her, invading her space. Dick wanted to hit him. “I understand that what I did could have been seen as invasive, and you may have felt that I overstepped. I have completed a course, as demanded by HR, and will attempt not to cause you to feel that I have been inappropriate again.”

She takes a deep breath. He can practically hear her count in his head. He stands, moving around the desk to stand beside her, not quite a barrier but a comforting presence, or at least he hoped. “Well. Whatever occurred, we have work to be getting on with, if you don’t mind.” It takes a great deal of the restraint his training has given not to add the words ‘you bastard’, or something far more creative. “But of course. Detective. Detective.”  

Your hands shake as you sit back down in your seat. Your partner, Grayson, returns to his own, his gaze - Richard’s gaze, never leaving your face, crumpled in concern. “I don’t want to overstep… but are you alright? What … did he do?” “I…” you want to tell him, in part. Or maybe you don’t, and you want him to know without having to go through the ordeal of rehashing it all. Maybe by consulting whatever ‘oracle’ he used as nightwing. But you can’t right now. So you don’t. “I… need some air.” Your partner just gives you a comforting smile, a nod, and lets you leave without question. Wingding in the window 

It's five days later, on his patrol, when he notices it. The wingding left in her window. He stops on the roof of the building adjacent to her. As far as city roofs go, this one’s relatively nice. Someone’s placed some potted plants around, in an eclectic attempt at a rooftop garden. Some of these pots contain small pebbles as cover for the soil from the wind. Grinning to himself, he takes a handful. 

Was this a good idea? No. 

Was it deceptive? Well, no more than anything else he did as Nightwing… well, maybe a little more. 

But it hurt, holding her at arm's length, when a part of his soul he tried to ignore yearned to be as close as she would allow. He knows it’s not good. He knows it’s a violation of the utter trust she seems to hold in Nightwing. Really, it would only make things even more messy for his chances as Dick. But he wants to make her smile. Blush, even. He knows she finds him attractive, and in both contexts, but he wants more than that. Over the last week he’s realised just how much he wants to have with her, and it terrifies him. 

If it was simple lust he could deal with it.  But it wasn’t, and so here he was, about to attempt the cheesiest move known to hallmark films, just to see if it would make her laugh at him again. 

He’d managed to be professional while surrounded by highly capable, badass women in skintight clothes for most of his life. He’d had crushes before and gotten over them. He wanted everything with her. And that was not something he knew how to handle, given the mess of their situation. Dick shakes his head, snapping himself out of his doom spiral. He had a detective to meet, and a serial killer to find.

Bap. Bap. Bap. You look up from your book. You’d been getting ready for sleep, wearing your cosy pyjamas, curled up in bed with a book and a hot chocolate. You go still, listening. Bap. Bap. A pause. Then, the rap of knuckles on glass. “I ran out of rocks”

You know that voice. “With you in a moment.” You pull on a dressing gown, and take a moment to curse the fact that your slippers are rabbits before pulling the curtains aside. Nightwing is crouched on your windowsill. You lift it, stepping back as he enters through the window with all the grace of a cat. You know that you shouldn’t be embarrassed to be in your pyjamas, it's late, you had no means of knowing when he’d arrive. But he looked divine in that suit. An adonis. And you're in your old bathrobe and bunny slippers. Truely, you must have done terrible things in a past life. “Nice footwear.” Nightwing says with a smirk. Curse him. Curse his cheekbones and the way his lips look so damn inviting. “You picked up what, five rocks?” you sass right back. Nightwing makes a noise you suspect was supposed to be a scoff, but is more of a squeak. “Do you see a lot of pocket space on this?” 

“Fair.” you say, leading him out of your bedroom and into your living room. He sits on your couch, one leg spread wide, the other’s ankle resting on its thigh, as you open a drawer on your coffee table and produce your masterpiece. Nearly five metres of red string. Names, photos, dates, all studded with pins so pressed so tightly in they haven’t a prayer of accidental removal. You prop it up on the coffee table. 

Maybe your friends were right. Maybe you did need to touch grass. A line of thought for later. You look at Nightwing, who’s no longer relaxed and laying back on your sofa like he owned the place. 

Its years of maintaining a poker face in interrogations and more recently, dealing with his shenanigans that prevents you from grinning. 

He's as pale as you’ve ever managed to see him, and leaning forward now, elbow on knee and chin in hand. “Well, this is… impressive.” He sounded like he’d inhaled helium. “Shall we start with Sergeant McElroy?” you offer, smiling your best ‘there’s nothing wrong’ smile, enjoying making him squirm. “You seem to have … a significant amount of evidence against Detective Richard Grerson?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you take a ruler, poking your picture of him between the eyes. You hadn’t planned to do him first, you’d hoped to discuss evidence that would actually lead somewhere. 

This was still going to be fun though. You take a deep breath, and pause for a suitable level of dramatic effect, and begin your game. 

“Detective Richard Grayson. He’s my partner. He’s an excellent detective, and a good man. You might have heard of the charity he founded.” Nightwing makes a noncommittal humming noise. “But is it all too good to be true?” you ask, moving to your first notecard. “Exhibit one. He asked about the file. On its own, innocuous. But then, exhibits two through four. He’s prone to frequent disappearances on cases. He often knows a little too much about the criminal underside of Blud. Things that I have triple checked are not in any police database.”

You run a hand through your hair. “He’s a highly trained combatant. I once saw him take down nine men armed with guns, in the dark. They don’t teach that at the police academy.” “No? No.” Nightwing says, clearing his throat. “I mean yes. That is… suspicious.” “Incredibly. Which brings me to exhibit five. Now I’m no behavioural analyst or shrink. But I know my basics. Childhood trauma and instability can have… lingering impacts. I… don’t feel the need to dredge up his past, but I did look into it… and it’s grim. He was then taken in by Bruce Wayne. His relationship to his father, whatever it is, is something he’s even tighter lipped about then… everything else honestly. It’s not on the board because it’s circumstantial at best… but he has this skill of being able to hold long conversations and yet you come away not having learnt anything deeper about him.” 

He was pretty sure he’d been nodding for a good thirty seconds at this point.  

It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. 

The worst part was that it was all well reasoned. Practical. He had done everything she accused him of. She had just drawn a far more down to earth conclusion, that he was a corrupt cop, rather than Nightwing. 

It made sense. Too much sense. How could he shut this down without seeming invested in his own innocence? 

That isn’t what causes his lungs to burn though. No. The root of that was that even if he’d forced himself to maintain a professional - if friendly - distance from her, he would have hoped that she trusted him. 

But in this moment, looking at the evidence, looking at her holding that ruler to his photo’s face like a judge's gavel ready to condemn… he knows. He knows that she will never look at Dick the way she does as Nightwing, happy to see him, believing in his mission, ready to help as soon as he’d asked. Even if he clears himself of this crime, she would surely suspect him of others. 

He’d known it, at least on one level, ever since he’d first met her. He knows it now all the deeper, and he wants to scream. Dick Grayson will never get to tell her how truly wonderful she is.

How highly he regards her. 

How she is one of the reasons he keeps fighting for Bludhaven. 

Dick Grayson will never get to tell her that he loves her. 

But… perhaps Nightwing could have something. Because if she was his north star, then the way he’d felt when she agreed to help him had been like being engulfed by a supernova. 

If she was water, then seeing her cosy and ready for bed and smiling as she let him in through the window had been an oasis in the Sahara. 

If music was the food of love, her attempts not to laugh and stifled giggles over his peeps popcorn had been a symphony orchestra. 

But he’d never have her as himself. Not at all. Nightwing though? She at least found him attractive. Aligned with his ideology. No, he’d never feel that warmth of 10,000 stars directed at the real him. 

No, he’d never be able to be quenched by her life saving presence. 

No, he’d never feel her laughter shaking his bones as if in a musical crescendo.

But even the dimmest and most distant star gave off some light.

Even the last drop in an empty water skin was better than nothing.

Even the memory of a melody could be sweet. True, he would only ever have scraps of her affection. True, he could flirt, and perhaps go even further… but he’d never truly be with her. 

But who was a starving man to deny scraps of sustenance? He’d take what he could have and try to ignore the lingering hunger. 

“Perhaps we should discuss… another suspect?” he prompts, realising how long he’s been silent. How long she had been too, watching him with a strange, concerned look.

She nods, and moves on to their Captain.

Dick is almost relieved when some ten minutes later Oracle calls in a robbery downtown. “Well - sorry Sherlock.” He takes a picture of her board for further study. “I’ll be around next week to continue this discussion, and look over this in my own time till then. Duty calls.” “Be safe,” She says softly, as he’s halfway through the window He looks over his shoulder. “As you wish.”

Chapter Three Taglist: @jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

@love-theangel-blog

@torchbearerkyle

@interwebseriesfan24

@love-theangel-blog

@alwaysnervouswitchprince

@underlinekasis

@tiredsleepyandreading

@soradragon Banner credit is to @strangergraphics

If you would request to be added to my taglist, please reblog the fic. Honestly please just reblog it anyway? I worked hard on this. Nothing more demotivating than a fic getting only likes. If you want part three, reblog part two. 

[iannmin]

What kinks do you think San would have? <3

KINKS SAN WOULD HAVE ⁺₊❆⋆ 최산

🏷️ ⋆ smut, drabble, intentional lowercase, size kink, praise kink, breeding kink (serious), lingerie play, somnophilia, cum play (LOTS of cum)

🗒️ ⋆ RAHHHHHH WTF I’ve been wanting to write this SO BAD!!! thank you thank you so much for the opportunity skjdkskdksk i hope both sides of your pillow are nice and fluffy every time you sleep <3333 also i just couldn’t help but put the edit of long haired san hehe

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆

PRAISE KINK ⋆

no offence but sannie would be on the number one priority list for those who have praise kink. like can you see how he folds and gets absolutely all squishy and subby when wooyoung praises him? like his cheeks gets all flushed and hot,, he’ll probably desire the same with his s/o, whether it’s him giving or receiving. and to be honest san is more of a soft dom, so he’ll love reassurance. just imagine every time when he’s about to enter you he will most definitely whisper softly “you can take it baby, it’s gonna open up so well for me, your pussy’s gonna feel so good, hm?” (and I’ve noticed that san loves to say ‘hm?’ after his sentence a lot in his voice lives and it drives me absolutely crazy)

SIZE KINK ⋆

sannie is a total sucker for size differences and he absolutely builds his ego off of watching his s/o squirm under his huge frame. like just picture him headlocking his s/o from behind, broad chest sticking to his s/o’s back while just absolutely pounding the fuck out of them and whispering dirty things into their ear ughh. and do you remember that one fanmeeting clip of san’s back facing the audience and wooyoung is literally holding his neck attempting to kiss him??? he’ll probably look like that coming home to his s/o from a long day of work,, kissing them at the entrance as a ‘I’m home’ type of gesture. and also,, that’s probably why san hits the gym sososo much, it’s really just to assert dominance and feel big

BREEDING KINK ⋆

don’t even get me started with this once :,) like do you guys realise how traditional san is? like in terms of family and stuff he seemed to have grown up in a very traditional household where his father was strict on him and all that. like just look at how much respect he has for his parents and how well-mannered he is,, and especially do you remember when san mentioned that if he had a daughter he would raise her in a very princess way but if he had a son he would raise him like his father did in a strict way? so anyways,, the whole point I’m making is that san would probably want to start a family early with his s/o so that they can have cute little family outings together, and he can be a dad. so that’s where the feral breeding kink comes in. like he just goes absolutely bonkers the first time his s/o let’s him hit it raw after their marriage, or even better, when he learns that his s/o wants to try for a baby, so he makes sure to absolutely fill their cunt to the fullest, even going beyond his usual stamina of two rounds because for some reason he keeps getting hard after watching his white cum seep out of their hole and dripping onto their thighs :( P.S. he might even have a sex marathon with his s/o on the week their ovulating just to maximise his chances of becoming a dad

FINGERING ⋆

okay okay, I know sannie is a clean type of person and he doesn’t really like making a huge mess, especially when you see how clean and minimalistic his dorm room is but when it comes to his s/o, all morality just gets thrown off out the window. he goes pussy drunk and fingers them until they’re making an absolute mess. and I’ve seen some people commenting that he has chubby hands like cheese-stick fingers but won’t they feel so fucking good when their up in his s/o’s hole? i bet the stretch is a whole lot better with thick fingers like his and it’s definitely enough to get his s/o squirming and whimpering, even squirting.

SOMNOPHILIA ⋆

sannie treats women with so much respect and probably hates non-con stuff which is a great turn-off for him. but somnophilia? that’s his jam right there. the first time his s/o told him up front that they like being fucked awake no matter when, he was slightly hesitant, but he probably discovered a whole new world right there and then when he slid his dick into their unprepped cunt, the raw feeling being absolutely addictive. so even on days when his s/o looked absolutely unsexy, wearing a pair of kiddy-looking pajamas, he will still have a great urge to pull down those cartooned pants and fuck them. he just can’t get enough of the moment when their brows finally knit together and their eyes flutter open, raising their head from the pillow just to see him wrecking their pussy open, and that’s when all senses and feelings process in their brain and they start moaning and squealing.

LINGERIE ⋆

just a bonus kink here hehe,, and not to mention sannie is not the type to rip open the lingeries because he respects how expensive they are, but he’s more of the type to push their panties to the side and fuck them <3

[babyleostuff]

. . . praising the hhu for the “lalali” MV

[🍒] choi seungcheol

ugh, this man would be so smug (he’s a leo after all), you would not be able to wipe that annoying smirk off his face for the rest of the day (he’d probably fall asleep with it too). choi seungcheol lives for the praise and it makes his ego skyrocket (as it should because he’s the best), but he’d be so annoying with it. he’d follow you everywhere and be like “oh, so you loved the earrings that much?” or “tell me again how good i look with those green highlights”. man would be unstoppable. but deep inside he’s kind of freaking out because “omg omg omg they loved me in the MV” *heart eyes*. (and he’s a lil cutie patootie so at the end of the day when you’re laying in bed he cuddles closer to you, and is like “did i really look that good?)

[🍒] jeon wonwoo

(this era belongs to wonwoo change my mind) 

he knew you’d go fucking feral over him in this MV, i mean the visuals, the outfits, the attitude, THE RAP - come on, there was no way you wouldn’t end up screaming at every scene with him. he was especially excited for you to see the “mafia boss” scene with him, since he knows how much you love the jeon “actor” wonwoo agenda. and he was not let down in the slightest. at first his plan was to tease you over your reaction, but he found it hard to do it since you looked adorable (and low key crazy) fangirling over him in the MV. like, you’re really cute for getting excited over a barely three minute video, jumping around the room, and screaming like a maniac, so he just ends up looking at you fondly as you rewatch the MV for the tenth time.

[🍒] kim mingyu

he wasn't sure if he should have warned you before you played the MV about his naked tiddie scene because he was afraid you would fall off the couch and hurt yourself. like, he knew exactly what your reaction would be on that scene, so he wanted to avoid any accidents if he could. but, to his surprise, you sat through the whole MV in silence, and when it ended you simply laid on the floor, and he was like??? you good??? and then, as if the reality hit you, mingyu got what he wanted - you yapping about every single thing you found hot in this MV (which was everything), at one point you started even hitting him and yelling at him for being so handsome. all mingyu could do was to laugh because he knew that this was your way of showing your appreciation. another annoyingly smug one, ugh (not only is he tall and big as hell, but his ego is even bigger, he’s so annoying seriously).

[🍒] vernon chwe

he’s kind of like “do i really look that good?” but then he looks at you, and your excited reaction, and goes “yeah, i guess i am that cool.” he just really appreciates your reaction, and all of your compliments, and wild screams, and incoherent words - whatever comes his way he soaks it up like a sponge because hearing that praise from you makes him feel so so good. and ohmy he loves your reaction to the middle finger scene, the way you laugh and your excited “let’s go” makes him smile like an idiot, though he gets a bit shy too. he just truly feels blessed for having someone who will praise him so much over a MV like it’s the biggest masterpiece to ever exist.

[unluckilyimnot]

JEALOUS SAE HEADCANONS PLEASEEEEE

Jealous hc

Characters: sae, rin, kaiser, hiori, karasu, shidou

m.list | rules

Note: hiiii how are youuu thank you for your request hihi I had other characters bc I felt like doing it for them too

Sae Itoshi

he’s too prideful to be jealous, or he thinks so

in fact he get pissed off easily, anyone being a little to friendly with you bother him and he already doesn’t like anyone so imagine

he’s not subtile, even if he thinks he is

he’ll get closer, talk like shit to the person who’s flirting with you in his eyes

roll his eyes, click his tongue, you name it

Suddenly he wants to go home or leave for another place

You never honestly never thought you'll see him like that since he's confident and trusts you

I think he just doesn't like people and so by extension he hates people talking to you

He likes to think he's the only one who can make you smile like that, beside your friends (he's not insane)

So seeing some nobody making you smile, or even worst : laugh makes him jealous

He’s not into pda to save his life i think, that’s something he keeps behind closed doors

But oh man how he likes to kiss you when it happens, just to remind everyone that you're taken and you're proud of it

Be prepared to hear about this, he’s a nagging mom at heart

“Are you done ?” you’d ask and magically, yes he is

he will sulk yes, but close to you at least

Rin Itoshi

Bare with him, he acts tough but deep down he wants to cry

Just like his brother, he will get closer, his arm will probably stay around your shoulders after that

But he won’t be mean to them, just kinda ignore them or send death glare if they get too close

No touching, even in a friendly way, don’t be ridiculous

I think he appreciates it if you put a stop yourself

He’s more insecure than he likes to admit and it prove him that he can trust you

He’s gonna be clingy af though

When you two are finally alone, Rin won’t say a world but glue himself to you

He’ll need reassurance for sure :( this boy has abandon issues

Michael Kaiser

He’s an asshole (lovingly)

He let people flirt with you if it helps their ego and mock them for how long you can think, it’s almost an inside joke for him

The irony is that he’s really possessive, so it’s all fun and game until it’s not some loser that try to hit on you

Not that he feels threaten, please

But he still don’t wanna play with them and he doesn’t want you nearby

If you just happen to be friendly with someone then he’s bothered

What do you mean by being this happy to see someone else ?

He’ll ask a million questions and whine about it before brush it off as if he doesn’t care

It takes a lot to deal with him, his reaction depend on his phase

If he feels low then he’ll be a nightmare, you had to be sorry for someone hitting on you and tell him he’s your one and only

If he’s his confident self, it’s almost like he doesn’t care and let it happen

Being with him is a roller coaster

Tabito Karasu

Best man if is speak

He’s mature and he knows he’s projecting his own insecurity when he’s jealous, so he doesn’t make a big deal about it

He’s not gonna ruin the moment so he just keep his cool and act normally

Deep down you can feel there’s some awkwardness so you try to ask him silently, with your eyes or smile, if he’s ok

He loves you so much he feels dumb to even be jealous the second you do that honestly

Expect small pda like holding hands above your knees, playing with your fingers or the em of your shirt/ skirt

He’ll talk to you about it on your way back home or when you two are comfortable at yours or his place

He knows it’s normal to feel like this sometimes but it’s normal to reach for comfort right ? he’s not shy to ask

Nothings best than you playing with his hair, laying on your chest or thighs

Ryusei Shidou

He’s unhinged he scares me

I think he’s the most jealous among them

You’re his, that’s it so, he may seem lay back (and weird) but he’s cautious with every person coming near you

I hc him with abandon issues as well (give us his back story please and make it worth it compare to some character) so he’s always scared of you leaving

It’s still more in a possessive than an insecure way, he just can’t take it if he considered that someone is too close to you

He gets touchy oh my, he’s all over you, can’t keep his hands to himself just to let them know that you’re taken

He’ll talk to them straight in the eyes while his hand run up and down your thighs, he’s not ashamed of anything

You have to put a stop to it but always expected something more while coming home

Yo Hiori

He’s cute and I don’t think people take him seriously enough

You’re amazing and beautiful and fun to talk to, people already asked you why him

He kinda has war flashback ngl

Obviously he also think that he’s not enough and probably get jealous/sad quickly if someone get close to you and is really friendly

He’s scared to take things into hand I think, so he’ll just ask for you two to leave

He won’t tell you how he feels, he’s sure it’s not important enough to bring it up but you always ask him anyway

You’re so sorry that it happens at all honestly, you never want him to feel like this

He never ask for it but you’re clingy and want to do nothing with him, spending some quality time together, watching him play game while you stay on your phone or even sitting in his laps

It always make him feel better and remind him that you won’t leave him so soon

I hope you liked it ♡