#m.fics

[mizpeak]

My Dream Team After Dark fic is posted! Thank you to the hosts of the event <3 ( @dreamteamafterdark )

take me drunk, i’m home

(dnf, rated E, 4.3k words, fluff and smut)

By the time the car pulls up to their driveway, George is mostly silent. He’s alert, though; aside from the way he clings to Dream’s arm, his presence is palpable. Dream can feel him, attentive, beyond the dainty fingers wrapped around his forearm.

After a night out at the bar, Dream and George go home.

-> read here

[txtscenarios]

gamer hueningkai /

rating: explicit

an: gender neutral reader to the best of my ability as usual, blowjobs, kai’s a little rough but it’s consensual 

kai doesn’t like to call himself a gamer

you think this is particularly funny because when he’s not doing idol things, school work, or spending time with you, he’s, well, gaming

he might not be a gamer in the traditional sense; he doesn’t stream on twitch, and shooters just aren’t really his thing

but when he’s really into something, whether it be a mobile game that he can play on the go, or a story-driven rpg that takes up way too much space on the boys’ shared playstation 5, he’s so fucking cute it’s almost unbearable

he’s not competitive at all, which just makes it better. it means that he never ends a session in a rage, and hardly ever lets a loss impact his mood

he’s the perfect little gamer boyfriend with all of the perks– a rainbow keyboard, headphones shaped like cat ears, a desk just tall enough for you to fit under– and none of the complications

so, as much as you like actually doing activities with him, you don’t mind sitting across the room on his bed, phone in hand, while he clicks away on his keyboard, one ear peeking out of his headphones just incase you call for him

if you ever want him to stop playing, he will. the game will be shut down in seconds, and he’ll swivel around in his chair, attention fully focused on you

you never ask him to stop, though. not when the alternative is much more entertaining

he doesn’t even flinch when you walk over to him, slow, before dropping to your knees by his side. he merely scoots the chair back a bit to make room for you, and you take the opportunity to crawl under his desk

he’s tall, legs always sort of in the way, but you’ve learned to work around them by now. and this is where he’s good also, where he’s the best boyfriend you could ever ask for; he never expects anything from you

if you yearn to be close, to merely sit with your chin on his knee as he plays his game, then he’s fine with that. he’ll sneak a hand down every now and then to sweep long fingers through your hair, or boop your nose with his thumb

the fact that he’s just so content to be near you however you’ll let him is so– you’ve never had anything like it before. never had someone like him. you find that his kindness makes you more eager to please him

when he’s at the dorm, he’s either wearing sweats or boxers. both are easy access, and you find you don’t prefer one over the other. the boxers are nice because of the space his cock takes up inside of them when he’s totally hard, but the sweatpants are just as mouthwatering, especially when he’s so turned on he begins leaking through them

if you want to get him hard quick, it’s easy enough to do so. mouthing along the fabric just over his clothed cock, or sweeping your thumb along the head has him squirming beneath your touch in no time. he won’t ask; never does, but he doesn’t need to

when he’s hard just from gentle, lingering swipes of your fingers, or hot breaths against his cock, you carefully tug him out of his clothes, fabric scrunching up beneath his length

you always start with your hand, swiping your tongue along your palm to slick it up. the way you twist your wrist on each upstroke has him breathing harder, abdomen flexing, thighs twitching

he is quiet at the start, but it never lasts long. neither does his focus

the moment you brace up, up on your knees, one hand pressed against his thigh for balance as you slowly take his cock between your lips, tongue dipping into the slit to gather precome, to taste. 

he sighs prettily. you hear the occasional click of his keyboard as he attempts to multitask, but then you wrap your hand around the base of his length and slide down as far as your throat allows, and he grunts, both hands in your hair in an instant

they just rest there, at the top of your head, strands sliding through his long fingers. he doesn’t pull; doesn’t push you further than you’re ready to go, or demand anything of you

but when you reach up, tapping his knuckles twice, a silent, “go ahead, i want you to,” he’s quick to appease

his right hand tightens in your hair, hard enough that your scalp stings, while his left gently cups your jaw. he tilts your face to the side as much as he can with his cock still in your mouth, subtly, this way and that. testing the waters

and then, then, he pulls

you gasp, his grip tight enough, and strong enough, to have you sliding all the way off of his cock

he taps the head of his cock against your lips, and your mouth falls open, willing, waiting. he lets out a shuddery breath, and you can’t quite see his face from where you are, but you know his eyes must be closed

his right hand gives a great twist, hair pulled taut between his fingers, and then he pushes you down, down, onto his cock. he doesn’t stop when you sputter, doesn’t let up when you gag. he holds you there for a second, two, three, and then lets you up to collect yourself

you have a system. a pinch to kai’s thigh will let him know that he’s being too rough, that you need a break, but you’ve never needed to do it before. you certainly don’t need to now

he sets a pace, after that

you place your hands on his knees, your own aching from being pressed into the carpet, as kai pulls you up on his cock, head dotted with precome, and then pushes you back down, throat instinctively constricting as you breathe through your nose, and will yourself not to choke

he makes sure that you take him fast, that your head doesn’t move unless he wants it to. he plants his feet on the floor, slides down in his gaming chair just so, and makes tiny, aborted movements with his hips like he just isn’t quite deep enough; like he won’t be satisfied until you’re coughing around him, stuffed full of him

he’s whimpering now, voice high on each exhale, trailing off heavy and breathy towards the end. he’s still got his headphones on, unaware of how loud he’s being, and you love him like this, needy and unabashed

your tongue swirls along the head of his cock each time you’re tugged up, and the slide is easier now, slicked with your spit, so you rub your thumb at the base of his length while you lap at the slit just to feel his hips twitch beneath your touch

his left hand moves from your jaw, down your neck, to your shoulder. he grips you there, fingertips pressing into the bone, just holding on, like he needs you to steady him while you simultaneously pull him apart

his cock jerks in your mouth at the feel of your teeth catching the crown, just there, ever so slight. he likes a little pain with his pleasure, and you know his limits just as well as you know your own

his whimpers have grown into moans now, long, pulled out from back of his throat. they are raw and strained; scratchy each time he thrusts up into your mouth, gaming chair squeaking beneath his movements

his coordination fails him the closer he gets to finishing, until he’s just holding your head in place, hips twisting, rolling up into the tight circle of your mouth, cock sliding along your tongue

he is all breath now, all shaky exhales and gasps and little whispers. tiny litanies of, “so good,” and, “ah, i’m– oh, oh.” he never gets out a full sentence, can’t think long enough to, and you know he’s close the moment his hand tightens on your shoulder enough to bruise, and his thighs flex beneath your palms

he gasps loud in the quiet of the room, pulling you off of his cock long enough to rush out, “i’m– where should i-”

“my mouth,” you tell him, no hesitation. your mouth falls open, and you stick your tongue out, eyes falling shut.

he is quick to slide back into you, cock prodding at the back of your throat, fingers catching in your hair. he shudders once, twice, knees bracketing you in

when he comes, it’s with a groan, back bowed so much so that the chair nearly rolls out from beneath him

his come shoots down your throat, and you sputter, tears pooling in your eyes. but he doesn’t stop, you don’t want him to stop, and you twist your tongue around the head, the crown, dip it right into the slit just to milk out more of him

he fills your mouth, his come hot against your tongue, and you swallow around him. there is spillage; there always is. it rolls down your chin, and onto the carpet

he lets out these exhausted little whines each time he breathes out, and though his hand on your shoulder has fallen away, the one in your hair merely loosens its grip, but stays. he pats your head once, and gently massages your scalp with his fingers

he is slumped back against his chair now, spent, worn, and when you shift so that you can look up at him, his eyes are shut tight, cheeks ruddy red. his bottom lip is swollen and wet and pink, like he’d been chewing on it during the excursion, and there’s a flush running down his neck, along his collarbones, creeping into his shirt. so, so pretty

when he comes to, he rolls back in his chair, and carefully helps you out from beneath the desk. your knees ache, and he tugs you into his lap, kissing the apple of your cheek, and the tip of your nose

“you made me lose my game,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he minds all that much. his big hand slides along the small of your back, and he smiles, so small you almost miss it. “gotta find a way to make it up to me, don’t you think?”

and so you end up in his gaming chair with him beneath the desk, your legs spread, thighs on either side of his head as he tugs your bottoms down, tossing them out of the way. you knew it’d end up like this– it almost always does.

and you suppose that’s one of the perks of having a gamer boyfriend; he’s always got to even the score 

[leclerity]

the middle of the night

Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader count: 1.2k words summary: Charles shows up to your apartment in the middle of the night, drunk, and wanting one thing and one thing only. a/n: i bet you couldn't say no to drunk charles wanting to have sex... (18+)

You hear something thud in your room. You pick up the broom from the hallway and creep to your bedroom, slowly peeking through the door—

Only to find your boyfriend halfway through your window, dragging his left leg over the windowsill.

The light comes on with a flick. “Is there a reason you’re crawling through my window?”

Charles shields his eyes, finally flopping to the floor, then fumbles about with the window until it’s closed. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“What was your plan, exactly?”

“Well.” He stands with his hands on his waist, beaming at you. “I’d take my clothes off, get into bed with you, and be there when you wake up.”

“And you thought that wouldn’t disturb me.”

“It wouldn’t. Because you love me.”

His grin widens and you drop your pretence – yes, your boyfriend is a little dumb when he’s drunk, but at least he’s the kind to try to get into your bed when drunk and not someone else’s.

“Charles, it’s”—you check your phone—“the middle of the night.”

He nods. “Bedtime, then.”

Before you respond, he starts taking off his clothes, starting with the white polo he wore to the night out with the boys. He unbuttons it quickly, then looks at you—pauses—grins—and starts unbuttoning it slowly, keeping eye contact.

“You’re adorable,” you say, shaking your head. “Not happening, though.”

Charles pouts. “Why?”

“You’re drunk.”

“And in love,” he says, singing the “love”. He closes the distance between you and pulls you in by your waste, tickling your neck with kisses. “You’re the only thing I want tonight, baby.”

“Charles.”

“Mhm?”

The kisses continue, so you put your hands on his cheek, making him face you. You give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll get you some water.”

He kisses you back. “I need you, not water.”

“Charles—”

“I can tell,” he says. “I know you want me, too.”

And you do—god, you do—because he keeps kissing you, brushing that sweet spot on your neck as his kisses threaten to trail lower, and because his hands are dropping lower, too, gripping you just right, and—

“Charles.”

He takes a step back immediately, noting the lack of playfulness in your voice. “Okay.”

You kiss him on the cheek. “Get in bed. I’ll join you in a minute.”

He nods and you can tell he’s disappointed, but he’d never go against your wishes. There’s a line between being playful, debating, maybe even considering his proposal – and the no that means a flat-out no, no considerations included. He never pushes when you don’t want him to.

And, unfortunately, that just makes him want you more.

You fill up two glasses of water and take some aspirin from the medicine cabinet, some chocolates, too. Either of you could get peckish later, or in the morning, and you’d rather account for that in advance.

In your bedroom, as you approach it—gently, just in case—Charles is sprawled on top of the covers, with only boxers to hide his modesty. You chuckle and he startles, then beckons you to come over.

“I just want to cuddle,” he says. “I promise.”

You give him the glass and he downs it, then puts it on the nightstand on your side of the bed. The light’s still on but it’s a warm, gentle yellow, and you think about leaving it on for just a little longer.

“Y/N. Mon amour. Come here.”

You kiss him as you join him on top of the covers. His arms close around you as if that’s all they were made to do and you feel tension drift from your body. He smells like his most recent aftershave, and you inhale it as if it were a drug – even sweaty after a night out, he still smells like a god.

Charles kisses the top of your head.

“Charles,” you say.

“Mhm?”

“You tired?”

“Not very.” He kisses you again, snuggles you closer. “Why?”

“I’m think I’m too awake to fall back asleep.”

His palm is flat on your side and his thumb moves side to side, and you hear him sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I can’t believe you thought that getting in through the window wouldn’t wake me.”

He kisses you again. “You’re a heavy sleeper, bebe.”

“Not today. Not when you’re out,” you remind him.

“But I’m here now, and you’re still not sleepy.”

You hesitate for a moment—you can still hear the life outside your window, and the world is still wide awake, it seems—but then you push yourself up, kissing the corner of Charles’s jaw.

“I can think of a way you could make up for it,” you whisper.

His hands are on your waist in an instant and he’s kissing you, no, devouring you, and you feel taste the alcohol on his lips and start to feel a little drunk, yourself, as his kisses outline your jaw and stick to your neck, a little too long, long enough that you’ll have little bruises tomorrow, and—

He hits the spot and you moan his name.

“Mon amour.” His hand’s on your mouth and face above yours, pupils dilated and eyes wild. “We don’t want to be too loud, do we?”

“No,” you mutter through his hand.

“You want to go to sleep after this, right?”

“Yes.”

He kisses the corner of your jaw like you did to him earlier and he’s nibbling at your earlobe. “Then relax and enjoy.”

His hands cup the bottom of your shorts, getting a handful off your ass. He squeezes it, just enough to draw out a moan, and his lips are on yours again, reminding you to keep quiet, you don’t want the neighbours hearing, now, do you? You don’t want them to know how hard I fuck you when I haven’t seen you all day, when I’ve spent the last five hours thinking about coming here and taking you, all of you, mon amour.

You’re not sure if he’s saying this or if you’re imagining it, but you’re not even thinking about being quiet anymore because his head’s between your thighs now, telling you how good you taste, and his fingers are pressing down on your lower belly and the neighbours will know how hard he fucks you, they already do.

After a while, he stops asking you to hold back, but he smacks your ass until it’s red and you’re writhing in pleasure because you’re been a bad girl, and he’s filling you up so well that you wonder how in hell you thought you’d be able to go without this tonight.

By the time he’s done, you’re exhausted and so is he, and you fall asleep quicker than you thought it possible, with his hand still tangled in your hair.

[livingproofoftbd]

days and nights always change (you and i stay the same)

rated t | current wc 3.7k | 1/3 chapters

tags: bodyswap, introspection, sexuality crisis, internalized homophobia, feelings realization, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, mutual pining, getting together, tooth-rotting fluff, [tags will be updated as i go]

2020dream lives two lives—himself and a version of him from the future—in order to learn a lesson about himself and the people around him

chapter one summary:

His mind swirls, caught in a web he can't even begin to decipher. Something makes his fingertips tingle and his back shiver, incurable even under all three of the blankets he has in the room. His palms sweat as he closes his eyes, meaning only to rest for a moment. Heat clings to his body, but he ignores it in favour of the lull that comes with this kind of peace. He’s always adored it. Sleep finds him easily, albeit by accident. As it usually does. He wakes not long after, so he thinks. It feels like only minutes, though based on the light leaking onto his face, it’s clear it's been hours. He hums and blinks his eyes groggily, shifting in unfamiliarly soft sheets. He stretches his arms upwards and notes his bare chest—how the hell did he pull his shirt off in his sleep?—before letting them fall back to his side. He doesn’t think he knows where he is, which is a sure sign of a good sleep, before realizing he genuinely doesn’t know where he is.

or, dream wakes up in the wrong place

--

MERRY CHRISTMAS @cubeiicubes !!!!

a secret santa gift i hope will be acceptable considering ive never read or written bodyswap 😭 but i have high hopes for myself :) i hope you like it tho <3

[hallikset]

wrote this in a haze last night at 3 am. its sad transformers 😔

[cowboycostume]

he's taking math and social studies today. finally. finally he's managed to find the time and the money and the goddamn space to finish this fucking test. the last scores had sat in his PO box in Chicago for four months before he'd been able to pick them up. four months before he could convince John to head back north, all the while dodging questions about whether he had some girl in Illinois he was itching to see again.

standing outside the community college at 6 am, the thick manilla envelopes with his other two scores clutched in one hand, Dean lights a cigarette. he's the first one here (the tests start at eight, but the first time he tried to take one he'd gotten there five minutes before start and gotten stuck in a broken chair in the back of the room. wrecked his focus and his score was abysmally low. waste of money and time - he'd had to retake it)

dean sits on the curb, watching the smoke blend seamlessly into the morning fog, assimilating into the grey dawn light like it had never been there in the first place.

at six fifteen, a maroon Buick that's seen many better days pulls into the parking lot. he watches as the driver climbs out of the car, she's got a large coffee in one hand and her own set of manilla envelopes in the other, a handbag the size of a small dog hangs from the crook of her elbow. he watches as she stuffs the envelopes into the bag before calling out to let her know the doors are still locked. she might as well wait in her car.

she doesn't. instead she takes a seat next to him, bums a smoke. her name is Sasha. they pass the time with the normal bullshit small talk between strangers over cigarettes - where they're from, which test they're taking, how young they dropped out. he gives her the brusque and abridged story about dropping out to care for his younger brother, she says something about getting kicked out at sixteen with pain in her voice.

they lapse back in to silence. the bank sign across the street says it's six thirty and fifty-seven degrees out. the bus he'd gotten off of half an hour ago pulls back up, this time heading in the opposite direction. he debates, for a single second, running back across the street to catch it, giving up on this stupid fucking test

then he thinks of Sam. of his little brother all alone, studying his ass off in California, thinks that maybe this piece of paper will make Dean brave enough to go out and see him. maybe if Sam finds out about the GED, he'll be proud.

the proctor shows up as the bus pulls away, as Dean's resolve hardens. he's a portly, balding man. he unlocks the building, says they can come inside, but they'll have to wait in the lobby until seven.

Sasha goes in.

Dean debates lighting another one but follows her anyway. no point in wasting the pack. not when they're still waiting for the next batch of dummy cards to show up. not when he spent the last of his cash at the western union for the money order to take this test. if he passes, when he passes, he'll buy himself a drink at one of those bars he doesn't admit going to. maybe treat himself to something fruity and sweet, something blended with ice or blue curacao, something that doesn't burn as it goes down. maybe if he doesn't choke on the test he'll actually take someone home.

[vampirephlebotomy]

I Bite At The Hand That Feeds Me, Slap At The Face That Eats Me [flesh au, Seccolata + Horror]

Summary: Cioccolata made the beast that's hiding in his basement, he made the amalgamation that turns over himself and practically boils in excitement when he sees him. It's a good thing he feels the same way.

This fic can be found here!

[cowboycostume]

For the first few years Sam works for a big name practice he keeps his head down, files motions and does research. He works into the night, because that's what is expected. Jess works 16 hour shifts, so all he has to go home to is an empty apartment, anyway.

He excels, as he has at anything he puts his mind to, but he hates it. It's lonely and cutthroat and everything he had been trying to escape. His boss is demanding in a way that reminds Sam of John, and there's no Dean here to deflect, no one to shoulder the burden of unattainable expectations. He considers quitting at least once a week, but he can't quit, because quitting would prove John right, would prove that there was no point in that name brand education Sam had walked away for.

Then he gets a call, collect, from a prison in Sacramento. Dean got popped for grave desecration, and his public defender is convinced he is a devil worshipper. There's no chance he's going to get a fair defense, and even less of a chance that Sam will let him wait in jail for the trial. He calls out of work, drives through the night to pick him up.

Sam manages to get the case dismissed. They didn't have anything concrete, just a scared police force and a rash of missing people. Thank God they hadn't found the car, though. He might not have been able to talk his way out of that one. Dean stays with them through the weekend, at Sam's insistence.

An idea comes to him as he watches the Impala pull away. One so obvious he should have thought of it years ago. The world does need people like his brother, like his father, but people like them need people like him.

He calls Bobby in the morning, gives him the number for the new cell phone he'd purchased last night. They spend an hour starting to hash out the details before Sam has a meeting to get to, and Bobby has three other phones ringing in his kitchen.

He tells Jess everything over dinner on her night off

while I think that sam would ultimately do family law or public defense, I also have more cynical takes that involve him selling out to be a corporate lawyer but idk if we want to confront that. the reality of law school is that it saddles you with a lot of debt and a ton of people go in with public interest dreams and come out with six figure salaries instead. especially if they end up in the top of their class which i think sam would and especially at ivy leagues 

[mizpeak]

i like that you can see it

rated E, 6.7k words, snf

That same pull in George’s gut tugs harder, and he follows it, delicately climbing onto the bed and sitting on his knees at Sapnap’s side. “It’s been a while since we’ve done that,” Sapnap remarks; asking without really asking. George responds with a shy little shrug, and Sapnap’s eyes soften like he understands.

Freaknasty sex sandwiched between raw emotion, I guess

-> read on ao3

[txtscenarios]

"how about we kiss?" / taehyun

rating: explicit

an: gender neutral reader to the best of my ability but taehyun does "top" so if ur uncomfy with that pls don't read!! barebacking, tummy bulging (a little), etc etc., lol

-

you flip to your stomach, cheek smushed into your pillow. you can't get comfortable. you've spent thirty minutes lying here in a dozen different positions, and your body feels lit up from the inside out.

taehyun is lying next to you. he isn't asleep; after nearly a year of dating, you've memorized what his breathing sounds like when he's conscious versus not. he's started sighing each time you fidget, and you're sure he's going to snap any moment now but you just can't help it. you're feeling restless– the prospect of him leaving for japan in just a few days looms over your head, and sleep can't seem to find you.

you just keep thinking about him, which is– it isn't new; he's always on your mind. but now, this time, you miss him before he's even left.

your leg twitches, foot tapping against the mattress. next come your hands, fingers digging into the sheet. finally, you flip to your right side, your back to taehyun, and he groans aloud.

"for the love of god," he starts, and you immediately feel bad because he sounds tired. "what's wrong with you tonight?"

"don't know," you huff. his arm slinks over your waist, tugging you closer to him, your ass flush to his hips. you relax a little beneath his touch, some of the tension seeping out of you. "just have a lot on my mind, i guess."

he presses his lips to your shoulder, soft. "you wanna talk about it?"

"no," you say, quick. and then, "maybe? i don't know." you twist around in his arms, facing him now. his hand comes up to sweep across your cheekbone. "i think i just miss you."

he looks surprised. his eyes widen a little, whites catching the moon's beams in the dark as his brows lift up, up.

"do i seem like i'm being distant?" he asks. and there it is– the attentiveness. he's constantly trying to be the best he can be for you. asks you what he can do better all the time, and never stops trying to learn more about you no matter how much time passes.

"no, you're perfect as usual," you sigh, and when he opens his mouth to disagree, you rush out your words to cut him off. "i just– you're leaving for tour soon. seems like you just got home. i guess 'm just gonna miss sleeping next to you."

his eyes go soft, brown irises deep and warm as his mouth twists into a small smile. "baby," he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, chin, nose. "baby, baby," he rolls you over so that you're on your back, his elbows boxing you in as he leans over you. "we've still got a few more days together, and i'm gonna call you all the time when i'm gone. you're gonna be so annoyed."

"no," you pout, gently punching his shoulder. "you could never annoy me."

he tucks his nose into your neck, lips trailing up the column of your throat as he breathes you in, chest expanding. you rest your hands on his shoulders, before sliding your palms down to the small of his back. he's big and strong and toned, but he's lean, too, and sometimes he feels so small against you.

"i could...try and tire you out?" he murmurs against the shell of your ear. his hot breath against your skin makes you shiver, and you involuntarily tug him closer. his hips press against yours.

"and how would you do that?" you ask, intrigued. the other boys are home, but they're all asleep most likely, and you and taehyun know how to keep quiet. most of the time.

"well," he leaves a chaste kiss to the center of your lips, his cheeks a little flushed. "if you can't sleep, how about we kiss?"

things always start so innocently with him. it's not that he's innocent– he's proven to you a million and one ways (and in about six different positions) over the last year that he isn't. but he's so delicate in the way that he goes about it; he still blushes bright pink when you take your clothes off for him, and your kisses get him hard in a matter of moments. he is easy to please simply because he loves you, and you find his adoration so charming.

"i couldn't say no to you, even if i wanted to," you tell him, and there's a flash of a smile on his face, mouth slightly upturned, before you're tugging him down for a real kiss.

from here, it's almost too easy.

he is sweet in the way that he opens up for you the moment you twine your fingers in his hair. his body curls towards you like a flower seeking out the sun, chest pressed to yours, elbows shaking as he holds himself up. his lips are soft, plush against your own, and he's content to let you take the lead but will try and steal it back from you if you're not careful. your fingers tug soft at his hair, smoothing their way down his scalp, and he exhales through his nose.

when his lips part for you, mouth opening as it slots with yours, he tastes and smells of mint toothpaste. you go slow with him, always slow, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip before carefully sliding into his mouth. he presses back against you, wet and wanton, tiny whine bubbling in his throat as you lick across his teeth. he falls apart in moments, seconds when it comes to you, and his eagerness is so, so hot.

you gently push at his shoulder, and he reluctantly pulls away from you to fall onto his back. you climb into his lap, legs spread as you get settled, and god, god he's already hard against you, leaking through his boxers. though you've hardly even started making out yet, you know how the night is going to end; neither of you can help yourselves around each other, and he's all smooth, lean arms peeking through a white muscle tank, and gray briefs stained dark with precome.

you kiss down his jaw, tongue lapping at the sensitive curve of his ear before your teeth gently tug at his lobe. he's breathing hard now– you're well aware of how much he likes to be kissed here, and his breathy little whimpers paint the air fiery red.

your hands shuck his shirt up, revealing his toned tummy. his abs twitch beneath your touch, and you lean back to really take him in. he's tanned recently, pretty and golden, and you curl your fingers as you rake your nails down his skin just to see the pink marks they leave behind.

"oh," he breathes, hips bucking beneath you of their own volition, nearly throwing you off balance. "what are you-" you roll your hips down against his cock, and his head falls back, hair splayed across his pillow like a halo. "fuck– 'm supposed to be tiring you out, not the other way around."

"you'll have plenty of time to tire me out when you're fucking me," you say, shrugging easily.

he positively moans at that, and you feel his cock twitch against you as he squeezes his eyes shut tight.

"you can't just say stuff like that," he complains, though there's no real malice in it. "you have no idea what you're doing to me."

"you sure?" you tease, fingertips trailing over the head of his cock through his boxers. he exhales sharply. "god, hyunnie, i don't– how are you so hard already?"

"it's you," he says fast. his hands come up to rest on your waist, fingertips sliding beneath your t-shirt. "'s always you. something about you just...i can't help it. i always want you so bad."

you smile a little, cheeks warm. you push his shirt up further, nipples hardening the moment they're exposed to the cool air, and you watch as his mouth falls open as your thumb sweeps across one of them. he's so sensitive to touch, whether it be a fleeting kiss or his cock sliding into you– he always reacts strongly. you bend forward, taking one of the little nubs between your teeth as your fingers pinch at the other. his hips jerk, tummy tensing beneath you as he whines, high-pitched and needy.

after a moment, he slides a hand through your hair, gently pulling you off. you leave a trail of saliva behind, and he catches it with his thumb.

"want you now, please," he says, polite and sweet and quiet. your heart flutters in your chest. "it's been so long since i- since we, i mean-"

"since you were inside of me?" you finish for him, cocking your head to the side. he nods, once, tips of his ears burning red, and you know he's right. between preparations for the japanese leg of their current tour and general livestreams, school, and dance practices, he's been busier than you've ever seen him. the most you've done in weeks is some frottage here, and some oral there. you like getting on your knees for him just before he passes out from exhaustion, but you've admittedly missed the intimacy of full-blown sex.

"sorry," he says, and you frown, unsure as to what he's even apologizing for. he continues before you're able to ask. "i don't want to push you. i know i'm being needy tonight, i just– you never stop being amazing to me, and i've missed you. truthfully, i'm exhausted, but i really just need to be close to you."

"baby, shh," you cup his face between your hands, squishing his cheeks. "you have nothing to apologize for. i want you too, okay? just as bad."

"really?" he asks, slightly distorted as you squeeze his cheeks a little harder.

you grin, leaning down to kiss him. "really."

he is quiet for a moment, just looking at you, and your hands fall away from his face. his brown eyes shine, lips curled into a smile, and he finally says, "just wanna be close to you tonight."

"alright," you nod. you climb off of his lap, lying on your back. with your fist curled in his t-shirt, you tug him on top of you once more. "so be close to me, then. take what you need."

his face cools into something blank, eyes dark, and he murmurs lowly, "darling, you don't mean that."

you swallow, steeling yourself. "i do. i want– i just want to give you everything, hyunnie. so...take what you need."

he is swift when he wants something, fingers working fast against the tie of your pajama pants. they're tugged down past your knees before you're even able to blink, your underwear going next. the air is so cold, goosebumps breaking out across your thighs, but his hands are there, on you, so warm as they smooth over your skin. he fumbles around haphazardly in his bedside drawer, bottle of lube secured between his fingers. he likes to be extra careful with you, prepared to the fullest, as he always wants to make sure that you're comfortable.

"we've gotta be quiet, okay?" he says, slicking his long fingers up. your eyes go fuzzy as you stare at them. "because of the others."

"i know," you manage to get out, throat suddenly dry. it clicks as you swallow, and his fingers prod against your entrance, careful.

"ready?" he asks, and you nudge him with your knee, urging him on. you wish he'd stop talking, wish he'd fill you up, and he brushes his fingers against your slick opening without actually pushing them inside. "i asked you a question, sweetheart."

"yeah," you nod fast, a tad breathless. your heart feels like it's going to explode. "'m ready, please, just– hurry, hyunnie."

and, well. he's always been a sucker for a little bit of begging. you know it as well as he does, and it works like a charm. he slides two fingers into you right away, curling up, up, pushing deep as he scissors you open. your back arches, spine bowing as you gasp, loud, and he uses his free hand to pin your hips to the mattress.

"lie still," he tsks, shaking his head.

he slowly pulls his fingers out of you almost all the way before shoving them back in, fast. he spreads them as he works, making sure to stretch you properly, and when he adds a third, you shove your knuckles between your teeth to muffle the noises that you're making.

"god," he sighs, dreamy and low, "you're so tight. it's been too long. wanna be inside you now."

he's never usually impatient; likes to take his time with you despite how much he whines and whimpers, but you see the way his cock twitches beneath his boxers each time you squeeze around his fingers, and you're aching to be filled just as much as he's yearning to fill you. you reach out, fingers curling at his waistband, tugging his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free. you don't have the patience to wrestle them off of him, and it seems that he doesn't either. he slides his fingers out of you, wiping them on the bedsheets, and just as quick, he's lining the head of his cock up with your entrance.

"i really wanted to go slow with you," he whispers, airy, "but i don't have the patience tonight. hope that's okay with you."

you chuckle, chest filling with warmth as you card your fingers through his hair. he is so pretty, so kind, and you're so deeply in love with him that it almost hurts.

"so long as you're inside of me, like, now," you say, "i don't mind that you don't go slow."

he wastes no more time, one hand holding himself up with the other curled around his cock. he guides himself into you, and you hold your breath as he slides in, nice and slick, until you feel him in your tummy. he bottoms out at a gradual pace, careful not to hurt you, and you reach down to prod at your abdomen, pressing at the head of his cock through your belly.

"shit, don't," he snatches your wrist, pinning your hand to the bed. "i'll come," he says, strained.

"so fast?" you say through a smile, only teasing him. he fixes you with a glare, but it's mostly harmless. "baby can't control himself when he's inside of me, huh?"

you've never seen his face get so red in all the time you've known him. he slaps a hand over your mouth, brows furrowed, and drills into you deep enough that you go sliding up the bed with a moan.

"stop talking," he utters, voice pitched. "you're so– 'm gonna make you shut up. just keep still and let me fuck you, okay?"

you don't even have the chance to think of something smart to say. the moment he pulls his hand away from your mouth, his cock drags nearly all the way out of you before he jerks forward, fucking into you hard. the rhythm he sets is smooth, relentless, and his knees dig into the mattress as he grabs hold of your hip, fucking in, out, in, out; consistent and quick and sharp. he never falters, never stops, perfection seeping into everything that he does. he is a try-hard except he doesn't even really try, and he knows exactly how to angle his cock to send you reeling each and every time.

you'd told him to take what he needed, had been earnest about it, and he seems to be forgoing inhibitions and actually doing it. he doesn't stop to voice his worries about hurting you as he so often does when the two of you do this, maybe partially because he knows he isn't, but also because you'd told him to take, and he's listening. he fucks into you fast, hips jerking, cock twitching as he fills you up, and he's making these heady little whimpers, whining high in the back of his throat. you can't get enough of them. he hardly stops to catch a breath, solely focused on the way that his cock slides into you and seems to fit so right.

"i like you like this," you tell him, hardly able to speak as your stomach curls with pleasure, but you just have to tell him. he needs to know. "love seeing you be a little bit selfish. i want you to feel good, hyunnie. want you to take and take until your satisfied, okay?"

he nods fast, jerky, hair flopping against his forehead. he's beyond words now; you know it simply by looking at him, all creased brows, mouth falling open as he moans. you're not going to last long at this pace; have never been one to come from his cock alone, but tonight is going to be different. your tummy twists with each thrust, and you peek down to watch as your stomach positively bulges with his cock.

you pull him down for a kiss, all teeth and tongue, his canines sharp as you lap at them. he shudders against you, biting at your bottom lip as his rhythm falters just a bit, just for a second. he thrusts into you once, twice, three times in quick succession, crying out into your mouth each and every time. your body jerks with his movements, limp against the mattress, fingernails digging into the sheets.

"tell me," you breathe, half delirious, nipping at taehyun's throat. "come on, baby. you have to– need you to tell me."

he doesn't ask what you're talking about. just takes one look at you, and he knows.

"i love you," he manages to get out, hardly above a whisper. he sounds broken, fucked, and you bite down hard at the base of his neck, teeth pinching and sharp. "god, fuck, i love you. you drive me crazy."

"me too," you tell him. you pull him back by his hair so that you can meet his gaze. his eyes are big and wild. "love you, too. 'm gonna miss you."

"no," he shakes his head, and his hips buck forward pathetically, cock twitching inside of you. "you're not allowed. 'm not gonna give you the chance to miss me. i'm gonna fill you up with my come, gonna bruise your pretty hips so that you'll always be thinking of me."

"christ," you breathe, stuttered.

taehyun is precise in the way that he drills into you again, again, again, tenacious and unrelenting. his hips meet yours hard, and he holds you in place so that you're unable to squirm away. there will certainly be bruises; the kinds of marks you'll press your fingertips to when he's gone, dildo buried up to the hilt as you think about him. he uses one hand to grab your wrist, twining your fingers together, and when he presses the back of your hand into the mattress, you let him use you as leverage to fuck into you faster.

in an impressive show of strength (a little bit show-offey if you do say so yourself), he uses his other arm to sweep under the small of your back, lifting you so that your hips are floating slightly above the mattress. the angle sends him impossibly deep faster than you're able to keep up with, and his cock pierces into you once, twice, before your back bows, and you're coming all over his length, and the sheets.

he's so good about it, slowing down while you ride it out so as not to overstimulate you. you can't seem to stop, shockwaves of pleasure burning bright in your stomach, all the way down to your toes as you come and come.

"you can keep going," you tell him, not fully recovered yet, words shaky around the edges.

he doesn't ask you if you're sure; is far too gone for that. he pushes your knees to your chest, the stretch uncomfortable but bearable as his cock works into your hole fast. his hips have lost their rhythm enough so that you're able to tell that he's close, and you want to get him there. want him to fill you up so much so that his come spills out of you the moment his cock isn't pushing it in anymore.

your teeth work at his ear, jaw, his neck– wherever you can reach. you're careful not to leave marks, but you know he likes a little bit of pain. you bite when you can get away with it, relishing in the way the sting makes his cock twitch, weeping precome inside of you.

it's a tug to his hair the same moment you nip at his ear that really does him in. you see the moment it happens, plateau reached. his mouth goes slack, popped open enough to reveal a cherry red tongue, little incisors on show. his stomach tenses, flexing, and he trembles against you as his cock slides into you so fucking smooth, so easy.

"oh," he whimpers, and then, "oh, i can't– baby, i'm-"

he doesn't need to finish his sentence. you know he's close as his cock seems to swell impossibly further inside of you. he drops to his elbows, nose nudging your temple as his hips buck frantically, desperate.

"baby," he whimpers into your ear, broken, "baby, baby, oh-"

he comes with a moan so loud your eyes go wide. you scramble to slap your hand over his mouth, but that doesn't deter him. he cries out, high and shaky, cock jerking as he pumps into you a handful of times, filling you up. you feel it each time it spurts from his length, hot and thick, painting your insides. he rocks into you all of the way, hips flushed to your ass, before he drops. he's careful not to put all of his weight on you, but he's clearly tired, and the little whimpers he makes as his spent cock spreads his come around inside of you have you flushing down to your chest.

you could fall asleep like this, you think, him pressed to your chest like a weighted blanket. you feel sticky and sweaty but full, and the thought of him pulling out of you is even less appealing than him going on tour.

he must feel the same way because he nuzzles into you, sleepy and yawning, eyelashes tickling your neck. his arms curl around your waist, your hands sweeping through his messy hair, and his little breaths puff hot against your throat not even a full minute later.

and if you wake up in the morning feeling fully-rested to a group text from the other members, all complaining about the noise, well. taehyun's sheepish smile and pretty eyes are enough to stave off the embarrassment.

-

an: not betad as usual. my first taehyun fic! yay :D

[cowboycostume]

I'm gonna unashamedly co-op your ask to let @envydean know I wrote a dark series w/ permanent character death they might like to check out.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Would you ever write a fic with (permanent) major character death (or a dark dark fic)?

hmm. probably not - permanent MCD makes my hurt heart too much. also dark fics make me run to the hills usually so i dunno if i could write it :p

[leclerity]

stupid gets you killed

Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you have an emotional conversation after his reckless driving at a race. a/n: a short but angsty one, with a happy ending!

It could’ve been the end.

The way it felt, it almost was.

You watch as the red of the Ferrari and the green of the Aston Martin come close, inches apart, with Stroll nearly putting it in the back of your boyfriend’s car. Everyone around you gasps and for a split second, you see them touch and Charles’s car fly off into the grandstands – but that doesn’t happen. They don’t touch. Charles drives away unscathed, though you know that won’t be the end of it.

“That was too close,” says Arthur, shaking his head at the screen.

“He won’t like this too much,” you say and grab a pair of headphones lying around, listening in.

Everything is okay with the car, Bryan Bozzi says.

That was not okay! Charles screams. Who does he think he is?! Driving like an idiot… He should know better!

Keep your head calm, you’ve got forty laps to go.

You take off the headphones and tell Arthur what you just overheard. He shakes his head again, but you both know there’s nothing the two of you can do about it. Charles has been under pressure, ready to burst at any given moment, running second in the championship with maybe—maybe—a chance at something more. Anything that threatens it… Well, it throws him off.

You’re just waiting for the moment it happens.

The race keeps running, you listen in to the radio every so often, and his complaints and agitation are getting more obvious. He’s driving riskier, not caring enough about tyre management, and there’s a few moments when his car gets a little too close to another car.

He finishes in fourth. It’s not where he wanted to be but it’s better than out of the race, you tell yourself. There was a few moments where you held your breath, waiting to see if the anger is going to slip into careless mistakes, and it made you angry. Your boyfriend is better than this.

When he finishes the race, you run straight into his arms. “You did so well! I’m proud of you.”

“I could’ve done better,” he says.

“I know,” you say, and kiss him again. “Next time.”

Charles kisses you, too, before going to speak to others in the garage, keeping one eye on you at all times. You know he’s being hard on himself, but you see his clenched jaw, sunken shoulders, and you know this is going to be a tougher one than usual.

He’s in your orbit the most of the evening, glancing at you even when he’s in the media pen. You can hear some of the questions he’s being asked and a lot of them are about the incident and about his dangerous driving he nearly got a penalty for, and you can already hear the regret in his voice. He looks at you every time it comes up, as if he already knows how much it upset you.

At your side, Arthur gives you a nudge. “Are you going to talk some sense into him when you’re back at the hotel?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“That was scary.”

You nod. “Too scary. I get the pressure and all, but…”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, “I don’t want to feel like I might lose my brother because he’s being angry and stupid.”

When you get home, you get dinner – he does the perfunctory celebrations and goes back to the hotel, where you’re waiting with him with your guys’ favourite takeaway. He had some time to hang out with the other drivers and now it’s time to hang out with you… But not before you give him a piece of mind.

He knows something’s wrong the moment he enters the hotel room.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you say.

He frowns. “Okay. You sure?”

You give him a long look.

Charles sits down next to you, looking exhausted but ready to devour the food – but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits with his elbows on his knees, hands held together. “It’s the race.”

“Mhm.”

“That’s why you’re giving me attitude.”

“Mhm.”

“Is it because of the Stroll incident?”

You shake your head. He should know better and he does, it will just take him a moment.

He sighs and leans into the couch, a defeated look on his face. “I should’ve handled it better, right?”

“Yeah.” You put a hand on his thigh. “Driving like that, Charles… You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I would’ve been fine.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Babe—”

“Don’t babe me,” you say, shaking your head. “You got angry and…. Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed.”

Charles opens his mouth and closes it, knowing fair well that there’s nothing he could say in his defence that would make you change your mind. He sees it all on your face, you know it – the terror you’d gone through waiting to see if his anger will make him slip up, make a mistake; the threat of losing him.

He takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it, before placing it on his chest, right where his heart is. “Y/N,” he says, gently. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me.”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.”

“It frightens me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I just—The thought of you—”

“I know. C’mere.”

Charles gives your hand a gentle tug and then your head is on his chest and his arms are wrapped around you, keeping you warm and safe. “I’m sorry for scaring you. My job is scary, but I shouldn’t make it any more difficult than it already is.”

He kisses the top of your head and you feel a few tears escaping down your cheeks, and he holds you even tighter.

“I’ll be less angry next time, I promise,” he whispers. “Less stupid. For you. Okay?”

You nod instead of answering, and he pulls your chin up with a gentle finger, and then he’s wiping your tears and kissing you gently, promising over and over again to never make you feel like that again – and he doesn’t.

[livingproofoftbd]

brandy

rated m | 31.8k words | single chapter

tags: mpreg, unplanned pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff, confessions, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, non explicit sex

like all stupid mistakes, it starts with a bottle of alcohol. specifically, a good bottle of brandy.

or, dream and george have a baby

-

huge thanks to @dwtdog and @oz-anonymous for beta reading ily guys <33

also thanks to @uftopia for the ideas when i sent you an anon like a month and a half ago lol (i used most of them)

[cowboycostume]

It takes Dean a while to adjust to sharing a bed. He hogs the covers and sleeps in the dead center of the bed. more than once Cas has woken up to use the bathroom in the night and come back to an alert, armed Dean (they agree it isn't smart to keep the gun loaded by the bed after the first time) Cas, for his part, is a clingy sleeper and runs hot. He is an occasional insomniac, and a fidgety bed partner.

Dean is terrible in the mornings, but rises early on his own, unable to sleep past 8. Cas usually wakes up when Dean extricates himself from the tangle of limbs and blanket, but waits until he can smell coffee before joining him in the kitchen. They don't talk much in the mornings, but they sit shoulder to shoulder, knocking knees or ankles affectionately.

Dean makes them breakfast, usually scrambled eggs and a side of bacon or sausage, but sometimes pancakes or biscuits and gravy. Cas washes. Dean dries.

Some mornings, they do none of this. Dean still wakes up by 8, still makes coffee, but Cas doesn't get out of bed. Instead, Dean comes in bearing two mugs, sets one on Cas' nightstand and kisses his temple. Some mornings it's Cas who has to make the coffee and coax Dean out of his own head. These mornings they do talk; about the dreams, about the ways in which their bodies ache, about the ways the world has moved on.

They don't hunt much, anymore. Maybe if there is something local, maybe if Claire needs help (which she's gotten better at asking for), maybe if Sam has an inexperienced hunter that needs the assist.

They don't get day jobs, or open a bar, but they do move out of the bunker, out of Kansas entirely. They "inherit" an expansive (formerly haunted) farmhouse in Nebraska and fix it up. There's more room than the two of them could ever need, but it's rarely just the two of them. Claire stays with them at least once a month, and Sam sends any hunters low on funds their way. Dean fixes vehicles and stitches up wounds. Cas repairs weapons and packs pb&j sandwiches to take when they leave.

Cas diligently turned the back acre into a large garden and apiary. In the summers he sells honey and whatever excess produce he has at the farmer's market in town. Dean brews beer in the barn. Occasionally moonshine, if Cas has a good corn crop that year. He sells it to townies and hunters alike.

Sam and Eileen come to stay in the summers, and their son follows Cas around everywhere, asking about a thousand questions a minute. Cas patiently answers each one until the boy runs out.

Sometimes Dean catches Cas sitting alone in the garden at sunset, or just before a storm rolls in - eyes closed, face to the sky, lips moving soundlessly. He knows to give him space for this, knows that Cas feels Jack's absence more acutely than the rest of them. Dean prays to Jack occasionally, too. Usually on Jack's birthday, and always on the day Cas came back. He apologizes often in these prayers, but he gives thanks far more.

They have friends in town who know nothing about their lives before. Dean plays poker once a month at the firehouse, Cas has a semi-hostile relationship with the woman who runs the garden center at the hardware store. They have a regular table and waitress at the restaurant in town. They attend all the stupid town events, hand in hand for the spring fling carnival, camped out on a blanket in the park for fireworks on the 4th of July, they wax and shine the Impala for the fall festival and car show; Cas bundles them both up for every night of the Holiday market in December. When people in town ask how long they've been married, neither of them bother to correct it. (Dean figures that what they have is probably more binding than any paper from a courthouse would ever be, anyway)

Dean makes Cas promise to let him go first. He figures he has seen Cas die enough for one lifetime. He also figures that if Cas can't hold up his end of that deal, he'll probably be close behind anyway.

[vampirephlebotomy]

Where Do You Get Off? (Being So Goddamn Beautiful?) [Seccolata fic, Secco lives au]

Short summary: Everything was over now, and Secco had escaped with minimal injuries, but now he had to go home. Alone. To a cold and empty house.

You can read the fic here!

[mizpeak]

sick of meaning, just wanna hold you

10.5k words, DNN, rated E, hurt/comfort, getting together

Like dominos, the first one fell, and there was no stopping it from crashing into the second one, and then the second one into the third. A lightning-speed, unstoppable chain of events, all linked back to one simple moment.

Sapnap is pulling away from Dream and George, and he won’t tell them why. Dream is worried he’s going to lose one of his best friends. He’s determined to get through to Sapnap.

read here