#like the air is warmed by ur body heat or whatever so it's a hot mattress and my wife needs three fucking layers anyways

[itsonlydana]

Hey hey, saw ur requests were open for Thranduil and knew I needed to submit something!

Could you do a Thranduil x fem human reader where she braids her hair without knowing the significance for elves? They both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything, supper fluffy ending y’know?

Thank you in advance and have a great day!! :))

Beautiful misunderstandings | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem human!reader 👑

You simply wanted to accept an invitation to a celebration, but something about you makes the elves literally drop at your feet. Can Thranduil resolve this misunderstanding, or will he be affected as well?

tags/warnings: just lots and lots of fluff, no warnings

word count: 3,6k

an: to be honest, most of what i wrote is my own headcanons because i did not find lots about hair culture with the elves.. so please: educate me! Are there some hcs in the fandom? :)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The forests of Greenwood greet you with open flames of torches licking up their hot tongues against the dark skies, coloring the path the horse trots along in their amber lights and the wooden smoke that fills the air. Evenly distributed along the pathway they light up just enough of Greenwood that it doesn't take away from the sight that awaits you at the end, where the trees give way to an equally decorated bridge and the foliage thins out enough for you to take in the tall arches framing the open doors of the Great Elvenking's halls.

You have already been a guest for many of Thranduil's festivities ever since he established trading relations with your small fisher town. Due to the bond that twirls around the two of you in some unfathomable and complex manner, you also know that nothing he ever does is anything but grande and imposing. 

Still, you can't help but push your lower lip in between your teeth. 

Not once have you gotten the impression of standing out more than the difference in race and status already marked as obvious factors, neither Thranduil nor his elves treated you like you felt right now: 

Completely out of your known waters.

The elvish customs were far too many for you to know them all and you always try your best to consider all and everything that you've learned in the two summers you could consider yourself an acquaintance to Thranduil. Whatever form this acquaintanceship took on is another worry, or rather, another unknown that you can't exactly express to anyone. 

It's nearly as confusing as the steps of the dance you studied in your room before you left this morning, a step forward and two back, Thranduil asking you to accompany him to his dances but never dancing with you. 

Tonight, you want to change this predicament of always ending up in the arms of another elf while the one you yearned for watches from the sidelines! You didn't work this hard for the fabric that hugs your figure in a beautiful dress for nothing and even if the fabric isn't as shiny or light as the dresses the elves wear and the stitches marked your fingertips with the evidence of the labor and long nights, you are proud of the garment. 

The wind plays in the hem as you emerge from the guarded forest and its thick and dense foliage and it winds itself around your legs after you dismount your horse. A quick kiss to his muzzle, followed by an exhale of warm, familiar breath and you hesitantly let a servant take him away, mumbling a soft "Thank you" while you stay where you are and watch until they disappear around a tree.

Nervously you start walking up to the bridge, the reckless water under it crashing against the stone walls and it goes along with the blood that pumps high and fast through your body and rushes in your ears. The atmosphere is loaded, sizzling under the nearly suffocating heat that's only bearable in the cool shadows of the palace in front of you so you don't waste another second. 

You brush off the hood of your riding coat, smoothing out some fly-away hairs that escaped the braid you carefully weaved earlier this day as you duck your head in reverence to be allowed in these sacred halls. 

Whispers catch up to you from outside, a breeze dancing through leaves.

When you lift your chin again, you find that it's not the air affecting nature but rather your presence halting nearly all the elves that gathered on the first bridge inside the caves. 

They say elves are graceful and purposeful in their movements – the way dozens of eyes are locked onto you and lips move in not-so-silent murmurs defiles that claim though.

It's nothing you haven't encountered before, the talks behind your back that came along with Thranduil's attention shining down on you like the sun – hot, engulfing you completely and rendering you breathless as well as a bit sweaty at times whenever he looks at you, and you learned how to handle it. His attention brought forth a lot of awareness of his folk to the woman who visits Thranduil just as often as he rides into your town and becomes the topic of conversations for weeks. What's a girl to do except accept that a King never comes alone?

You're used to elves watching you, most of them in respect. Thranduil's authority radiates onto you, as well as the protection that he swore would lay upon you as long as he's there to give out orders.

The first elf whose eyes you questioningly meet drops to his knees in the same instant, barely a breath of time passing by. 

A gasp leaves your throat.

Words do not follow. They remain echoing in your head, pushed back by the spectacle that spread before you like wildfire. Too fast, too much.

Within seconds of you entering, the buzz of lowered voices dies down as elf after elf either bows or completely meets the ground they are standing on. The spectacle is confusing and throws you completely off; this reaction is nowhere near what you've experienced before and you do the first thing that comes to mind to handle this totally unsuspected confrontation of elves bowing to you, a human from no known family and nothing to your name other than the weight it carries on Thranduil's tongue.

The only thing you manage to stammer is: "Good evening," and a high-pitched, "Thank you?" before you take your legs into your hand and dash over the bridge. 

Thoughts as unstoppable as you run through your mind while you navigate the curving halls of the underground palace, the stonewalls not cool enough to diminish the heat that sits low in your neck, growing the longer you think about all that has happened between Thranduil and you and how it's not much more than nothing but a close alliance of human and elf. 

One that you hope would take on a different turn, because some of the actions by Thranduil could be considered friendlier than one would treat an ally or friend. You think back to all the gifts you have received, the white gems for example that, barely bigger than your nails but woven into the upper part of your braid, reflect the light and throw silver dots against the walls that lead you to the point Thranduil had asked you to meet him in one of his many letters. 

The route involves more encounters with more elves, some bow more subtly, their hands on their chest in a greeting that you do know, and some others, mostly those who've already fallen in barrels of wine and are less sophisticated in their movements in their drunken state who repeat the word "bereth" as if it's a prayer in a language that's far beyond you to make out right now. 

At the end of the hallway, you make out the back of a familiar blonde and even from afar you notice the resemblance that Thranduil's silver circlet has to the silver ribbon you have woven into your hair in a similar way and height how his circlet would look placed on your head. 

Is this what brought such uproar to the elves? Have you accidentally copied their king? 

"Thranduil!" you call out, his name lacking any title though not out of disrespect. You have the highest respect for the King of the Elves and slip a "Your Majesty" rather often into conversations because you know how much he favors his name from your tongue and teasing him like that brings a joy to you that you can't explain anyway else then: 

Hearing him laugh and smile or roll his eyes at your antics fuels the love you harbor for him.

Now is not the time for teasing chit-chat, you are desperate to find out if you have actually misstepped by presenting his gifts like this at a festival that's solely about him.

He turns at the sound of your voice and, oh lord, even his eyes widen as soon as they land on you and you want to perish rather than step any closer but the hurry in your legs and the nervousness in your stomach makes it impossible to do anything else but run to the one soul in this world that brings you comfort. 

You arrive at a full stop, and your heels would have stirred up dust if you were a mare. 

Now it's not only Thranduil's eyes that seem to have developed an inability to stray farther than your head; his mouth falls open as well and he makes no effort to close it again. The fact that this behavior is completely ungracious and ill-mannered has apparently not dawned on him yet. The longer you spend helplessly looking up at him, you swear you can see most of his thoughts visibly inching away behind that baffled expression.

At first, there's nothing.

Then some clarity returns into the blue eyes you love so much and Thranduil exhales a quiet: "Berio nin." 

Now, that's Sindarin you've heard before – that the context he has said these words were moments when he playfully begged the Valar to aid him with you tormented him in some way throws you off your balance even more and you take a step back. 

"I did not–" you start and raise a hand to wave it at all of you, "This, I had no idea. Did I offend you? Or the elves?" 

"Offend?" Thranduil asks bewildered.

"Well, the way they reacted. I wasn't sure," you laugh distraught. Thranduil's eyebrows instantly furrow, and you're quick to follow up: "Not in a bad way!" you explain and he loosens up, "They, um, they bowed? And some may have fallen to the ground?"

"Ah," he chuckles and his reaction calms you a bit. He could've been screaming or throwing you out. If he's laughing this can't be that big of a serious misstep. Thranduil looks at you through lowered lashes and runs his tongue over his teeth, a smile threatening to break through the serious expression he tries to obtain. "I believe a conversation and education is in order. If you would follow me to have this conversation somewhere else," he says and holds out his arm for you to grab.

He leads you around a corner and another one, walking swiftly yet seemingly in no hurry until Thranduil opens a door and quickly pulls you inside the room. 

Candles littered all around light up what you immediately understand to be his private chambers, the many robes you recognize, the colorful falcons with shimmering scented oils and shells full of jewelry, pearls, gems, and rings in gold and silver. There, right where Thranduil stops in front of you to block out your view, you take a peek at a giant bed behind flowy white curtains. 

You blush.

Even more so when you see Thranduil blush as well. His eyes return to your hair again, just like he had on the short walk to these chambers; tilting his head down to you as if some magical force bound him to staring at you in a manner he hadn't done before.

"You are my guest so I see it to be my responsibility to clear up what may have been a–" he pauses and his eyelashes flutter as he thinks of a fitting word, "a misapprehension. Not that you could have possibly known the outcome of what you doubtlessly suspected to be a kind gesture." 

You nervously cross your arms behind your back, intertwining your fingers so you do not meddle or ruffle the carefully layered fabrics of your dress. "I solemnly swear I was not up for any mockery."

His eyes widen again. "I would not have accused you of such!"

You tilt your head in confusion and bite down on your lip, ungraceful as well and a habit you should definitely quit, especially in the company of a King.

"What was it that startled the elves?" You think back to the way Thranduil had reacted, the wide-blown eyes, the pink lips formed to a delicate 'o' – "As well as you, Thranduil. You couldn't even get a word out except for a prayer." You let out a single laugh to cover up your embarrassment. 

The elf lifts his chin higher as if that could prevent you from noticing the blush deepening, growing much more red than just a delicate pink that stands out from his ivory skin but not much that it couldn't be interpreted as a light intoxication of either wine or fresh air. 

"I do not remember that," he lies with a dismissive voice. "Anyway, let me clarify the current dilemma instead of wasting time discussing the past." 

"Definitely not that far back that you could count it as 'the past' but sure," you sigh and decide to ignore the glare he sends you as you confront his very unsubtle passive- aggressive change of topic from him to you. Thranduil had centuries of building up a thickheadedness to lead the Woodland Realm and you had mere months on your hands in trying to push a way through it.

"Well, the behavior my folk portrayed was simply said the respect they pay for any honorable and eminent," Thranduil says, not batting an eye over the unbelievable words that come out of his mouth.

"What?" Your voice is nothing but a high squeal, "Why would they do that? They know I'm just a human!"

Thranduil scoffs, "Just a human, she says. Do not dismiss yourself in any way and most definitely not as just a human. Humans are such fascinating creatures, all those feelings compressed into an ephemeral life and bodies that endure pain and even if you waste away to dust you try to mark down your existence into every stone that you touch." Before you can burst into tears at his rather sentimental and emotional view of your people, he continues in a tone more factual: "To answer your question– you conveyed that I was courting you and they simply knew there would be grave consequences if they did not respect my intended." 

All the air left your body in a singular exhale, thus leaving you to grasp at the few thoughts that stayed through the cut-off of oxygen. Not that they were any good.

Courting you? Being his intended? 

You can only stare at him aghast. 

"But– courting? You weren't, we weren't– there was no courting!" you stammer.

The world is reeling. 

Black spots dance in the corner of your sight.

It takes all your focus to stand still and not sway back and forth, giving in to the abrupt slide downward reality has suddenly become. 

"No," Thranduil says.

A part of you withers at the finality of the statement because of course, he, Great Elvenking Thranduil, would never be caught courting a human. The absurdity of it must be why he was laughing earlier, praying to the Valar to become a witness of what must be your greatest humiliation.

"No, there was. I was simply waiting for your realization as well as acceptance to officially proclaim it."

Now it's your mouth that falls open without any strength left to prevent it.

Thranduil swallows, hard, his jaw set tightly and his eyes fixating on you. "All that I did, and thought to do, was in prospect of taking you as my betrothed," he states; the smallest of quivers underlining the massive impact this admission causes to him. He lifts one hand to his chest, pressing his knuckles against the fabric where underneath his heart lays. "I ache to love, treasure, and worship you. Every second of all the days I may have the pleasure of your company in my life or it shall be colorless from now on."

His eyes glitter, the endless blues of the sky, affection burning in them like the sun, broadening your horizon of what you believed love to be and there is no doubt in your mind that Thranduil's words are nothing but the truth. Confounding as that truth should be, it is that – certainty.

A smile breaks on your face, watery and wet as tears of pure happiness spill onto your cheeks and even if your heart has been on the tip of your tongue at every word you have ever said to him and in every glance that you have ever directed in his way, the need to validate his revelation.

You step carefully step closer and the hem of your dress brushes against his gowns as you close the bit of distance. Thranduil watches cautiously, leaving his hand against his heart, and only tips his chin down to follow you until you step into his personal space. The whole regal and stoic image he portrays even after confessing his love passionately mere seconds ago breaks as you feel his wavering breath and you swear you can hear the loud pounding of his battered-yet-strong heart. 

"Is it my hair?" you ask quietly and catch him off-guard. 

Thranduil smiles and his chest heaves in a deep inhale of air. "Yes," he laughs in an exhale, "Do you wish to know how you managed to completely dismantle me? Rob me of all powers?" 

You nod once and one hand of his comes to rest on your shoulder from where he leads you to a silver basin standing in a corner decorated with more oils and vines climbing the stone walls.

The sight that the clear water inside it shows you, Thranduil standing behind you, more than slightly taller, brings a warmness to your cheeks. Even if the prospect of his image finding a constant in your life from now on is undeniable, you're not sure if you will ever get satiated by it. 

Thranduil slowly reaches the elaborate braid you are so proud of despite the public tumult it had caused. "There are many things sacred to my folk and hair –" he starts and lets his fingers travel the length of free-falling hair, "holds the memories of our history, our connection to the Eldar and kemen – the earth. We do not cut it but rather let it grow to pay our respects to Eru for his creation, the natural and untouched world, flows in us all. It bears the marks of our ancestry though many cultures convey their personal history in many different ways." 

You listen intently, trying not to get distracted by Thranduil's hands smoothing your hair and the deep rumble of his voice wrapping around his language that pulls you into a trance. 

"Among us Sindar, we wave our customs into the very strands of this sacred hair. Our warriors, for instance, adorn themselves with tightly woven braids, serving not only as protection in battle but as a testament to their strength and unwavering discipline."

"The intricate and jeweled braids you wear," Thranduil's fingers glide along the white gems, thus nudging them against your head, "they speak volumes of noble heritage and high standing. Even if you do not have royal blood in your family, a braid like this will be more convincing to the contrary."

You blush as you realize how you unknowingly changed your entire status.

"By adorning your hair with the jewels I bestowed upon you, you declare to all my claim upon you," Thranduil chuckles and meets your eyes in the water, "Braids are the essence of our heritage, denoting rank and occupation, and they speak volumes in courtship."

"Oh," you say, "I knew Elves court through gifts. Would I have known this…"

Thranduil shakes his head, smiling widely as he continues playing with your hair, "You say that but not once have you realized all that I have given to you were of my pursuit."

"Well, I– this wasn't… I thought you were being nice," you sputter and grow even redder in the face.

"Unbelievably rude and ungracious to consider me ni–" he interrupts himself and shivers, "No I will not speak in such obscene language." Thranduil raises an eyebrow before returning his attention to the lesson in courting, "Through these intricate weavings, we convey our intentions and the profound depth of our bonds. While dalliances are not uncommon, my folk only marry once in their life."

"Love is eternal and unwavering, and each twist in our braids declares the union of our souls. By weaving your hopes and pleas for reciprocation into your hair, you speak a silent yet powerful language. The braid you chose, resembling my crown and adorned with my jewels and a silver ribbon akin to my own hair, could not have delivered a clearer message."

"So I basically lied to your elves," you pull a face in shame, "Great."

"You may call it a lie," Thranduil says slowly and his hands travel to rest on your shoulders. You lean into the gentle pull and let him turn you around so that you are face-to-face again. There is a dedication in his eyes, a look of hunger and yearning, "Or," his voice sounds even deeper and reverberates through your entire body, zipping up your spine that you automatically straighten, "You allow me to present our courtship openly if a deeper connection is what you desire to form between us."

Your heart thumps in your chest, double the tempo that one would call normal and it only speeds up when Thranduil cups your face in his hand and his fingertips graze the silver ribbon that sits tightly against your head.

"Allow me," he repeats, quieter. 

"Your word and the world will know you are mine," he pleads.

You waste not a second to ponder over what your heart already decided. "I allow it."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[karmaphone]

bruh this fucking sucks

[bombuni]

hi babi !!! js wna say I love ur user ++ ur writing sm :3 was thinking if maybe u can do anything related to stoner bf San if that's okay?? like maybe him being vv needy while high idk. no rush, xoxo!

contains: sub!san x gn!reader, drug usage obv, bj’s, very soft tbh

minors dni

San’s touchy.

He’s just like that as a person, you’ve come to realize. His hand is always around your shoulders or waist, fingers finding their home in the crook of you neck. You let him, seeing as that’s how he shows his love with everyone. It’s just-sometimes he gets too touchy. Like, he’d breathe for you if he could.

It’s especially bad when he gets high. Once the smoke fills the room, he’s babbling on about the spots on your face and the shape of your cupids bow, waxing poetry about how your touch makes him feel. You’re not complaining at all. It’s only bothersome when he does it during his downtime and you’re busy. Today is not one of those times.

“Baby.”

You hum in acknowledgement, eyes glazed as you mindlessly watch whatever San had decided to put on in the background. You can feel his hot breath fanning onto your neck, the heat of the room and his body filling up your insides.

It’s clear San’s already gone, his low tolerance making him an easy target every time you two smoke together.

“Are you done with work?”

He’s cute when he’s mindless. You turn to look at him with a lovesick smile on your face, “Yes, Sannie. I am.”

San blushes, full-on like a tomato, when you look at him. He giggles like you’ve told the funniest joke, hiding his face in his hands as he scoots away from you like some embarrassed kid out with his first girlfriend.

“You can’t-you can’t just look at me like that,” he still giggles as he speaks, peeking his eyes from behind his hands.

You know San-you know that even though he backs away from you every inch closer you get to him, his itch to touch you only grows. He just gets an extra layer of shyness when he’s high, but it’s easy for you to break through it.

“How am I looking at you?”

He freezes when your hands easily spread his thighs apart, giving you complete freedom to sit between his legs. You’re some sort of Medusa to him, turning him rock hard just with your eyes. He feels his breathing grow heavy when one of your hands traces patterns on his knee; a hot, tingly buzzing sensation following your touch. It makes him fold for you immediately.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, “Like you’re gonna eat me. Are you gonna eat me?”

You chuckle at that, “Wish I could. Then I could keep you forever,”

He takes that tiny comment seriously. Like the mere idea of being apart from you steals the air from his lungs, “I am yours forever.”

Your smile down at him makes his heart grow with love, he feels it every time he’s with you. When he gets like this he truly believes you keep him alive just by looking at him. Your touch is just a nice bonus.

He holds your wrist gently, “Can I show you? That I’m yours forever?”

“No,” you gently take his bigger hand off of you, “I’ll show you.”

San’s not exactly sure what you mean, but he lets you do whatever. He watches as you gently take his sweatpants off, cooing niceties that make a whine build in the back of his throat when he lifts his hips up for you.

You toss his pants to the side, dragging warm fingers up over his thighs tantalizingly slowly until they reach his bulge. He’s hard already, and he’s on the verge of tears at the feeling of you palming him. The way you roll his big cock against the fabric of his underwear makes him slowly go insane, hips bucking every so often when you squeeze his cock. Precum stains his boxers now, but he doesn’t care. No, it just shows how much he belongs to you.

He can’t support the weight of his thoughts anymore. He lets himself tilt back, head banging against the arm of the couch. San lets out a surprised whine when he feels your wet mouth against his neck. He flinches, before succumbing to the ticklish feeling. You’ll leave your mark on him and he’ll be proud to show it off.

San is overly sensitive. The feeling of your sweet lips and loving hand is already too much for him. He’s keening and moaning like a slut, letting himself feel every little detail because he trusts you. Just knowing it’s you makes it all the more hotter.

“My sweet boy-“ a kiss and a moan, “do you want more?”

His head raises so fast you’ll scare it’ll fall off, “Yes, please.”

He sounds like he’s about to cry and, god, does it make you throb. You pull his cock free from his boxers, as it aches and begs for you. It’s so pretty and wet, soaked in precum and San with his panting, flushed face is the perfect picture of desperation.

His hips buck to find friction, “Can I put it in your mouth, please? I’ll be good, just-please, can you touch me?”

You cut off his desperate pleading by stroking him once. Immediately, he’s putty in your hands. His entire body relaxes against the couch, letting you control him and letting you decide what to do about his needs. All he knows is that it’s you who’s touching him, and that’s all he needs.

The lewd sounds coming from his wet cock fill the room, making him even more light-headed. Everything he’s feeling makes him think he’s in a dream, and when your mouth sucks on his tip like a lollipop, it just makes him hit cloud nine.

His hands fly to the back of your head as you take all of him in, every inch that fills your mouth slowly sending him deeper into a frenzy.

He groans, “‘S so good, baby, I love you, thank you for taking my cock-“

You bob up and down, letting San buck his hips while his mouth shoots off whatever his 2 functioning braincells can think of. Most of it is just ‘I love you’s.’

He gasps as you take him to the back of your throat, the feeling of you gagging on him burning his insides with desire. He fucks your mouth-once, twice- before he shoots his cum down your throat.

“Fuck-I fucking love you-“ he says as he holds you still, making you take what you caused. In his mind, it’s his reward, getting to prove to you just how good you make him feel. How you’re the only one for him, and he’s the only for you.

He pants below you, face flushed and sweaty, as you let him go with a pop, “‘M so sleepy. Can you cuddle me?”

You tuck him back into his boxers before letting yourself plop onto him and wrapping your arms around him. Who can say no to San?

bom note: i think his extreme romantic needy side would come out when he’s inebriated at all. like he’s truly a lover boy at heart. also excuse my lack of knowledge on weed or if this feels ‘inaccurate’ as i literally only take edibles once in a blue moon

[poursomesunaonme]

taste you still !

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: you've been the o'hara's babysitter for quite some time; miguel thinks it's time for a raise!

wc: 4k

a/n: i have nothing to say for myself - i wrote this in two hours off two glasses of wine LMAO

cw: minors dni (pls have ur age in ur bio)!, age gap (reader is in college), drinking (clear for consent tho), pet names (sweetheart, bunny, conejita, little girl), doggy, oral (fem and male receiving), handjob, 69, biting, edging, scratching, size kink, overstim, nipple play, squirting, modified missionary, finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare!

the tv flickers idly across the room as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt.  gabriella had been asleep for a few hours.  glancing at your phone, you find it’s just past midnight.  it’s a warm, friday summer night.  a soft drizzle begins to come down outside.

classes just finished for the summer.  if it had been any other friday, you’d be out at bars tearing it up with your friends.  however, the single dad you nanny for called you in last minute.  you didn’t mind.

the moist rainy air from the outside defeats the advances of the air conditioner, and it’s beginning to get hot in the living room where you sit.  you’re thankful for wearing light clothes, as it helps with the heat beginning to settle. the warmth and the sound of the rain to help your body settle, and you begin to doze off.

you jump as the lock clicks, signaling the return of your employer.  you clear your throat and check your phone before putting it down, acting like you were watching whatever animal documentary was on the tv.  

2:26am had blinked across your screen.  the father enters the house with a quiet sigh, locking the door behind him.

“hi, mr. o’hara,” you say lightly as he hangs his coat and shakes his umbrella before putting it in a plastic bag to dry off.

“hey, sweetheart,” he says, trying to keep the noise down to keep from waking his daughter as he kicks off his shoes, too tired to care if they land strewn across the floor.

“how was your night?” 

“i need a drink.” he chuckles, his footsteps receding into the kitchen to assuage his desire.  “do you want one?”

he had never offered you a drink before.  of course, you’re of age - it was just uncommon, given your position in his family.  

“i, uh…” you stumble over your words.  “sure.  please.  it’s been a long day.”

“i hope gabriella didn’t give you much trouble.”  the crackling sound of ice breaking under an expensive scotch drifts from the kitchen.

“no, she was great.  she just… she missed you.”

the words unspoken scream that you did as well, but you ignore them.  it was delusional to think of him that way, but you couldn’t help yourself for that split second.  it was rare to spend more than ten minutes with him when you helped him out with nannying - there was no reason for you to feel such an emotion.

“yeah… i missed her too.”

some underlying meaning laces his choice of words.  the sound of his footsteps alert you to his presence before he reaches over the couch from behind you to offer you the glass.  you jump slightly, but accept it.  he sits heavily next to you, the couch creaking under his sudden weight.  you both take a heavy sip of the drink.  it slightly burns your throat, but you manage to choke it down anyway.

you’re aware of his identity, as it was necessary to be privy to such matters when taking care of his daughter.  you had detailed protocols to follow in case of such emergencies and the like, but that didn’t mean that you would ask about his mission.  you assumed the subject was off limits, and that strategy kept you in good graces with the man.  instead, he asks you about how the end of your school was, if there was any issue in securing an apartment for the next semester, mundane things and the like.

you answer all of his questions politely.  as much as you want to inquire about his missions, you refrain from doing so. he finishes his drink in no time, asking if you’d like another.  you eye your drink then finish the whole thing, handing the empty glass back to him.

you swear he mutters “good girl” under his breath.  it makes your stomach churn in a way you could have never imagined.

when he sits next to you with the drinks refreshed, it’s much closer.  you feel the heat radiating off his body.  the alcohol begins to course through your veins, and you can’t control the way your body easily gravitates toward him.  you struggle against the muffling feeling, struggle to keep control of your body that so badly wants to be pressed against his.

“oh, did i make a mistake?” he murmurs when he notices your proximity.  “want me to order you an uber?”

“no, no, mr. o’hara.” you shake off his offer.  “i’m okay.  thank you though.”

he pauses, swishing the alcohol in the glass before downing it swiftly.  “in that case, i’m gonna go shower.  you can leave if you’d like, or you can strip down naked and wait for me in bed.”

so i can finally fucking ravage you is the ending that he wishes to add, but he doesn’t want to scare you.

you’re taking a sip as he speaks, nearly spitting your drink out at his proposition.  however, you keep your composure and say nothing as he finishes his drink in one swift gulp and gets up from the couch, leaving a shivering feeling through your skin.

the second he leaves earshot, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

you’re fucked.

it’s like he knows the way you look at him in those minute moments when he leaves and returns from work. it’s like he knows that you continuously brag to your friends about how handsome he was.  it’s like he knows that you’ve said countless times that you’d jump him if you were ever given the chance.

but that was all just a silly little crush.  you never imagined that he would actually give you the opportunity.

he’d made you an offer you’d be downright stupid to refuse.

which is how you end up splayed in his bed, the cool air of the bedroom chilling your skin.  it was the obvious choice.  your chest rises and falls with anticipation.  the hopes of the man following through with his lewd offer brings on an ever-quickening heart rate.  you adjust your position again and again, hoping that each following pose will please him more than the last and help assuage the nervous feeling gnawing in your gut.

just as you chose the simple option to lay back against the pillows with your legs folded delicately together to one side, the shower turns off.  miguel doesn’t even bother drying off before he emerges from the bathroom in a dramatic billow of steam, wet gray-streaked hair tumbling into his face.  small droplets of water roll off his naked body and splatter against the floor.  the musky scent of his body wash hits your nose.  it makes you dizzy.  combined with the sight of him and the heavy alcohol rushing through your bloodstream, you’re completely susceptible to whatever plans he has in store.  you lose your breath at the sight of his tan, toned body approaching you.

“get on your hands and knees.”  the way he commands you is almost a detached sigh.  you don’t hesitate to obey, however.  without thinking, you get up from the position to poise yourself at the end of the bed in the way he ordered.  your heart speeds up, pounding against your ribcage.  this position already?  skipping to the main event?  you aren’t complaining, just surprised.

that feeling of surprise continues when you hear his knees heavily drop to the floor and his hands cup the globes of your ass and spread them apart.  the cold air hits that warm center and you gasp.  you gasp because the feeling is surprising and his lips press between your folds and you gasp because he groans so deeply at the first taste of you.

you’re fucked.

he takes no time to begin diving into every inch of your cunt.  you clutch at the bedsheets, wincing at the cold droplets from his hair running down the back of your thighs.

“mr… mr. miguel.”  you squeak, unable to muster up the brainpower to say anything else.  he works like it’s necessary for him to keep breathing, like he can’t wait to do anything else, like he’s starving, and you’re the first meal he’s come across in days.  

“is this okay?”  he finally pulls back, drawing a gasp from your lips at the cold air hitting that warm place again.  “just can’t… fuck… hold myself back.”

you make the mistake of craning your neck to meet his eyes at his panting candor.  his face just barely hovers above your ass, hands still spreading you apart.  you gulp at the sight of the shimmer of your essence on his lips.  he pants heavily, broad shoulders heaving with the force of his breath.  his eyes are gleaming, his pupils blown out with lust.  he looks fucking crazy, hair tumbling into his face.

you can feel your face heat up at the sight of him, feel your expression fall as you acknowledge again and again and again: you’re fucked.

a nod is all you can manage to urge him to continue.  you turn around and focus on the shiny silk pillows to ground yourself, bracing for the impact.

he merely grunts and dives back between your legs, splattering the last few drops remaining from his dewy skin onto you.  it takes everything in you not to collapse when he begins working with an increased fervor.  apparently, your words gave him great encouragement, as he intensified the movements, even daring to remove his lips from your folds to plant heavy, open-mouthed kisses on the backs of your thighs - and even daring to nip at the sensitive skin. 

before you know it, you sink down into the comforter, fingers whitening in a death grip on the sheets for support.  miguel doesn’t seem to notice - he’s too lost in the feeling of the increasing warmth on his tongue, of the blood rushing to where your body deems it to be.

just as you’re about to finish, he pulls back.  it draws a whimper from you, but before you can utter a word of complaint, he straightens up and begins to rub his length between the sticky wetness that welcomes him.  you whimper at the feeling, pushing your hips back against him as an invitation inside.  he wastes no time in accepting, pushing into you once he’s amply coated. 

your eyes bulge out of your head and you cry out a stilted moan as he doesn’t stop - not until he’s fully sheathed in you.  you sink down fully into the mattress, only supported by his hands when they grasp your waist to hold your lower body upright.  the beginnings of claws begin to poke into the meat of your hips.  overwhelming feelings circulate through every part of your body.  your mind begins to fog over.  you can’t differentiate the feeling from the alcohol or the pleasure; they work in tandem.

he doesn’t waist time to begin thrusting into you, more surely than he’s done anything in his life.  the rhythm is slow, but deep, and it drives you over the edge in no time.  since he left you hanging from the ministrations of his mouth, the movements of his length deep within you shove you over the precipice of pleasure.

“miguel… please, don’t stop.”  you whimper.  your eyes roll into the back of your head and you feel a great weight press into your back.  his lips appear on the shell of your ear.

“don’t hold back for me, bunny,” is the whisper.  “let go.”

you do as you're told, whimpers muffled against the mattress as you give into the pleasure, squeezing and convulsing around his length.  he licks behind your ear before nibbling on the lobe, drawing an extended moan that takes your breath away.  you can’t muster up any words - no praise, no thanks.  just incoherent sounds that express the feelings that you can’t articulate with the onslaught of pressure.

"mi conejita..."

miguel continues to rut into you like a wild animal.  his body presses flush against your back as his hips move, only going deeper and deeper as he jerks them back and forth.  there’s no relief, no breaks you get from his demanding size, from his desire to puncture you deeper and deeper until he finds his own sense of relief.

just as you finish, you think there will be a moment in the trembling of your legs that miguel will spare you.  however, you’re wrong.  the feeling of you constricting around him ignites a new passion in him, one that results in his lips meeting your neck, your shoulders, your back - one that draws his teeth into your skin.

a gasp escapes at the feeling of him nibbling on that sensitive skin, of the feeling of his hips continuing to mercilessly ram into yours.  you don’t want him to stop.  your hands clutch as the sheets, begging for some stability from the bed, but it doesn’t come.

instead, miguel’s hands wrap around your chest to pull you up as he straightens up.  his grip tigthens as you settle pressed against his sweating, heavily chest.  when you’re secured, his hands begin to move.  first and foremost, they grab your chin to face him and without hesitation, his lips crash against yours.  his fingers squeeze your jaw to pry it open and his tongue shoves down your throat.  you whimper against him.  he eats the sound whole.

his hands don’t stop once they leave your chin, trusting that your lips won’t leave his.  they reach down to pinch and pull your nipples, wander down to rub slow circles into your poor overstimulated clit.  the sound of his hips slapping against your raw skin is overwhelming, you can’t help but lean back into his chest for support, his tongue still craving the inside of your mouth.  he grunts in surprise when you start to suck his tongue desperately.  the sound simmers in his chest as he chuckles.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, little girl.”

you find yourself smiling, find yourself squeezing him as he moves inside, threatening to tear your insides apart.

“fuck,” he moans into your mouth.  “christ, you’re tight.”

you moan and whine into his mouth, and he devours those sounds as well.  the vibrations only spur him forward, only egg him on to continue ramming his hips into your body.  his fingers rub unceasingly against your increasingly sensitive clit.

“i’m gonna-” you manage to slur around his overpowering tongue and teeth.  “i’m gonna cum again.”

he groans, lowly and long.  it’s a lewd sound, one that sends all the heat from your body straight down between your legs.  it’s an encouragement, one that sends you over the edge within a split second.  you moan, legs shaking as you begin to collapse onto the bed again.  you can’t help the weakness, can’t help the fact that your legs turn to jelly as he rams into you with want and need that you can’t even begin to fathom.

you squeal as a fresh spurt of juices flow from your cunt, flow around his length, and down your inner thighs.

he swears again at the sensation of liquid beginning to run down his length, trickling down his own legs.  “shit… shit… i-i need that.  i need you to do that again.”

he pants and pulls out.  you gasp at the empty feeling, but he doesn’t give you much time to process it fully before he lays down on the bed and snatches your waist, pulling you over to align your hips with his face.  before you can utter a word of objection or acceptance, he yanks you into his face, burying himself in the warm grave of your cunt.

you throw your head back and moan weakly, tired and overstimulated from the last orgasms, but he doesn’t stop.  his ministrations are unyielding, even when you plant your hands against his hips to steady yourself.  his hard length stands in front of you, just barely out of reach of your mouth.  you can’t help yourself from drooling at the sight, of precum spilling from the tip and mixing with your juices that still dribble down the veins.

you try to move forward, but he pulls your hips back stubbornly, shoving his tongue into you.  you whimper, opting you reach your hand out to wrap around and pump his length until you can get your mouth on the impressive sight.  he slows as he realizes what you want to do.  he knows how much bigger he is than you.  he slides up the pillows to sit up, closing the distance between you and your prize until your lips suckle on the tip, drawing a hiss from him.  as if an attempt to silence the sound, his teeth sink into your asscheck.

“fuck,” you groan as the teethmarks in your skin join the bitemarks he left on your neck, back, and shoulders, still fresh and throbbing.  you attempt to shake off the feeling and start to bob your mouth up and down on his length, drooling over the musky taste of his precum when your tongue trails down the base, every vein drawn like a map under your tongue.

he doesn’t let you indulge yourself for long before he jerks your hips back against his face once more, drawing your mouth from his length with a soft pop.  you moan in indignation, attempting to lunge back to continue your work.  however, miguel’s grip on your hips, the nails beginning to dig in the muscles, successfully stops you.

instead, you pump down his shaft, hoping that you’re pleasing him as much as he’s pleasing you.  another wave of pleasure rolls over you, and you can’t help but whine at the vibration of miguel’s moans as he gulps down the juices that flow heartily from your center.  his dick twitches in your palm.

“please…” you whimper.  “please fuck me… please…”

“no” is the simple answer.  “you’re cumming on my face, mi conejita.” 

your cheeks heat at his unashamed lewdness, at how he so easily expresses his desire for you.  how long had he been feeling his way?  how long had he wanted to ravish you like this?  he seems so resigned to his desires that he just can’t help himself anymore.

he gets his wish soon enough, pulling you so far onto him that his nose dips into your entrance, triggering an explosion of pleasure within you.  he groans as your legs begin to shake around his face, as you give up on pumping his shaft because you can’t focus on anything else but not losing your mind at how good he makes you feel. 

miguel doesn’t give you a reprieve in his agenda, slapping your ass twice to signal a position change before you can even catch your breath.

“get up,” he growls, and you obey.  he pushes you down on the bed in his place - the pillows are still warm from where he sat, still damp from the juices running freely down his face and jawline to soak the sheets.  without hesitation, he grips your calves and throws them over his shoulders.  you’re completely powerless underneath him when he pushes into you fully, not waiting a split second to begin ramming into you, even deeper than before.

it’s nearly unbearable, especially when he grabs your wrists, crosses them with a single hand, and holds them over your head before his lips crash onto yours.  your moans pour into his mouth, and he takes them without a second thought, returning them with equal fervor.  each pound of his hips forces water droplets from his damp hair onto your shaking body.  the way he presses down into you, the way the weight of him presses your thighs against your chest, the stretch aching, the opening angle of your hips for him to ram deeper into your warmth… it’s too much.

tears bead at the corners of your eyes when you open them to find him watching your face, even as he’s shoving his tongue down your throat.  you feel the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile at the sight of you so weak with want, with desire.  he looks fucking feral.

he pulls back, watching your reaction as he turns his head to press sloppy kisses to your calves, nipping at the skin.  welting bumps appear under his mouth, like he’s decorating you in just the fashion he likes.  when he’s finished, his lips crash onto yours again.  he doesn’t stop, doesn’t show mercy, not even when you’re babbling for him to continue, to push you over the edge once more.

“i gotta…” he pants, finally drawing back from your lips to examine your whole body shaking against the rough motion of his hips bulldozing into you.  a single line of spit still joins your lips.  “i gotta taste you still… fuck.”

he thinks for a moment before his fingers dive between your folds, gathering an ample amount of essence before he raises them to your mouth, spreading the liquid across your lips.  you can barely function at the lewd sight, even when he presses his fingers into your mouth, leading your tongue to swish around them and lap up every last drop.  his face contorts when your lips close around his digits, sucking his digits dry.

his mouth crashes against yours, exploring every bud in your mouth with renewed fervor at the flavor of your cunt all throughout your mouth.  you realize he had let go of your hands and you use the freedom to latch your nails into his back, clawing it to ribbons.  he thrusts into you with refreshing vigor, spurred by the satisfaction of your taste, at your nails sinking into his skin, and the warm, pulsing feeling of your cunt around his length at the same time.  he doesn’t last long, doesn’t make it much more time before he moans and whimpers into your mouth, warm cum spilling into you.  he removes his mouth from your kiss bitten lips and opts to bite into your neck, so hard you’re afraid you’ll bleed - but it’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge with him.  but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s groaning against you, fucking the last bit of himself into you, slowing his hips more and more.

when he’s finally finished, you squeeze your arms around him, removing your nails from his skin, welcoming him an embrace for him to collapse into.  he accepts the invitation graciously, his full weight pressing upon you as your legs fall from their position on either side of his hips.

he sighs into your neck, into the satisfying feeling of his cum beginning to ooze from your warmth, down your ass, spilling onto the bed.  there’s a few moments of wordlessness, the only sound echoing the room is breathless panting.

“well, consider this payment for watching gabi tonight?”

you laugh at his offhanded comment that breaks the silence and press a kiss onto his heaving shoulders.

“no, i’m still expecting the same rate.”

“in this economy?  times are changing, sweetheart.”  he raises his head to meet your eyes as you laugh.  “i hear this is the new salary.  don’t tell me you’re that opposed.”

“i’m not… of course not.”  you laugh nervously.  he chuckles at the sight of you getting so flustered.  he swiftly rises, pulling out of you so fast that you barely have time to process it before he gets warm rags and towels from the bathroom.

he comes back and kisses your forehead gently, wiping the residue of the wild night from your body.  it’s a tender gesture, one that you didn’t expect from the rugged creature.  however, it’s not unwelcome.

“well, if you’d like to stick with me, i’m sure there will be some benefits in the future, if you’re willing to stay on.”  he pauses and grins.  “and it’ll be nice to have you here in bed in case i get called out in the middle of the night. you always sound so pissed at me when i call to wake you up.”  

he dries off your wet skin with a towel before letting all of the material fall to the ground, forgotten.  his body curls around you, the overwhelming size and warmth of him surrounding you.

you smirk, letting out a giggle at the continuation of the joke, heat pooling in your cheeks from the easy closeness he pursues with you.  “of course, mr. o’hara.  i don’t think anyone else could match such a wonderful deal.”

divider by: @/ffffffaatality

@dilftaroooo come n get it !

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost. likes, comments & reblogs are always appreciated !

[youngbloodlisk]

parade day - enhypen bias x reader, fluff

the bias isn't actually in it all that much, but just like trust me lol

applicable for any enha member, no name stated, though if you feel it's a bit ooc for your member of choice to say certain things feel free to alter it a little in your own mind to make it fit better!

I shiver, feeling like an ice block from the inside out, despite the amount of layers on my body and the hot drink in my gloved hands.

I breathe out air warmer than my surroundings, granting me the appearance of a steam cloud coming from my mouth.

As I take a drink from my paper cup, I can't help but wonder to myself why Thanksgiving has to be in November. And why parades have to be outdoors. And why I had to be here so early in the morning just to stand here for hours.

Then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Not just a generic vibration, but the custom vibration that he set for himself on my phone. 'So I always know it's him before I even look.'

⁃ how's the crowd

He's such an ass. He's currently inside, waiting for the staff to tell him to go out and board the float. Inside. He's inside. In the heat.

⁃ cold, dick. how's the nice warm heated building 🤩

⁃ lovely, thank you.

⁃ no but fr ur not too cold right? you have jackets on?

⁃ i can send someone to u with my jacket if u need it

⁃ did you get the drink u said u we're gonna get?

⁃ yes yes yes I have jackets I have my drink im fine lmao

He might be kind of an ass but he's so sweet.

⁃ ok good.

⁃ only a few hours!

⁃ after we pass by the main part you can leave baby

⁃ ik you said you were gonna wait around for me but you don't have to

⁃ I don't need you freezing your ass off

⁃ THAT would be tragic. r.i.p. ass

I can't help but roll my eyes.

⁃ you're such a perv

⁃ woah rude!

Instead of responding, I slide my phone back into my pocket. I don't really have anything else to say at the moment. If I tell him straight up that I WILL be waiting until the end of the parade for him, he'll just whine about how I don't have to.

And now I stand. And wait...

And I waited for about 5 hours. We had to be here at 4:30 in the morning, both for him to get where he needed to go with his members and for me to get an absolutely prime spot in the crowd. The parade didn't actually start until about 9:30.

It's not every day that your boyfriend performs in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Longest five hours of my life, but whatever. He better not mess up the choreography after all this shit or I'm gonna be pissed.

Not really, it would actually be pretty funny. But the point is- this is pretty exhausting. Especially since I'm here all by myself.

Other members have partners, but they either couldn't come out for the parade or they don't like me. Not kidding, they seriously just don't like me that much. But that's okay! I don't particularly like them either. Anyways, all that resulted in me being here alone, without anybody to talk to to pass time.

But whatever. Whatever! It's over. The agonizingly boring five hours is over, and the parade is finally starting.

The float I'm really here for is a few floats and balloons back, but the parade feels like it moves quickly, so it doesn't seem to take very long at all.

The big Baby Shark float approaches and I see him already trying to find me in the crowd.

"Excuse me, could my daughter stand in front of you? Just for this performance?" A woman asks from behind me. I look next to her and see a young girl, probably about 10 or 11, holding a picket with my boyfriend's face on it.

She looks like this is the best day of her life. She isn't even looking at me, like she doesn't even care if she has the best view of the group. Just being here and seeing them is enough to fill her with pure joy.

"Of course! Of course she can!"

"Oh, thank you so much." She prompts her daughter to move forward as I scoot back a bit to make room for her. "She loves these boys, she's been talking about it for days. Thank you."

"It's no problem at all." I turn my attention to the young girl. "Is he your favorite?" I point to her picket.

She nods, excitedly.

"He's so pretty."

"He really is. He's my favorite too."

I look up again, seeing that he's still trying to find me. I wave with all my might, willing him to spot me, and soon enough he does. As soon as I have his attention, I frantically point to the girl who is now holding her picket up and waving at him. He leans down a bit to indicate that he's changed his attention to her as he smiles, waves at her, and sends a hand heart in her direction.

She squeals and jumps up and down.

"He saw me!! He saw me!! Mama, he saw me!! He gave me a heart!"

The cute little girl continues to freak out, making me worry slightly that she might just explode, as the float stops and the guys climb down, getting ready to perform.

There was some benefit to getting here so early. The performances are all directly in front of me (and this little girl, who I feel some level of community with at the moment.)

The hosts finish up their introductory stuff about the float, the movie, and the group, and the Baby Shark music begins to play (soon transitioning into the Keep Swimmin' Through tune.)

I watch him intently, full of pride for him and his success with the group.

I know he can't entirely take this seriously. It's a song for a Baby Shark movie. It's not like it's the most serious of performances in the first place. But I also know that deep down he can't believe he's here either. He can't believe he's doing this. He'd probably agree to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star acapella if it meant he got to be in such a big event that few kpop groups have been in.

The group does a great job. Of course they do. None of them mess up the choreography, so I remain not pissed off. (Lol)

After the performance, they simply walk off next to the float, but my boyfriend makes sure to send a quick flying kiss to both me and the little Engene in front of me before leaving the main square.

"He saw me again!!" She squeals.

"That's great, honey!" Her mother says before whispering to me, "Do you know that boy or something? He seemed to know you?"

I laugh a bit.

"Yes, ma'am. He's my boyfriend."

"Oh my! Oh, you must be very proud of him."

"You have no idea."

The rest of the parade is uneventful, just nice entertainment.

When it ends, I say goodbye to the little Engene and her mom, and seek out a heated place as fast as possible. I'm finally able to find a store nearby that is both open and not too busy. I wait in that store until my boyfriend is released from his duties and able to text me where to find him.

When I finally do leave and find him, he hugs me tighter than usual and holds on longer than usual.

"Are you alright?" I ask, slightly concerned.

"So cold. You're so warm."

I laugh, though I understand. I have to pry him off of me, taking a second to kiss his cold lips.

"You guys did great. Was it fun?"

"Yeah, it was. Less fun though and more just... just a really crazy experience."

"I bet. Did you see a lot of Engenes throughout the parade?"

"Yeah! A lot more than I expected. They really showed out. That little girl in front of you was adorable."

"You're her bias, and I think your heart and kiss made her entire day. Month. Life, possibly."

"Well, I wouldn't have seen her and made her entire life if it wasn't for you."

He takes my hands and pulls me close to him, bringing his face near to mine.

"It really is all thanks to me, isn't it? Technically, maybe /I/ made her entire life. You were just the tool."

"Mhm, mhm. Sure..." He trails off, pressing his lips into mine in a much deeper way than the short kiss earlier.

I feel a warmth run through my body, like the warmth of his kiss is being injected into my veins.

He cuts it off suddenly, staying close enough for his lips to still brush against mine. We utter a sentence each before resuming the kiss.

"Thank you for coming and standing out in the cold just for me."

"Baby, I'm so proud of you."

[moodywyrm]

nah cuz listen to me I NEED that hot cuddlefucking sesh with abby where yall r too tired or lazy to do anything extreme so ur just grinding on each others thighs or circling ur clits and kissing so heavily its got yalls pussies on fire n shes so warm and all around you her arms are so grounding and her MOANS GODDDDD HER MOANS

hello i just woke up oh my GOD.

I just know her moans would be so pretty n drawn out, especially when she’s tired. that girl is a whimperer when she tired, especially if ur on top of her, tits in her face, grinding ur pretty lil clit onto her big muscled thigh n bumping ur knee against her cunt, circling her big sensitive, twitching clit. the sounds alone would have her moaning like a whore, the squelching of ur cunts, the way her pussy is practically talking to u omg omg omg

she’d absolutely have one arm locked around ur waist, helping u move while the other either gropes at ur tits, her tits, ur thighs, the bed under her, literally whatever is gonna stabilize her most bc ur sending her into another dimension rn

it would get so so warm, so u have the window cracked open n the cold night air combined with the sheer heat of her body makes ur head spin oh my god oh my god ok I need to go be a person

[imsokaztastic]

a hot mess. (phoenixXf!reader)

warnings: nsfw, fire/heatplay??, shoving fingers down ur throat??

it looks like you and phoenix are taking the next step tbh! (i just wanted to write phoenix smut)

"phoenix," you mutter as he inches closer and closer to you.

his warm hands cup your cheek. "i can't restrain myself anymore, y/n. please-can't you let me do this? won't you let yourself free just this once?"

phoenix scoot closer and closer; your breath hitches.

"i-i..."

fuck it.

you kiss him.

you feel his slightly rough lips crash against your own; lovingly at first, then harsh and passionate. you let his hands roam your body, his hot tongue greedily exploring you mouth.

"aangh-nngh-"

he pushes you down to his bed and grips your wrists tightly by your head.

you pant.

you notice phoenix had a hungry, almost predatory look in his eyes.

you also feel phoenix's hands heating up, but you don't pay much mind as most of your attention was mostly on his intense, dirt colored gaze.

"i'm going to go all the way, y/n. i just need you to say everything is fully okay," he pleads breathlessly. his eyes beg and demand you to say yes, to let him consume your being so that you're finally his and his alone.

"..yes." he kisses you once more.

"i'm not going to hold back."

"good,"

you remove each other's clothes slowly and sensually, admiring one another's physique. he unclips your bra and throws it aside, gently lying you back down.

he suddenly shoves his fingers down your throat, contrasting the gentleness expressed formerly.

whatever sweetness phoenix had before was long gone now.

all you could see in his eyes were pure hunger and lust.

"go on, suck it." you eagerly do as he says whilst trying to ignore your burning cheeks as you struggle to keep level eye contact with him.

he smiles sadistically at you, caressing your face with his other hand; and as he drags it ever so slowly down your bare body, you feel sparks flying off your torso, shuddering.

"good girl, y/n. just like that,"

he hooks a finger around the bands of your underwear, aggressively tugging it down your legs as you carefully maneuver yourself to help it off.

he pops his fingers out of your mouth and runs them down your unclothed pussy, slicking it up.

your eyes widen in surprise.

he inserts two fingers, pumping them in and out, curling his digits.

you groan.

"mmnnngh...!" you grasp onto his back, biting your lip.

"i'm gonna fuck you real good tonight, y/n."

he takes his hand out and slurps up your juices, savouring your taste.

"you taste lovely, y/n."

phoenix grabs his shirt, quickly wiping his hand with it and shoving it in your mouth. you gag slightly. he then aligns his cock to your entrance, probing it slightly. you grip his back, groaning and gasping for air as he slowly enters you-painfully. phoenix coos at you; caressing your teary face; whispering how good you're being right now.

once all of him is in, he waits a moment to observe you. phoenix won't move till you feel ready.

you nod weakly, giving him the go.

at first, his tempo is slow and gentle, but then it gradually grows faster and harder. with each thrust, you feel yourself ascend.

"fuck-y/n, is it okay if i-hhngh-if i use my fire a little bit? i-it'll hurt just a tiny bit but-" he inhales sharply, his eyes rolling back.

you take the shirt out of your mouth and throw it aside.

"i'm okay w-with it," you gasp.

you feel phoenix's grasp on your thighs tighten and heat up; he doesn't let go until you yelp out in pain (or pleasure?). he slows down his speed and removes his hands to look at the marks he gave you.

you shudder at his touch, his hands gently grazing across the burn. phoenix slaps your thighs and resumes his hold and fast speed; you let out a loud moan in response.

all that could be heard in that moment were slaps, groans, and dirty talking echoing off the thin walls.

phoenix lets out a gutteral groan, squeezing your thighs with heat once more.

"mmmph...!" you grip the sheets as you reach your momentum, and he slides out just as you both reach the top.

"...man. i wish i could finish in you, but pregnancy in the protocol isn't something i look forward to." he pants, earning a giggle from you.

"hah, yeah; me either." he plops down beside you a deafening silence rules the room for a while, allowing you to let the intimate moment shared sink in.

"round two?"

"fuck yeah."

i wrote this really late at night so sorry if anything seems off :D enjoy the phoenix smut

[obriengf]

I posted 2,216 times in 2022

281 posts created (13%)

1,935 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dobrienwrites yea ik right

@onlydylanobrien

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@slutobrien

@dylan-obrien-gifs

I tagged 1,972 of my posts in 2022

#dob - 1,283 posts

#queued. - 648 posts

#c: stiles stilinski - 339 posts

#fic rec - 206 posts

#c: thomas - 117 posts

#rec: stiles stilinski - 96 posts

#dylan o'brien - 87 posts

#dylan o'brien x reader - 77 posts

#c: mitch rapp - 63 posts

#rec: dylan o'brien - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#it just grabbed at my heart and crunched it up like a ball of paper before being thrown into the trash can of suffering and pain

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

can we have ‘ do you touch urself think my of me’ w dylan for ur 500 sleepover thing’ thxx

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sexual language, sexual activity, female masturbation

"DO YOU TOUCH YOURSELF WHEN YOU THINK OF ME?"

You shuddered; large hands ghosting over your sides, radiating dizzying warmth through the terrycloth of your towel. You could feel his movements so clearly despite the lack of physical touch, and it was beginning to make your mind sway with increments of a lustful haze. It was absentminded as your head gently fell back, lulling to the side as his warm breath fanned down your neck, each small exhale feeling like a fiery kiss against your sensitive skin. The man knew exactly what he was doing - the ability to arouse you already easy enough, but executing it without the usage of his masterful hands and lips only added to his adept skillset. You offered a gentle nod of your head, a response that you could only muster from the small amount of sanity he was letting you have. Dylan's lips curled into a generous smile as they dragged under your ear, a tender peck placed over the still wet skin from your shower.

He carefully pulled the abundance of your wet locks over your other shoulder so that his access to your neck became facile, lips now able to properly envelop your skin and leave behind an array of moan-inducing kisses. The man couldn't help but press himself against you, one hand now gripping your waist tightly as the other sat just above your thigh. Even though your eyes were closed, you were sure that you could sense the inevitable swelling of the veins in his arms, an indication that he was trying to hold himself back - that whatever self-control he harnessed was holding on by a whimsy thread before he would eventually have you backed up against the basin and screaming out every goddamn syllable of his name.

"Dyl..." You moaned softly, and if he wasn't focusing so hard on enhancing the purple bruise near your clavicle, he would have missed your near-silent plea. By now, your arm had been thrown behind you to allow your fingers to thread through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as your other hand entangled with the one guarding your waist. You could feel the upturn of his nose nuzzle into the curve of your neck as Dylan reveled in the soothing attention you were feeding him. He hummed lightly against your skin, his lips unable to stop the small litter of pecks that now trailed across your shoulder as he gently pulled down the material shielding your body. You were immediately covered in goosebumps; the cool air meeting your hot and flushed skin spiking the small bumps and provoking a display of shivers down your spine.

"Does the thought of my fingers make you feel good?" He wondered aloud, voice raspy as it was whispered against the shell of your ear. You could only manage another nod as your teeth sunk deeply into your bottom lip, tugging at the reminiscence your body felt as you remembered how good his hands treated you. It was now more obvious that your thighs had been rubbing together from the arousal he easily prompted - ankles crossed over and a small patch of red skin that was caused by evident friction near your heated core. Just the thought alone of the man behind you harassing your moistened sex was driving you absolutely insane.

Dylan untangled your hands before setting his lightly over yours, his movements slow as he dragged your touch down the front of your body. You opened your eyes, lashes fluttering against your cheek before you focused on your boyfriend in the reflection before you. He was mesmerised - eyes detailing the way you were reacting to his touch and intimate maneuvers - until his gaze finally fell on yours, causing a smirk encased in mischief to curl at his lips, complementing the heavy wink that fell from his right eye. He maintained eye contact as his pointer finger directed yours to your clit, the nub incredibly sensitive as he controlled your caress in a circular motion. He was guiding you to pleasure yourself as your chest instantly swelled with a deep intake of air, mouth falling ajar and eyes slowly becoming hooded.

You eventually sighed out in contentment; leaning back against Dylan when your legs began to grow unstable, his spare arm reaching across your chest. He grasped one of your fleshy mounds as he began to squeeze, his thumb and forefinger pinching an exposed peak to draw out your building moan. Dylan smiled as he watched your face contort with pleasure before murmuring in your ear, "Whatever you do, don't stop." His voice fractured with his own arousal, despite wanting to push it aside to focus primarily on you. He let you continue rubbing an array of shapes against your clit, his second and third finger now sliding into his mouth as he coated them with oral lubricant. You watched him intently, and you knew what was coming.

His lips brushed against your neck, "Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see how I make you feel when you cum on my fingers."

It was a growl that entered your ear, the beautiful caramel tone of Dylan's eyes now clouded with a dark chocolate hue, fervor for your pleasure now etching across his features quickly. He managed to suction his lips back to your neck, eyes still boring into the mirror. You couldn't look away from him, you didn't want to, which is why it took you by surprise when he pushed both fingers deep inside of you. An involuntary gasp squeaked past your open mouth, soon followed by a throaty moan that echoed loudly off the tiled walls. His pace was relentless as his fingers thrust quickly, the curl of their tips brushing over your rigid roofing and eliciting a whine of desperation. You didn't dare slow down your harassment on your clit, even pressing down harder when Dylan's nails scraped over a sensitive part of your core.

It was a quick set decision as he reached up to grasp your chin, turning it toward his awaiting lips before he pressed them harshly against yours. He didn't start to take your bottom lip between his own pair until he felt you relax slightly into him, an indication that you were content with the kiss. He sucked, teeth dragging your lip away as he pulled back, only to immediately dive back in and soothe his tongue along the graze. You were receiving amounts of pleasure all through your body, head now spinning with all sorts of romantic sentiments and lustful sensations. You took the opportunity to drag your tongue over his, pulling your boyfriend into you even more by the union shared between your mouths.

It was his turn to groan, only to be swallowed by you as you took leadership in the kiss. Dylan, though, still had reign over your upcoming orgasm as he thrust faster, angle changing until he found the special spot that made you scream between his lips. The room echoed with your joint sounds of satisfaction, complementary to the slick wet noises of his fingers drenched in your arousal as you neared your orgasmic high. You explored his mouth with the desperate muscle, recognising every nook and crevice as if it were the back of your hand. You provoked grunts from Dylan as he sucked the air from your lungs, needing to survive on your taste and feeling, nose dragging across your face as he fought the metaphorical battle of tongues.

It didn't take long for you to pull back, your voice crying toward him with furrowed brows and an incredibly heaving chest, "I'm gonna cum..." You breathed, whinging tangled with your tone as you found his spare hand. It was second nature as you grasped him, fingers sliding between his own, wanting to hold your boyfriend for support from what you anticipated as a body shaking high. He sped up even further, the contraction of your walls around him making his groin twitch and harden. You could feel it as he spontaneously pushed against your backside, the throbbing of his member settling into your lower back. Knowing that this was turning him on threw you over the edge, completely.

Eyes rolled back as you convulsed; the heated ache in your pelvis spreading through your veins as your body erupted in euphoric fire. A loud cry escaped you, "Fuck... fuck, Dyl-Dylan... baby... shit..." Your words were incoherent, unable to form proper sentences as you spoke absentmindedly in time with the stars exploding over your eyes. You could, however, see the familiar orbs of your partner as you maintained eye contact, Dylan's brows furrowing as he bit his lip with enough force to draw blood. His pace began to slow, only stopping when your frame collapsed against his chest. He pulled the tired digits to his mouth, sucking away the remnants of your juices and moaning at the taste he often dreamed about.

"That was so hot." He breathed out, your hearts thumping in unison as the only sounds now surrounding you both were the jagged breaths you shared.

You agreed as you reached up to him, your arm still shaky as you cupped Dylan's face and rubbed your thumb gently over his flushed cheeks. "You, are, incredible." You huffed, smiling sincerely despite the tiredness that now blanketed your face. He could tell by the lidded eyes you flashed him that the pleasure you felt took a lot out of you, prompting your boyfriend to lean in and tenderly kiss your swollen lips. His soft actions made your shoulders slump in serenity as you remained settled against him, only to be held flush further against his chest as his arm protectively sat at the base of your ribs. You managed a chuckle, "Guess I'll have to have another shower to clean this mess up." You gestured to the dripping juices falling down your inner thighs.

Dylan pulled back, at least two steps away from you as you braced yourself against the counter. He smiled gingerly as he removed his shirt, thumbs tucking into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs, "Good, I'll join you."

327 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

#4

“You're joking, right? That asshole did NOT ask you out.” with stiles !!!

Warnings : swearing, doesn't follow canon after s2, i thought this was super angsty but it's not HAHA

Notes : THIS IS LONGISH okay

"YOU'RE JOKING, RIGHT? THAT ASSHOLE DID NOT ASK YOU OUT."

A loud tone of disbelief rung in your ears, the perpetrator only inches off your heels as he followed you through the crowding hallways of Beacon Hills High. His archetypal outburst was far from unexpected, yourself knowing that it'd slip out sooner or later, but what did take you aback was your lack of introduction to the topic - Stiles was the one that approached you, and his words were immediately shot through his lips in full throttle. He didn't take it lightly when you responded with an eye roll, your locker slamming shut before you turned away from the boy to make your way to the courtyard. That's how found yourself dodging strange looks from other students as Stiles continued to flail his arms in utter incredulity, ramblings in the form of incoherent sounds and fractured sentencing now a representation of his cynicism.

"It was one date, Stiles." You replied, boredom of his overbearing protectiveness seeping from your words. With one arm clutching your History textbook tightly to your chest, the other reached out to push the large doors standing in your way, warm rays of sun quick to dance across your skin. You sighed lightly through your nose as a brief moment of contentedness made your shoulders slump. The fresh air was already doing you good, but the rambling from your friend only brought you back to slight suffocation. You turned to face him as feet carried you to a nearby table, eyes glaring immediately at Stiles until his mouth slammed shut. You clicked your tongue as you pondered, "How did you find out anyway? I only told Lydia, and it was only this past Saturday."

Stiles pursed his lips, any sort of eye contact now widely forgotten as he found interest in everything but your stare. His lanky frame began to slide onto the bench across from you, his usual hyper-activeness betraying him as his voice hummed loudly in his throat and leg bouncing distractingly under the table. Stiles looked down to his entangled fingers before a nervous chuckle escaped him, "A birdie told me. A.. super-hearing, hairy, bird of the night.. told me."

You rolled your eyes again, head shaking, voice firm "McCall."

"Look, it doesn't matter who blabbed, alright? What matters is that he asked you out again and you said maybe!" Stiles' voice rose, arms in their typical position as they're held out dramatically by his side, gestures soon to become easily trademarked by Stiles Stilinski. You peered up through your eyelashes, the page of which your textbook was open now bookmarked by your index finger. Your facial features contorted skeptically, eyes squinted, not understanding what point your friend was desperate to make.

Your shoulders shrugged as if it weren't a big deal, and Stiles groaned in irritation, "This is Isaac Freakin' Lahey, Y/N. The guy screams 'bad vibes'!"

"I don't know, he seemed incredibly genuine to me." You exacted, unbothered as you returned focus to your studying. Confidence began to settle your rattled mind when Stiles' voice shrunk into small speechless squeaks. He expected you to agree with him but instead came up dumbfounded as you opposed his delusions of being in the right.

It shocked you significantly when his voice was raised by another two octaves, his tone breaking and strangled as they ran quickly from his lips, "G-Genuine? Genuine, Y/N?! The dude was evil not even three months ago!"

"I think evil is a bit of an overstatement." You quirked a brow, stoic when eye contact with Stiles' widened and amber hues was regained.

"He tried to kill us!"

You began to wonder how many times you could roll back your eyes in a thirty-minute timeframe, sure that by now you'd be close to breaking a world record. The motion was paired with a clicking tongue, "Now, I know that's a definite overstatement."

What you admired about Stiles was also what made him formidable at times. He was continually overrun by his persistence - a trait that derailed him from giving up on people and tough situations, however, also further fuelled his over-energetic notions to the point where the boy became utterly irritant. Paired with his headstrong protectiveness, Stiles was immensely possessive over the ones he cared for most and that made him a constant force to be reckoned with.

Stiles glowered, exasperation clinging to the downward tug of his lips and the furrowing of his brow before his head shook slightly. Large hands dragged down his face at a slow pace as he gritted his teeth, evident that he was trying to not let his inner frustration get the better of him to the point where he'd likely explode with unfiltered wording. You were trying to ignore your friend's 'over dramatics' as eyes skimmed back over your current chapter, the small window of focus now interrupted once again by a heavy sigh; the type that sounded oddly like defeat.

"You're being very difficult right now, you know that? I'm just..." He trailed, hands curling into fists. He appeared ambivalent as his jaw rolled, lips pursing with every attempt to convey his thoughts and feelings in a way that best suited him. Your book sounded gently as you closed it, unable to stop the tilting of your head when you gazed over Stiles' inner conflict with himself. Your shoulders jumped as his fists suddenly banged against the tabletop, Stiles quick to release another heavy sigh, "I'm trying to help you. I don't trust the guy and you deserve better than him! You... you just deserve better."

"Who then, Stiles? Who is better?" By now you were leaning forward on your crossed arms, your voice close to breaking with the frustration you harnessed from your friend's behavior. A small part of you wished that he would finally end the charade and nominate himself. It wasn't a secret that you saw the sun and moon when you thought of the hyperactive boy sitting across from you, hell, you were seventy-eight percent sure he felt the same. Stiles wasn't one to act so readily upon his emotions; he cowered away, pushed them aside, hardly recognized anything remotely reciprocal. But it was simple, you didn't want to act on a stupid crush if you weren't completely sure that he didn't feel the same way.

You looked to him with a questioning eyebrow raise, and he returned it with wide eyes and an agape mouth. Stiles was taken aback by your retort and slowly, his cheeks filled with a heavy dusting of deep rose that pinched at the tip of his upturned nose. He gulped hard, stuttered sounds uncontrollably pushing past his lips until he displayed another unexpected burst of his loud voice, "A-a-anyone! Anyone is literally better."

You didn't think it was possible, but you found another opportunity to roll your eyes once more, tiredly huffing out your words as you awaited on some type of hopefulness, "Give me an example, Stiles."

"Fine... Scott! Scott is better. Scott is like, literally, a hundred-fucking-times better."

His answer was beyond unanticipated. You slowly lent back as you retracted your arms from the table, your own pair of widened eyes expressing how shocked you were to receive a riposte that definitely wasn't thought through long enough. You clicked your tongue as your eyes lowered into a squint of dubiety, brows following as you didn't dare look away from the boy, who himself, was surprised by what he blurted out in the heat of the moment. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to date... Scott? He's the one you think I should be with?"

"I mean, yeah, it's a huge... no, enormous upgrade from scarfy boy." Stiles was simply playing along now, managing a facade that showed his calmness as he leaned back with arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest. His heart, alas, thumped roughly in his chest as he felt it rattle his cage. Nausea seeped into the base of his throat and it took everything to swallow it back down without pulling a face of complete disgust. He was teetering on the ledge of admitting his jealousy and confessing his feelings for you, only to fall down the rabbit hole of concealing away the emotions that quite literally took control of both his mind and heart on a daily basis. He was hurting and he brought it upon himself.

You felt your shoulders slump as his persona was altered so swiftly, doubt about misreading social cues and body language now invading your memories. You bit your bottom lip, harshly, "And there's no one else? At all?" Your voice broke as you squeaked toward him, suddenly feeling so small.

"Why would there be anyone else?"

Lashes danced across your skin as your eyelids closed, a gulp of subdued sadness struggling to pass through your throat. You were familiar with the pain that situated itself with heartbreak, but this felt different - it was raw, and you couldn't understand why. It was as if he had reached through your chest and pumped at your heart himself until the pressure was too much, and the thumping muscle gave out. It was as if the guilt of one simple date with the resident sweetheart Isaac Lahey was beginning to eat at your soul, begging the question of if one small date was too much when you saw hope with the boy next door instead. It was as if those small flirty exchanges with Stiles were one-sided, those fiery touches that left burns against your skin were misappropriated, and that the history you shared together was simply just that... history. You wondered if he was just toying you along for the fun of it all.

"You know what-" You finally said, unaware that Stiles could see how you were so affected by his inability to express himself to his full potential. He, himself, was saddened by the turn that took your usual playful banter to the uncomfortable anguish that was held so tensely in the air between you. When your eyes opened, you took a deep breath, unable to look at the amber eyes that usually made you swoon. Your textbook was gathered in your arms and your bag slung over your shoulder, "This is unbelievable. I don't have time right now for games, Stiles."

He didn't expect you to leave as his eyes followed every movement you made, his body beginning to jitter from surges of anxiety. He threw his hands out towards you as his lengthy arms nearly crossed the entire width of your table, striving to keep the miniscule shaking of his fingers at bay as he called out to you, "Games? What, no, there's no games. What games? No no no... stay, okay, just stay..."

You couldn't find the need to reply, instead, shaking your head and collecting the last of your belongings before moving speedily across the courtyard. Stiles, in turn, was frozen with a clenched jaw and allowed every nervous cell in his body to go unmanaged as he practically fell from the bench and stumbled his way over with quickened feet to block your path. He was at a fastened jog by the time he caught up to your hasty speed, his chest heaving timidly, body hunched as he bent down briefly with hands splayed over his knees. He was short of breath, sure that he would collapse from a heart attack if you decided to move any further.

See the full post

345 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

#3

" There's no way i can cover these marks " with Mitch?

SEND ME A PROMPT FOR MY 500 SLEEPOVER!

Warning: mentions of sexual activity, swearing galore

"THERE'S NO WAY I CAN COVER THESE MARKS."

You shamelessly bit down on your bottom lip, eyes trained on the sinewy form at the foot of your bed as his muscles flexed under even the smallest of movements. You could see through the minimal space of which he didn't cover the mirror, that his eyes were squinted in concentration and brows furrowed as he played inspector. A soft giggle fell from your lips as he was referring to the trail of purple splotches adorning his neck, littering over his collarbone and eventually down to his chest. They weren't hard to miss - the colour was vibrant and definitely semi-permanent for a while.

"You didn't seem to be complaining when you had your dick in me." A purr settled in your throat, Mitch peering behind him through the reflective surface just as you rolled slightly over the crisp white sheets. His whiskey hues followed the thin material only just barely covering your torso and thighs, knowing exactly what he'd find if it happened to slip from your naked body. The image made him moan before he swallowed hard, his head slightly shaking as he tried to rid the beautiful picture you'd paint him every time you both were intimate. He had to leave for work, he couldn't be late again - Irene threatening to have his head on a stick if he dared show up outside of their agreed-upon time.

You could see his struggle, prompting you to laugh quietly under your breath before pushing yourself up into a more seated position, hands quick to grasp the sheet and drag it up to cover your exposed front. "I could put some makeup on it? Works wonders for me." Which it often did - your body usually the one marked and decorated with Mitch's insignia. You believed that he enjoyed it more than you, which wouldn't be an understatement if he could only see the look of pride he sported when he admired his pleasureful work. That, and the symphony of moans that he conducted from you with just his mouth.

Mitch instantly scowled, his brows furrowing, "You're not touching me with that shit. It looks fantastic on you, let's leave it that way."

His answer prompted a pout to playfully sit on your lips, causing the man in front of you to roll his eyes. You knew how to get him going. "Don't look at me like that, not with those dumb puppy dog-eyes..." The man sighed, a brief head shake and disbelieving smirk gracing his facial features. He chuckled, knees already breaching the edge of your bed, "Look what you're making me do, baby, now I have to come over there and kiss that frown away, and you're the one that's getting blamed when Irene loses her fucking head."

Mitch moved quickly; his large hands already capturing your waist as he held you through the sheet, lips immediately encasing your own. You fell backward with a gentle thump as Mitch's body completely covered your smaller frame, your arms snaking around his neck to pull him closer to you. His tongue swept along your bottom lip, a dance of its own, until you eventually opened for him. It was as if he was trying to breathe in all that you were - an attempt to graciously accept the love that you so willingly provided him. The intoxication he felt when he was drawn in by your tender touch and sweet taste would always drive him to utter oblivion, a drunken daze that required no alcohol. He knew that the moment he crossed that bed to join your lips again, that it'd take him a hell of a lot to pull him back out.

It was you who pulled back first, needing a moment to catch your breath as your fingers tangled in the slightly long locks of your boyfriend. Mitch, however, didn't stop. He didn't want to. His mouth dragging along your jawline and down your neck, suctioning around particular pressure points that he knew made your legs shake. A throaty groan escaped you and the man couldn't help the smirk that pressed predominately against your skin. Your voice was strangled, a soft choke escaping with your words, "Is this your way of getting pay back? By making us hickey twins?" You sounded dubious, but the nod and muffled sound of agreement he breathed against your neck solidified your beliefs. "You're enjoying this way too much."

The euphoric feeling that vibed through your bedroom was halted when Mitch's phone began to buzz, the vibrations creating a loud and intrusive pattern against the nightstand. He groaned, shoulders slumping before throwing his arm out to the side to bring the device to his ear.

"I'm busy."

He grunted before tossing it to the side, screen now laying flat on the mattress. His hand returned to your body in order to pull the sheet down, his tongue not shy as it followed the material, trailing between your breasts... until the phone rang, again.

"Occupied."

He spoke sternly into the receiver once he picked it up again, the phone thrown across the bed for the second time this morning. You were finding amusement in the situation, wanting to file a small laugh but the second his teeth pulled at one of your exposed nipples, your body returned to its state of anticipation and lust. Your head lulled back as a hand threaded through his hair, softly tugging along with the moans gathering in your throat. The sensations you felt were mesmerizing, until you suddenly jumped, the generic ring tone calling through once more.

Mitch growled, reaching for the device now somehow behind him, "Wrong fucking number."

You stifled a chuckle, "Go. Stan's just gonna keep calling. He'll probably come kick the damn door down and drag you out by your ear if you hang up on him again."

The man deflated, not wanting to admit the accuracy of your statement, especially knowing how Stan likes to deal with things in the unconventional kind of way. He looked into your eyes, their brightness making him smile, "If I have to."

---------

"What the fuck is that?" The older man grumbled, eyes trained on Mitch as he slid into the passenger side of Stan's beaten-up truck. He started mostly at the litter of bruises rising above the neckline of Mitch's black t-shirt, before focusing back on a pair of mischievous amber eyes.

"They're hickeys, Stan. You actually need somebody interested in fucking you to be able to get some of your own." Mitch retorted, his usual level of attitude still managing to push at Stan's buttons, regardless of how used he is to it by now. Mitch smirked, "Y/N's a biter." He declared, voice smug and proud before showing off a wink.

Stan looked utterly disgusted, "Yeah, you don't fucking say."

460 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

#2

Where Stiles Lives Out His Dream.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : just cuteness, maybe like one swear word?

Notes : had this idea for a while, NWH definitely boosted it though!

it started in kindergarten

a five-year-old stiles wearing the same spiderman shirt every day for the first week

surprisingly, claudia wasn't bothered washing it each night

especially when he got it covered in paint and food and.. god knows what actually caused the stain on the left hand sleeve..

one would think that he had that darn action figure superglued to his hand

he refused to let it go, just like that shirt

his obsession never faltered, though

only growing more the older he got

and when he finally watched the movies.. his life changed

stiles was nine-years-old when his dad let him watch the first two tobey maguire movies

he was enthralled by watching spiderman swing around on his webs and fight the bad guys

his large honey eyes were glued to the screen and widened in wonder

and when peter parker finally got the girl, he felt a warmth settle in his chest

a strange warmth that he couldn't describe, not until he was old enough to properly understand

noah stilinski was looking over case files when he felt his son tug at his shirt

stiles only grinned, "dad can i have a mj?"

and noah only shook his head

he smiled back though, admiration etched over his worry lines

"not yet, son"

"dad... is mom your mj?"

and noah only laughed, eyes flickering to a sickly looking woman grinning at her boys' interaction

"she definitely is"

it was freshman year and stiles had turned fifteen-years-old

he wore a large grin to complement his red t-shirt and dark flannel

a large black spider symbol gracing his chest

by now his ADD has grown and he wasn't very good at focusing

See the full post

779 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

can i request “ actually, i think we have to go again. you know, just to be sure… “ with stiles please ? <3

Warnings: 18+, sexual activity, swearing

"ACTUALLY, I THINK WE HAVE TO GO AGAIN. YOU KNOW, JUST TO BE SURE..."

It was hard to resist the chuckle that fell from your lips, your heart still reverberating severely against the caging of your chest from the intimate union you and your boyfriend have only just shared. He was still laying over half your body - collapsed from the effort he poured into your first time together. Stiles was placed on his stomach, head slightly turned on his pillow to face you as his eyes remained closed in absolute bliss. You were able to tuck your chin over his shoulder before pressing soft, gentle kisses against his sweated skin. You could feel the pads of his fingertips lightly brushing over your exposed sides and it forced a pleasant shivering sensation to rush up your spine. He had electrified you; made your soul and mind and every single inch of your body feel utterly alive, and it was so exhilarating.

"To be sure of what?" You started, hands dragging up and down his back in inconsistent patterns as you held him close to your frame, "That we aren't virgins anymore? 'Cause, seriously, Stiles... we are beyond being fucking virgins, especially after what just happened." A ghosted feeling briefly sparked in your lower abdomen as a familiar and enticing pull of a heated rubber band built with anticipation; you could feel the body memory of your orgasm as you continued to draw a deep breath, your teeth sinking deep into your bottom lip as you mentally reprised the euphoria Stiles had put you through only ten minutes ago. It was your first experience of the metaphorical fireworks you see in those romantic movies, a conversation often spoken between your friends as you and the Stilinski boy stood back in awkward outcasted silence. Not that you planned on having sex for the hell of it, no, it all started with a loving stare that was held for too long and a kiss that made you forget that oxygen even existed.

You knew it was time when you could hardly hear his choked-up voice as he whispered that he loved you; that you brought light to his continuously dark days, that you made him forget about the pain that danger that your lives had been thrown into. He spoke with the utmost sincerity until tears gathered in his eyes, the honey tone enhancing as his heart grew larger. Stiles had lost the woman that meant more than the world to him, but you filled that gap, you helped remind him that loving doesn't mean losing - it means holding on forever, and never letting go.

By the time you realised you were daydreaming with a fresh coat of rosy cheeks and a smile of adoration, Stiles was reaching up to push stray hairs away from your face - the warm brown swirls of his eyes, the ones that were burnt in the back of your mind and seen as a regular occurrence in the happiest of dreams, were gazing into your own. He was smiling lazily and unable to keep his hands off of you. You were like porcelain to him, a delicate cut ceramic that needed to be treated with the most tender of touches, a beautiful artwork that deserved to be admired for as long as you stood, and more. It was an obsession that he couldn't shake, and one that you knew you most certainly couldn't lose even if you tried.

"Ya know, can't be too sure these days," He crooned after your brief silence, his mouth finally caught up with his mind, "Gotta make sure the job is done right and to perfection... every single damn time." By now, Stiles was hovering completely over your naked frame, eyes shameless as they scoured your body and brought immense arousal through the coursing of his veins. You could feel his length pulsate and harden against your thigh, the libido of the Stilinski boy already desperate to make love to you once more. The thought alone made you rub your thighs together, a familiar slickness moistening your sex. You placed your hands on Stiles' chest as you trailed them down his pecs, the muscles in his stomach tensing we you passed over his stomach before nails scraped through the darkening happy trail. Stiles shuddered immediately.

"Can we try something a little different?" Your voice was barely audible, a nervous squeak pushing through your lips like drops of anxiety joining the butterflies in your stomach. You looked up in time to see Stiles gulp, his head nodding in robotic action as his gaze widened. You bit your lip again as your hands now slid under his arms to grasp his shoulders from behind, Stiles' large hands clasping over your waist. "I want to be on top this time."

His groan was loud - a deep and strangled growl that voiced from his chest and echoed off the walls around you. His head dropped to your shoulder and you sensed that this was something he'd been thinking about for a long time, fantasized, even. Your thoughts were affirmed when his dick twitched against you, absentminded jerks against your skin as he neared full erection for the second time tonight. You were immensely flattered, but sexual desire took the front seat and you were suddenly rolling across your bedsheets with the boy until his flop of soft and scruffy brunette locks flounced upon your pillow. You were straddling his waist, and you'd have to admit, the angle of this new position brought a power you didn't know you craved until now.

Stiles let go of your waist and brought one hand up, thumb rubbing small serene circles over your cheek the moment he cupped it within his protective hold. The other trailed south before his pointed finger mimicked the circles of your cheek, however harsher and large against your throbbing clit. You moaned with fluttering eyes, the nub still sensitive but surprisingly prepared to be harassed again. You were melting into Stiles and he relished in knowing that he could bring this sultry side out of you.

"You have no fucking clue how hot you look right now... but in case you were wondering, it's very hot. Extremely hot. Smokin' hot-" He began to ramble and his eyes raked down your upright body, focusing on each breast with the desire to attack them with his mouth and tongue, followed by the small grinding movement you were making now that his finger has slid into the clasp of your core. You were a goddess and Stiles was desperate to worship you, over and over again.

"-You need to shut up and stop teasing me, Stiles." You snapped, voice unable to grasp the concept of frustration as you instead began to whine, head lulling back and nails digging into the skin of your boyfriend's wrists. He nodded erratically, stammering sounds of fractured syllables and lost words dancing from his tongue as he quickly reached beside him. The packet of condoms he was incredibly anxious to buy the week before sat idly on your nightstand, his fingers scrounging for the foil chain of squares as his other hand stayed preoccupied with prodding your moistening sex.

Stiles swore under his breath as he managed to get hold of what he was searching for, a small burst of excitement in his success tugging into a smile. With the crinkling sound of foil nearby, you instinctively slid backward and over Stiles' swollen red girth of desperation, the boy sounding loudly at the feeling. He drew a deep breath, "Fuck... okay, fuck, we're doing this... we're really doing this again..." His voice rose in octave, the ball of energy of which was Stiles Stilinski making you grin out of second nature. You could hear the excitement that cradled his words close, his chest already rising and falling with labored breaths. You had barely done anything in your opinion, and he was practically cumming right on the spot.

He slowed down enough to guide the condom over his upright erection before jerking it briefly, his eyes glued to your still glistening skin and the remainder of your prior afterglow. It wasn't, though, until he looked up and caught your gaze that he began to stop breathing altogether. Set deep within your eyes was complete love - an indescribable feeling that left you with a nauseous sensation in your stomach that actually made you feel good - and Stiles thought that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this harsh and wonderful world.

It was last second when he lifted himself from the mattress, never breaking eye contact with you until he was seated upright with you positioned snugly on his lap. He gulped, amber hues flickering between your swollen lips and softened eyes. His lips quirked up into a smirk before he lent into you, pressing a kiss so tenderly over your own pair. Your shoulders sagged in contentedness before you caught his bottom lip, sucking on it gently. Stiles pulled back only the slightest, your lips still brushing as he tilted his head to the side and pushed his tongue over yours. It was a dance between muscles, one that caused moans to elicit and drown in the mouths of the other, a desire to breathe life into the one that made you feel so incredibly weightless at this moment.

Stiles drew out each second until it was literally impossible to go any further, his loud breaths fanning heavily against your shoulder after he pulled away. He had his arms secured around your back now, palms flat as his fingers splayed over the small curve of your spine. Yours were too tangled around him as you played with the longer strands of hair above the nape of his neck, the sentiment prompting a grin to press into your shoulder as Stiles nuzzled his nose into you. As your heart ricocheted in your chest, you settled yourself above the boy, holding his tip over your entrance. He hummed, another small kiss pressed between your breasts from your brief change in height, "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too." You replied, biting down as you slowly sunk down on him, your walls still not used to being stretched as you hissed through the pain. Stiles made sure to lay a hand over your hip to help steady you as the other linked with one of yours, this thumb rubbing over your hold as you offered him a tight squeeze from the aching. When you reached the bottom, you groaned out in the bittersweet mixture of pleasure and hurt, Stiles releasing a similar sound as your tightened walls clenched around his still sensitive girth. It wasn't until you started rolling your hips, that both sets of your eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

"Fuck-".

788 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

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[railroad-migraine]

Hello! Im not sure if your requests are Open but could you do molly, dariax, Percy , dorian and Ashton with an s/o with thick thighs? Like. They could be pillow or stressballs thighs!

Your writing is so cool and the one about Ashton getting flowers made me melt!!

Have a nice day and please take ur time!

Requests are indeed open darling! I'm currently not writing for Campaign 1, but I'll gladly do the rest! I'm so happy you liked the flower fic - I loved writing it 🥰 Thick thigh solidarity babyyy <3

Also this is very self indulgent bc these 4 own my heart

~ Poet

S/O Has Thick Thighs (That Save Lives)

Ashton 💙

It's the contrast between you two that gets to him on a deeper level. For a long time, he has been calloused and hard to the touch, rough and lean with muscle. Meanwhile, you're all soft edges and velvet. Often rests a hand on your thigh as a casual gesture of affection when seated at the tavern. It's no big deal to anyone else, but it's a gesture that means a lot to the both of you. A quiet "I'm here."

I briefly have mentioned this before, but you can bet your ass that the resident barbarian of Bell's Hells will carry you on their shoulders. Ashton is your number one fan and will have your legs dangling from around his neck just to show you off.

It's especially fun when it's colder bc Ash is like a literal rock, and the heat from your thighs keeps their sour mood in check. They're like earmuffs hehe. Be careful of low hanging doorframes tho cuz... ouch. Don't wanna bump any foreheads.

-

Dariax 💚

Thigh guy. Loves them, how soft and warm they are. He's your short himbo boyfriend so he appreciates the fact that there's more of you for him to love and adore. King of body worship and positivity. He's your personal cheerleader - you can do no wrong in his eyes.

This boy needs his sleep after the chaos he created and chases after each day. That's why one of his favourite things in the whole world is to curl up into your side and lay his head in your lap. He's out like a light after that. You can't help but feel relief - his mind, often going a mile a minute, can finally have some well deserved rest. He snores tho sorry

Of the four of them, I'd say he's the most likely to use them as stress balls :^; He still gets bad dreams from time to time, so when he wakes up, dazed, and sees you laying peacefully next to him, you ground him completely. He huddles close and wraps his arms around one thigh, squeezing you tight to him and finding sleep once more.

-

Dorian 💙

Like Dariax, the hot blue boi likes to lay his head down on your thighs. It's more of a nightly routine rather than a straight pillow though. You both talk about what happened that day, on what will happen next, gossip and just be with each other in a way that seems so domestic.

He holds your hands in his, pressing absentminded kisses to your knuckles every now and again as if you were the air genasi about to float away if not grounded. Is NOT happy when you take your hands away, but melts if you card your fingers through his hair. He settles for placing his hand on a thigh and stroking idle circles with his thumb over the fabric stretched over it.

Take this iconic fashionista's words to heart when he says you look amazing in whatever you wear. Be it thighguards of leather or steel, or even a loose nightshirt/dress that reaches above your knee, Dorian gets a little flustered and shy bc you're simply that gorgeous.

-

Molly 💜

Due to his infernal bloodline, Molly's body emits a great amount of heat - his hands are no exception. So, being the caring and attentive partner he is, he shares that warmth with you by giving your thighs a lighthearted pinch or pat whenever he can. You're all warmed up now even if you're left squirming while he beams at you with that toothy grin of his.

In private, he gives your thighs lil kisses and nuzzles just to be cute :3 BUT you gotta be extra dexterous to lightly smack him away before he nips at you with those tiefling canines. Your throat bubbles up with laughter because it tickles and you cover your face with your hands, but he reaches up and gently pries them away. Molly doesn't want you to hide. Not from him. Not ever.

Likes to flop lay on top of you, his body between your legs with his head on your tummy as his arms circle around your waist. You might wake up in the middle of the night only to find yourself effectively pinned down by a sleepy, clingy bloodhunter.

[izusun]

Goblin anon here absolutely screeching over feral quirkless Midoriya, it's everything I wanted

I would like to also introduce a brand (my brand) of feral to Midoriya: pyromaniac.

Imagine Midoriya getting through the entrance exam by saving people, but also by bringing makeshift Molotov cocktails and wrecking almost as much shop as Bakugou.

Imagine the battle trials where Bakugou tries to blow up the building because "that's the only way to keep this little shit down" and in response Midoriya dodges and then sets the building on fire.

Imagine the USJ incident, which goes about the same, but his first instinct is to set the Noumu on fire. Yes he does so. He also nearly sets the stadium on fire at the sports festival so much that they had to evacuate sections of the stadium.

Midoriya (say it with me now) sets Stain on fire. When Tsukauchi meets with the murder trio after the Hosu incident, he just sighs and is like "Midoriya, really?" And this is when we learn that Midoriya has a history of coming across random villains and setting them on fire. When Inko arrives to pick him up she's just like "You're grounded."

There's theories about what Midoriya's quirk, everything from increased intelligence to extremely shitty luck to the ability to make anything he touches explodes (due to his inane ability to make a bomb/lighter out of the most insane things). When it comes out that he's quirkless, it just makes everyone even more afraid, as Midoriya can make a bomb out of some LSD and a rubber duck quirkless-

Pyromaniac quirkless Midoriya.

- Goblin anon

GOBLIN ANON IT’S BEEN AGES IM SORRY IM JUST RESPONDING NOW (ive been so bad at responding asks my god i struggle but thank u for ur au dumps, i love loVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!)

IM IN LOVE WITH THIS AU

feral quirkless gremlin midoriya going through shit by setting things on fire is just the way to go im duwldjwksk

i read midoriya with molotov cocktails and i have not stopped simping for and thinking about this midoriya

genuinely swooning at this ver of him

midoriya probably has a collection of lighters and basically does those hand tricks to calm him down or to take his mind off of things

bakugou and midoriya being more familiar with each other in their middle school days compared to canon and bakugou gifting midoriya with personalized all might lighter god that’s adorable

ok but they’re talking about their favourite heroes and bakugou goes, “shocking that you don’t like endeavour.”

and midoriya just shrugs, twisting his hand and fingers to orchestrate the fire’s dance from his lighter, his viridian eyes brighter and says, “his fire feels wrong.” and they leave it at that

midoriya being inspired by bakugou’s explosions and attempting to copy those so bad that bakugou thought midoriya’s trying out for support classes

OK BUT FIGHT WITH SLUDGE VILLAIN?

he yanks out makeshift molotov cocktails from his bag, lights them up and throws them at the bastard. the sludge villain screams and retreats slightly because not only was he facing the fires but also the exploded glass shards. it gave enough time for bakugou to explode the villain and escape enough to allow him to breathe. in the end, all might still defeats the sludge but he misses bakugou and midoriya who escaped. no ofa for firey green bean.

bakugou helping midoriya create more explosions.

“but kacchba i want fire, not explosions!”

“same difference you pyro asshole!”

midoriya learns them anyways and enjoys it.

THE EXAM!!

i have two ways:

one: midoriya appealed to the staff that he needed support items and they allowed him and they watched in shock as this little boy explodes the arena worse than the explosion-quirked student. of course he passes and aizawa took him on as his student.

two: midoriya appealed to the staff that he needed his support items but the staff did NOT allow him because they’re considered weapons (as if quirks are not genetic weapons but i DIGRESS) and so when the exam starts, he stays at the very back of the other examinees. this was so that when he arrives at the scene, there are already spare parts for him to scavenge so that he can build makeshift explosions (foregoing whatever shit he learned from katsuki because all that’s on his mind right now are molotov cocktails)

so that’s what happens. he scavenges parts and hides inside one of the buildings so that he can focus more on making explosions and be less worried about being attacked. when he was fully geared, he steps out and begins to retaliate.

he works fast as to not waste his time and the makeshift explosions. because of this, others (ahem-aoyama-ahem) had no opportunity to steal his score.

same thing happens: uraraka gets caught and midoriya explodes the zero pointer. this time, however, the robot is utterly destroyed.

aizawa and majima saw midoriya’s performance, adored it, and began fighting for midoriya.

“majima, he’s here for the hero classes.”

“great. now give him to me.”

nezu pretends that he’s not planning on splitting midoriya’s schedule anyways.

BATTLE TRIAL OH MY GOD rip all might i bet you keeled over so bad, you were one second from turning to small might there and then.

all might: ok so one explodey kid to look out for. that’s not bad.

all might, one minute later: this green kid looks familiar…

all might, ten minutes later: what the fuck.

NO BECAUSE bakugou and midoriya being excited to explode things (well, more like midoriya’s excited and bakugou just wants to fight midoriya) and having a blast when fighting each other.

1a’s probably thinking “oh no” followed by “they’re hot” (literally too because yk the building’s on fire.)

MIDORIYA EXPLODING THE NOUMU??? king shit

midoriya saw this monster running to aizawa and he just points a more eloquent looking flame thrower (thank u mei for working with midoriya with that) at this beast and sets it on fire.

it effectively slowed the noumu and gave the others an opportunity to pull aizawa from the hit zone. it also granted all might more freedom when fighting the noumu because it was slowed enough that all might didn’t have to worry about exceeding his time limit.

the fire damaged some of its nerve processes that the scientist and afo had not accounted for. of course this review is returned to them and many of the noumus become fireproof because of this incident.

OK BUT DURING THE SPORTS FEST

midoriya crushing on todoroki because fire.

he was actually very interested in todoroki prior to sports fest but something about todoroki’s fight against sero sparked something more in midoriya. midoriya saw the anger from his ice, now he wants to see the same intensity from his fire.

his spiel of “that’s your power, todoroki” goes differently. todoroki still pulls him aside and trauma dumps on him but this time he goes, without missing a beat, “that fire is a waste on you.”

todoroki full body pauses because that’s not something he’s ever, well, considered to hear after trauma dumping.

“what?” he croaks, confused at the bubbling feeling. it’s a miasma of anger and hurt, but to a scale so unfamiliar.

midoriya shrugs. “fire is unique, more so as an elemental quirk. you think it doesn’t make half of you—well, i mean you’re right. it doesn’t. you make it. you control it. fire is often uncontrollable and yet here you are, having it as your power. it’s yours to control, so control it. use it.”

todoroki’s ears are ringing.

“you have it as your power.”

“so control it.”

and so he did.

midoriya watched todoki’s fire; watched the way the flames lick up up up and leaves no air bathed in heat. midoriya sees the rawness of anger and determination and thinks, “this is how fire should always look like.”

unconsciously he also thinks how todoroki’s fire is far more beautiful than endeavour’s.

midoriya loses and he’s not as sad about it. losing to something sentient (fire, not todoroki), for him, is a blessing.

todoroki advances along with bakugou.

bakugou who is jealous of todoroki because he saw how midoriya eyed todoroki’s fire and knew todoroki’s a competition in other more ways.

bakugou wins again, this time less angry because todoroki used his fire against him.

STAIN THINKING MIDORIYA’S JUST THIS WEIRD HERO STUDENT WHO HAS NO SPECIFIC QUIRK UNTIL HE FEELS FLAME KISS HIS SKIN AND SCREAMS BECAUSE DAMN IT GREEN EYED KID JUST SET HIM ON FIRE

todoroki full on pausing because he thought he’s the one who set stain on fire unconsciously only to follow the fire’s trail and sees it’s from one of midoriya’s many support items.

“shoot i didn’t mean to burn him that fast!”

“that’s your issue!?”

midoriya gives them a “duh?” look and todoroki feels himself warming up (HAH another fire pun) at midoriya’s ease.

flying noumi still comes and picks him up but midoriya also sets this thing on fire. the difference between a winged noumu and a normal noumu is that the wings are far more flammable and midoriya had quite a bit of fun at setting it on fire and hearing the crackling of flames on rubbery wings.

endeavour casts him a glance that speaks of approval and midoriya doesn’t know if he hates it or not.

tsukauchi arrives and sees not only stain, but the noumu and heaves up a very big sigh. “midoriya, really?”

GOBLIN! PYROMANIAC QUIRKLESS MIDORIYA IZUKU IS A FAVE IM SCREAMING

[silversatoru]

birthdays don’t have to suck

fushiguro megumi x f!reader (elli)

synopsis: you get really sick on your birthday, but megumi makes sure that you still have a good day :))

t/w: fluff, reader is sick, vomiting, medicine (tylenol lol), some details pertain specifically to elli

wc: 2.2k

a/n: a small birthday present for the love of my life @megumifushi who never sleeps enough and is always sick,, i love u and i hope ur days not too bad <3

you stared into your dimly lit laptop, red eyes squinting at the black text that sped across the screen as your fingers scrambled against the keys. you weren’t even sure that what you were writing was comprehensible at this point, but your essay that was due tomorrow morning wasn’t gonna write itself. at this point it just needed to get done, concerns of quality were thrown out the window hours ago.

aside from the burning and stinging in your eyes, your entire body ached, and you were ridden with chills and goosebumps. seemed like a fever was coming on, but you didn’t have the time or capacity to care about that right now. you’d pop a few tylenol and crawl into bed in a couple hours, and everything would be better tomorrow.

what time was it anyway? it couldn’t possibly be that late yet, right? 

you glanced to the corner of the screen, eyes falling on a bright 3:56am that made your heart sink and your eyes widen. you had a terrible habit of losing track of time and staying up into ungodly hours of the night — a habit that your wonderful boyfriend was trying so terribly hard to break. 

you glanced to your left and took in his sleeping form, his lips parted ever so slightly as he took small breaths of air. he’d be disappointed and upset with you if he knew how horrid your sleep schedule had been lately, and he’d probably blame your chills and headaches on your lack of sleep as well — which in all fairness was probably pretty accurate. 

“i’ll just finish this up real quick and then i promise i’ll sleep, ‘kay gumi?” you spoke softly, running your fingers through his soft, spiky hair. 

he was undisturbable, his mind off somewhere in a dreamland that was quite the distance from your small bedroom. and that was probably for the better, because him nagging at you to go to sleep would be too distracting for you to get your work done. 

your hands moved rapidly against the keyboard for about another hour, words spilling onto the screen until you finally hit the page requirement for your paper. it was probably terrible, most likely had a few words spelled wrong, and honestly you were pretty certain you’d repeated yourself several times, but fuck it — submit. you were typically an excellent student, so one bad paper wouldn’t kill you, and you were too tired and achy to care right now. 

you got up and placed your laptop onto your desk, plugging it in and letting a heavy sigh fall from your lips as you made your way back over to the bed. the soft blankets were therapeutically warm on your chilly skin as you crawled in against megumi’s back, effectively turning him into the little spoon and pressing your nose to the back of his neck. thankfully, sleep found you shortly after, your eyes fluttering shut as you drifted off into a much needed slumber. 

babe 

wake up 

babe

you woke up to small finger pokes to your cheek from megumi, his face laced with concern as your vision finally focused on his features. he bent over and pressed his lips to your forehead, pausing there for a fraction of a second and then standing back up. 

“i think you have a fever. i noticed when i woke up and you felt like a fucking space heater,” he frowned, confirming your initial suspicions from last night, “i’ll go get some medicine”.

you groggily nodded your head, shivers coursing through your body and dotting your extremities with goosebumps. your condition had definitely deteriorated overnight, your eyes stinging and a horrible nausea creeping up your throat. 

by the time he returned with the medicine you had yourself propped up against the pillows, thick blankets pulled up to your chin in an attempt to minimize the icy feeling in your body. he handed two small tylenol tablets to you with a disappointed look on his face — a look that said: i’m gonna kick your ass for not getting enough sleep again. 

“i’ll let everyone know you’re not feeling well enough to go out tonight,” he hummed as he handed you a glass of water, your brain filling with thick fog as you tried to decipher why he would need to let anyone know you were sick. 

the look of pure confusion signaled to him that you had no idea what he was talking about, megumi shaking his head before he spoke up again, “it’s your birthday, dumbass, we were supposed to get food and stuff with yuuji, inumaki, and nobara and maki”. 

birthday 

oh 

forgetting about that was another habit you continued to succumb to every year.

“mm, shit,” you sighed after drinking back the pills, “i forgot”. 

“figured you would,” megumi clicked his tongue, “but i didn’t, because i’m a good boyfriend. can you drag yourself out to the kitchen? you should eat”.

“don’t think so,” you mumbled, attempting to disappear back under the blankets before he could coerce you to follow him outside of the bedroom. 

but megumi is impossibly even more stubborn than you are, wrapping his arms under your body and lifting you to his chest, “guess i’ll just have to carry you then”. 

“fine,” you let out a long groan — was it a bit dramatic? maybe. but in your defense you felt like you’d been hit with a train.

he peppered your face with kisses as he carried you out of the bedroom, lovingly setting you down on one of the high bar stools around your kitchen table. he instructed you to stay in the chair, abruptly returning to the bedroom to bring out a couple blankets to wrap around your shoulders. you were grateful for the extra heat, you body still shaking and shivering as the medications worked to cure your fever. 

megumi was a man of few words, preferring to display his love for you through acts of service than grand confessions, and this was very eminent when he wordlessly grabbed a couple pots and began cooking for you. you let your face fall onto your arms, resting your chin as you watched him silently shuffle between the stove and the pantry. the silence was comfortable, and you weren't going to complain about watching your muscular boyfriend walk around the kitchen in nothing but a pair of loose, plaid pajama pants. 

a few minutes later he was placing a steaming bowl of soup and a couple slices of baked bread in front of you, a savory scent flooding your nostrils. 

“red lentil,” he spoke as he handed you a spoon, “it’s your favorite, so you better eat it”. 

“yes, sir,” you gave him a small smile, dipping the cool metal into the hot liquid and scooping a spoonful into your mouth. 

“all of it”

“yes, megumi, i will try”

to no surprise, the soup went down pretty fucking horribly, your head hanging low over the toilet while megumi held your hair out of the way. your throat was practically raw by the time you were done heaving and vomiting up the meal, your eyes brimming with hot tears. 

megumi tied your hair up in a neat bun so he could step away, filling up a glass with water and carefully helping you to take small sips and rinse out your mouth. he was tedious with the clean up, washing your face and helping you brush your teeth — ensuring that you felt the best you could given the situation. he then scooped you back into his arms, carrying you back to bed and profusely apologizing for making you eat the soup — but he was just trying to make you feel better, he really was doing his best.

you were ready to add today to your long list of terrible birthdays, chalking it up as another failed attempt, but megumi was not about to let that happen. he knew you had a rough history with birthdays, but now that he was here? you’d have a bad birthday over his dead body. 

he scoured the back of your fridge for ginger ale, gatorade, jello, and whatever else he could find to make you the perfect sick-person platter. and he made sure he was logged into every streaming service that the two of you collectively owned, preparing netflix, hulu, and crunchy roll so that he could easily access every single one of your favorite shows and movies. and so you spent the majority of your day tucked safely against megumi’s chest, forcing down small sips of ginger ale and watching an assortment of tv. 

your phone rang at some point — a facetime call from all of your friends who had gotten together so they could all wish you a collective happy birthday. megumi stuck a singular candle into a cup of blue-raspberry jello and ignited it with a small flame; and then they all sang the most terrible rendition of “happy birthday” that you’d ever heard, yuuji’s voice a little louder and little more out-of-tune than everyone else's.

you mustered enough energy to blow out the flame, everyone cheering while megumi shoveled a scoop of the blue jelly into your mouth. you swallowed it with a smile, praying it stayed down while everyone sent you off with an assortment of “feel better!”, “we love you!”, and “wish you were here!”

your night got pretty quiet after that, you and megumi climbing back under the covers to watch a few more episodes of your new favorite anime. it wasn’t until well into the night that he finally asked you if he could give you the presents he’d gotten for you. reluctantly, you said yes. you hated receiving gifts (it was just one of the many reasons you hated your birthday) but you knew that megumi wasn’t going to take no for answer. 

he was obviously nervous, palms sweaty as he handed you a couple neatly wrapped packages in plain, solid colored paper. they were very megumi, perfect folds with not a single crease, the paper simple yet elegant and adorned with a singular bow on top. 

you hesitantly peeled the paper off the smaller of the two, revealing a tiny box that contained a classic looking silver locket. you felt your heart pinch in your chest as you clicked the locket open and revealed two small pictures of each of the two of you. you weren’t particularly sentimental, but on top of your lack of sleep and not feeling very well, the simple gift caused few tears to well up in your eyes. but he was quick to wipe them away, insisting that you had to open the second gift first, and that birthdays weren’t meant for crying. 

you followed his instructions, ripping open the second package and revealing a larger box that contained a series of envelopes. each one was decorated with tiny doodles of you and megumi, his demon dogs, hearts, etc. they were sickeningly cute, and you immediately reached for the first one before megumi reached out and stopped you. 

“they’re not for now; they’re for when i’m gone, you know, on missions and stuff,” he could barely even maintain eye contact, his eyes dipping low as yours filled back up with tears. 

despite your lack of energy and the fever that was starting to return, you showered him in hugs and kisses after that, thanking him over and over for the most perfect gifts, and for making your day as wonderful as it could have been. 

all things aside, you were coming around to the idea that birthday’s don’t have to suck. 

bonus: the first letter: 

to y/n:

i know im not great at telling you what i have to say through words, actually, i’m kind of really bad at it. but i thought writing these might be a nice way to try and get better? i’m not sure. anyway, i guess i’ll start by saying that you mean a lot to me, and i probably miss you a lot right now (even though ill be too afraid to reach out and say it). not sure how long i’ll be gone for at the time but it’s probably a few days at least. gonna work hard so i can hurry back to see you. 

i hope you’re sleeping enough, but i know you’re not. you never do, especially when i’m not there to yell at you. i hope you’re eating enough too. but you’re probably also not doing that. you’re like taking care of a stubborn child, you know that? but this is supposed to be a love letter so i’ll try to refrain from scolding you too much. but do try to take care of yourself. ill see you soon. 

megumi

[whosjunglejim4322]

Umbra | J. Seo (m)

》 Genre: vampire au! Smut, fluff, minor angst and mentions of violence, This story also features Yuta, Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung and Mark as his coven members

》 Warnings: spitting, dry humping, mentions of blood obvi, mentions of feeding, strong boy trying not to fuck you into oblivion, his eyes get black he's when he's hungry/horny, disgusting amount of fluff, omg sorta strength kink? Johnny is very in love w you and very protective cause some of his brothers are out of pocket, Jungwoo wants to b ur bestie lowkey, Yuta is a lil shit

Chapter 2 

There are many things that Johnny loves about you. He could spend all his time showering you with professions of his adoration, and he'd never grow tired of it. Though, his concept of time and yours are slightly different.

He's patient, excessively so sometimes, in your humble opinion. But, he also never expected in his three hundred and forty five years of existence, to find someone who manages to warm his cold and stagnant heart in the way you have.

Now, anytime away from you is a bit bothersome.

It's just, he never knew humans like you existed. In his world, there are either those who lust after his kind and the benefits in which their heightened senses and skills provide, or those who see him as a complete moral abomination.

Even now, in a society that has to live in conjunction with vampires, there are still so many people who fear him. Well, they fear what they think he is. A creature of the night, a demon, something that is only greedy for strife and nothing more.

You were the first person who genuinely throttled him, curious and wide eyed, completely fascinated by him. And not in a way that made him feel like he was under a microscope, but in a way that made him feel as though he was something...to be admired.

Your heartbeat, even after a year, still flutters like the wings of dragonfly whenever he displays his strength; swinging you up into his arms like you're made of feathers and all things delicate.

At first, he thought you were scared, weary, perhaps, about his abnormalities. He couldn't find any other explanation for the way you seemed to shrink in his presence whenever he'd dip his head below your chin to grace your throat with his lips, cooling your hot skin.

It didn't make sense. Not until he realized there is a direct correlation to your change and scent, and these moments in which he can be himself around you.

You like it. You like that he's different, a complete opposite to what you'd find in the common world. If he thought he could be any more enamored, anymore breathless than he was before (no pun intended) he was wrong.

Even now, with you lying with your back against his hard chest, playing with his slim fingers, your voice is nothing but earnest. Curious, in your own little world that consists of just you and him.

He thinks, no he knows, that if he had a pulse it would be racing every time he's around you. Every time you ask him a question that would normally repulse anyone else, even when you place his cool palm against your blazing cheek, giddy about the difference in temperature. He can tell that you just want to know more about him, about how he exists in the world. He simply can't resist indulging you.

"So...everyone doesn't taste the same? I always just assumed that blood is, well, blood." He smiles to himself as you trace shapes into his palm, before flipping his hand over and grazing your fingertips over his protruding knuckles.

The feeling of your skin against his is so pleasant he almost gets distracted.

"Well, it depends, really," his free hand strokes up and down your arms, savoring the softness. "sometimes the difference is slight, like someone who's A or B negative, but other times it can be quite stark. It's about chemistry really."

He can already see your expression in his head, furrowed brows, lips pursed in a manner too cute for your own good. He absentmindedly pushes you further against his chest, reclining slightly against the pillows as to make it more comfortable for you. You hum in satisfaction.

"Chemistry? Like how you feel about the person?" He can't quite pinpoint what is laced within the lilt of your voice, he answers nonetheless, chuckling warmly.

The sound is like pure velvet, causing your skin to tingle. You shiver, and he pulls your blanket over you, worried his lack of body heat may be disturbing your comfort. He doesn't realize how wrong he is.

"It's more like, how that person has lived. Their natural...how do I say...essence? Yes, their essence sometimes can determine how desirable some ones blood is to us."

He doesn't miss the way your heartbeat falters in rythm. He grins, as you take both of his hands in yours and intertwine your fingers. He twists his wrist and brings your knuckles up to his lips, kissing your skin.

You shift underneath the covers, suddenly thankful for his cool temperature. You know that most of the vampires that exist in society use blood bags from the banks provided, but you still wonder...

"Am I...am I desirable to you? Like, my blood, or whatever." You wish you could say you usually aren't so bad at speaking when you're around him, but that would be a blatant lie.

It's the most endearing thing he's ever witnessed.

His hands are gone from yours and elsewhere in the blink of an eye, one strong arm locked around your torso as his free hand reaches down to cup your chin. He turns and lifts your head towards him, gently, and the look in his eyes has your breath stalling momentarily.

"Of course you are, silly," he says it as if it's the most obvious thing ever, leaning down to peck your nose. Butterflies swarm violently in your belly. "I desire you in every way there is to desire someone, it makes me want to keep you all to myself. No one else should be allowed to even think about you, or your blood, in that way."

He looks lost in thought for a second, pupils almost darkening the whole of his irises, before he seemingly brings himself out of his daze. You turn in his hold, adjusting your position so that you're practically lying on top of him, chests touching and your legs cradled between his hips. He holds you effortlessly in his arms.

"Well it wouldn't matter anyways, cause I'm all yours." His pearly teeth show from behind the pillowy surface of his lips, as he leans in to kiss you in a manner that has you reaching out to wrap your hand around the nape of his neck.

"Mhm, all mine." He murmurs, nose nudging against yours as he shifts back and forth from your top lip, and then your bottom, tongue exploring the surface of each.

Kissing you, is another experience entirely for him. He wonders if it feels for you as it does for him, like pure intoxication. It brings back memories, memories he didn't think could still be reachable in the depths of his mind.

A time where he was warm, where life thrummed through his veins like the rushing current of a river. You are springtime on his tongue, the rays of sunlight that once heated his skin, the smell of flora in the air that mingles with the fleeting breeze.

He almost whines when you depart from his mouth, yearning already heavy in the pit of his stomach.

You look almost nervous, suddenly finicking with the front of his shirt as you sit back on his lap. He can hear the acceleration of your heartbeat, can smell the anxiety that is almost as heady as your desire.

He reaches out to cup your cheek, something he often does as a comforting gesture. You smile softly, meeting his curious, tepid gaze.

"So...I have a question," your voice shakes and you huff. "I mean, I was just wondering," he senses your struggle, wrapping his arms around you and sitting up so that your chests are nearly touching again, his palms splayed against your lower back.

"You can ask me anything, sweetheart. You know that." His voice, as sweet as honey, calms your racing pulse for a moment. Until you actually say the words out loud, wincing as if preparing for a scolding.

"Well I know you have a family, of sorts, from what you've told me. And I know you've always been really...hesitant to tell me more about them? I mean I've never been over, to your home or met them,"

Understanding washes over him, hands rubbing your back soothingly as the glint in his irises provokes an odd sensation within your belly. Like he knew this conversation would have to be had one day.

He lets you finish speaking, though your voice has even more of a tremor than before, now.

"Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, I understand if you don't want me over there."

Urgency calcifies in his chest, the sad lilt to your soft voice making him feel ill. The way you say it is as if you think he doesn't want you in his space, like he's keeping you away from there because of something other than rational reasoning, doesn't sit right with him.

He cups your jaw, firmly but gently.

"I want you with me as much as possible, never think that I don't want you. That is not at all why I haven't brought you over there," You have no choice but to believe him, when he's looking at you with such a passionate gaze far heavier than what you're used to in a normal setting, his words concise.

"I am...well I'm old, and so are they. I've spent a long time being alienated, far before we were even accepted in the new world. We've settled here since before you were born, so you won't remember what it was like when people were forced to live along side us."

You hate hearing the unusual grain of what seems to be dejection in his tone, though you listen fervently anyways, his hands still comforting you despite the fact that his eyes are the ones cast down. You want to kiss the furrow between his dark brows.

"I've accepted who I am, furthermore I've accepted who I want to be. I realized that, it would do me no good to be a monster if people were willing, even if begrudgingly, to accept our existence. But my brothers,"

Your stomach sinks at the way he says it, knowing without a doubt that this is the answer to your original question, that his stance had to be explained before he told you something like this.

"they don't feel the same way as me, so they are stuck in their ways beyond coercion. They live very different lives, they are what our kind refer to as nightcrawlers, it's sardonic inside joke for those of us that would rather not conform to the new age of mutual concurrency."

"They are still a bit resentful for the fact that they can't exactly give in to their natural instincts. They don't see the humans acceptance as welcoming, they see it as a mockery. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

You look a bit out of it, like maybe you're frightened and he's suddenly worried he's gone overboard, that he's scared you in a way that can't be fixed. His eyes are suddenly frantic.

But then you speak, and you don't sound vexed, nor unsettled. Your question is simple, your thighs tightening around his waist as if to draw yourself closer to his comfort, arms looping around his shoulders.

"Do they all feel that way?"

He smiles, muscles untensing as you play with his hair in the way you usually do. Your eyes never leave his, and he wonders how he got so lucky.

"The youngest, well the youngest in our years, they're a bit less malicious about it. They don't cross anyone unless someone crosses them, but they can be excessively territorial because of their youth."

The tension, despite talking about a topic so heavy, is light again. You feel a bit silly now, understanding why he might not want you in close proximity with his coven.

But, still, knowing that there are people, for lack of better term, that have been in his life unimaginably long; a completely different, solidified version of a family, it makes you more nosey than usual. Could they really be that different from him?

"And...you're sure that if I were to meet them, it would end badly?" His eyebrow twitches in an inquisitive manner, surprise coloring his sharp features.

"I- well I thought you were just curious, I didn't think you'd actually want to meet them. Especially after all of that,"

It's as if he's speaking to himself out loud, his pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips. You resist the urge to kiss him so suddenly.

"but I don't suppose so. It's already established that you're mine. If there's one rule we follow, it's that. They know how I feel about you, despite our differences."

The sturdiness to his voice when he speaks of you being his, has your belly filling with heat at an irrational rate, and you suddenly remember how it felt to see him before you actually got to know him.

He's incredibly intimidating on the surface, firm and stoic. You can't see how anyone would want to anger him.

"So then I'd be safe, meeting them. And I'd get to see if you guys really have furniture."

Despite not needing to, he swallows. It's hard impossible to say no to you, when you look at him like that and sound so genuinely interested at a prospect that would make any other person run for the hills, even cracking jokes.

You're soft, and too innocent for your own good. He should say no, but to risk seeing a pout form on your soft lips, or having to hear the disappointment in your voice, it's unbearable.

"You really want to meet them, don't you?" He can't fight his smile when your face lights up like that.

"Well, I think it's important. They're your family, one way or another." You're gentle when you speak, honest.

"You're safe with me, you have to know that. But they're...not used to being around humans that aren't just accessories. The last thing I want is for one of them to say something that makes you uncomfortable."

It's evident in the low timbre of his tone that he's serious, and any smart person might listen. But as he said, and as you believe wholeheartedly, you're safe with him. Safer than you'd ever be.

And, as wrong as it may be, you want to see what other vampires are like. You're really only used to Johnny, the exception, where as most modern vampires only come out when absolutely necessary. Meeting him, and falling in love with him, has given you a brand new sight towards the world. Is it that insane to want to meet his brothers that have been so close to him for so long?

"I'll be with you, so it won't matter. I'll bet they're not even that scary, no ones scarier than you."

Your triumphant, playful smile has him grinning from ear to ear, leaning down to capture your lips between his own. Even though you're wrong about them, he's weak. Too weak.

"Yeah? Afraid I'll eat you for breakfast?" His breath is suddenly against your earlobe and you shudder pleasantly, grasping onto his shoulders before regaining some sort of composure.

"I'm definitely dinner, breakfast is really overrated. Unless it's breakfast for dinner, that's way better for some reason?"

He's kissing you again, despite the fact that he's smiling too hard for his own good, swiftly flipping you over so that you're caged underneath his body. His weight is barely perceptible even with your chests touching, forearms holding himself up.

"You'll be the death of me, you know that?" He has a hard time speaking without strain due to the way his throat has suddenly tightened with need, your legs wrapping around his trim torso and pushing his hips further against yours.

"Not possible, unless I've suddenly charmed your heart into beating again." You tease, though his eyebrows remain furrowed in concentration as he kisses you between words, dangerously sensual. You smell too divine.

"Very possible, actually. If you only knew how you make me feel."

Your belly lurches at the desperation that flows from him, his aura downright fever inducing. Without thinking, your crotch nudges his, bucking with the slightest of movements. But it's enough, enough to have his jaw clenching and a habitual breath of restraint leaving his nose.

Five fingers grasp your chin, so he can kiss you, hard. His hips begin to roll as his teeth nibble your bottom lip, the fabric of his jeans an arousing juxtaposition to your soft lounge shorts, your lack of underwear making it all the more satisfying.

He's hard, too. Knowing his dick is just underneath, hard for you, it'll never not give you whiplash. It gets you drunk, knowing your effect on him is as overwhelming as his on you. You're whimpering against his tongue, rubbing yourself on his bulge.

"Mmm, fuck." He growls, capturing your wrists in his palms before your next breath, raising them above your head and making sure they're comfortable against the pillows.

He's inches away from your face now, and his expression alone is enough to have your walls pulsing around nothing, desire seeping into your chest and hardening your nipples, goosebumps forming across your skin.

He looks at you like he's hungry, nostrils flaring avariciously. He tries so very hard to fight the darkness that fills his sclera like ink, knowing how very monstrous and unlike himself it makes him appear.

But he hears the way it makes your heart race. He can practically taste the thrill that seeps from your pores, the unbridled arousal that drips from your cunt like syrup. Your neck cranes upwards to try and reach his lips, and he smirks before meeting you halfway.

"Do you want me to keep rubbing your pussy like this," he looks down between your bodies and purposely rolls his hips in an accentuated fashion. "or do you want my dick?"

His voice is brusque, but caring and accommodating as it always is, his plump lips quivering slightly from the way his mouth waters.

"Can I have your dick, please?" You return, his mouth quirking up into a sideways grin.

"Such good manners," he kisses you again, sloppily, the sounds lewd and causing you to shiver against his unwavering body. "how could I ever deny you?"

You blink, and cool air is breezing against your wet slit, the nakedness sending a wave of tingles through your nerve endings. Before you can look down, you feel his cock against your clit, smooth and rounded tip gathering wetness from your hole before circling it over your clit.

He uses one hand to keep your legs parted for his viewing, fingers softly gripping your flesh as he sits back on his haunches. You feel impatience crawling up your throat, toes already curling as your bud throbs and your walls ache.

He's so pretty, he is raven hair against olive skin, an onyx sky against shimmering stars. Your hands reach out for his hips, delicate but fierce in their strength. He rubs his shaft against your folds, before prodding at your entrance.

He always watches your expression when he first slides in, the way your mouth falls open and you are suddenly this beautiful, agonizingly worked up thing. He bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes flicker from your pussy, lovlier than a flower and welcoming him with a squeeze, to your face.

Your eyes are bleary as they stare back up at him, your breathing already erratic. His lip curls with the need to hiss, to ravage you. But he takes it slow, he loves watching you fall apart too much. And you're so wet around him, moaning his name like it's the only word you know.

"Johnnyyyy, oh - umph." He rocks into, gracefully and with a deliberate curl. You claw at the front of his tee shirt, pulling him down to your face.

He eagerly obliges, meeting your lips with a soft smack, the angle only pushing him deeper within your body. His pace has increased, the front of his thighs colliding with the back of yours. His mouth somehow remains steady, as if he's not fucking you like he is.

He's parting from you sooner than you'd like, but you know he likes to fuck you like this, able to see all of you and savor it. It's still the most incredible thing he'll ever witness or experience, he's sure of it.

He can't believe a creature like him could be so lucky, here with his manhood buried to the hilt inside of someone so breathtaking, so innately divine. Your essence is thick and wet, coating his shaft each time he pulls out.

"Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin' pretty baby." His voice is gruff, nose twitching and eyes black. You wrap your fingers around his strong, sturdy forearms as his hands grip the softness of your waist. His lips purse and a string of spit dribbles down your clit.

"Ungh, oh my- ohhhhh Johnny please please." You're not sure what your begging for, and it doesn't matter. Because he'll give you whatever it is you need before you know you need it, already hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, gripping your jaw and pushing it up so that he can mouth at your sensitive neck.

"Mmm, I got you baby, I'm right here," he takes your earlobe in his mouth before marking your throat, licking and sucking. "I can already feel your belly tensing sweetheart, gonna make a mess for me?"

All you can do is nod, eyes squeezed shut and hands exploring his firm abdomen while he pushes himself all the way into you; rocking his hips back and forth to make sure the tip of his cock is rubbing that sweet spot inside of you. Your clit is being stimulated in the process, and you know you're not going to last long.

He knows it too, and his thumb is suddenly on your swelling bud, rubbing you in circles faster than you can comprehend, but with just enough pressure to have your nails digging into his back with fervor. Having unbreakable skin must be a plus, in his case.

You're tensing more now, twitching even. Your energy is buzzing around him, electric. Your heart pounds like a drum, rattling against your ribcage and causing blood to thrum viciously throughout your veins. His thrusts become a bit more frantic, his senses completely overcome with you.

He's so lost in his own pleasure he doesn't even hear you cum. He feels you go limp underneath him, back arching off the bed and your walls spasming around his cock.

He realizes now that you're trying to shove your face in the pillows, a silent sob ripping through your body. He's pulling you to him, and you're suddenly in his lap, as he comforts you with a soothing coo.

When you move your face from the crook of his neck and he's met with your teary eyes and damp skin, he's thrown off the edge.

Your forehead is against his as he bites back a snarl of sorts, pumping into you from below with as much restraint as he can muster as to not overwhelm you since you've just cum as well.

He has to move his hands away from you for a quick second, opting for the bed sheets instead while you cling onto him and kiss his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. He feels selfish, but he also doesn't want to crush your hip bones in such a state.

Your breathing is still uneven, even after several minutes and once he's sure that he's in his right frame of mind, his arms are around you again.

Your body is sweetly ravaged by his mouth, lips leaving a wet trail over too much skin in such a short amount of time. You're still sensitive, wincing as his enthusiasm causes you to shift on his lap.

"Oh." He uses one arm to wrap around your middle, slowly pulling you off of his dick and lying you down against the comforter.

You whine at the loss of contact as he disappears, returning in a blur with a warm, damp cloth. He's in between your legs, wiping away your shared mess and muttering soft sorrys when he's just a smidge too rough. You're still embarrassed by his need to take care of you like this, bashfully looking away.

You don't realize he's gone and returned until the covers are being thrown over your body, his arms securing you to his solid chest and his lips against your ear.

"You need sleep, don't argue." He kisses the back of your head and you smile to yourself, snuggling further against his figure. You feel like you're being warmed from the inside out, despite how cool his skin is against yours.

"M'not gonna argue, you made me tired," The thump of your pulse and the shy lilt to your voice satisfies him, and he wishes that he could make love to you all over again.

"When will you take me to go meet the others?" Your speech is already slightly slurred with sleep, a yawn following. He sighs, kissing behind your ear.

"Give me until tomorrow night, I need to discuss a few things. Then we'll go, I promise."

He wishes that this could be a more exciting prospect for him, that in the back of his mind he weren't, for the first time in a long time, genuinely worried about how his brothers might react.

It's got nothing to do with his capability. Without question he will keep you safe, his strength is comparable to the eldest and he'd forge fire if it meant having you whole and in his arms.

But his coven, they're different than what he knows you're expecting. He knows that because of primal, and ancestral rules that they will not lay a hand on you.

If he's honest, it's more so what might come out of their mouths that worries him. He can't have them slip up and say something they're not supposed. It'll kill him if there's even one crease of worry or sadness etched onto your pretty face. He won't allow it.

But if it's important to you, it's important to him. You're here, asleep in his arms, and he's certain that if he had a soul, he would trade it if it meant another lifetime of your existence.

•

Johnny isn't next to you when you wake up, which isn't a particularly uncommon occurrence. It's just that normally he'd let you know beforehand, even shaking you awake sometimes just to mumble a be back soon in your ear, despite the fact that you're half asleep.

You reach over to your bedside table to grab your phone, clicking it on and feeling a bit less tense realizing he's left you a message. You smile.

Sorry I had to leave so early, sweetheart. I'm speaking with my brothers and getting some things taken care of. Don't worry. I love you and I'll see you soon. xx

He must be serious, about the way they behave. It's not that you don't believe him, you'd just rather see the positives, in whatever way you can. It's a little bit startling to think about today, if you're honest. Especially after such an all consuming night, the sun now too bright in your eyes, the scent of Johnny still on your sheets and clothes.

You feel anything but dark and dreary when you think of him. That's not to say he's not quite scary if you don't know him. Broad and towering, gaze low and piercing in a way that'll have you looking away nervously if he were to make eye contact with you.

But you can't imagine him as anything but what he is, beautiful and lively and kind, soft around the cold hard edges.

You stretch as you rise from your bed, joints popping as you pull yourself onto your feet. You wince slightly, realizing between your thighs is still fairly sore, ghosts of his touch lingering on your heated skin.

You and Johnny don't have sex incredibly often, at least not by normal human couple standards. It's pretty obvious why. His ability to control his strength, his desire, his thirst; in that state, as he has explained, it leaves him a little bit frayed.

It's not like you're not satisfied anyways, he's more than generous with his mouth and fingers, and despite the fact that he holds nearly half of his full vigor back when the two of you are intimate, it's still a little bit throttling for you afterwards.

The day is boring without him, quite frankly, but despite whatever you may think about it, you still respect his decision to plan ahead for your visit.

You do get it, it's not that. If anything, you just feel too safe with him. To the point where you sometimes feel invincible in his arms.

It almost makes up for the fact that you don't get to show him off as much as you'd like, as silly as it sounds. His kind can go out in the sun, but it's a bit bothersome after a while from what you've heard. He is almost a cliché in that department, most days either spent with him in doors or at night.

Sometimes, though, you wonder what it would be like if he were human. It wouldn't make a difference, you're sure of that, because he'll always be your Johnny. But the thought does venture into your mind every now and then, because of the way he speaks of his humanhood. As if he's trying not to admit how much he misses it.

You often wonder what he must have looked like when he could blush, with his vibrant smile on show, and dimples high on his soft cheeks.

A small, selfish part of you envies the people who might have gotten to witness him like that. Warm, a little uncoordinated maybe, eyes topaz in the sun. He must have been a sight to behold, throughout his human life.

Deep down, a part of you knows that, that is what this whole thing with his brothers boils down to. You're not just curious, you're madly in love with him. So much so that when he's away, it does feel uncomfortable. You never believed people when they spoke of love that way, you always thought it to be quite gross, actually.

And maybe you're just a silly little human with silly little feelings, to be so smitten after a year. But there's no going back now, he's a part of you, so of course you think about how much of him you've never gotten to see. Of course you want to meet any tangible part of his incomprehensible life, his family. Even if it's not conventional.

It leaves an odd pit in your stomach, thinking of him young and youthful, thinking of his mother and father and the life that they had created so many lifetimes ago.

You think of him at eighteen, maybe still plush in some areas not yet tainted by the work of adulthood. Had he ever been in love, back then? You swallow back the irrational bitterness you suddenly taste.

You think of him at twenty, and what he might have been passionate about. What life was even like for him. You think of his first kiss, and him at twenty four, a year before his life as what he is now, began.

Truthfully, you don't know a lot about him. It's a strange, sudden realization, but it's just never really mattered in all honesty. Because you know him, how he is now, which is all you'll ever get and is more than what you could've ever asked for.

You've always felt like it's different because his existence in itself has been so tremulous, and in a lot of ways very hard to talk about without it getting uncomfortable because of all that he has lost, or subsequently reminding him of what he is.

Never things he'd admit out loud, but definitely something you've picked up on in his expression or the wistfulness in his voice. It doesn't matter, to you; the bad parts. He's yours, and somehow you two have found each other despite so many centuries vouching on never having met one another at all. You wish you could truly express to him how nothing would ever stray you away.

You've showered and eaten an inadequate dinner by the time Johnny shows up, presence barely perceptible until he's wrapping his strong arms around you from behind.

You're used to it by now, not even flinching anymore. You melt instantaneously, placing your hands over his that are resting around your waist.

"Hi." He whispers, lips against the shell of your ear. You shiver and let out a giggle, turning in his grasp to get a kiss. He's on your lips before you even have to lift yourself on your tippy toes.

"Mm, hi." You mumble, hands cupping his jaw. You hum as he pulls you closer, spinning you so that you're pressed against the counter, his hand on the small of your back blocking you from the hard edge.

"We could stay here, you know," he smiles against your mouth, half teasing and half serious. "a change of plan never hurt anybody."

The idea is actually tempting.

"But I just showered." You pout, and his hands are rubbing your sides, eyes contemplative.

"You're right, you shouldn't go over there smelling anymore enticing than you already do, anyways." He says it with a grit of his teeth, as if the mere thought bothers him.

You're too distracted by his face to really absorb what he's saying, smiling up at him, practically beaming. Before he can quirk his brow and boop your nose with the tip of his finger, you kiss him again.

It's chaste, but it's sincere.

"You're so cute when you're all disgruntled." You state, throwing your arms around his neck. He snorts, shaking his head and licking his heart shaped lips lips out of habit.

"I'm not disgruntled, I just want this to go well." He replies, broad shoulders slumping. You unhook your arms from around him to grasp his hands, large and welcoming in yours. He intertwines your fingers.

"It will. Because I'm with you." It's simple, and undeniable. He knows that, and accepts defeat when he sees how truly bright the gleam in your eye is. You're his own little sun. 

During the drive to his home, Johnny takes this time to give you some much needed insight on the creatures you’ll be meeting. He gives you their names, some key characteristics so that you won’t be startled by their behavior, but he doesn’t give you their ages. He simply refers to the one named Yuta as the oldest, and Mark as the youngest. 

“Youngest and oldest in vampire years or..?” You ask, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smile at your interest. You forget to focus for a moment, tracing the planes of his side profile with your eyes. 

“Yuta was my age when he was changed, but he is, in our terms, the eldest. Mark is the youngest both in the factors.” His thumb strokes the back of your knuckles where your clasped hands rest on the center console, though it doesn’t soothe all the burning questions that you’ve decided need to stay in your head, for now. 

You think of mark first, something about his youth, despite the fact that he is centuries older than you, seeming a little bit less intimidating. Almost abstract, in a way. As he describes the youngest, it’s easy to picture a boyish smile, innocence. Until he throws in the fact that the ones that get changed before the brain is fully developed, tend to be the ones with more of an unsteady grasp on their more potent emotions. You can guess what that means, and he suddenly regrets ever opening his mouth. 

Johnny almost debates whether or not he should turn the car around and forget about this occasion all together, growing anxious at your monotone expression and the way you are chewing the skin of your bottom lip, and not realizing you are just lost in deep thought, not perturbed or uncomfortable. 

Really, you are just trying to make out what his brothers may be like. Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung. For some reason, it’s the thought of meeting Yuta that seems the most daunting. Despite the fact that he is Johnny’s age, not technically but anyways - knowing that he has been around for so long has you wondering how a person like that even thinks. 

Maybe you should've listened to your boyfriend. No, you're brave. But sometimes you are not very smart.

You are pulled for your reverie of sorts when your surroundings become darker, gloomier in the way that the trees seem to shield the road ahead from the sun, forming a canopy from above and casting misshapen shadows across the ground.

You don’t realize you’re clutching his hand tighter until Johnny turns to look at you with worried eyes, all the stars and every wish that he could ever grant you swirling in his chocolate irises. 

“Are you alright? We can turn around and-” 

You shake your head in defiance, determined. You aren’t going to back out now, not when you can already see the house from around the bend, pillars high and spiraling, a wide balcony peeking out from behind the trees. 

“I’m perfectly fine, promise.” you give him a soft, reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but he knows you’ll likely scowl at him if he keeps insisting on your indifference, so he takes the car just a little bit further, rounding a bend and stalling before cutting the engine. 

The house is a lot more grand that you’d previously expected, the outside still kempt but not as pristine. Mostly, you thought that it would offensive to coin their home as something dark and menacing, not wanting to contribute to the cliché. But, it does in fact feel as though you are walking into a lair.  

It’s beauty is undeniable, though, despite the lack of real warmth that it exudes. Upon entering, wide open space greets you, black marble flooring underneath your boots and a staircase straddling either side of the entryway. Above it is a balcony, hanging over the foyer from the second floor. 

“So I was correct, about the furniture.” You murmur, pressed against his hard side with your arms wound around his forearm despite the fact that the house is seemingly empty. You know that it’s not, though. Any living being who walked into this house would be able to feel it, the static that seems to raise the hair on the back of your neck. 

“You'll have to forgive our complacency when it comes to interior design,"  

The voice seems to appear out of nowhere, melodic and smooth and echoing off of the walls in a way that makes the direction of the sound imperceptible. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone making their way down the left staircase, gliding more so than walking. 

"So many years leave us comfortable, rather than fashionable."

Two figures float behind him, while three others descend down the opposite staircase. You could've sworn you'd only glanced at Johnny for half a second, before they suddenly materialized.

The man is suddenly right in front of you, and your eyes act as if they have no choice but to meet his, your breath stalling. It reminds you of the first time you saw Johnny, how shocking it was to be faced with such inhuman beauty.

"My name is Taeyong, it's lovely to meet you." The creature flashes a bright smile, something unreadable in his sharp eyes. His quaint lips are mischievous, or maybe you're just paranoid.

You don't have a chance to respond, already surrounded by a group that seem oddly eager to meet you despite what Johnny had warned, their gate an obvious contrast to your boyfriends. 

They seem to sway effortlessly rather than stand perfectly still, their proximity closer than that of strangers. The energy around them feels unpredictable, and without thought your hand tightens around Johnny's.

"Wow, she smells good." A voice muses from the group, and you follow it to find a face that you somehow automatically know belongs to Mark. His face is youthful, eyes wide and full of glee and then a bit amused, due to what you can assume is from your boyfriend glaring at him sharply.

"No wonder he's so attached." The boy beside Mark, with dimples as deep as you've ever seen, hums to his friend.

"Please, don't be so crude, children. She is our guest." This voice is authoritative, the timbre low but the tone gentle like the stroke of a feather.

The group seems to make way for him without thought, and again, you're instantly struck with recognition simply by his presence alone.

He approaches you without caution, you blink and he's suddenly right there. His hair is longer than the others, curling around his prominent chin and framing his elegant features.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you, we've heard so much about the little human that's enamored our dear brother." You can't look away from his cunning face, his eyes are almost wild in excitement, plush lips stretching across his face to reveal a million wat smile.

He extends his hand towards you, with a bit more reserve now - and the first thing you notice are the sharp, glossy black nails that are more akin to claws, formed into stilettos at the tips of his delicate, slender fingers.

"Careful." Johnny mutters to his brother through his teeth, the man giggling in amusement as he gently takes your hand in his. You hadn't even realized you'd extended it back, his skin almost colder than Johnny's if possible.

"Tsk, so worried. For what reason? Look, I'm being as gentle as a hummingbird. Her hands are so soft."

Yuta. It's undeniable, he's too confident, bemused by this whole ordeal and even more so by the way his brother has stiffened beside you, pulling you back just a fraction of an inch.

The elder sighs wistfully, allowing your hand to drop from his. He meets your eyes once more, your skin buzzing oddly.

"My name is-"

"Yuta. I-I know, I mean I guessed."

It's the first word you've spoken to any them, and your voice is shakier than you'd like, throat dry. The mans lips twitch into a grin, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he clasps his hands together in a stunned manner.

"Wow, perceptive you are. So sure, despite appearing so meek."

You can't decipher his tone, worried that maybe you've messed up by interrupting him. He seems a bit perplexed, in a curious way. You're grateful for a new voice introducing themselves, directing your attention elsewhere.

"I'm Jungwoo," His voice is the most welcoming. "your skin is so pretty. Is that weird to say?" He mutters the last part to the slender, inquisitive man beside him, who's features are similar to that of a feline. He seems indifferent.

But, for the first time since you've arrived, you smile, an odd sense of relief flooding through your nervous system. You feel Johnny relax as well, and you glance up at him for just a moment, to see him already looking down at you.

"It's nice to meet you, Jungwoo," The jubilent vampire flashes you a smile. "all of you, really. Thankyou for welcoming me into your home."

"Of course, doll. Should we give her a tour?" Yuta speaks and Johnny responds almost a heartbeat after the elders suggestion.

"I can do that, give her some space." His voice is polite but firm, and Yuta giggles again, while the others back up a bit. Johnny readjusts his grip on your hand and begins moving towards the right staircase, turning his head to send the rest a look you can't see.

He leads you down the left corridor into a massive hallway, the walls a deep shade of plum, floors white marble instead of black like the ones downstairs.

Once you're out of view from the rest, he stills, turning towards you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

"I'm sorry about that, really." His eyes are apologetic and you snort, embracing his middle and kissing his chin.

"Sorry for what? I'm fine, they were fine."

He lets out a sigh, broad shoulders slumping as he does so. He believes you enough to not keep on, pressing his lips to your forehead before continuing his non informative tour.

"I wish they'd keep at least some of their thoughts to themselves," you're turning, brought down another lengthy hall with a massive picture window framing the north wall. Heavy burgundy curtains keep the sun from shining through the glass.

To the left is another set of stairs, small in comparison to the ones you've seen so far, framed with elegant railing. "this is my room, up here." He points to the door that sits right at the top of them, lonesome and heavy looking.

Your heartbeat is suddenly loud in your own ears, excitement bubbling in your belly at the prospect of being in a space that belongs to him. He senses this, and smiles to himself as he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pushes it open.

Everything about his room is inherently Johnny. It's simple, but so very him.

The atmosphere is completely different to what the rest of the house provokes, the floors a deep cherry red, hardwood. A round, red rug sits in the middle of the room, a leather sectional nestled in the corner to the right. Beside it hangs rows of shelves with a multitude of books, more than you'd normally see lounging in some ones room. He's probably read them all three times over by now.

He has a television, which shouldn't make you giggle as it does. It's far bigger than necessary, taking up almost all the space on the eastern wall. There's a door almost adjacent to the one you entered from, which you presume is the bathroom.

"I love it, it's so comfortable in here." You muse, trotting towards the sectional and throwing yourself on the massive sofa. He chuckles, sauntering towards you and lifting your head so that he can place it atop his lap.

He can't lie to himself, it makes him ache in the most pleasant of ways to have you here, in a place that has been his only real peace since he's met you. Well, scratch that. You are his only safe haven.

"Yeah?" He replies, scratching your scalp lightly, studying the softness of your features as you gaze up at him, elated.

"Mhm, it feels like stepping into a different house entirely. Not that I have an issue with the interior design." You playfully mock his brother Taeyong’s earlier words, and laughter bubbles from your boyfriends throat.

"You don't think it's too melancholy? The house, I mean."

You shake your head indifferently, hair ruffling against the material of his jeans that are covering his thick thighs.

"To be honest it is quite....vampire-y, but it's elegant. And big. And knowing you live here makes it not seem so dark."

His hands are suddenly cupping the area just underneath your arms, effortlessly pulling you up so that you're straddling his lap. Your thighs find their place immediately, knees squeezing his torso.

"You're too good. Too pretty to be in a place like this." Despite his tone his eyes are formed into crescent moons from his smile, and you don't fight the urge to kiss him.

"Shush, or I'll battle you to the death." You mumble, his nose nudging your cheek as he tilts his head to move in a steady rythm with your mouth.

"Mm, think I beat you to it." He teases, and you can feel his smile. You're not in the frame of mind to scold him for that one.

Naturally, without even thinking, your body heats up fast from the way he kisses you. Even if he's trying to be chaste, it always ends up with a flame being fed by his tongue. His scent, the sensation of wholeness when you're surrounded by him.

Especially now, in the comfort of and quiet of his room when all you can hear is the smack of your mouths, steady and calculated. You're encapsulated by everything that belongs to the person you love.

A soft push to your shoulders has you humming in confusion, you're still not back on earth when you break apart to see the contrived, reluctant expression that twists his face.

"We can't - not here." He strains, very much so aware of way your hips are planted so firmly against his, the sweet scent of blood that rushes like a current through the area between your thighs.

You pout, and instinctually he's cupping your face between his palms, kissing it away. His fingertips graze the shell of your ear. 

"Don't give me that look, you know why I'm saying no. If they thought you smelled good before, you'd be the finest of dining options if you walked down there wet."

Your body pulses with arousal, arousal that he can practically taste on the tip of his tongue. A petulant whine slips from your throat, while your palms graze his hardening length through his jeans, and his cock twitches.

Fuck. He really can't deny you, can he?

[bangtangalicious]

the glow up (6) | kth, pjm

pairing: taehyung x reader, jimin x reader

summary: after going off to college, you & your best friend committed to working out. a year later, the results show, and you cant wait for your hot hometown friends to see you. now all you wanna do is wild out and have lots of sex, and enjoy it without feeling insecure

genre: angst, smut, childhoodfriends!au weightloss!au (is that a thing) friends-to-lovers!au

word count: 3k

warnings: cheating, explicit smut: heavy making out...like HEAVY, in a pool, oral (f receiving), shower sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slow burn, feelings, slut shaming, slight exhibitionism, alcohol use, choking, small daddy kink, taehyung calls you princess, swearing

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7                                                   masterlist

Taehyung let his feet sink into the water, warmed by the body heat from the many ex-classmates of his who populated the pool. He stared out onto the horizon, the suburban hills a largely underwhelming contrast to the party vibes. He felt a presence come beside him, and the overwhelming designer perfume scent let him know it was Hobi.

“What’s up champ? Got eyes on anyone tonight?” Hobi asked, placing his hand on Tae’s back playfully. Taehyung simply sighed.

He was playing a losing game. He knew from the moment he kissed you that it was a mistake. He knew you would pick Jimin in the end, and he would get heartbroken.

But somehow he couldn’t deny you. Whenever you would text to hang out, his heart would flutter. He did his best to make as much time for you as he could this summer, soaking up every word you said, every smile you sent his way. He knew you just wanted him to have sex. But he enjoyed your company more than you knew.

He was an idiot. He pushed you too far too fast, he understood more than anyone why you needed freedom to explore your body and sexuality. You had insecurities you needed to deal with. You weren’t ready. You never were.

“I don’t think so…maybe I’ll just double team with Jungkook” Taehyung faked a laugh. Hobi gave him a fist bump.

“Fucking Jimin almost started a fight with him, so I sent them and Y/n inside to sort their shit out” Taehyung felt his stomach flip.

“Oh yeah” He couldn’t even find it within himself to pretend to look amused. He was pouting. He didn’t even care. He knew exactly what Jungkook was likely going to make of the situation, and he knew you would let him. Jungkook, like him, was more promiscuous, and had a bad reputation behaving with girls, but he never expected him to treat an old friend the same way. He called him out, but Jungkook did not have any apologies.

“She likes it Tae. I guarantee it” Jungkook had said before Taehyung almost punched him in the face.

“I hate this” Taehyung muttered, tilting his head up as he felt his eyes getting wet. The prospect of you having sex with Jungkook hurt him a bit too much. He shouldn’t care, it was your life. You guys weren’t exclusive at all. He hadn’t been loyal to you either. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” Taehyung groaned in frustration. Hobi chuckled.

“You’re in love with her”

Taehyung clenched his fists. He hated that he understood what you were going through. He hated that he was able to read your every thought and understand your every desire. He hated what you were doing to him.

“You should at least tell her. She probably doesn’t think she has a genuine shot with you. Let her know her options.”

“She’s not gonna pick me over Jimin” Taehyung laughed, “Jimin is her best friend. She literally can’t go a fucking week without him. Even if she dated me, she would still go to him for everything because he knows her better”

“You should give yourself more credit. From what I’ve heard anyway, Jimin’s been sort of a little bitch to her about all this. Some people are just meant to be friends, others maybe something more. Let me tell you…” Hobi wandered off onto a tangent about his own relationship and Taehyung tuned out. He downed the bitter watery beer left over in his cup, mentally noting to go for something stronger next time. His phone vibrated.

jungkook: ur girls tits are fire

Yeah. He definitely needed something much stronger

You woke up slowly to the sound of a booming base, realizing quickly that the party was still going on. You tried to turn but Jimin’s cock was still inside you. You smiled.

“Jimin, wake up” You called out softly, reaching your hand to stroke his head which was lazily muffled into your neck. He mumbled something incoherent, the vibrations of his voice on your skin making you blush. His body was sticky with sweat and you were both a mess. “Let’s freshen up, I don’t wanna miss the whole party come on” You nudged him and he stirred. You slowly rolled away, his cock sliding out of you causing him to groan in frustration, reaching out blindly for you on the mattress.

“Where’d you goooo” He complained, his eyes finally opening slightly. Seeing your naked figure sitting besides him he simply couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

“I’m gonna go freshen up.” You informed him, kissing his forehead slightly. “I feel gross”

Jimin sat up and cupped your face. “Y/n…wait…let’s just sort this out. I hated what just happened okay. I’m sorry but I did. I don’t want to share you. Be my girlfriend. Let’s fucking just date. I’m sorry I’ve been moody and a jerk, but beyond all that you know I adore you more than anyone in the world. No amount of distance has been able to get in the way of you and me. Let’s try this out. Let’s date”

The look in his eyes was pleading, like he was a frail piece of glass that was about to shatter. Your gut screamed no. Say no. But your heart did not want to see that light in his gaze fade. You nodded your head.

“Yeah…let’s date”

-

You found yourself back at the pool. The sun had set, and the rainbow colored lights made the place look magical. You really wanted to dance, the music was loud and the songs were perfect. You should feel happy, you finally had a boyfriend. But instead you felt like someone was choking you— you couldn’t breathe. You looked across the pool to see a drunk Taehyung splashing around wildly with a few girls. He wrapped his hands around one and spun her around, giggling like a mess. You wanted to be her. You wanted to play and goof off but you couldn’t.

Unknowingly a tear ran down your cheek. You put your hands in your palms, allowing your tears to fall freely. Why were you so unsatisfied? You had the perfect guy in your hands, so why were you unhappy?

You felt a wet hand on your knee, quickly wiping your eyes to see Taehyung in the water below you. He was shirtless, hair soaked, a drunken gleam in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked sweetly. You had no idea how he was managing to be nice while he was drunk. Taehyung was a wild drunk, you knew this well.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it” You stated dryly. You couldn’t bear to look at Taehyung too long, you just felt like breaking down even more. Taehyung sighed and pulled you into the pool.

“Let it happen” He whispered, bringing you into his embrace. He rand his wet hand through your hair before holding the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss. “Don’t think. Just don’t think” His words brushed up against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, your arms finding their way around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you possibly could get. Taehyung held you tight and floated the two of you towards the back of the pool.

You couldn’t stop, your lips attached like magnets. He kissed you long and sweet, and you responded to his every move with even more eagerness. Your pulse races, and you felt a tingling sensation run through your chest as you shut your eyes, focusing on the hot feeling of his mouth against yours. He paused, barely aware from your face to inhale quickly. His sparkling eyes were gorgeous under the florescent lights, his pink hair almost glowing against the darkness. “Hold your breath” You nodded quickly as he captured your lips again and dragged you under the water.

The music went quiet, everything was still. All you could feel was wetness and Taehyung all over you. You let your hands find his face holding your mouth against him. Your lungs constricted as you lost air but you didn’t care. It was serenity. Taehyung’s hands moved to your hips and as if you could read his mind you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He picked you up and rose you back above the water. You both gasped for breath, smiling wide into each other’s eyes before kissing yet again. You looked around quickly to see that quite a few people were staring at you guys, which only made you smile even wider. Taehyung watched your gaze and giggled slightly.

“You just love putting on a show don’t you princess”

You turned to admire the man who held you. His soaked hair, gorgeous eyes and toned body. His lush lips and sweet voice. He winked at you and you felt your heart explode, blushing furiously. You buried your face into his chest in embarrassment. Taehyung motioned for the crowd of observers to leave the two of you alone as he rested his back against the pool wall, continuing to hold you close.

Taehyung stroked your cheek like you were a prized gem that he couldn’t believe he got his hands on. When your eyes met again your blood rushed and you kissed him furiously, whimpering softly. “Easyyy princess”

“I can’t get enough” You exhaled, barely able to speak. Your lips throbbed, swelling from the contact but you just wanted more. “Tae let’s get out of here. I want you” Your tongue traced his mouth and you softly bit his bottom lip, dragging it teasingly.

Taehyung hesitated, as if the liquid courage in his veins drained at the reality that you were not his to have. He could never say no to you. You were too amazing. He loved you far too much.

“Whatever you want princess” He playfully bit at your nose before lifting you out of the pool. You got out, water dripping from your clothes and helped drag Taehyung up as well. He grabbed himself a towel, rubbing it through his hair, and you almost drooled. He then grabbed another one and wrapped it around your shoulders so that it covered your chest.

Hobi walked over to the two of you, clapping his hands. “Wow what a performance. That was hot” He pinked your cheek playfully and smiled fondly. “You two are more than welcome to use my room” You stiffened, remembering what all had transpired on Hobi’s bed earlier. Suddenly the water on your body felt heavy. You felt gross.

“Think I could use a shower first” Taehyung stated, patting your ass lightly and squeezing it. He winked at Hobi who nodded. Taehyung took your hand into his and led you down to Hobi’s bathroom. Unbeknownst to Taehyung, you tried to hide your face with your towel. After all, Jimin was still around here somewhere. And you totally just cheated on him.

Hobi’s bathroom was as impressive as the rest of his house. The shower was spacious, clear glass walls and marble tile. Taehyung began to peel off his drenched attire. He then proceeded to undress you, almost tearing your tube top as it stubbornly stuck to your skin.

You had forgot how drunk Taehyung was but he reminded you soon enough, as your tits popped out and he went right to them, growling as he sucked harshly. His fingers found your clit and started to explore your folds, causing you to limply fall further into his embrace. He stopped to look into your eyes again, unaware of the heat soaring through your cheeks.

“Do you want to try something?” He said, his words beginning to slur slightly. You nodded and he smirked, pulling you into the shower, and turning the warm rain on. Taehyung dropped to his knees, pressing you against the glass wall and began to kiss your clit softly, letting his tongue peak through and flick against it. Your hands found his hair and your pushed his head towards you as he let his tongue slide out more, lathering you up and licking every crevice. Sensation was building up with every move and you felt like your chest would explode. It felt so good, but you missed the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tae…tae…kiss me” You pleaded. He spat on your pussy and used his tongue to mix his saliva with your arousal. You twitched as his he became harsher. “Tae”

He was not listening, too engrossed in eating up every last drop of you. He sucked, pushed his tongue into your core, pushing your thighs further and further apart. You felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn’t want to cum yet. You wanted to look into his eyes. You wanted to feel his lips on your body. The shower continued to hit your chest, rolling down onto Taehyung’s head. He rose up, licking his lips, with a feral look in his eyes. He grabbed your neck and brought his face close to you. His grip tightened and you squirmed, unsure of what he was about to do.

He watched as droplets of water trickled down from your forehead, over your supple blushed cheeks, down your bruised lips, off your chin and down the valley of your heaving breasts. “I love you” His breath hitched. “I love you y/n” He choked you harder, your breath escaping you. He let his nose drag against your face, from your ear down your neck. He bit into your collar, sucking your skin harshly to mark you.

“Taehyung I can’t breathe” You yelped. He released his grip and you took a deep breath. Your vision was hazy, the hot fumes of the water and the lack of oxygen pushing you into a feeling of light headedness. Taehyung wasted no time in pinning your hands above you and slowly pushing his now rock hard cock into you.

You couldn’t really feel what was happening, desperately trying to breathe as Taehyung bottomed out. His chest pressed against yours and his lips barely an inch from yours. Keeping one hand holding yours, he gripped your hips with the other and began pummeling into you roughly. He smacked your thigh when he felt you try to close your legs, your pussy sore from the harsh movements. He began to slow down, rolling his hips more so you could really feel his cock hit you in all the best places. 

Your pussy clenched, causing him to moan out. “Is my little princess gonna cum on my cock? Gonna cum on daddy’s big cock hm? Your such a little whore for me. You love the way daddy’s dick feels in your little tight pussy don’t you? Hm?” He growled into your ear, his words sending you further and further over the edge. His thrusts became slow but harsh, as he grunted with each one, feeling his cock go as deep inside you as it could.

A wave of shock washed over you as your reached your high, your body twitching immensely. Taehyung began to rub your clit furiously as he felt you orgasm, helping you through it. You screamed out with pleasure, Taehyung cooing at you to keep going. Your ecstasy did not relent, his rapid fingering pushing you straight into another orgasm causing you to yell out his name like a prayer.

Taehyung rested his chin on your shoulder, holding you with both his hands now and let you grab his hair. He pounded into your drenched pussy as you both continued to soak under the pouring shower. “Say it…tell me you love me y/n…or are you really just the little whore they all say you are” He bit the lobe of your ear, making you gasp out at the unexpected rush of pleasure.

“Taehyung…fuck you feel so good” You whimpered at the overstimulation. You felt Taehyung smile. What you couldn’t see was Taehyung head lifting up to make eye contact with a certain someone at the door of the bathroom.

Now fully awake from his nap, Jimin stood, shocked at what he was seeing. The way you were so intimately being fucked by Taehyung, the way you moaned out his name, the way your hands were clenched in his hair as water poured down on the both of you. Taehyung’s eyes were sinister. His smirk as he continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ears.

“Say it princess. Say you love me.” He mumbled, thrusting in extra hard and making you scream.

“I…” You couldn’t think straight, feeling a second high coming, “Fuck…more Tae more…I’m so close, you feel so good. Taehyungggg” You panted feverishly, “Yes baby, I love you, I love you so much. I love you more than anything baby ahhhh” The orgasm hit you, and your pussy squeezed Taehyung’s cock so violently that he came then and there too, all while not looking away from Jimin for a second. Taehyung then kissed you, continuing to hold you against the glass.

“I love you” You panted, cupping his cheeks as he kissed you softly. Jimin felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t see your eyes—he didn’t even want to. His heart was absolutely shattered.

He felt tears coming on strong. This was his soul mate. His best friend. Did she really not love him back? Was this really happening? Jimin clenched his fists. Memories of your sweet laugh, your endless nights with him talking about everything. You were home to him, and now he felt as though he had lost everything. Were you really that desperate for cock? That you would ruin your relationship with you best friend? Why didn’t you just say no if you didn’t love him? Why did you say you wanted him when you didn’t?

Jimin’s thoughts ran a million miles a second and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He dropped to the floor crying.

Who were you? Where was his y/n? Did this glow up destroy the beautiful girl he fell in love with?

A/N: next chapter will be the ending!! thanks for following along & all your support, i hope you enjoyed it:) wonder who y/n will finally go with....

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Taglist: @honeyspillings  @hollowtree10

[with-the-same-tattoos]

This may be a weird question, but what's it like having a buzzcut? Donating my hair in a few and prolly going for a full shave and I am giddy and also nervous and also partly sticking it to people who are all "BuT YoUR SO MUTCh PrEtTiEr with LONG hauuuuiur "

I'm gonna be honest w u!!!!!!!!!!! It is amazing but can also be a lil difficult!!!!!!!

Idk how much you find value in being percieved as pretty; idk weather ur "sticking it to them" is more about "i know i can be pretty even without my hair" OR "Idc about being pretty" so I have to say this: my personal experience is that people wont really find you pretty? Unless youre like, mega mega conventionally attractive, in whiich case u can do anything and people will thibk ur pretty akdjskebf. But yeah I'm not and people defi just didn't find me attractive at all. Like, they still don't, but i at least currently get called cute n stuff nowdays as like, a "awww look at that weird fluffy rat". ADDITTIONALLY; YOU MIGHT FEEL UGLY AT FIRST TOO? I DID. I felt like i had a weigvg off my chest, but at the same time id put so much value into my hair (it was rly long before i cut it & the only thing people ever complimented me on, so i had a lot of self worth tied into it) that I just. Yk?

HOW. FUCKING. EVER. BRUH. OH MY GOD. WHEN YOU GET OVER THAT BUMP.

Let me tell you what is so fucking awesome about a buzzcut.

The cleanliness. You just cannot clean hair the way you can clean a bare head. Scrubbing through a buzzcut after a fresh buzz is like. All ur sins and worries have washed away with ur lost hair. Its all gone. Ur body is clean ur mind is clean, you r free.

Additionally; if you go the road of shaving your head too (which!!!!! Please read about it first!!!!!!! You need to like soften your skin in warm water etc !!!!!!! It can rly hurt otherwise!!!!!!!) That is just. On an another level. I recall waking up in the morning w a fresh shaven head.anf feeling like some ancient priestess, theres like some rly weird. Divinity to a clean head to me. Its so soft and smooth and feels so good, you can oil it and enjoy the fresh air.

Buzzcuts just feel awesome to touch. I used 2 just run my hand thry my buzz all the time. It fucks...

Heat avoidance!!!! I used 2 wear a lot of beanies w my buzz to keep myself warm, but unlike w hair. U can just take that off at any time!!!!! If ur feeling a lil hot, just bare ur head and u feel cool rly quickly. Maybe wipe it w cool water. U r good my friend. Its aaawesome for exercise.

IF u do value beauty n stuff. There r still people (like me lol) who find bald heads mega attractive, if not more attractive than hair lol <3 so dw abt it that much.

ALL THAT TO SAY. YOU R DOING FANTASTIC. What ur doing is SO lovely and I'm so proud 2 know someone so kind!!!!!!!!

I hope you really enjoy your experience :') i hope i dont scare u off; I just dont wanna lie about the experience, bc if u have any similiar feelings etc, I don't wanna make you feel alone in them. You might have a completely different experience !!!!!!!!! Whatever experience you do have, I hope its insightful to u and feels good and that you love yourself throughout it!!!!! M sending sm love <3333

[janekfan]

prompt! (cause ur one of my fav fan writers and i think this is up ur ally): i hc that helen just dumped jon in his office when she rescued him from the circus. maybe when he got back he just took a little while to have a good cry but martin found him in the middle of it and was like "where've you been whats wrong holy shit" and jons just like "hnngh... martin..." (and then maybe later martin is like "oh elias said u were on leave im so sorry" and jons like "elias said WHAT")

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165962

You are so sweet!!! I hope you like it! :D

"I'll be seeing you, Archivist." In a voice so saccharine sweet in such juxtaposition to how empty and ashamed Jon felt twisted up on the floor where she'd dropped him. He tried to focus, to see her, where she was, or was not but she had slipped through her yellow door in a burst of static before he truly understood where he was. It was when his office began to coalesce around him that the tears came, stinging, burning, the idea that he might just be safe here for even a moment catching on the ragged attempt at a breath. Two. Three. Swift. Hyperventilating. No hands, no mannequins, no, no, no stripping, stroking, smoothing, touching.

But he must be silent. Silent if he's to be able to hide in this small bit of sanctuary and he muffled himself, calling upon years of practice crying in the dark alone, and dragged himself under his desk for another degree of separation against the world and its cruelty. Nevermind that he brought this upon himself, he intended to hide from it until the hunger and thirst clawing at his stomach, his throat, forced him from his hiding place. Leaning against the cool wall, Jon pressed a flushed cheek against it, wrapping his arms around his knees and collapsing inwards like a dying star.

No one came for him.

And while he knew he'd burned bridges and sullied relationships with his paranoid investigating the knowing of it ached in his chest, taking up so much room with its constant agony that there was nothing left for anything else and Jon didn't think he'd ever felt more alone in his entire life. It was silly of him to think anyone would look for him and that did nothing to sooth the hurt bubbling up at the thought of being so easy to abandon, so easy to forget. He cried. He cried and cried, nigh hysterical and so, so quietly because his assistants weren't that far away and he couldn’t allow them to see him like this. There wasn't much left of him at the moment and he wouldn't survive Melanie’s cold indifference or Tim's hot anger.

Had his disappearance even been noticed?

The handle of his door squeaked and he clapped trembling hands over his mouth, eyes wide and searching in the dim. Had they found him? Come to take him away again?

Quiet. Be quiet. Like a mouse. Like you did when you were small.

Whatever, whoever it was hummed in a very familiar way, as if they'd glanced around the room and found it wanting. That was fine. He was always found wanting. He'd been so awful to everyone that it was no wonder he was found wanting. They dropped something onto the desk’s surface, and the toes of Martin’s trainers were inches away from Jon's hiding place. He held his breath, closed his eyes tight.

Wished to be found.

Wished to be left alone.

Why wasn’t he leaving?

A whimper escaped, small. Barely there. But it was enough. Martin’s shoes shifted, stepped back.

“I’ve got a, well I’ve got a mug! But it will hurt!” Jon pressed back, curled up, just as Martin’s body blocked the minimal light to his hiding place. It took a few seconds for his face to come into focus.

“Don’t!” Jon flinched from his hand, shouting, the thought of being touched made him want to throw up, made him want to disappear, made him want to run. “Don’t. P’please.”

Martin didn’t know if he truly expected an intruder but he definitely didn’t expect to find Jon cowering away from him, rail thin, expression haunted, and dressed in clothes two sizes too large on him. In a cracked voice he shouted at him when he reached out and in the dim of his hiding place he could make out his wide, terrified eyes, lined with dark shadows and suspiciously wet.

“Alright, alright, Jon.” Martin sat cross legged on the floor instead to watch him ease the smallest amount and drop his forehead to the folded arms balanced on knobby knees with a shaky exhale. “So, haven’t seen you in a while.” His shoulders hitched in a damp laugh, hitched further when he began sobbing. “Oh, oh, Jon.”

“I, I, I--” he was gasping for air, crying too hard to speak, and Martin risked shifting just a little bit forward and talking in a low voice, just for them under the desk.

“Okay, okay. Elias didn’t tell us where you’d gone.” At that, Jon whipped his head to face him, confusion warring with the panic.

“W’what?”

“No one knew where you were.” Big tears slipped down his cheeks and he looked so betrayed, so small, that Martin wanted to wrap him up and protect him from all the awful things he knew were coming.

“I was. The Circus.” He scrubbed his face angrily with his forearm. “Took me. They took me.” He ground the heels of both hands into his eyes as if he could physically stop himself from crying. “They.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, Jon.”

“I wasn’t. I didn’t m’mean to.” His bottom lip was trembling, his words thready. “I’m s’sorry. I didn’t want, want.”

“This wasn’t your fault. Of course you didn’t want to be kidnapped off the street.” But he knew how this could look, especially for Tim with his history. The rest of the staff were likely to accuse Jon of pulling some sort of trick or long con. Melanie particularly hadn’t been shy in sharing exactly what she thought of the man weeping only a meter in front of him, hiding under his desk.

“Kept t’touching--” he choked himself off and Martin worried he was going to be sick but he just swallowed reflexively, sucking down great gulps of air, horrified and whispery. “Wouldn’t stop.”

“Jon, you’ve got to breathe. Slowly, okay?” He was going to pass out if he didn’t and Martin wasn’t altogether sure that wouldn’t be a bad thing, caught as he was between extremes, exhausted and strung out. Martin wanted to hold him, let him feel safe if he even could anymore, let him rest for a few minutes without fear of being hunted, chased, cut, burned, kidnapped.

“I’m coming apart. It’s too, it’s too heavy, Martin. I, I, I can’t breathe for the weight of it.” Syllables tripped over each other, manic, frantic, they tumbled from his mouth like a waterfall. “I know, I, I’ve been. Cagey? For lack of a b’better term? No, no, paranoid. I know. It’s. I’ve been, but things keep coming after me. They want to hurt me--have hurt me! And, and, and I. Trust. I don’t trust anyone. Not really. Not really. I can’t? I don’t. I don’t know how.” Thin, quaking fingers ran over innumerable scars unconsciously, tracing them in constellations. “I’m. I’m just so s’sorry and I can’t. I can’t fix it.” He grit his teeth, smothering himself before hanging his head. “I’m so tired, Martin.”

“I can help with that.”

Jon didn’t expect much after his outpouring. He hadn’t meant to say all that, to burden Martin with even more awful things on top of what they’d already experienced, but to his surprise he offered nothing but help and Jon wasn’t altogether sure why he was humoring him. Jon didn’t want to leave the office. He didn’t want anyone else to see him like this. He didn’t think he could take the inevitable and scathing comments. Not right now. Not yet.

“We can make that work.” He smiled, something small and sweet and open, shrugging out of his jumper and holding it out, still keeping his distance. His kindness was a balm, one that he thought might hold the disparate pieces of himself together long enough for him to scrape up the will to hold them together himself. “You’re cold. You’ve had a shock. A, a lot of shocks.” He raised an eyebrow, still with that same soft grin of understanding. “I’ve seen you nick them before.” Jon ducked his head, reaching out for the warm wool still holding remnants of Martin’s body heat and leaned back against the wall. It was almost like a blanket and the thick knit was well worn and pleasant on his hypersensitive skin. The weight of it soothed his frayed nerves and somehow, against all odds, Jon was dragged under a tidal wave of sleep.

Martin stood guard and watched Jon’s heavy lids fall shut over tired eyes as he unspooled under the safety of his desk. He sank lower, sliding down deeper into the jumper until the only visible part of his face was above the scarred bridge of his nose. He’d begun dreaming of something, making small noises and speaking scraps of sentences that were devoured by the dark. Martin scrutinized him in an attempt to discern whether or not the dreams were in fact nightmares, but he seemed alright for the moment and he let himself relax. He passed the time on his phone, wondering for a fleeting moment if anyone in the office realized where he went and ultimately decided that a little time away from the anger and the blame and the helplessness was probably good for him.

“S’a...mmn…” Jon’s face was pulled into a pained grimace, his fingers winding into the wool. “No’st, no!” Jon’s eyes flew open, flecked with unnatural green and blank with terror when he didn’t recognize or remember where he was. He fought with the cable knit swallowing up his body and tangling him up in his confusion. “No! No! No, no, no!” Panicked murmuring filled up his hiding place and he swiped frantically at his arms, trying to tear his way out of the binding constriction. His hands finally met skin but he didn’t recognize it as his own, fingers curling as he clawed dark angry marks from elbow to wrist and when Martin took hold of them in an effort to protect Jon from himself he had to exert incredible strength to keep him pinned, keep him from hurting himself. But he was so scared, bucking and wild and Martin was sure someone was going to burst in here at any moment, surprised that they hadn’t already, and demand answers to questions he couldn’t even begin to parse.

“Jon,” Martin tried, “hey, it’s me, you’re safe, you’re here in the Archives with me. The Archives, Jon.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” The tears were back, caught in his throat and stealing away his pleading voice and Martin hated every entity they’d ever encountered. He hated Elias, he hated whatever was happening here that they were so powerless to prevent.

“Jon, Jon, I’m here. Hush, now, hush, shhh.” Martin tried to hide his own panic behind a calm exterior, wrapping around him when he finally wrenched himself free and swiped at him. He held Jon tight, almost too tight, crushing his arms to his sides until the fight went out of him and he went completely slack, chest heaving, short panting breaths rushing in and out beside Martin’s ear. “That’s right. Okay, okay, I’m sorry, that must have been frightening. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself, I’m so sorry it scared you.” Strung tight as a bowstring and just about ready to snap, it took long minutes before his rabbit-quick heart began to slow and Martin could feel his bones stamping themselves in rigid lines where he was pressed against him. He kept up his nonsensical chatter, smoothing back unruly tangles.

“M’martin?” Barely an exhale as he turned his face into Martin’s neck. “Not, not. Plastic.” And while it didn’t make any sense to Martin, he let Jon have the comfort it gave him, gently loosening his grip, surprised that instead of putting as much distance between them that he could he collapsed inwards, curling into the pocket the curve of Martin’s body made and laying his ear over the rhythm beating beneath it. “Sorry…” His lips didn’t move, the apology carried on a deep, weary sigh.

“No need to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Martin ran a hand up and down Jon’s narrow back. He was quiet, calm, as he gathered up handfuls of his shirt and held on tight, a boat unmoored and lost at sea just searching for an anchor.

“Please, I’ve. I’ve no right to ask.” An all over shiver, like a string plucked, and it resonated from Jon and into Martin.

“You can.” He waited for him, giving him the space to speak without feeling any more pressure.

“Please, just a, a moment more?” He hugged him and Jon clutched back, burying his face into his shoulder to block out all else.

“Oh, Jon. Of course. All the time you need.”

[obriengf]

can we have ‘ do you touch urself think my of me’ w dylan for ur 500 sleepover thing’ thxx

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sexual language, sexual activity, female masturbation

"DO YOU TOUCH YOURSELF WHEN YOU THINK OF ME?"

You shuddered; large hands ghosting over your sides, radiating dizzying warmth through the terrycloth of your towel. You could feel his movements so clearly despite the lack of physical touch, and it was beginning to make your mind sway with increments of a lustful haze. It was absentminded as your head gently fell back, lulling to the side as his warm breath fanned down your neck, each small exhale feeling like a fiery kiss against your sensitive skin. The man knew exactly what he was doing - the ability to arouse you already easy enough, but executing it without the usage of his masterful hands and lips only added to his adept skillset. You offered a gentle nod of your head, a response that you could only muster from the small amount of sanity he was letting you have. Dylan's lips curled into a generous smile as they dragged under your ear, a tender peck placed over the still wet skin from your shower.

He carefully pulled the abundance of your wet locks over your other shoulder so that his access to your neck became facile, lips now able to properly envelop your skin and leave behind an array of moan-inducing kisses. The man couldn't help but press himself against you, one hand now gripping your waist tightly as the other sat just above your thigh. Even though your eyes were closed, you were sure that you could sense the inevitable swelling of the veins in his arms, an indication that he was trying to hold himself back - that whatever self-control he harnessed was holding on by a whimsy thread before he would eventually have you backed up against the basin and screaming out every goddamn syllable of his name.

"Dyl..." You moaned softly, and if he wasn't focusing so hard on enhancing the purple bruise near your clavicle, he would have missed your near-silent plea. By now, your arm had been thrown behind you to allow your fingers to thread through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as your other hand entangled with the one guarding your waist. You could feel the upturn of his nose nuzzle into the curve of your neck as Dylan reveled in the soothing attention you were feeding him. He hummed lightly against your skin, his lips unable to stop the small litter of pecks that now trailed across your shoulder as he gently pulled down the material shielding your body. You were immediately covered in goosebumps; the cool air meeting your hot and flushed skin spiking the small bumps and provoking a display of shivers down your spine.

"Does the thought of my fingers make you feel good?" He wondered aloud, voice raspy as it was whispered against the shell of your ear. You could only manage another nod as your teeth sunk deeply into your bottom lip, tugging at the reminiscence your body felt as you remembered how good his hands treated you. It was now more obvious that your thighs had been rubbing together from the arousal he easily prompted - ankles crossed over and a small patch of red skin that was caused by evident friction near your heated core. Just the thought alone of the man behind you harassing your moistened sex was driving you absolutely insane.

Dylan untangled your hands before setting his lightly over yours, his movements slow as he dragged your touch down the front of your body. You opened your eyes, lashes fluttering against your cheek before you focused on your boyfriend in the reflection before you. He was mesmerised - eyes detailing the way you were reacting to his touch and intimate maneuvers - until his gaze finally fell on yours, causing a smirk encased in mischief to curl at his lips, complementing the heavy wink that fell from his right eye. He maintained eye contact as his pointer finger directed yours to your clit, the nub incredibly sensitive as he controlled your caress in a circular motion. He was guiding you to pleasure yourself as your chest instantly swelled with a deep intake of air, mouth falling ajar and eyes slowly becoming hooded.

You eventually sighed out in contentment; leaning back against Dylan when your legs began to grow unstable, his spare arm reaching across your chest. He grasped one of your fleshy mounds as he began to squeeze, his thumb and forefinger pinching an exposed peak to draw out your building moan. Dylan smiled as he watched your face contort with pleasure before murmuring in your ear, "Whatever you do, don't stop." His voice fractured with his own arousal, despite wanting to push it aside to focus primarily on you. He let you continue rubbing an array of shapes against your clit, his second and third finger now sliding into his mouth as he coated them with oral lubricant. You watched him intently, and you knew what was coming.

His lips brushed against your neck, "Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see how I make you feel when you cum on my fingers."

It was a growl that entered your ear, the beautiful caramel tone of Dylan's eyes now clouded with a dark chocolate hue, fervor for your pleasure now etching across his features quickly. He managed to suction his lips back to your neck, eyes still boring into the mirror. You couldn't look away from him, you didn't want to, which is why it took you by surprise when he pushed both fingers deep inside of you. An involuntary gasp squeaked past your open mouth, soon followed by a throaty moan that echoed loudly off the tiled walls. His pace was relentless as his fingers thrust quickly, the curl of their tips brushing over your rigid roofing and eliciting a whine of desperation. You didn't dare slow down your harassment on your clit, even pressing down harder when Dylan's nails scraped over a sensitive part of your core.

It was a quick set decision as he reached up to grasp your chin, turning it toward his awaiting lips before he pressed them harshly against yours. He didn't start to take your bottom lip between his own pair until he felt you relax slightly into him, an indication that you were content with the kiss. He sucked, teeth dragging your lip away as he pulled back, only to immediately dive back in and soothe his tongue along the graze. You were receiving amounts of pleasure all through your body, head now spinning with all sorts of romantic sentiments and lustful sensations. You took the opportunity to drag your tongue over his, pulling your boyfriend into you even more by the union shared between your mouths.

It was his turn to groan, only to be swallowed by you as you took leadership in the kiss. Dylan, though, still had reign over your upcoming orgasm as he thrust faster, angle changing until he found the special spot that made you scream between his lips. The room echoed with your joint sounds of satisfaction, complementary to the slick wet noises of his fingers drenched in your arousal as you neared your orgasmic high. You explored his mouth with the desperate muscle, recognising every nook and crevice as if it were the back of your hand. You provoked grunts from Dylan as he sucked the air from your lungs, needing to survive on your taste and feeling, nose dragging across your face as he fought the metaphorical battle of tongues.

It didn't take long for you to pull back, your voice crying toward him with furrowed brows and an incredibly heaving chest, "I'm gonna cum..." You breathed, whinging tangled with your tone as you found his spare hand. It was second nature as you grasped him, fingers sliding between his own, wanting to hold your boyfriend for support from what you anticipated as a body shaking high. He sped up even further, the contraction of your walls around him making his groin twitch and harden. You could feel it as he spontaneously pushed against your backside, the throbbing of his member settling into your lower back. Knowing that this was turning him on threw you over the edge, completely.

Eyes rolled back as you convulsed; the heated ache in your pelvis spreading through your veins as your body erupted in euphoric fire. A loud cry escaped you, "Fuck... fuck, Dyl-Dylan... baby... shit..." Your words were incoherent, unable to form proper sentences as you spoke absentmindedly in time with the stars exploding over your eyes. You could, however, see the familiar orbs of your partner as you maintained eye contact, Dylan's brows furrowing as he bit his lip with enough force to draw blood. His pace began to slow, only stopping when your frame collapsed against his chest. He pulled the tired digits to his mouth, sucking away the remnants of your juices and moaning at the taste he often dreamed about.

"That was so hot." He breathed out, your hearts thumping in unison as the only sounds now surrounding you both were the jagged breaths you shared.

You agreed as you reached up to him, your arm still shaky as you cupped Dylan's face and rubbed your thumb gently over his flushed cheeks. "You, are, incredible." You huffed, smiling sincerely despite the tiredness that now blanketed your face. He could tell by the lidded eyes you flashed him that the pleasure you felt took a lot out of you, prompting your boyfriend to lean in and tenderly kiss your swollen lips. His soft actions made your shoulders slump in serenity as you remained settled against him, only to be held flush further against his chest as his arm protectively sat at the base of your ribs. You managed a chuckle, "Guess I'll have to have another shower to clean this mess up." You gestured to the dripping juices falling down your inner thighs.

Dylan pulled back, at least two steps away from you as you braced yourself against the counter. He smiled gingerly as he removed his shirt, thumbs tucking into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs, "Good, I'll join you."