#maybe after the little bedroom ordeal

[theorist-fox]

Un-evil

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

This is filthy. Short and downright filthy.

Crossposted on AO3.

Part 1 >> Part 2 >> Part 3

Word count: 2k

Summary: Simon f*cks you stupid. He's not sorry, and neither are you.

18+ (Can't stress this enough)

CW: smut. that's it. that's the plot. it's just PWP. it's got a little fluff at the end, but it's smut.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Pain should be something evil, shouldn’t it? Yet you’re mostly positive that Simon’s hands aren’t evil – at least, not when they land on you.

But it's hard to prove your words right when he has his fingers curled into a tight fist around a handful of your hair. It's difficult, if anyone were to see, to convince them that he isn't trying to split you in half, by the way he has you curve your back in an impossible angle.

However, you’d gladly give a Ted talk about how un-evil he is being.

Naturally, the image might not seem the most innocent, so you’d have to work tirelessly to sound convincing. On all fours on the mattress of his own bedroom, with your feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Curled toes and stiff calves. Head so thrown back that your eyes are locked to the ceiling – or, well, they would be.

If they hadn’t been rolling back for the past – what? Night? What time is it, exactly?

In truth, the only thing you’re seeing is the back of your eyelids. Luckily the ceiling ain’t all that to look at.

Your throat is so tight and coiled that your breaths come out ragged and – bloody fucking hell – almost pained. And again, there is a bit of pain. A pinch of it. 

It would be a lot, with your hair being pulled and your back forced into an arch, but the pleasure is just so overwhelming you feel nothing else. The sting of your scalp and the ache of your spine only enhance what’s happening at the other end of you. 

How good he’s fucking you.

It’s deranged, honestly. 

Someone must be thinking a bleeding homicide is occurring in the Ghost’s quarters. You'd love to have some containment, acting a little more prude even if he's pounding his cock right into you something fierce. Maybe mewl and moan and be all breathy and shy. 

But your neck is so thrown back that the groans coming out of you are mostly punched out by the man himself each time he thrusts in and simultaneously pulls back at your hair to slam you against himself.

On the other hand, his grunts are muffled by the fabric of his stupid balaclava. 

Before the whole ordeal started, you told him you wouldn’t fuck him if he wore that thing.

“Not even sure you wash it, L.T.” You’d said, smirking and sounding so proud of having something to mock him for – because he's always so bloody perfect on the field, isn't he.

But he’d shut your mouth spare minutes later, when he’d throw you on your back on his bed, making you feel like you weighed a pound and few spare coins. Lifted his mask up to his nose. Snatched your khakis and knickers off all at once.

And ate you out with such fervor and insistence you were almost positive you’d stopped breathing for a while during the whole meal.

Then, he’d taken off the mask, wiped his mouth with it after you’d soaked it with your orgasm, and put it back on.

“Washed it now.”

Smug cunt.

But now pride and ego and whatnot feel like fickle things, much like your aching back, burning throat, and the impending cramps in your calves.

Now, as your mind squabbles in a puddle of itself, almost disassociating, Simon must notice it. And oh, he doesn’t like that in the slightest. Where are you going, with your pretty little head, when all your blood should be pumping down to where he needs you warm and wet.

“Come back ‘ere,” he grunts, bending forward and pulling your head further back at the same time. He hooks one arm around your front so that he can keep you up when he notices you're all loose and flaccid.

Palm flat to your chest, he presses you flush against his own.

His eyes are hooded and heavy as they lock with yours. Your face is so flushed and sweaty you must look on the brink of collapse, and he can’t deny it has him a little worried.

“Good?” He asks gruffly, and although concerned, his onslaught on your pussy is relentless.

You smile, all teeth. Your lips have drool smeared all over. Your eyes are glossy and heavy. He's been pounding into you for the past hour, you came into his mouth once and on his cock at least twice. The sounds he's punching out of your lips are raunchy and downright pornographic.

It makes something weird and warm swim in his chest.

Fucking hell.

“Words, love.” It’s a demand, but it’s not said unkindly. He’s more than alright with the idea of fucking you stupid, but not so much with the thought of fucking you into a blackout.

And when you don’t respond and get lost in your body again, eyes rolling back once more, he harshly tugs at your hair. “Sergeant.”

Tears are prickling the corners of your eyes when you open them. However, the contrast is striking, with the wheezing moan that concomitantly leaves your lips. 

You fucking like it, don’t you? Dirty slag.

A discovery, you are. Truly.

He loves it. 

“Solid,” you stutter. Your voice is raspy and wet. "Sir."

He loves that too. 

And admittedly finds it almost humorous, how he can make you unravel like that. You came to his door that night, all commanding as if you had any right over him, saying the two of you should stop dancing around each other and get it over with. That you’re adults and that if he was going to use the regulations excuse you were going to blow a gasket because everything you lot do on the field is against the so-called rules, hence a shagwould be the least of you two’s problems.

He hadn’t even had time to rebut. You were so right it hurt his pride. So, he fucked all that arrogance out of you.

And God, did it feel good. You felt good.

You were right, after all. He won't tell you, though. Doesn't need to chub up your ego any further, it's already fighting for space with his own.

He hums at your response. Leaves the hold around your torso and you flop forward like a wet rag, face first in the sheets.

Simon grabs your hair to lift you up, delighted to hear your ecstatic laugh as your head is yanked back once again. 

He growls, “Good fuckin' girl."

And he rams into you again, using the grip on your hair as leverage. Your groans are guttural and fierce, so loud that even he is a little worried someone might eavesdrop on some of them. 

Of course, this is no time for worries and concerns, all sublimated by the scorching heat between your legs. Warmest fucking place he’s ever been in. 

‘S a lot to say, he thinks, since he’s been through hell and back already.

However, he does feel a little merciful. Sure, you’re heavenly in this position, completely at his service, but it’s been a while and you must be aching. You're going to wake up, later, with the worst back pain of your life and a few cracking joints. 

Right, not that he cares. But you’re already a pain to deal with when you’re all healthy and cracking jokes and smiling like you give two shits about him, he can’t imagine how whiny you must be when you’re knackered and it's because of him.

He bends forward, then, chest to your back, and curls his free arm around your belly. Fingers sneakily reach down and trace your pussy. Palm cupping your mons while his ring and middle finger outline your lips. For just a second, he settles at the base of his cock, feeling how the shaft plunges so easily right inside of you. The stretch of your hole sucking him in. How wet you are – Christ.

Like this, he has his mouth next to your ear, but he’s not pounding into you with the same fierceness he’s used until now. And your voice has dulled, probably because he’s relented the grip in your hair, letting your head loll forward.

He looks at you through the haze of sex, trying to push through the mist of bliss you’ve shrouded him in. And your face is different. Your eyes are wide, staring blankly ahead, lips parted to take in sharp breaths. 

He panics for a moment, but it quickly melts away when he pushes in a little deeper and you keel over with a groan. He must be hitting something new, something different. 

Something good.

Which is why he hits it again. And again. And you keen and moan, fisting the sheets and punching the mattress. 

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, look at ya.” He rumbles with a chuckle you can feel rippling in his chest against your back.

In the meantime, because he is so un-evil, the hand he had on your pussy finally finds purchase on your clit. He can feel how raw it must be. How stiff and puffy it is under the rough pads of his fingers.

Your breath hitches the moment he starts rubbing it. Doesn’t bother to be gentle with it, because he’s found out you like it when he barks and bites. 

He’s proven right because the tears that were prickling your eyes before are now flowing freely down your cheeks. Your lips tug at the corners and you wheeze, one hand of yours grasping at the forearm of the same hand giving you bliss. Cheek to the mattress.

You dig your nails into his flesh – scar-thickened skin covered in black ink. 

You’re squirming under his weight, with your arse up and back in a pretty arch, as he works you inside and out with hands and cock all the same.

The groan you let out now truly sounds as if you're in pain. Your free hand lifts to grip the fabric of his balaclava on top of his head, as if you were trying to find purchase on his hair but found cotton instead.

“Oi,” he grunts, sounding uncharacteristically worried, but doesn’t stop until you say so.

And thank Christ he doesn’t, because mere seconds later your cunt clenches so tight around him it threatens to chop his dick off. You go ramrod stiff under him. Throat tight and allowing only the passage of mewls that pitch upward. 

Three fingers swipe side to side over your clit. He pounds into you once, twice – again, again, again, until he’s pushed out of you.

“Jesus –“ 

You’re splashing on his cock, a thick stream spraying directly on his sheets. Muffled sounds of water hitting fabric. You’re so fucking silent he bets you’ve stopped breathing as you came, because not even a second later you’re catching your breath with a guttural groan that goes straight to his dick.

He’s dumbfounded and burning, but thankfully has still enough brainpower to realize he has to fuck you through it – and so he does just that. Puts it back in and lays fully above you, flattening your front to the bed. Your thighs are quivering, and your pussy is still clenching rhythmically around him. He thrusts in more and feels tinier splashes gushing out of you each time he pulls out.

Fuck, you’re so wet he barely feels any friction. 

A whine escapes you at the intrusion, but you obediently lay your cheek on the mattress, exhausted, and catch your breath, looking over your shoulder up to him. 

You’re flushed and so pretty. Looking like an angel and not like the devil that you are, who’s just squirted over his bedsheets.

You deserve a little reward for the show you put on for him because he's surely not going to forget how your cunt fluttered around nothing when it gushed on his bed. It's going to stay imprinted in his forebrain and he's going to relive it whenever his hand won't feel like enough.

He snatches the balaclava off his head and tosses it on the floor. He sees your eyes soften at the sight of the disfigured man underneath, but he won’t have any of that – this is just sex. Just fucking sex.

Before he can have his head wander to unwanted (kinder) places, he roughly grabs your jaw and keeps fucking you raw. His lips slam onto yours in a kiss that sizzles with lust and resentment – because you can’t bring feelings into this, and he will forever hate you if you dare.

“Fuckin’ pretty,” he grunts in your face, as he ruts into you, now propped on his forearms. “Think you can do tha’ again?”

You huff. Probably not.

“Depends how – fuck – good y’ are.” As if he didn’t just wring you dry. 

He chuckles darkly, and bites down your shoulder, making you hiss. “Smartarse. Don’t you dare, now.”

“Dare what, L.T.” 

Oh, you little devil. 

“Stop with the lieutenant shite.” He chides.

You snake a hand in his palm and intertwine your fingers with his. He clenches his fist to tighten the hold because he's a weak, weak man.

“What should I call you, then?” You ask through heaving breaths, “Ain’t calling you Ghost, surely.”

He leans down and kisses your cheek.

You know my name, bird.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He grunts, and surrenders. “Simon will do.”

He feels your cheek lift under the pressure of your smile, right against his lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Simon will do.”

[poppy-metal]

after the whole patrick lending you to art for forgiveness ordeal…… you are so unbelievably embarrassed. it’s bad enough patrick knows what you’re like, what you really want from a man, but now art knows? art, who you’ve spoken to maybe 5 times, knows the lows, knows how far you would degrade yourself to make the man you love happy. art, a mere stranger, knows that when you’re used your pussy gets soaking wet. when you’re disrespected you squeeze like you’re afraid he’ll leave. and being the kind warm person he is, he smiles at you, he waves at you like you’re friends. like you know anything about the other except for what they feel like on the inside. and god, he hadn’t even used protection. he came inside you in front of your boyfriend, and now he was free to roam the halls and smile and wave and come up to patrick and hang out and you got so quiet and so flushed it was like you were the third wheel. what really got you was how much you liked it. you liked being used. you wanted art to fuck you as hard as he needed to forgive patrick, you wanted him to hurt you. but something about it left a craving, a lingering desire. he didn’t like you like you liked him. you wanted him, him, but the only reason he did it that night was to get back at patrick, to set things right. you understood why he was so mean, but the docile and nagging part of yourself wanted to be so good he had to be nice. nice, kind, warm art. the art patrick got. you wanted that.

patrick, ever observant, knows exactly how you feel. knows you want more, but don’t know how to ask. knows art wants more, because once they’re reconciled, best friends talk. started off as a joke over beer, asking would it be so bad if it happened again? decided it wouldn’t be bad. it would be really really good. and maybe it would be even better if it happened again and again and again.

so they pull you into arts bedroom, saying they wanna “talk”, but they mainly talk to each other about you. you sit between them, cheeks burning, as patrick palms the squashed fat of your ass, as he’s allowed to do, while art gently pushes your hair away from your neck and breathes there, as you didn’t know he was allowed to do.

“patrick told me you’re embarrassed about what we did. is that true, baby?”

baby. you shudder and look to patrick, panicked, but he only smiles. he raised his eye brows and on command you answer.

“yes.”

“i’m really sorry about that. aren’t i, pat?”

“mhm. he wants to make it up to you. you don’t have to be embarrassed you know.”

their hands and mouths moved like magnets closer to your skin, patrick pawing at your thigh and ass as arts nose brushes your throat as he kisses your collarbone.

“ok,” you say, barely over a whisper.

“ok? ok what?”

“ok. make it up to me.”

such a brave command in such a weak voice. they both laugh, and the air tickles your neck.

they are going to take good care of you. their good little girl

im gonna bite you like im really gonna do it im gonna bite you im gonna sink my teeth in you

brain short circuiting actually head empty just patrick holding your thighs to your chest so art can eat slowly at your cunt like the slut he is - flashing those blue eyes at you. like hes cataloging your expressions, finding what places he has to tongue at to make your thighs twitch, your toes curl.

patricks not a bystander either. he bands one thick arm beneath your knees to keep you in place, his other hand reaching up to cup your jaw - turn your head to his so he can see you too. "you like my friends tongue on your pussy?" when your chest heaves and your eyes dart away he grins and leans in, "you dont have to lie. i think it's fucking hot."

then his tongue is in your mouth and you're opening for him, splitting your lips to let him inside at the same time arts tongue parts your lower lips to lap across your entrance. you cant help how your cunt squeezes, trying to drag him inside. he pulls back.

"can i eat her ass?"

you gasp when patrick lets you go. chin wet with spit from his thorough tongue fuck of your mouth. it isn't lost on you how art didn't bother to ask you, he asks patrick. that makes you squirm. arch back into patricks hard body which rumbles with a low laugh.

"you're gonna make her fall in love with you if you do that. she loves having her ass played with. think she'd be happy if i just fucked that hole and didn't touch her pussy at all."

art is gripping his cock through his boxers. squeezing the head. "fuck." his eyes finally meet yours and he licks his lips. "you want me to?"

as much as you do love it, its still embarrassing to admit. its such an intimate place. even now you can feel your rim clenching like its shy. shy but eager for the attention.

"o-okay." you tell him. and patrick reaches down, thick hands spreading your cheeks till all of you is exposed. wet cunt still open from the work art put in with his mouth, the seam between your asscheeks spread to reveal your little twitching hole. it winks repeatedly at arts stare. "please," you whine, the humiliation making you run hot, burning burning burning between them. you cover your face with your hands when art starts to lean in, pink lips parted, face flushed, blonde locks wild around his head like a halo.

his cherubic beauty is what makes the act so fucking lewd. and when the touch of his tongue flutters against your tight hole you cry out, high and whiney.

"aw," patrick says in faux sympathy. you know he doesn't actually feel bad. you can feel the hard length of his dick at your back. he loves when you're embarrassed. thinks its cute. "you're gonna make her cry, art."

you hear art moan, feel the vibration of it between your cheeks that patrick is keeping spread wide - his tongue is lapping at your rim steadily, soft coaxing licks that has the furled muscle relaxing for him. hes evil, theres nothing cherubic about him at all, you decide. hes the devil.

"little babies gonna cry cause her ass is getting tonguefucked -" lips press against the side of your head. gentle. "all your secrets are out now, baby. we both know what a fucking pervert you are. open your eyes and watch art lick your hole, c'mon."

and like the puppet on strings you are, you listen.

[writingwisterias]

Hello! Can you write a little drabble of Leon saving his best friend(crush) from her crazy ex? Protective Leon for the winnn

I sure can! I hope you enjoy it, thank you for the request- it's a little bit longer than a drabble because I got carried away :)

Leon Kennedy x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Toxic relationship, Crazy Ex, Friends - Lovers, Abusive relationships, Wounds, light violence, Protective Leon, Abuse (Not from Leon), (Partner is a Boyfriend) Please take warning when reading Under the cut! My Dms are open if there's a tag you think I've missed or need someone to talk to :)

Leon grumbled as he opened the door to his apartment, his muscles aching from his last mission. He almost gave up and chose to sleep on the couch but after deciding to give his back some release, he stumbled to the bedroom, allowing the soft comfort of his bed to envelope him as he flopped on it. He groaned in relief, finally shutting his eyes to let the jet lag catch up and fall into a long sleep. Only for his phone to ring in his pocket. The vibrations were angry against his leg, a constant reminder that duty calls. He pried the thing from where it was trapped against his thigh and the bed. He flipped it open bringing the speaker to his ear before grumbling out "Agent Kennedy?"

If you were in dire need of his help you would have laughed or made a joke at how formal he sounded; instead, a whimper left your lips. You brought your hand over your mouth stifling the noise in case you woke up your Ex who had now passed out on the sofa. Broken glass and furniture littered the room, your arm having small scraps where some had caught you in the ordeal. You didn't mean to anger him, you were just asking what he wanted for dinner which distracted him and caused him to lose focus on his game. Apparently that resulted in a full-blown tantrum, he threw anything he could at you whilst spitting insults in your face. You cleared your throat before speaking again, your voice barely above a whisper - half worried that the phone wouldn't even pick it up. "Leon, can you come and get me, please? I need help"

Leon shot up immediately, any weariness that lingered on his body gone at the sound of your voice. "Hey, where are you? I'm on my way" He said, checking his pockets for his keys before leaving his house. He opted for the bike, choosing speed to get there faster. "I'm at his house, he just...I don't know Leon, he just got mad. I need to leave whilst he's asleep" You whimpered. The fear in your voice broke his heart, his brain already raking through all the roads to get there faster. "Wait for me outside okay? I'm on the bike so I'll be there as fast as I can"

You tried to go outside, but the creaking of the front room woke him. Leon could hear the arguments when he pulled up outside, the front door cracked open ever so slightly. Without hesitation he barged in, his footsteps noisy as the glass crunched beneath his boots. You couldn't tell if the sight of him terrified you or gave you relief. You knew he would come, he always did your Leon. Perhaps this time he would stay, chose you to talk about everything he went through instead of pushing you away. You got tired of waiting. Waiting for him to decide what to do, what he wanted. The two of you got into an argument a few months ago, he was drunk and begging for your forgiveness. Perhaps you should have accepted his offer, his promises of self-improvement. Then maybe you wouldn't be trapped here, against the wall with the breath of your supposed lover on your neck as his dirty hands pinned you against the wall. Did he not notice the tears that trickled down your cheeks? The way your frame was shaking?

Leon acted before he thought it through, dragging him away by the collar of his shirt. He stumbled to the ground with a loud thud, his body a heap against the couch. "Back off" Leon growled, his body stiff as he stood in front of you daring the man you claimed to love to fight. His eyes were piercing, and his brows lowered as he stared. It was almost terrifying but in a beautiful way. You looked at the small wrinkles on his face, the slight stubble that had grown in over his time away. He smelled of gunpowder, you could feel the heat from him as he moved back shielding you as the dickhead rose again. His steps were swayed as he moved towards Leon, his fist clenched as he prepared to swing but Leon was faster. One hit and he thumped to the floor again now unconscious and with a black eye.

Leon turned to you, his hands gentle as they landed on your biceps. His eyes softened as he looked you over, taking into account all the small cuts and bruises that now littered your skin. Instead of speaking, he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around you holding you close. Your body slumped against him as you began to cry, your hands desperately clutching at him. You could hear his coos as he tried to calm you down. "I've got you"

"He won't hurt you anymore, I've got you now"

Upon returning to his place, he sat you on the sofa before leaving to find a medical kit. You scanned the room spotting the duffle bag abandoned at the door along with all of his other gear. Guilt ate at your chest as you realised he had just returned from another grueling mission. Leon walked back in, his browns pinched together in concentration and concern...the two looked so similar you often found it hard to tell the difference. "I'm sorry I called you..you look like you just got back" you mumbled looking at your hands instead of him. You felt the sofa dip as he sat down, the medical supplies laid out on the table. His touch was feather like as he gently grasped your hand, pulling it into his lap forcing you to look at him. "How long has he been like this?"

His voice cracked as he spoke the words, his own guilt at letting a petty argument get in the way. He should have checked on you, messaged you, begged you to talk to him but then maybe that would have made things worse, for that was why your ex was angry in the first place. The two of you had always been close, meeting in the mess of Raccoon City you shared trauma allowing you to rely on each other. Everything Leon went through was so you and Sherry didn't have to, and you turned him away after Spain because your partner was jealous.

"A few months, I thought he would change...this was the worst"

The tears threatened to spill from your waterline as you held his gaze. Apologies ready to spill from your lips the more you looked at him. Leon was angry you didn't call him, angry you were going through all of this to add onto the shit the world had already thrown at you. Yet your kindness never wavered, never changed. "You don't have to worry about him anymore, you can stay here"

He returned his attention to the small cuts, making sure they were clean or putting witch hazel on the bruises to help them heal. His touch was never firm, only showing how caring he was. Leon looked at you when he finished, unspoken words and emotions held in his gaze again. You felt your heart flutter as you looked at him. "Leon..."

He silenced the rest of your sentence with a kiss, a quick one, almost as if he hadn't meant to do it. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean...I mean I did...but-"

You cut him off with another kiss, this time your fingers weaved into his blond strands. The events of the day melted into passion as he forced his love, promises of devotion into the kiss. Promises of a better future

[satoruhour]

sub and/or virgin gojo who can't wait to fuck??

a/n: ouh baby you read my mind. here u go / sub!gojo, gojo has literal heart eyes 4 u, teasing, dry humping / grinding, light nipple play, light choking, orgasm denial, light binding, pet names, n*sfw under the cut

gojo thinks he might just die.

that’s all he feels when he looks at you as you straddle him, lips swollen and red from kissing you like a needy little thing. under the pleading, blue eyes he had, there was something begging to be relieved, a carnal need for his lover.

it’s cute, how the strongest sorcerer is reduced to something so little in the bedroom, wrists loosely tied to the bedpost. gojo satoru could break free easily too, but he doesn’t, sitting like a good boy under you and waiting.

“baby.” it’s breathless, his porcelain skin flushed red from the whole ordeal, illustrating his features so nicely when they aren’t threatening an enemy curse user or talking to gakuganji — he’s close to crying and his hips are bucking into yours and he’s whining, a sight that’s seared into your brain yet you’ll tell no one.

“what is it, ’toru, hm?” you ask, voice sultry, standing your ground and trying not to grind down on his bulge, either, choosing to focus all your energy on making him tell you exactly what he wants. “i need words, baby boy.”

satoru almost cums there and then, with how your hands trail up his half naked body, sending chills through his limbs with how you span his abs to his pecs and to his neck, squeezing oh so lightly on his carotid to give him that brief high. 

“i w’nna…” he hums, the headboard creaking a little from how he struggles against the binds, desperately to touch just an inch of you. “i wanna touch you, princess.”

you let out a heavy sigh, both at his need and the feel of your cunt along his pelvis, dragging slowly to bring out satoru’s whimpers. it’s a torture to him more than you, who’s making use of his body freely with your neck exposed and moans that now increase in volume. it’s killing him, how soon after he’s close, you’re suddenly halting your hips, smiling down like a minx at his predicament.

“no— no, no, baby, please—” gojo’s pouting and whining, sounds cut off when you press the heel of your hand into his sensitive bulge, big and uncomfortable under his jujutsu uniform, “i’ll do anything, baby girl, p-please... just w’nna fuck you—”

and then it’s square one all over again, palming his hard cock through the trousers and the other dancing around his pecs before taking his nipple, squeezing between your thumb and forefinger — all rewarded by seeing your boyfriend fall apart by your hands. and he chokes out multiple moans, grinding against your hand to get some kind of relief but you pull back immediately.

“behave, satoru.” that one word coming from anyone else probably wouldn’t work on satoru, but the cadence of your voice and the way you say it immediately shuts him up. “be a good boy and i’ll let you touch me. i’ll let you fuck me, even,” you put a finger to your chin in faux ponderment, “and maybe let you cum.”

“maybe…?”

you laugh like a little devil, leaning down to give him a kiss that he chases even after you pull away. the room’s hot, satoru is burning and his muscles are tensing in anticipation. your breath fans over his ears, and your lover exhales shakily, wisps of his white hair tickling your face and the almost inaudible whimpers falling from his lips.

“i won’t tell you which one you’ll get, though.”

[silv3rswirls]

taking care of their drunk girlfriend

Anon asks: Seventeen when they have to take care of their drunk gf? Maybe they're sick, or need a ride home, lost something? However you want to write it!

Note: Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Drinking/being drunk, throwing up in Vernon's, some light mentions of creepy men in Hoshi's

♡Seungcheol♡

Normally you wouldn’t go out much without Seungcheol, especially when you planned on drinking and having a carefree time, but your coworkers insisted. Everything was fine initially, until they all ditched you and you were left alone at the table. Your tipsy fun ending, and leaving you sitting there with a new bout of nerves sitting in your stomach as you looked around. So you text your boyfriend, complaining how they left suddenly, how you felt uncomfortable on your own and would be heading home soon.

Cheol on the other hand feels his face heat up in anger when he gets your messages. He can practically feel your sadness through the texts. He picks you up instead of letting you catch a car home. He fully plans to give your coworkers an earful if he sees them. For the rest of the night, he sighs in frustration and comments about how rude or angry he feels about it, how could they leave you like that? He stays in the rest of the night with you, cuddling and talking until you start to drift off to sleep.

♡Jeonghan♡

You went out for a friend's birthday, leaving Jeonghan with a warning that you wanted to really party with her tonight. He gave you the go-ahead, so long as you checked in now and again with him and kept your location on so he didn’t have to worry. So there he was, comfy in bed watching his show, enjoying an evening alone when he got about a dozen texts from an unknown number; you had lost your phone, your keys, you wanted to come home, etc., etc. etc. He’s out of bed to get you in an instant, but he’s complaining the whole time. How could you be so careless? What do you mean you can’t find your purse? Was no one in their right mind over there?

He’s bothering everyone around you for your lost items, looking everywhere he can think of. While you're clinging to him, feeling emotional over the whole ordeal as he drags you about the club. You’re very lucky that he found your items being held behind the bar. He takes you home and puts you to bed, still (lovingly) teasing you over your drunken mishaps, you won’t be forgetting this anytime soon.

♡Joshua♡

Oh no, you’re not feeling well? Joshua’s taking you home the instant you complain about a stomach ache and the drinks just not agreeing with you. You had gone out with him and some of the other members for dinner and then some drinks afterward, but it seemed your body just didn’t want to partake that night. He grabs your coats and makes sure you’re bundled up for the cold outside and then you go straight back to your place. You get comfy, he makes you drink some water and just take it easy- he doesn’t care if you think he’s overreacting, he’s in sweetest boyfriend in the world mode and doesn’t plan on stopping. 

♡Jun♡

He got home after you, shockingly enough. You had gone out to celebrate a big promotion at work, while he had been stuck late at the company. He felt bad not going out with you but had promised you to celebrate tomorrow. He even picked up a little cake for you on his way back, leaving it on the counter with some flowers. And when he went into the bedroom to greet and suffocate you in a big hug- you had already passed out. The sweetest boyfriend in the world mode activated instantly. When you refuse to get up he starts making you comfy. He takes your shoes off, tries his best to wipe your makeup away, and brushes your hair. He moves you under the covers, tucks you in and leaves a bottle of water and some medicine at your bedside table. He snuggles next to you, ready to celebrate a slow morning with you.

♡Hoshi♡

You were hiding in the bathroom. The stall locked and your eyes glued to your phone as you tried to focus on texting Hoshi, trying to ignore how the room felt like it was spinning. You had gone out with friends- you hardly ever went out, let alone drink much, but they had pestered and pushed for you to let loose for once. Of course, the night you finally decide to go out, they’re creeps crawling all over the place, and your friends have all wandered off. It was becoming too much, you didn’t want to go back out there, let alone wait outside for a car home. With nothing else to do, you texted your boyfriend pleading for advice on how to handle the man outside waiting for you. 

Hoshi tells you to stay put and comes to the club, pushing through the crowd of people and bee-lining for the bathroom. He knocks repeatedly, telling you to come out so he could take you home. And when the creep from earlier tries to stop you, grab at your arm and say something about you coming to dance with him- Hoshi argues with him instantly. He holds your hand on the car ride back to his apartment, he makes you lie down and rest until your tipsiness starts to calm down. He clings to you all night and morning, promises to never let you go out alone and be harassed like that, apologies, and is extra sweet on you.

♡Wonwoo♡

Lost? What do you mean you’re lost?? Wonwoo keeps texting you, but all he gets are messy, misspelled messages about how you’re lost, your friend left you, you want to go home, etc. Luckily, you still had your location on so he ventures out to find you. He hadn’t expected your big night out to end like this, lost? He can’t wrap his mind around the situation; especially when your location is down the street from the club where you met your friends. He’s pretty worried though, but hopes you found safety in the cafe it seemed your phone was at.

And there you are, sitting in the cafe and frowning as you wait for him; drunk and feeling far too silly to get up on your own. He smiles and lets you cling to him as he guides you and home. He’s laughing and shaking his head the whole time you stumble and babble on about nothing in particular. He makes you drink some water and settle into bed, and he sits up well after you fall asleep to watch over you.

♡Jihoon♡

If he didn’t love you so much, he would tell you off the moment you mentioned walking home alone that night. You went out with coworkers and called it a night when you started feeling tipsy. You tried getting a car home but failed. You missed the bus and the next wasn’t scheduled any time soon. So you walked home, it wasn’t that far. The next morning you off-handedly mention it to Jihoon, who nearly drops the plate in his hand. He repeated what you said with a question, nose scrunching a bit as he took it in. He’s mad and spends all morning telling you how dangerous it was, how you should’ve called him and he would’ve left the studio to get you or got you some kind of safe way home. 

♡Dokyeom♡

The two of you went out together to celebrate a friend's birthday. He decided not to drink, not really in the mood for it while you were happy to drink alongside the birthday girl all night. He takes care of you the whole time. He doesn’t let you wonder, holds your drinks, and watches your drink when you leave for the restroom. He even sneaks in glasses of water whenever he can. He takes you home with him, makes sure to help you get your coat and shoes off, and lets you flop onto the sofa with a happy sigh. 

You both had a pretty fun night, or so he thought until he noticed tears shining in your eyes. You throw yourself onto him, crying and rambling about how much of a good boyfriend he was, how much you loved him, and how he always took such good care of you. He’s about to start crying alongside you. Hushing your tears, and carrying you off to bed. You fall asleep cuddled together.

♡Mingyu♡

You went out with an old group of friends you haven't seen since graduating. You hadn’t been keen on the idea but decided to give it a chance. Unfortunately, old drama was brought up and you were caught in the middle. Nonstop arguing and jabbing at one another, the drinks weren’t helping so you decided to leave and let them hash the rest out on their own. Mingyu hadn’t expected you home for another few hours. But when you come home early, tipsy, and red with anger? He’s at your side in an instant. When you start to recite all the drama between your friends that happened? He’s listening intently, taking mental notes, and gasping at every twist in the story. He’s agreeing with you 100%, he’s so entertained hearing your drunken rants, and sides with you completely. 

♡Minghao♡

Minghao had advised you not to drink too much when you mentioned going out with your sibling for their birthday. You kept his warning in mind the moment you began to feel the room spin a little too fast and a nagging pain in the back of your head started to pound. You called it an early night and caught a cab to his place. He was a bit surprised to see you, as you had planned on staying with them for the night. But he can’t turn you down. You’re complaining about your head, how you’re not feeling well and just want to be around him. The sweetest boyfriend in the world mode activated. He gets you water and some medicine, offers to make you some tea, and maybe even tries to get you to eat something small. He lets you cuddle and lay on him all evening, rubs your back, and massages your head to try and help. If you’re still not feeling well the next morning, the sweet treatment continues.

♡Seungkwan♡

Honestly, he’s not above scolding you in your drunk state over how unsafe it was for you to drink so much tonight. He’s not truly mad at you, he just wants to make sure you’re taking good care of yourself and being safe. He doesn’t care if it's going in one ear and out the other, but the moment he notices your eyes well up with tears he’s lowering his tone and asking what’s wrong. He feels bad, holding your hand and apologizing if he sounded too harsh. He lets you cry all you want on his shoulder, cuddling into the crook of his neck and drunkenly ranting about any little thing that stuck in your mind.

He decides to put you to bed, urging you not to worry anymore and just to rest now that you’re emotionally drained, drunk, and getting sleepier every minute. He will properly pester you about your recklessness tomorrow, and for now, he’ll let you cling to his arm and drift off to sleep- eagerly of course.

♡Vernon♡

He’s trying his best, really he is, but his words offer little comfort in the moment. You’re drunk, hunched over in the bathroom throwing up everything that was in your stomach after a rowdy night out. He’s just standing in the doorway asking if you’re good at first. Eventually, when everything begins to calm down he’s kneeling beside you, rubbing your back and asking if you’re okay again. While you brush your teeth and rinse your face he gets some water and waits for you to crawl into bed and curl up next to him. He rubs your back and tells you it’s okay, he’s not upset with you for getting sick or drinking too much. He tries to stay up with you until you can fall asleep, and if he passes out before you he makes you promise to try and wake him up if you need him. 

♡Dino♡

You both went out drinking to celebrate a friend’s promotion. Laughing and enjoying the cheery atmosphere until it was time to head back to his apartment. You flop in the living room, both silent as you soak up the alcohol and comfy vibes; until you mention that you’re hungry. He sits up instantly because no way- he’s starving and takeout sounds amazing right now. He orders nearly the whole menu for you, not even caring what he ends up getting for himself as long as you’re happy with what he gets. You stay up late, trying and failing to finish your feast before going to bed. Giggling between bites and poking fun at each other.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day four: voyeurism kink

>>> guys can you tell i have a choso fantasy or do i need to write another five thousand word fic to prove it i'm sobbing and actually in love with him fr. it took me days to write this bc i was just too feral.

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: roommate choso, hung like a horse choso, virgin choso, voyeurism clearly, petnames, masturbation, cowgirl, implied multiple rounds, choso whimpers you're so welcome, choso smokes a blunt grow up >>> wc: 4.8k >>> event masterlist

this whole roommate ordeal seemed easy enough. you had a spare room in your condo, yuji had a spare brother that needed a place to stay after graduation. it worked out perfectly, as you weren’t too keen on having a rando move in. though the half-curse was little more than that, really. you had only come in contact with choso briefly, seeing him move through the halls of jujutsu tech in search of the very brother that recommended him to you. he was intimidating, tall and broad with a look of disinterest across his face every time you ran into him. yuji had told you that he wasn’t necessarily unfriendly, just unsure, so you were weary to approach him once he moved into the spare room. you didn’t want to overdo it, you would hate to make him uncomfortable with all these changes he was getting accustomed to. so for the first three months or so, you two would only exchange pleasantries and nod respectfully, two strangers sharing an address and lingering curious stares. then, one morning you offered to make him breakfast, and you two settled into a comfortable friendship after that. 

Nowadays, nearly a year later, the living area was actually used and shared. you watched recommended shows together, introduced each other to your favorite movies, and oftentimes just sat in each other’s presence on the couch; on your phones, playing nintendo switch games, or passing choso’s best attempt at a blunt between you while shit talking your neighbors with your legs in his lap. you even encouraged him to invest in a real gaming setup, where he plays a host of different games for hours while you sit contently in the bean bag chair stationed nearby in his room, reading or crafting or just watching from time to time. the more comfortable he became, the more fun he was to be around. he was no longer shy to ask you to sit with him while he plays or to inquire about your latest book and his smiles and conversations flowed more freely. 

he enjoys your presence. it’s easy to be around you. he wonders why. even with all the progress he had made with you, he was still terribly awkward around new people and his social battery was limited. he never got tired of hanging out with you though, in fact, he craves it always. yuji says that it’s because you’re pretty, which choso can’t disagree with, though his brother’s statement irritates him for no good reason. 

he finds himself wondering if his brother knows you the way he does, silly things about you like which animal crossing character you would reincarnate as or the fact you hate grape flavored anything—it all tastes like cough syrup!--he can hear you say. no, he gets to see the real you, the one you reserve just for him. so yuji can think you’re pretty all he wants, but he’s the one who gets to see your breathtaking smiles in reaction to something he said.

“bro?! still there–or are you too busy being jealous?” yuji snickers, relishing in the match he made. he knew choso would wake up with a babe like you walking around. 

“you’re a child. and a dick.” he huffs, aggravated by his spacey sibling’s acute sense of his feelings. “goodbye.” he taps to end their weekly gaming marathon facetime two hours short out of annoyance, confronted with the silence of his bedroom and his questioning thoughts about you. jealous? as much as he hated to admit it, maybe he was. he couldn't even picture the thought of you being with someone else, try as he might. did that mean he wanted to be that person? your person? he’s so confused, but he knows even if he’s embarrassed he can talk to you about it. you could help him work through his feelings and come to a solution. even if the feelings were about you, he knows you would always be honest with him. he sighs, deciding to make his way to your room down the hall. 

you two didn’t spend a lot of time apart now that the bond had been created, and you were more than alright with that routine, because on fridays, choso holed up in his room for five straight hours to facetime yuji and play video games giving you some much needed time to yourself. you always started with a long and intricate shower, doing all your different exfoliants and masks. then you’d touch up your nails and give yourself a total spa treatment, finishing up by putting on your cutest little panties and releasing some of the pent up sexual frustration for your roommate that you keep under lock and key for the same reasons you were hesitant to cross into friendship territory all those months ago: you don’t want to scare him away. 

so you settle for your own small hands cupping your chest and pinching at your nipples, trying to picture him. It’s choso’s large and veiny hands that run down your sides and spread your legs instead of your own toying with your underwear. you can smell the versace eros cologne he wears wafting through your nose, almost able to hear his gravelly voice in your ear praising you for doing so good. it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is to conjure the image of him sinking between your thighs, lust pooling in his violet eyes. you’re soaked already, feeling the fabric of your panties sticking to your cunt just at your active imagination. you peel them off, hissing as cold air blows across your middle, but your fingers quickly find the heat of your hole, gathering that natural lube to flick your clit with. your eyes are closed—whining helplessly already at the sensation you bring yourself with him in mind. it’s nowhere near the real deal, but the bliss is good enough to lull pants of his name from your mouth, body light as air.

choso doesn’t think anything of your closed door. you told him you keep it closed to let him have his space, not wanting him to feel like you’re watching or eavesdropping on him while he’s on the phone. especially as he got close enough to reach for your door handle, hearing you call his name. you sounded…strained? in all honesty he was worried. so he doesn’t hesitate to push the door open a bit, peeking to check. his heart drops into his stomach at the sight of you naked on your bed. you’re stunning. he’s seen pictures of other women—and yuji showed him a few websites—but your body was second to none. his hand flew to cover his immediate hard on, shocked you hadn’t noticed him yet. fuck, you are gorgeous, one hand squeezing at your breast, the other playing around in that squelching noise he hears between your legs. he fights the urge to moan aloud or announce his presence, and he’s ashamed of himself. he feels like he’s betraying your trust, but his dick keeps growing in his pants at the chants of his name spilling out of your lips. he watches as your legs jerk and your head falls back against your pillow, making him think you were almost done. he had to get out before you saw him or felt his unique energy so close to you. he’s panting as he shuts the door quietly, turning the knob just so it wouldn’t alert you. 

his dick hurts as he makes it just one room down—the bathroom. perfect. he turns the shower on immediately, stripping his clothes off like they were on fire. he had set out to talk to you, to be completely honest about the thoughts he had been having, but seeing you like that did things to him words could not. he’s been horny before, of course, and dealt with that the way single human men do. but this—the desire coursing through his veins—this was different. so different. everything was clear now, he needed you. he stands with his back under the water, whimpering as his dick throbs to the mental image of your glistening pussy and blissed out face. he can’t help but close his fist around the his wide shaft, stuttering out a sigh in relief. he strokes himself to the same rhythm you moved your fingers, imagining how that pace would feel with your wet and warm cunt hugging him in instead of the rough surface of his hand. his other hand keeps him braced on the shower wall, steadying him through the searing heat the promises of your touch seem to be; to think that you were calling for him, thinking of him in the way he thinks of you now felt like a dream. he had to be hearing things, that’s the only excuse the man can summon. water beads down his biceps and chest, and it just makes his dirty deed all that much more so, fucking into his fist until his load is running down the side of the tub, the pearly beads getting swept away in the water and carried down the drain. he tosses his head back in the shower stream, his long black strands sticking to his face and neck as he tries to rinse away his shame. 

that night, choso doesn’t come out of his room to watch a movie with you before bed. you pout, but try not to linger on it too long. maybe yuji took a lot out of him today, or they didn’t have a successful time on and he was moody. either way, you weren’t going to bother him. you hang out on the couch like usual with the hopes that he would emerge soon, but as your bedtime nears and everything remains still, you slink off to your room with a sour mood to end an otherwise normal day.

as the days pass, choso’s behavior gets weirder and weirder. it’s almost as if he’s completely reverted inside his shell he made when he moved in, only emerging to get food when he had hoped you weren’t around. the times in which he did inevitably run into you were dealt in nervous laughter and denials that anything was wrong with him. it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was lying, hiding something from you even. you were slightly hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to talk to you, instead of going backwards and shutting you out. you wanted to wait it out, but as the days turned into a full week, you feared losing him altogether. 

you stewed over the situation the entire time you were at work. you couldn’t even get anything accomplished because you were too preoccupied wondering what you had done to wound your connection. spending your days alone was maddening. a little over a year ago, you would have relished in the peace and quiet, but now it was unwelcome. you only wanted quiet if it was filled with the subtle sounds of pages turning or the buttons of a controller smashing or shared breathing during the climax of a show. this was haunting, and you knew you had to do something. you left work early, faking a stomach ache in order to get home and corner choso into relenting. no more miss nice roommate. you were tired of letting him be all weird and distant. so you walked in unceremoniously, not necessarily out to scare him. you shake your sandals off by the door and walk towards his room, noting that his door was actually open for once. 

that was only because you weren’t supposed to be home for three and a half more hours, giving choso plenty of time to relive his dirty fantasies of you with the least amount of guilt possible, though he could barely look you in the eye these days. if you weren’t home, he could at least not worry about you catching him in his perverted acts, only dealing with the shame that flows in after he’s came for the millionth time to the image of your legs quivering and mouth parting in pleasure. he didn’t hear you sneak in–didn’t hear you shuffle down the hall to poke your head around the doorframe. he was dead to the outside world, his hips stuttering into his hand, thumb swiping the pre-cum that beaded there around his slit, stroking himself with whimpers of your name tumbling out, his eyes scrunched tight in concentration. 

your jaw was on the floor, never in a million years imagining that he even knew how to touch himself like that, not to mention the prayers of your name on his tongue, mirroring the ones you make for him on fridays. he was massive, it had you covering your mouth in shock. even with his huge hand, it seemed like pumping himself was a tall task. you couldn’t imagine trying to do it yourself, you’re not even sure two hands would do the trick— you must have gasped aloud or something, because suddenly his head snaps toward where you stand in the doorway. 

“y/n–you’re–” his dark eyes are wide, his lips parted in realization that you had really caught him jerking off and mewling your name like a helpless perv. as the guilt starts to creep in, the haze of need and desire clouds his mind. he never lets go of himself, all too aware of your lip between your teeth and your hardened nipples poking through your top—no, you shouldn’t be seeing this, you shouldn’t even be home yet! not to mention how ashamed you should be of your own roommate rutting into his hand.

“...i’m home.” you whisper back, a slight smirk creeping onto your face. despite the red blush spreading across his cheeks, he keeps fucking up into his hand. it’s salacious, and you can feel your body responding to the sight, unsurprisingly. you’ve been picturing him naked for months, and not even your lewd imagination gave him justice. every plane on his body was sculpted and defined, thick veins running down his arms and thighs and cock. he left his hair down, some of the strands tucked behind his ear, some of them hung over his brows and cheekbones. he gulped when he noticed your stare, your eyes locked on the thick cock in his hand, curved with an angry and needy tip. 

“y/n, i’m so so sorr–” he scrambles to sit up, the heavy reality finally sinking in. he was awful, sick in the head, you were going to have him pack his shit immediately, and he’d have to tell all his friends why you had gotten rid of him. 

“need some help?” you spit out, unable to tolerate the pounding in your chest and pussy. his eyes grow impossibly wider, blood rushing in his ears. did he understand you right? he couldn’t possibly. 

“wh-what?” he sputtered, sitting up slightly to try and hide himself from view a bit, as if you hadn’t seen every bit of him already. 

“i asked if you wanted my help. you were saying my name, weren’t you?” you tease gently, stepping further into his room, your hands innocently folded behind your back. now that you know your desire is shared, you felt confident enough to push your relationship further yet again. he nods hesitantly, watching you stalk over to the bed like a lioness about to pounce.

“i–yes, it’s not what you think. i know it looks–” 

“like you were jacking off and thinking about me? is that not…what you were doing?” you hum, pausing by the foot of his bed. you look so cute, he has to believe you know what you’re doing, folding your arms under your voluptuous chest just to taunt him a bit more. you have him backed into a corner, and he either had to admit the truth or come up with a very clever lie. and he is not a gifted liar. 

“i–yeah…” he looks away, feeling the shame weighing down on him now that you had confronted him with the undeniable truth. 

you chuckle warmly. “i do the same thing, ‘cept I’m thinking of you.” you shrug, the smirk growing on your face as realization seeps into his. he didn’t misunderstand you that day or even earlier in this conversation. you want him too. he swallows thickly again, remembering the day that started all of this. 

“i–i know, i saw you, last week.” he chokes out as you take your top off, revealing yourself to him. He’d noticed your lack of bra earlier, but didn’t expect to be blessed with the sight of your body again, especially as you bend at the hips to wiggle out of your pants. Your laughter surprises him again, like he had intentionally made a joke. but it was only because he had solved the mystery that led you to his room in the first place, and that would potentially resolve any secrets you had been keeping from one another. 

“so that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” you scrunch your nose at him adorably as you crawl onto the bed, his eyes glued to the body that had him locked in his bedroom day and night. “oh choso, i wish you would have interrupted me…i surely woulda let you help me.” you purr, so close to him that he could reach out and touch you now, and he definitely thinks about just grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him, finally feeling that glistening pussy for himself—to hell with his imagination, but your voice interrupts his thoughts again. 

“so, do you want me to help you, baby?” you glance from the hard length in his hands to his deep purple eyes, swirling with something you recognize very well to be deep desire. 

“please–” he whimpered and let his hand fall away from his pelvis, looking to you like a pathetic boy getting his teenage dreams fulfilled. Your grin grows wide, and you lean closer to brush your hand across his toned abdomen. he lets out a pleased little grunt and his cock jumps at the simple touch

“you’ve never been with anyone, have you?” you asked, faces so close he can see every freckle and dimple and scar on your skin. he shakes his head. you peck the tip of his nose. he’s already shivering, the feeling of your body leaning over his was exhilarating. your kiss was so simple and sweet, but it stopped all the thoughts in his brain. he was just malleable now, ready to let you make him feel good, finally shifting from imagination to reality. “need you to talk to me, so i can know where you’re at, cho.” 

“no, no..never.” he shakes his head again, eying you with excitement and nerves all at once. he wants to touch you, and you’ve already stripped naked and kissed him, so surely there was no going back now, so he reaches up and places his hands on your hips—so light like he was afraid to hurt you. 

you grin at both his answer and his courageous touch, nodding your encouragement, “that’s fine, i’ll help you…just do what feels natural–you can go as hard as you want., and tell me if you want to stop.” your eyes blink at him sweet he realizes he would trust you with his life if you asked. 

“okay.” he lets your words wash over him, nodding as he grips your hips a little tighter. he’s more than embraced his fate, his mouth watering a bit at the idea that you were in his bed and offering to make all his fantasies come true. you were expecting him to keep that deer in a headlights look, but when you rake your fingernails across his chest, you watch his eyes darken a bit more. “kiss me?” 

choso looks so cute, you couldn’t deny him if you wanted to. his eyebrow raised with innocence, but his eyes shrouded in arousal. you giggle softly and lean up, sliding your hands over his pecs and shoulders and into those dark locks calling your name. you tug, and he gasps softly. you take that opportunity to cover his parted lips with your own, his head falling back to accommodate you as you fully crawl into his lap. he melts, you feel and taste so impossibly good he’s concerned he may bust over the kiss. your tongue moves so expertly against his, twirling around and sucking on the muscle in a way he didn’t know people employed. then you’re sitting on his abs, and he can feel so much at once. his eyes blow wide in the kiss, and he has to pull away to gasp again and see what you’re doing to him. 

you’re simply sitting, your pretty shining pussy rubbing against his core and his dick teasing the crack of your ass. that must be what’s driving him insane, the warmth and softness providing some but not enough friction. you wiggle your ass a bit to tease him, and he whimpers. the sound is so sweet and low you know you can’t handle playing with the shy little virgin much longer.

“i–is th–that sup’posed to f-feel that go–ngh, good?” he stammers, the hold on your hips bordering bruising. he doesn’t even realize, and you certainly don’t mind, so you only smile and nod down at him, reaching for his chin with your fingers. he makes you look so small without even trying, the broad expanse of his body, wide jaw and thick legs—not to mention the monstrous cock rocking against your behind, your own need soaking his happy trail to the skin beneath. you move his gaze from your sensual movements back to your sultry gaze. yuji was wrong. pretty was such a mild way to describe the woman on his lap. you were more a kin to a goddess, something not fully human like him. 

“i was hoping to give you the full treatment, but i don’t think you’ll mind if i skip to the main event?” you bite your lip, your other hand scraping at his scalp a little bit. no, of course he didn’t mind. sometimes you were so silly. he nods fervently, remembering that he needed to find his voice, to not seem like such a coward when he wanted this so badly. 

“no—please,” he whimpers again, feeling the drip of your liquid on him. it dawns on him then that you’re just as needy, and you still wanted him even though you’d have to teach him what to do. you didn’t seem worried, maybe it was easier than he thought. but all he knows is that his balls are starting to hurt and he had never felt more buzzed in his entire life, sensitive to every move you make. “i need you so bad, oh sh–” 

you scoot back, lifting yourself up a little to align him with your entrance. his whimpers and begs were so fucking amazing, you wish you had it in you to milk it. you make the mental note to keep him begging when you show him what it feels like to have his dick sucked or whimpering when he eats your cunt for the first time. he’s so heavy in your hand, and you can’t even close your fist around him. it makes you shudder, knowing that you’re going to make him fit inside you no matter the stretch. his tip was so red and irritated, oozing pre. you swiped it over his head, humming in amusement as he jerks and whines at the feeling. 

“you’re massive, d’you know that?” you pout, sinking down a few inches. he moans at first, feeling like his cock was fit into a perfect sleeve. it’s unreal, the heat he feels in his gut as you rock further down on him, whining at how huge he was. he watches the pained faces you make halfway down, the concern clear on his face. he didn’t know he was that big—he hadn’t really been comparing, but if it was hurting you, he wondered what he could do. he remembers watching you play with that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs, using your own slick to glide around. he thinks he could replicate that, so he sticks his fingers in his mouth, spitting a bit to make sure they were just as wet as you were. you take more of him, almost to his base all while panting and bracing yourself on his chest with your eyes screwed shut. he reaches toward you, swiping his fingers around the place he watched you toy with. you gasp out and sit all the way down, the noises you make as he touches you make his eyes widen again. 

“god—i’m so full, baby.” you nod, your hips moving forward automatically, searching for more of that searing feeling he brings to your clit. he surprises you, moving his digits in slow circles as you get accustomed to his size. he chokes slightly when you squeeze him, his eyes zeroed in on your face. 

“are you alright?” he asks softly, feeling your nails dig into his chest as your hips move faster now, any other words he had wanted to say sucked from his brain like he had no thoughts at all, nothing other than that vice-grip of a pussy you have locked around him, bouncing softly and leaving little half-moons in his skin. 

“mhm, just had to stretch a bit t’fit you, are you alright?” you grin as you ask, knowing he would struggle to respond—in the best way possible. he nods eagerly, eyes flickering from where you swallow him up to your soft face of bliss. 

“are you kidding? i’m—” you rock on him a bit faster, the feeling of wet and choking walls rubbing every possible spot had him sputtering, unable to speak. he’s only able to watch you run a hand through your mane, keeping it out of your face and away from your bouncing tits. he’s in heaven. being with a woman, no, being with you, was as all the eternal bliss he cared to know. 

his hips start to move, the hold he has on your hips trailing up to the curves of your waist to better hold you down. he didn’t realize how much more intense he would make this feel for the both of you, grunts and whines spilling from his lips as you begin to cry out and yell. it’s heavenly, the way you let him drive into you, leaning forward with one hand on the headboard and the other tugging his head towards your chest. he contains his pathetic pants by sucking your nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue over it, mind so drunk and hazy he can only be driven by his primal instincts, flat footed on the bed to plow into you from below. 

it’s so perfect. you scream his name way better than he ever imagined, and he doesn’t mind to bear the scratch marks of your passion. you keep squeezing around him, and it drives him crazy. 

“i–i love when you do that—clenching down on me like that, fuck.” He grunts, slowly getting his knees under him while you sloppily keep the pace. he uses the leverage to ease you to your back, though you don’t have the luxury of pillows or a headboard, only the mattress beneath you as choso realizes this positioning lets him piston his hips without you having to do any work at all. you’re wailing, nodding to keep him from worrying about you as you continuously claw at his back and shoulders. 

“choso baby—” you whine in such a way, he knows he’s going to bust in seconds. “you’re gonna make me cum, please–doin’ so good, ngh—ack!” you cry, legs tightening around his waist as he feels a significant increase of your fluids. feeling and watching you cum by his doing was the nail in the coffin—the way your face screwed up in pure pleasure brought him his own, his pelvis stilling against the mounds of your backside, cock twitching against your womb before your vision is blurry, and all you feel is warmth seeping out of you. his load leaked out around him inside you, his cock still pulsating with no signs of dying down. 

he smiles at you a little shyly, his cheeks rosy and eyes hazy with the aftershocks of such a gripping orgasm. he watches your chest heave as you calm down, your eyes fluttering open and a smile spreading across your face as you look up at him. 

“what do i do now? to take care of you?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking the creases where your thighs meet your hips. you giggle and shake your head, knowing it would take multiple rounds for his erection to die down. 

“i show you the full treatment now, baby.” you grin, wiggling your eyebrows. 

choso found himself immersed in exploring himself and your body, discovering several new kinks to enjoy with his sweet little roommate turned lover.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Dead of Night

♡ Genre: Slight hurt/comfort or angst ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, friends with benefits, pining (Bakugou's side, as always)

Old habits die hard. Bakugou couldn't spend tonight without you once again.

You weren't official, you told Bakugou that this whole ordeal would be no-strings-attached. And like an idiot, he agreed. But now he was trained to sleep by your side, and without you there he felt like a magnet searching for his opposite and equal.

You were much sweeter than he was, and given your caring nature he was hoping you wouldn't mind him wobbling over to your house in the dead of night. He texted you ahead of time so he wouldn't surprise you like a creep. If you said no, then there was always a bar nearby where he could drink until he got home and blacked out again. He was never the type to drink heavily... until now.

He was never the type to do a lot of things until you came along, and brought him out of his shell.

You finally texted him back. "You can come over, but we're not doing it tonight."

Bakugou sighed at the second half of the sentence. He expected the rejection but it didn't feel any better. He wasn't used to being rejected.

Firstly, he didn't usually want any type of relationship/situationship. Secondly, what he did want (power, good grades, etc.), he usually got with some effort. Though he's had to struggle hard for the latter in the past, he's never had to struggle for the former. It was like starving for the first time in his life. Some days he couldn't deal with it, wanting what he couldn't have. He just wanted to spill his heart out to you, but he knew you'd say no...

Bakugou finally reached your door and knocked. It took you a minute before you opened it. Your hair was messy, your pajamas were somewhat disheveled, and your expression was one of total sleepiness. He hoped he didn't wake you up, usually you were more of a night owl than he ever could be. But regardless, he really enjoyed seeing you in such a clumsy state. It was something only he got to see and he cherished having that privilege.

"Don't fall over, dummy." He poked your sleepy head while you were nodding off.

You barely mustered the energy to pout at him before heading back inside, mumbling "I'm not a dummy..."

He chuckled below his breath and closed the door behind him, locking it as per your guys' routine. Admittedly, he was a little offended you immediately hobbled back to your bedroom without acknowledging him, but maybe he did wake you up while you were sleeping and that was why you barely had anything to say to him. Although Bakugou felt excited every time he went over here, to you it was just another night of dealing with Bakugou. He'd make it up to you in the morning by cooking breakfast, complete with an apology kiss.

You slid underneath your covers and curled up into a ball, leaving room for him. Bakugou followed you into your bedroom, taking off his clothes and putting on some pajamas he brought over. He slid into bed after you, arms wrapping around your tinier form.

He kissed the back of your head and sighed in relief. It was hard for him not to show his softer side around you when you slept together. He kept trying to hide his deeper feelings (as impossible as that was), but nobody would notice it at this hour. Honestly, he was wondering if you'd ever notice. It was like he never crossed your mind outside of hanging out or hanging out in private.

Maybe you thought that because Bakugou never had feelings for anyone, he would never feel anything for you. And maybe one day, you will tell him you've had enough and you don't need this arrangement anymore. But it was times like these where Bakugou could lie to himself and say that you were all his, and with you sleeping in his arms he could believe it very readily.

"Love you..."

[inferencesarchives]

Hello! Could you do Pure Vanilla Cookie x Fem! Ancient reader, whose kingdom is like a spiritual kingdom and The Reader Is just very stressed?? Like, very little time to eat, sleep, ect. How could PV maybe comfort her?? Have a nice day!!

`•- Time for Yourself

pure vanilla cookie x fem reader

summary: pure vanilla notices you haven't been acting like yourself lately. how does he help you feel better?

warnings: physical touch, pure vanilla is kind of a worry wart, also im not super proud of the writing on this one so im sorry if it's not as good as my other stuff :((

a/n: is it bad that when i went to the store today and saw pure vanilla extract on the shelf i thought of pure vanilla cookie

Pure Vanilla Cookie has noticed the lack of letters you've been sending him recently.

Of course, he knows that ruling a kingdom is no simple ordeal, and, of course, there's no way you would be able to send him a letter every day. However, despite that, you've always made sure to send him letters frequently and inform him of every nifty little thing going on in your life.

That is, up until roughly three and a half weeks ago.

You used to send him letters every four or five days to keep him updated on everything going on in your kingdom, and he always wrote back when he received your letters. However, when he responded to a letter you sent about three and a half weeks ago, you hadn't written anything back to him.

He found this behavior very strange, as you were always enthusiastic about being able to talk with him whenever you got the chance. Pure Vanilla Cookie was, frankly, getting rather worried about you and how you were doing. So, he decided to take a trip over to your kingdom to see for himself what was wrong.

When he finally arrived, Pure Vanilla Cookie was quick to stride towards your castle, making haste towards your office, where you spent most of your time. Gently knocking on the door, he quietly entered the room, as to not disturb you too much. He immediately notices your eyebags, the empty coffee mugs littered around your desk, and the way you don't even glance at him when he enters the room, thinking it was just some servant needing to ask a quick question or something of the like. Needless to say, when he spoke up, you immediately turned and stared at him in surprise.

"My Dear, has everything been okay lately?" He gently asks. "Ah! Pure Vanilla Cookie? What are you doing here?" You respond, shocked. You had no idea he was coming, you had no time to prepare, you didn't want him to see you like this.

"Are you alright?" He slowly walks toward you before draping his cloak over your shoulders, "You haven't responded to my letter for weeks, and you look awfully tired. How long have you been sitting here working today?" He looks at you with worry swirling in his eyes.

As you sit there failing to answer his question, he gently places a hand on your head and caresses your hair, sighing, "You need to remember to take care of yourself, you know. You can hardly handle this much work in the state that you're in. Why don't you rest for a bit?"

You look at him with tired eyes, attempting to provide a counter-argument, "I know, I know, but-" "No buts. You're going to go lay in bed and read a nice book to help you de-stress. I'll also fetch you some tea. Then, perhaps you can take a nap. You'll feel a lot better when you wake up," He suddenly picked you up, carrying you back to your bedroom before you can even say anything. Perhaps he was right though, as you were indeed doing a lot better the next morning. Perhaps self-care really is important after all.

a/n: not me writing a fic about self-care at 2 am when i haven't slept and i am in fact not taking care of myself lmao uhhhhhh i promise ill get some sleep once i finish up the rest of the requests i swear i pinky promise i swear

thanks for reading, and remember to take care of yourself! don't be like me lmao

[141goblin]

Hi people. I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a fanfic and I thought i’d put a feeler out there to see if people are interested in reading my silly little brain worms and thoughts. Word of warning, it’s little rusty and definitely still a work in progress. I don’t yet have a title or anything like that, but i wanna share (ok ok leave me alone)

Part one: Soft.

Reader described as plus-sized. Fem reader. Implied past abusive relationship.

John Price X Reader.

“Amelia, I said no!” I huff into the phone, getting increasingly frustrated at my best friend’s insistence. She had been going on and on about some big military party that her boyfriend was going to, and of course, because we’re basically attached at the hip, she ‘needs me there’.

“Oh, come onnnn! It’ll be fun! And who knows, we might finally find you a man for you to spend time with instead of you sitting in your apartment and watching reruns of gilmore girls twenty-four-seven.”

I huff and roll my eyes, grateful that she isn’t able to see me. Honestly, the thought of having to drag myself off of my couch and go through the motions of getting ready and attempting to doll myself up makes me feel physically ill. Truth be told, I haven’t left my apartment for weeks. Not since i had that god-awful night with my arsehole of an ex boyfriend.

My mind drifts back to that night, the time I spent getting ready and psyching myself up, all for me to get there and be completely disregarded and used. Like a piece of meat. He’d been blowing up my phone with messages ever since, insisting he was sorry, and that it won’t happen again, and he just got carried away. I hadn’t had the mental capacity to message him back.. My best friends voice pulls me back to reality.

“You’re coming. I’ll be at your flat in twenty minutes with pre drinks. Shower and shave.”

Before I get any chance to worm my way out of this ridiculous ordeal, she kisses me good-bye through the phone and hangs up. I throw my phone to the opposite end of the couch and groan into a pillow. Just when I was settled, watching gilmore girls for the umpteenth time, with a glass of wine and a bowl of crisps… Shit, maybe I do need to get out…

I down the rest of my glass of wine and wince at the taste. I make a mental note to stop being cheap and buying shit wine just because it’s cheaper. After all, it’s not like I can’t afford to buy nicer tasting wine. But truthfully, I don’t go to tescos at 8pm in my pyjamas and buy nice wine to be all sophisticated. I do it to buy cheap wine and get drunk while i watch gilmore girls and cry, wishing i had the same relationship with my mother that Lorelai and Rory have. It’s pitiful, and pathetic.

I huff and drag myself off of my couch and make my way into my bathroom to shower. Once undressed, i notice just how hairy my legs have gotten. But, is it really worth the effort, the sweating and red face just to have smooth legs? I brush off the thought and step into the hot shower. I do my usual: wash and condition my hair, wash my face and body, and then actually decide to shave my goddamn legs. It takes me the better part of fifteen minutes, but beauty is pain, as they say.

Just as i’m stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that’s all too small to cover my stomach and wide thighs, my best friend makes herself known, clearly having used her spare key to let herself into my flat. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust at the state of the place and she’s begun to pick up my clothes that are strewn about the place, throwing them into the washing machine. I roll my eyes and make my way into my bedroom, and she follows. She has that shit-eating grin on her face that I know all too well. No doubt she’s going to make me squeeze into some tiny outfit in the hopes i’ll impress some random man and hopefully let him fuck my brains out. She’s highly mistaken.

Instead of a skimpy outfit, we compromise. I end up wearing a mid-length silk dress that has a risky slit up the leg, but not too high that it shows off my cellulite, one of my biggest insecurities. She does up my hair into a messy bun with a few curls framing my face and insists on me wearing her favourite red lipstick, telling me i’ll look ‘fuckable’, her words, not mine. After strapping some heels onto my feet I take one last look in the mirror, face slightly flushed from the two or three glasses of wine Amelia practically poured down my throat to loosen me up. I should feel beautiful, but I don’t. I can’t help but feel like a pig, wrapped in silk and smothered in ridiculous lipstick. Ready to be taken off to market and ridiculed by men that think it’s shameful to like a fat girl. My ex-boyfriend’s attitude and words from the duration of our relationship echoing around my head.

“They don’t see you like I do, babe. They don’t see your personality.”

“You’re wearing that?”

“Oh come on, babe. I was only looking at her. She’s a model, what do you expect?”

After a too long uber ride full of pep-talks by Amelia and discreetly drinking from the remnants of a bottle of wine, we’re standing outside of what can only be described as a fucking mansion. The type that has stairs leading up to its entrance that’s held up by beautifully structured pillars, the type of place i write about in my short stories. There are too many windows to count, most of them lit up by subtle golden glow, the soft buzz of music that’s able to be heart from outside, something soft and jazzy, like the type of music you’d hear in an old jazz bar in New York.

I’m too busy marvelling at the ‘fucking mansion’ in front of me when I hear the recognisable voice of Amelia’s boyfriend, Johnny. Johnny is the type of guy that can make any girl weak in the knees with his charming smile and sparkling blue eyes. He’s sweet and cheeky, but not my type.

“There you two are! Was beginning ‘ter think ‘yaes got lost.”

I give Johnny a polite smile and continue looking up at the grandeur of the building in-front of me while he gives Amelia a kiss and whispers something flirty in her ear. Johnny and Amelia are solid, and he’s good for her. Plus, he knows we come as a package deal, so he makes sure to make me feel included when I end up tagging along on their days out or evening drinks.

“Looking good, bonnie.” Johnny says to me, with a cheeky wink. Amelia laughs, her signature sweet giggle, and it’s clear why she turns heads everywhere we go.

I force a smile and hold back a self-deprecating remark.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

Amelia takes Johnny by the arm and leads her inside, making me follow like an awkward third wheel. I try my best not to feel like an idiot as i’m led into the main ballroom, where i assume the party is being held. Johnny leads us to the bar and buys the three of us a round of drinks. I try to insist that I can buy my own, but both he and Amelia dismiss it and i’m left with a blueberry Martini sitting in front of me at the bar.

After a few minutes of awkward small talk between the three of us, mixed in with too much PDA between Johnny and Amelia for my liking, Johnny leads Amelia off to meet some of his friends, leaving me alone at the bar. I hoist myself onto a barstool, arse spilling over the edge. Fuck sake, I think. People need to start inventing barstools that are fat-girl friendly. I ignore the buzz of chatter in the ballroom and down the rest of my blueberry martini, flagging down the bartender for another one.

I begin sipping on the fresh Martini and start looking back around the room. I can’t help but think this would be a perfect scene to write in one of my stories. A room packed full of rich people dressed in fancy suits and expensive dresses, where everyone pretends to be on their best behaviour.

After a few minutes of being alone at the bar, I make peace with the fact that I will likely be alone for most of the night while Amelia mingles with Johnny and his friends. It doesn’t bother me, per say, but something deep within my belly wishes that one, just once, I could be the one to turn heads, to capture the attention of a group of people with nothing but my appearance and laugh, to have people willing to talk to me and learn about me, without feeling like it’s out of pity.

I shrug to myself and take a few more sips of my martini and let my attention wander over to my best friend and her boyfriend, and his group of (presumably) military friends. Johnny must’ve noticed me sitting alone at the bar and felt pity for me because I see him making his way over, sporting his disarming smile. I smile back.

“What’s the matter, Lass? Not enjoying ‘yerself?”

He leans on the bar casually, and it’s clear he’s making an effort to make me feel included.

“I’m enjoying myself just fine, Johnny. You can go back to your mates and Amelia, don’t worry about me.”

He cocks a brow and flashes that cheeky grin.

“Not gonna join us?”

I shake my head and take another sip of my martini, waving a dismissive hand. I attempt to play it off with a joke.

“Doubt i’d fit in with your military mates.”

He scoffs and looks jokingly offended.

“Aye, come on, Bonnie. We don’t bite. I know Si looks like a scary fucker, but we’re a nice bunch. I swear.”

I laugh and take another sip. Johnny is a good guy, there’s no denying that, even if it does feel like he’s taking pity on his girlfriends fat, single friend that looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Judging from the way he talks about ‘Si’, I make an assumption that he’s the one with the dirty-blonde hair, the one who’s built like a brick shit-house and looks like he could snap anyone in half with one hand.

Johnny points to one of the other lads, a typical pretty boy with striking brown eyes.

“That’s Gaz. He’s a good’un. Likes to flirt too much, but e’s harmless.”

I follow Johnny’s finger as he points to the third man. A man who’s wide, and fucking muscly, but looks like he has a soft layer of fat underneath that expensive suit of his.

“And that, that’s the Cap’n. The best of us all. Keeps us in check when we cause trouble. He won’t admit it, but he’s a softie at heart.”

My eyes stay on the wide man a little longer than the others. I see a smile under his well-groomed mutton chops and moustache that’s peppered with little greys here and there. His shoulders look like they’re about to burst out of his shirt at any given moment, and his hips are exactly the same. That’s all contrasted by his blue eyes, like a deep pool that women no doubt get lost in. The man’s a fucking contradiction. Too wide, Too soft.

Johnny’s voice snaps me back into the room, averting my eyes away from the man I know as ‘Captain’.

“Come on, Bonnie. Come say hello, mingle a little. We don’t bite.”

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN

In the aftermath of his “little outburst”, he's hellbent on making it up to her. It starts with multiple orgasms and ends in a confession that surprises himself.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Vaginal sex. Overstimulation. Somnophilia. Anal sex. Sex toys. Fluff? (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6.5k

FOURTEEN 🟥 FIFTEEN 🟥 SIXTEEN

He watches her closely, this submissive little thing, as she lies on her side, legs bent at the knees, torso turned, bare chest rising and falling, small hands clutching at the sheets, eager eyes following his every move.

“Turn around, darling,” he says quietly, standing at the foot of the bed. “Let me see.”

She inhales deeply, pressing her lips into a thin line, but then obeys and rolls onto her stomach, stretching her legs carefully to present the thick red welts on the backs of her thighs to him. His work. He clenches his jaw at the sight.

It's been a moment of weakness, to take his frustration out on her. A moment of unadulterated wrath, a strange accumulation of things that were not her fault. He should have punched himself instead of hitting her with his belt, but he's never been the self-harming type. She still didn't deserve the violence.

This fucking girl...

She didn't have to forgive him, she could have accepted her fate and lived with the monster that he is, hating him for the rest of her stay. He would have understood it, it wouldn't have changed anything for him, but her life would have been much worse, for sure. But in all her submissiveness, she still knows what's best for her, how to make this whole situation somewhat easier on herself. And so she's forgiven him, or something like that.

He's said his part, and he's meant it too. He never apologizes, it's not in his nature, it's not how he's become who he is now. But she deserved it, his apology, no matter how meager it has been. It's all he could have done. Admitting a mistake, promising not to repeat it. And he meant that too. He doesn't want to hurt her in a way that's not also somewhat pleasurable for her.

There's a fine line between pain and pleasure, and he's shown it to her many times before, but the belting has been too much. Well, not the act itself, the circumstances around it. It hasn't been the right time. Maybe, one day, she'll understand the thrill behind it, the bliss that can come from being spanked and caned and whipped, and he'll be there to show it to her. Not anytime soon, first he has to rebuild the trust he's lost.

She's made the first move, came to him, made him take her, and she's made the first move again, after his reflection, his apology, she came to him, touched him, kissed him, rebuilt the bridge he's burned down before. His cute little angel, afraid of conflict, eager to please, the girl he doesn't deserve and still keeps for himself, and somehow, the whole ordeal has brought them closer together.

Once she's had her arms around his neck and his tongue in her mouth, he had scooped her up and carefully carried her to the small bedroom of the cabin. It's one of his get-away houses, deep in the woods, safe and sound, and just them, with no distractions whatsoever. A place to stay until the builders and movers are done in his penthouse. Even after everything that's happened, he's still sure she'll like the surprise he's planned for her. But one thing at a time.

Now it's them, in the bedroom, where he's put her to the floor, where she's looked up at him with big dark eyes, pupils blown in lust, despite her obvious discomfort. He's helped her out of her dress, and without prompt or command, she has climbed onto the bed and lay there, ready for him, a naked little thing adorned with those heavy leather straps, the toys he's almost forgotten about still buzzing inside her.

He can see the wetness between her thighs, and he can only imagine how on edge she must be. Edge being the word, as she's certainly edged herself for hours now, never even close to any kind of release, just the constant hum of the vibrators, her muscles in a never-ending cycle of clenching and unclenching, and the belting has probably done its part as well. If anyone deserves a mind-blowing orgasm or two (or more) after all that, then it's this patient girl.

Crawling onto the bed with her, he gently places his hand on her calf, slowly rubbing his fingers upwards, teasing at the back of her knee, before carefully tracing the horizontal red lines across her thighs. Luckily he hasn't broken her skin, only bruised it badly. May still take a few days to properly heal. She winces when he touches the welts, and he quickly soothes his hand over her rear up to her lower back.

“It'll get better soon, don't worry,” he tells her quietly, and she hums into the pillow she's clutching with both arms.

He moves up the bed until he's kneeling right next to her hip, his fingers playing with the black straps. She stiffens under the motion, but he ignores it and starts unfastening the small belts, one by one, until he can carefully remove the harness without having to push it down her legs and over the irritated skin. Putting a hand under her stomach, he pushes her hips up, and as soon as he does, the toy in her cunt slips free, with no longer being held in place.

She lets out an embarrassed whine, her hand moving between her legs to catch it, but he's quicker and grabs it gently, pulls it out the rest of the way. It's drenched in her juices, warm and wet, still humming as he closes his fingers around it. He's tempted to push it back in and tease her some more, and he would have done so if it weren't for the nagging thoughts in his head to give her some rest. He needs to shut those up soon. He can't have that.

Holding onto the dildo, he moves his free hand along the cleft between her ass cheeks, then pokes at the toy in her ass, and the plug still holds, immobile except for the barely there vibration, gripped tightly by her tense muscles. He leaves it right where it is. She can handle it a little longer.

Resting his large hand on the swell of her cute little butt, he heaves himself off the bed and puts the vibrating toy on the nightstand. It starts spinning lazily in circles, its low buzzing sound amplified by the hard surface. With an amused sigh, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns the vibrator off, but amps the one in her ass up to five. She squeals in surprise and rolls onto her side, breathing a little harder.

Watching her closely, he quickly undresses, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants and underwear before shrugging off his jacket and shirt. He's back on the bed in no time, telling her to scoot over and she does, giving him room until he's able to sit against the headboard, legs outstretched, while she's curled up on her side again, looking at him curiously, body shivering under the sensations pulsing through her.

“Come straddle me,” he says as he meets her gaze, and slowly, she moves, obeys, basically crawls over him on her hands and knees, careful not to strain the tight skin of her bruised thighs. His hands are on her waist as she settles on his legs, dripping cunt exposed to his sight, and he licks his lips in anticipation. Her face is flushed, and she hovers on her knees, not really sitting down because she can't, and she probably won't be able to for a day or two either.

He indulges her, tilts his head. She's never been on top before, and he usually prefers positions where he's in control, but if he wants to gain her trust again, he needs to let her have at least the illusion of power. So he lets go of her and grabs his cock in one hand while putting the other arm behind his head. She's following the motion, eyes raking over his arousal, and while he pumps it lazily, he shifts beneath her, lifts his legs just enough to make her slip closer to his groin.

Without issuing any command, he holds his cock in his hand, ready for her to slip onto it. He can already imagine her bouncing on it, and maybe he should let her be on top more often. She's a sight to behold. Her small tits quivering, nipples hard, the flush all over her body, stomach fluttering, goosebumps pebbling her legs. She's braced her hands on his hips, and he nudges her again before she understands. Slowly she moves closer, glistening pussy lips hovering barely an inch away from his cockhead, so all she has to do is sit down on it.

But of course she hesitates, body bent over him, looking down at where they're supposed to be connected. He watches her, amusement and admiration making his heart swell and his stomach tense. He could just buck his hips up and sink into her warmth, but instead he gently grabs her hand and guides it to his cock, makes her close it around his shaft.

She swallows hard, squeezing his length as she balances herself on it, knees shaking, her tongue poking out between her tight lips as she concentrates. His hands are on her waist again, just holding her, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over her warm skin, but when she takes a bit too long after all, he moves his fingers around her rear, teases between her cheeks, and pokes at the plug.

A whimper escapes her, but in her startle, she pushes down on him, and he feels himself slipping into the tight grip of her cunt. A soft groan leaves his throat, and he relaxes against the headboard. Breathing harder, she lets go of his cock and braces her hands on his chest, leaning over him, her eyes moving to find his. He gives her a small smile, watching her blush spread down her neck, and her lips twitch before she slowly, inch by inch, sinks onto him.

He can feel the soft vibrations of the butt plug through her gummy walls, and his deep moan mirrors the soft mewl that escapes her when he bottoms out, all of him inside of her, and she settles on his thighs, her own twitching slightly under the strain. His hands find her waist once more, giving her guidance and a firm hold, and for a moment he lets her adjust to the intrusion, to the sensation of being filled and stretched again while the toy buzzes away in her ass.

“You're doing great, baby,” he whispers softly, relaxing into the bed as he just watches her. “You look so beautiful impaled on my cock, you know that?”

She bites her lip as she looks at him, shifting slightly on top of him, seemingly unsure what to do now.

“Ride my cock, darling. Bounce up and down, in your own pace, do what feels good. Tonight I'm all yours to use, how's that?” he offers with a crooked smirk, and she huffs a nervous little laugh at that. He retrieves his hands and crosses his arms behind his head, letting her take control.

The first thing she does is move her hands up his chest until she's cupping his face. She's breathing harder, the slight change in angle definitely causing her some discomfort, but she endures, leaning in closer, watching him, curiously, very much uncertain, and when he doesn't move, she's almost canceling her plans and retreats, but then he grabs the back of her neck and pulls her the rest of the way, letting their lips collide with a smack.

She gasps into the kiss, but soon remembers her initial intention, her little tongue pressing into his mouth with a hunger he's surprised she could muster. He inhales her little mewls, tastes her, tongue and lips moving against hers, his fingers slipping into her hair before he twists it around his hand and fists it, holding her in place. She's clinging onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and in her attempts to mirror his motions, indulging in her own needs, she starts gyrating her hips.

His groan is swallowed by her tongue moving around his, her eyelids fluttering, and when he bucks his hips upwards a little, the little cry that slips out of her throat is muffled by his mouth. The kiss is messy, her movements on top of him jerky and uncoordinated, but he rolls with it, lets her discover what works, what makes him moan, what feels good for her. To be fair, he could just sit with her like this, feeling the mild vibrations of the toy against his hardened member, while she sits on it, cockwarms him with the gentle embrace of her cute cunt.

He has to teach her the simple joy of just being connected soon, because for now, she doesn't seem to be able to grasp the concept (to be fair, he gave her the command to ride him, so he shouldn't blame her for trying to follow it) as her hips start moving more and more, first back and forth, rubbing her pelvis against his, but soon, while still kissing him deeply, she starts straining her legs, lifting herself slightly, and he moves his free hand along her back to her hip, helping her in pushing her up and down on his cock.

Soon she's panting into his mouth, the unusual workout quickly getting to her. He moves both his hands to her hips, grips at the swell of her flesh and guides her, slowly at first, up and down, her walls clinging to his shaft before her hips slam back down and swallow his entirety once more, his crown definitely bullying her cervix again. He's groaning with her, their heavy breaths mingling when he presses his forehead to hers to ground her, her eyes hooded but burning with an intensity he's not seen in them before.

She picks up the pace, small hands finding his shoulders as she leans back for better leverage, lips glistening and swollen. Her skin is flushed and sweat-slick, as she bounces on his lap, tiny tits jumping, up and down, faster and harder, always taking him as deep as possible. Her eyebrows furrow under the strain, her thighs tremble, her stomach fluttering, her panting breaths turning into whines, needy little mewls, as desperation makes her move rougher and quicker yet.

She's exhausted, sweating, barely able to keep at this pace for long, but she's also too stubborn to give up, having been on the edge for what might feel like forever. Always stimulated, never brought to release. She's chasing that orgasm, pushing herself forward even when her body weakens more and more, and even though he wanted to let her do her thing as he watches her from his reclined position beneath her, with just his hands on her hips, he eventually folds and leans in, wrapping his arms around her shaking body, and starts pushing up into her.

A wail escapes her, and she clings to him, arms snaking around his neck, face pressed to the side of his head, her sweet noises loud in his ear. He presses his feet into the bed for better leverage and pushes hard and fast, and soon her walls clench around him more, a tight grip that threatens to bring him over the edge first, but he braces himself, tenses up, forces through the sensations crashing through him. This is for her.

He shifts them on the bed so he can lie back and pull her with him, arms still tight around her as she presses into him, hips moving with his thrusts, two bodies joined in a wild race for release. She's moaning and howling, shivering and trembling.

Then, finally, her tight cunt clamps down on him hard as she freezes for a moment, a silent gasp making her lips part, her back arching, her hips stuttering, and he keeps rutting into her through her orgasm, moving her back and forth, prolonging the moment of bliss, fighting through the grip of her tense muscles, and she freezes again, this time with a loud cry that turns into a drawn-out moan that makes his cock twitch inside her.

In his haze, he rolls them around, eager to see her face contort in pleasure, but once her back hits the mattress (and with it the backs of her belted thighs), she wails, squeezing her eyes shut which causes tears to fall from under her lashes. His body keeps going, pounding into her hard and rough, making them bounce on the bed, as he braces on his forearms, hands holding her face, soothing her wet cheeks, his eyes on every single twitch she issues.

“It's okay,” he breathes hoarsely. “Almost there, baby. You're doing great, so good for me. My good little girl...”

It's like a mantra, and it works, she relaxes beneath him, small hands gripping at his waist, but she isn't moving, afraid to put too much pressure on her bruises again.

“Wrap your legs around me, it'll be better,” he whispers, and when she does, he feels her really relaxing. Her arms come back around his neck, her eyes fluttering open, mouth agape, heavy breaths hitting his face. “Good girl,” he praises and leans in to kiss her wet forehead. She coos softly in response. “Such a good girl!”

With her body folded around him, clinging to him like a little monkey, he shifts his position to rest on his knees, his thrusts slowing slightly, before he starts hammering down once more. She cries out, stiffens, comes again, and he keeps going, really straining himself now. The tight grip of her cunt, the constant buzzing of the toy, her little noises and the wet squelching and slapping sounds, it all makes his stomach tense and his balls ready to explode.

But she deserves more, so he pushes through, slipping in and out, slows down, accelerates again, a steady rhythm of teasing and pushing her over, bringing her to new heights, letting her float, giving her what she needs. She's a babbling, mewling mess beneath him, and yet he can't get enough of the sight of her eyes rolling back, her face relaxing into a mask of pure bliss, her whole body spasming against his, thighs trembling, legs crossed so tight around him all he can do is push her down into the bed with the remaining strength of his whole body.

They bounce and test the limits of the bed, sweat-slick and sore, exhausted and content, moaning and groaning, and when he finally allows himself to come deep inside of her, it's that final snap of his hips as he buries his face in the crook of her neck and his cock as deep as it will go, his rough breaths hot on her wet skin, his arms cradling her head, his body tense, legs aching as if he's run a marathon, but it's the best goddamn orgasm he's ever had when he eventually collapses on top of the small girl, cock twitching and throbbing, shooting spurt after spurt of hot cum into her convulsing depths.

She's gone silent beneath him, while his heart is hammering inside his ears. He can't move, doesn't want to anyway, just lies heavy on her, and strangely enough she doesn't seem to mind. He feels her fingers moving along his back, fingertips pressing against hard muscles, before she slips them into his hair, and he moans quietly when she starts massaging his scalp. Turning his head, he presses his lips to her neck, savoring the little flutter of her pulse against them.

For a moment they remain like this, silent, motionless, content, his cock still buried deep within her wet warmth, that toy still humming through her insides. With a loud sigh, he eventually rolls them around again, settles her on top of him, a quiet groan escaping her. She's pressed to him, skin against slick skin, a pliant body, her head resting on his shoulder, soft breaths fanning over his jaw. He holds her with one arm, the other moves down her back, savoring the little shudders as his rough fingertips rub over pebbled skin.

His fingers curl around her rear then, slip between her ass cheeks, and he's content to grip the plug and finally relieve her of the constant buzzing, but then she stirs, leans up on her elbow and looks at him, a tiny jerk to her head making him pause.

“You wanna keep it in?” he whispers quietly, watching her curiously.

Her face is flushed, hair sticking to her damp forehead, eyes glazed, lips swollen, but they still twitch into a shy smile. “Mhm,” she makes, cheeks burning up even more.

He smirks at her, tugs at the plug, but only teases her. “Alright then, as you wish,” he replies and leans in to press his lips to her nose. She lets out the softest little giggle, and for a moment he just stares at her before she folds under the intensity of his gaze and hides her warm face in the crook of his neck.

He pulls her tighter against him, hand heavy on her back, the other still on her rear, an amused laugh leaving his throat. She hums into him, and he closes his eyes, relaxing beneath her.

What a little minx, truly insatiable after all. It seems fair to assume that they're back on track, almost as if nothing happened.

They must have fallen asleep after their intense little workout. When he stirs and opens his eyes lazily, she's still lying on top of him, legs splayed open over his thighs, pliant and at ease, cunt still filled with his cock, and somehow he's hard again. Must be the toy she didn't want to part with. Its constant buzzing, straight against his shaft through her soft walls, wave after wave of vibrations, hums all the way into his tense stomach.

He groans when he lifts his hips slightly, moving her just an inch, his hands gently rubbing along her sides until he grips her waist and pushes her deeper onto him. A confused little grumble escapes her, but she doesn't wake, her steady breaths fanning over his neck. He could just fuck up into her again, pumping his pelvis into her, until he adds another load of cum to the previous one, but he's not made for monotony.

And frankly, he can't and doesn't want to shed his skin and change his way, even though she's trying her best to mold him into something he doesn't want to be. Carefully, his hands on her lower back, he rolls her onto her side and scoots back, pulling out of her as gentle as possible. She lets out a little whine, but is still fast asleep, too exhausted or just unwilling to deal with whatever he has planned next.

He keeps her on her side, her legs scissoring open a little, allowing thick globs of cum to seep from her puffy pussy lips. The sight makes his cock throb even more, and he could have watched it a little longer, but the tension in his stomach urges him to keep going, and so he slips from beneath her fully, and kneels down at the foot of the bed, taking another moment to watch the sleeping girl, with her messy hair, her soft skin, stained and soiled by his doing.

Eventually he grabs her hips and pulls her back, lifts her rear up, mindful to keep her head turned to the side so she can breathe. She's like a doll, and he almost comes just watching her be molded into the position he wants her in. Ignoring the red welts for now, he scoots closer, his hands on her rear, kneading those soft plump cheeks, before his fingers dip between them and close around the base of the plug.

She stirs again, mumbling in her sleep, but he keeps going, gently tugging at the toy until her muscles give way to let the first bump out. Then the next and the next, until all five little ball shaped protrusions slip free and he removes the vibrating thing completely. Her hole gapes for a moment before her muscles pucker up again. He leaves the vibrator on the bed, too lazy to get his phone to turn it off.

She's still asleep when he sits up and rubs his cockhead between her cheeks down to her dripping cunt. Gathering his last spend, dipping into her used hole just for good measure, he uses the thumb of his free hand to poke at her sphincter, rubbing the tense muscles. The plug was a good preparation, but not nearly as girthy as his hard member, so the stretch may still be noticeable. But she's taken him before, with barely any preparation at all, so she'll be fine.

He dips his finger into her pulsing pussy, gathering her slick and his cum, then puts the same finger into her puckered hole, pushing deep, feeling the tense muscles and the shiver crashing through her small body. His cock is already leaking precum when he finally puts the tip against her, one hand on her hip to steady her, his eyes moving up to her resting face.

He keeps watching her as he pushes forward, slowly, carefully, letting her muscles give way gradually until they close around his tip and swallow it, and as they do, she whimpers, eyebrows furrowing. Instead of pushing his hips against her, he pulls her against him, his hold firm, and inch by inch he sinks deeper into her tight ass, the grip already enough to make his cock twitch, a groan slipping from his lips.

Eventually he bottoms out, her tense muscles fighting the intruder, her limbs trembling. Both of his hands are on her waist now, holding her against him, close enough he can feel the warm skin of her bruised thighs against his, but the pain of the touch doesn't seem to register in her sleeping mind. Not yet anyways.

Breathing deeply, he fights the sensations, the urge to just rut into her like a feral dog and breed her, find relief inside her until she's dripping from both holes, and the image of that is strong enough to make him moan, his arms shaking as he grips her tighter.

He has to remind himself why she's here, why he took her away. To use her, whenever he wants, she is his, his little angel, his toy, his good girl, the same girl who asked him to take her virginity, who asked him to order her to submit because she couldn't make any decisions on her own anymore. And she wants this, she may fight it still, but she wants this, prefers his cock over any toy he'll stuff her with, so why not give her what she wants?

The first thrust is rough, tense muscles protesting, skin dragging over his shaft as he pulls back and slams in again. And she whines, a low little hum in the air, even though she remains still, caught in her sleep, dealing with what he did – and does – to her on another, deeper level of her consciousness. Holding her hips, he thrusts again, and again, until he falls into a slow rhythm of pulling and pushing, her tight grip dragging over his cock with every motion, making his head spin.

He's working himself up gradually, always watching her and her reactions, as he pulls out slowly, savoring the drag, the clenching ring of muscles holding onto his tip, squeezing so deliciously, before he slips back in with a snap of his hips, fast, hard and deep until his balls slam into her wet folds. He can barely hear her soft mumbles over his loud groans, he's not holding back, he can't, the need for release growing with every slap of his pelvis against her cushioned rear.

Shifting behind her, pulling her back to the edge of the bed, so he can put one leg on it and the other on the ground to have better leverage, he quickly falls into a different rhythm, a quick stabbing, in and out, rough little snaps of his hips, even rougher pulls on her hips to move her against him, and it's during this rutting, that she wakes up with a surprised little growl.

He puts one arm around her middle and leans over her, the other hand on her nape to push her down into the bed, and she whines and wails, her arms flailing around helplessly before he grabs them and folds them behind her back, then uses them with a tight grip to really pound into her now.

Her noises fuel him, her moans and mewls and cries of protest sinking into his sweat-slick skin, gathering in his stomach, vibrating right into his cock that keeps slamming into her hard and rough, forcing its way through her tense muscles. She arches her back and bucks her hips, to meet his thrusts or to get away he isn't sure, but ultimately succumbs to his rapid rhythm.

Despite his haze, he notices the still buzzing toy lying next to her leg, and he grabs it, holding her folded arms with one large hand now, and without hesitation, bends his arm around her and presses the vibrator to her clit. She cries out again, louder now, head thrashing, shoulders turning fruitlessly in his tight grip, feet kicking, but he keeps his leg tugged against her knees to keep her from folding in on herself, and the other on the ground to steady himself, ignoring the flying of her limbs.

He's so close, and he knows she is too with how he holds the buzzing toy to her throbbing clit. Her wetness seeps out of her clenching cunt, empty and abandoned, right onto his fingers, as he continues his ruthless assault on her ass with deep, hard thrusts that make her muscles clench and ultimately milk his cock for all it's worth.

When she cries out and shudders, he groans and collapses against her rear, barely able to stay upright, as he pushes as deep as possible and stills there, his balls twitching against her folds as he empties himself into her warm depths. She's whimpering quietly, body frozen in front of him, all protest gone from her limbs. He eases the hold of her arms and starts rubbing her lower back as her arms fall to her sides, boneless.

He's panting, still spasming inside her, and he's just marveling about the amount of cum he's able to give her, when he feels her small hand on his larger one still holding the toy to her clit. She's not trying to rip it away, but gently nudges him, eases his grip until he complies and lowers the object, and in his own euphoria he hasn't noticed how its vibrations have numbed his hand.

Inhaling deeply, he pulls it away and places it on her lower back, her rear still pushed out to create a little shelf for it to lie on. His free hand roams her sides for a moment until he feels his cock deflating inside her, finally spent, satisfied, at least for now. Slowly he moves his hips back and slips out of her, leaving her with a wet pop. The sight of his cum dripping from her puckering hole gives him goosebumps, mesmerizes him, makes him stand back and watch it run down her skin until it gathers on her pussy lips, mixing with the load he's left inside her hungry cunt earlier.

All the while she's frozen in place, still on the bed, ass raised, knees shaking but holding her up, chest pressed down, head turned to the side, eyes closed, lips parted, drool and sweat gathering beneath her. As if in a trance, he grabs the toy and circles her gaping hole with it, teases the slim tip into it, pushes his cum back inside. He keeps playing with it for a moment, watches how her muscles tense under the vibrations, while his body comes down from the high and exertion, and she lets him, doesn't fuss.

“I bet my good little girl wants it back where it belongs, hm?” he whispers, noticing her eyelids fluttering before she looks at him out of the corner of her eye. He doesn't wait for her reply, just pushes the toy fully in, the soft squelching sound mixed with her surprised gasp pebbling his skin, her muscles lax for the first half of it before the ball shaped bumps grow bigger and he has to give the last one a little push before the toy settles back into place, gripped tightly by her puckering hole.

He still gives her soft ass cheek a gentle slap, and another, to tighten it even more. She yelps quietly, body shuddering every time his hand makes contact with her skin, but he's barely making any difference, even if he wants to really spank her until he can see his hand imprint, bright red and glowing, but he refrains. Not the right time. Soon, he promises himself.

Rubbing his hands over her rear, tugging at the plug to make sure it's secure, he then leans back up fully and stretches, rolling his shoulders, then walks around the bed and grabs his phone, turning off the vibrations. Its battery is dwindling anyways, and she may need a break as well. He's sure it's enough to just have that thing sitting in her ass again.

She rolls onto her side and faces him, hugging the sheets to her chest. He sits down on the edge of the bed and caresses her messy hair, a soft smile playing around the corners of his lips. His fingers trail around the side of her face until he teases his index finger against her lips. As if on cue, she parts them and sucks his fingertip into her mouth. He adds another finger, and she does the same motion, her little tongue flicking around his digits almost needily, meditatively, as if she needs them to ground herself.

Like a child sucking on its own thumb.

He can see the appeal, and he lets her, watching her closely, fondly, his other hand braced on the bed. Rubbing her tongue with his index and middle finger while she sucks on them, he eventually feels the somewhat sadistic urge to push his fingertips deeper, tease against the back of her throat, and while he holds her gaze, her eyes widen, and he keeps pushing until she squirms, grabs his wrist, but then gags anyway, her throat contracting around his digits.

He pulls them away, only to push back in, slowly, always a little further, in and out. Her nails dig into his wrist, her body shuddering, but she doesn't really fight it, just lets him fuck her face with his fingers, her tongue guiding the movement, her cheeks hollowing when she sucks her spit in. He lets her swallow before making her gag again, and again, and again, until she's a spluttering mess, drool dripping down her chin.

What a pretty sight. Eventually he pulls his hand away, wipes her spit on her cheek before slipping his fingers into her hair, cupping her head to pull her into a sitting position. She winces when she has to strain her thighs, but he swallows the little whine when he captures her wet lips for a deep kiss. She clings to him, moving her tongue with his, eyes fluttering close when she leans into the touch.

Still connected to her mouth, he moves his hands around her body and lifts her up, scoops her into his arms. She's that pliant thing, fucked out of her mind, holes filled, throat included (though he'd have preferred to stuff it with his cock and cum instead of his fingers, but there'll be time for that again soon), dripping, sweating, slick all over, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. Somehow it does. He'll make sure of it.

He is the only thing she'll ever have to worry about.

Kissing her slower now, watching her out of hooded eyes, a strange warmth rushes through him, fills his exhausted limbs, makes his cock throb. She is his, all his, no matter what. He's shown her his darker side, and she's still here, cuddled against him, eager to be with him, please him, service him.

Keep him company. He's never seen it like that, then again she is the first one to witness him in all aspects of life. They've shared meals, showered together, slept in the same bed, things he's done with women before, but it has never felt like this, this... domestic, this real, this... unforced.

He took her away, abused her, but whatever he does, to him it doesn't feel like force. He's fought way worse with the ones that came before her, had to mold them, make them understand what he wants from them, but she... his perfect little girl, she already knew, despite her inexperience, despite her fear, she's adjusted, listened to him, followed his orders without much hesitation. Perfectly submissive, no matter what.

He stops on the way to the bathroom, holding her pressed against his chest, his lips hovering close to hers, breaths mingling. “I'm proud of you, you know that?” he whispers with a soft smile, watching her blush and blink quickly in surprise. “Really, really proud,” he repeats, peppering her cheek with gentle kisses that make her squirm and giggle softly.

“Look at you,” he adds, nuzzling her nose with his. “So beautiful, so perfect, taking me so well, doing everything I ask of you. You...” He stops as the thought manifests inside his head, a thought he's not had for a long time, if ever. But it feels true, real. “You make me very happy,” he finally voices the words, inhaling deeply, leaning his forehead against hers.

A sniffle escapes her, and he feels her arms tightening around his neck. She doesn't say anything, just looks at him with big eyes, glistening and still reddened, lips parted and quivering. He gives her a soft smile, not expecting a response, and tilts his head to close his lips around hers, swallowing any kind of noise she wanted to make. It doesn't matter what she thinks about him, or maybe he doesn't want to hear it. She's had a crush on him, but she has a lot more reasons to hate him now, and whatever the case, he doesn't want to know.

It's enough to know that she remains his good little girl, that she knows how that makes him feel, and maybe that's enough incentive to give her the strength to stay this way, that no matter what he does to her, she will endure it, because she wants to, for his sake, or maybe, preferably, to satisfy her own needs as well. Time will tell.

For now, he's focusing back on the moment, savoring the taste and feel of her tongue, her little mewls in his ears as he shifts her on his arms, before he continues on the short way to the bathroom. His intent is always to clean her up, keep her pure, at least from the outside, but he already knows he can't control himself around her. His cock knows it too as it twitches excitedly when he carries her into the shower.

FOURTEEN 🟥 FIFTEEN 🟥 SIXTEEN

End notes: I think this is as fluffy as he can get, don't expect anything more for now.

To be honest, I'm a little torn on this. It's been a very harsh up and down with him and the things he's said and done, but he is the unpredictable type, so it shouldn't be too unexpected? It feels extreme, going from “I don't need a reason to hurt you” to “you make me really happy”, from her being “his toy” to “his good little girl”. But maybe that's his charm, the polar opposites. He is a psychotic man, we already established that, and now we've deepened that sentiment. He can and will do whatever he wants.

You know, I started writing this story with only the smut in mind, but the plot, man the plot, it just happened, and now I struggle a little with its plausibility (then again: do we really need this to be plausible? At the end of the day it's entertainment, spicy smut to fall asleep to, so, yeah, let's just roll with it).

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Sunday!

TAG LIST: @untamedheart81 @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2564

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sorry that this one feels like a bit of a filler - but I’m seriously hoping to get some spicy content out in the next chapter so pls pls stay tuned! Also this is only proof read by myself so pls let me know of any errors!

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 4

We spent a few hours researching and looking into the First Blades whereabouts after dinner, Dean and I only making work-related conversations after the pie ordeal. Every now and then when I looked up from the book I was reading I’d catch him looking in my direction, but I was far too tired for any more confrontation - I knew he'd act like an ass if I said anything. I decided to head to bed at around midnight, unable to read more than a few words and actually process said words in my brain. As Sam was still asleep, Dean showed me to my room which was tragically opposite his, and I could only imagine the noises that I’d be hearing coming through that door. Getting ready for bed, I dug out an old boyfriends T-shirt that I was still in possession of and threw it on, making sure to remove all other items of clothing except my panties. I climbed into bed - which was surprisingly more comfortable than I’d anticipated, though the sheets smelt a little musty - and set an alarm on my phone so I could hopefully rise before the boys in the morning. The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep whisked me away, not giving me a chance to think about the wild day I’d had and the total jackass that I’d met.

*

My alarm rang at 5am and I crawled out of bed, dressing in yesterday’s jeans with a clean, low-cut tank top and an open flannel thrown over the top. Pulling on my boots, I ran my fingers through my hair before heading to the en suite bathroom to brush my teeth. As I turned on the tap, the pipes clanged alarmingly as a small stream of water trickled from the faucet, the harsh noise echoing around the small tiled room. “That’s not concerning at all,” I mumbled to myself, the noise finally stopping as I turned the tap off. After I’d finished brushing I headed back into the bedroom to grab my phone before leaving the room to walk wearily to the kitchen. Upon arrival, I instantly made a pot of coffee, the smell alone already helping to blow away the sleepy cobwebs in my mind. I needed food. Something good, like pancakes. So I rummaged around until I found everything I needed, starting to memorise where the brothers kept everything after spending so much time in here yesterday evening. As I whipped up the batter, I threw some bacon in a pan and placed three plates on the table, along with some mugs, the pot of coffee and a big bottle of maple syrup. As soon as I started cooking the batter, it was like I’d used a summoning spell.

“You know when I first woke up I thought that I’d dreamt you up in some sort of weirdly tame nightmare” Dean said in a deep and raspy, fresh-from-sleep tone as he paced into the room and sat at the table, rubbing his eyes.

“Is that your way of saying that I’m your dream girl, Winchester?” I teased as I poured him a mug of coffee. He smirked, not looking up at me.

“You wish darlin’.”

“I really don’t,” I turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake, taking a sip from my own mug.

I’d made a stack of maybe twelve pancakes by the time Sam arrived, greeting me with that warm smile of his as he took a seat opposite Dean.

“Good morning (Y/n), something smells amazing.”

“Good morning Sam,” I smiled back at him before I looked over at Dean, “That’s how you greet someone in the morning Dean, not by telling them they were part of your living nightmare.” Dean shrugged, taking a long drink from his coffee.

Sam gave me an almost apologetic look on his brothers behalf, saying quietly, “as charming as ever then, Dean.” As he sat down I placed the stack of pancakes along with the bacon on the table and both men’s eyes lit up, immediately picking up their cutlery.

“Help yourselves,” I said, taking a seat between them, “just leave a couple for me at least.”

Dean was the first to pile about five onto his plate along with a good portion of the bacon. Without even looking at me he placed two pancakes on my own plate as he reached for the maple syrup. Before I could ask for the bacon, it was Sam who served some up for me before giving himself whatever was left over before handing me the syrup.

“Oh, thanks guys…” I said, a little shocked at how weirdly coordinated they were with that whole task.

“You’re welcome,” they both managed to mumble out through huge mouthfuls of food. We sat in a strangely nice silence for a few minutes, the only noise to be heard was the sounds of breakfast being totally annihilated. Dean was the first to throw his cutlery down with a very satisfied groan. He stretched, his T-shirt rising slightly to show his incredibly toned abdomen.

For fucks sake.

“THAT is what powers a man up in the morning,” he said, his fingers interlaced behind his head.

“Mmm hmm,” was all I managed to get out, finding it annoyingly difficult to look away, let alone to stop my eyes from trailing to where his leather belt hugged his hips and his old denim jeans gripped the thick muscles of his thighs. A few seconds must’ve passed when he cleared his throat and my eyes snapped up to be immediately caught in that moss-green gaze. Shit. I thought maybe for a second that he didn’t notice me looking. But then the corner of his mouth twitched up into that infuriating smirk. Luckily for me, he didn’t say anything, but I watched as he dragged his gaze over my figure, similar to how I did with him. It was Sam who spoke up next and I tore my eyes away, letting out a breath as he saved me from Deans silent interrogation.

“So I read last night about a possible case,” he started to say as he finished chewing the last bit of food on his plate before pushing it away and turning towards us.

“Go on,” Dean said, leaning forwards - finally covering his exposed stomach.

“I think it’s a haunting - some sort of item possession involving a ghost. All of the accidents that have been happening seem to occur either around or directly within an old antique store that’s connected to an old auction house. I think it’s worth a look,” Sam opened his laptop that he’d placed on the seat next to him, showing us all of the research he’d done overnight. Looking at the evidence he’d piled together, I think he was on to something. I nodded.

“Sure, I’m in. I’ll go pack a bag,” I said, standing up and clearing the plates from the table.

“Hang on a second,” Dean spoke up and I immediately knew he was talking to me.

“What?”

“What makes you think you’re coming with us for this?” His brows furrowed slightly.

“Because I never get to work out in the field - Bobby always had me on book duty and I want to see some real hunting in action,” I raised my voice a little starting to get defensive.

“If Bobby never let you do field work then neither are we. You’re staying here,” his tone was stern as he downed the last of the coffee and stood up, towering over me.

“What?!” I almost shouted.

“Dean, I don’t think it’s your place to say what she can and can’t do. I say we let her come along,” Sam intervened, his voice always full of reason and reassurance. I gave him a half smile - a small, ‘thank you for sticking up for me’.

“No way. There’s no way I’m letting Bobby’s girl put herself in danger. The old bastard would find a way to make us pay if anything were to happen to her; even from beyond the grave.”

“I don’t need you taking on his role, Dean. Bobby kept me safe my whole life, just him. I’m sure the pair of you could look out for me no problem on a little ghost trip,” I chided, coming up with a plan to get Dean to agree to me coming.

“(Y/n)s right, this shouldn’t be a hard case for us - if anything this is a small break from the real hard work,” Sam stepped towards Dean, trying to reassure him.

Dean looked from Sam to myself, and when our eyes locked I let a sly smile crawl onto my lips.

“Or maybe Dean Winchester isn’t up to the challenge?” I said, holding my hands up. He frowned, opening his mouth but I spoke again before he could get his words out. “Maybe….,” I stepped towards him, now only a few inches between us, “Dean Winchester is losing his touch, and isn’t the big strong man he used to be and really won’t be able to keep me safe…?” I flashed Dean my best doe eyes and I heard him suck in a breath as I reached forwards and tugged slightly on his T-shirt, making him look down at me with his eyes flicking between mine - dilating a little. I couldn’t help but bite my lip, looking up at him through my lashes and pressing my fingertips to his chest, feeling his heart rate increase with every beat from my touch. I liked to think that I was being very ‘persuasive’.

“I think you’re right (Y/n), I don’t think Dean is up to the task. He’s definitely been losing his touch,” Sam spoke up, catching on with my game and joining in with the verbal attack on his older brother. Deans eyes snapped up to look at Sam and the almost trance-like state he was in before was shattered.

“I have NOT lost my touch!” He snapped. Sam and I looked at each other and exploded into laughing very fake laughs, clapping and wiping away a pretend tear.

“Sure thing ‘sweetheart’,” I said, “prove it - keep me safe.”

“Oh I’ll keep you safe,” Dean took the bait and barged past us, “I’ll keep you safe from your own fucking shadow.”

*

After a few hours of packing and travelling, we arrived in a very well manicured town - even the motel was decent. Upon checking in, we got two rooms; one for me and one for the boys.

“Let’s drop our stuff off, freshen up and meet back here in ten?” Sam said, checking his watch. It was just past 11am.

“Sure, sounds good,” I replied, and Dean just nodded in approval. Their room was further down the corridor than mine, so I watched them leave before entering my room. It was the usual layout: one double bed, cheap linens, an old TV and an under-stocked minibar. At least the decor wasn't completely brown. I dumped my bags on the floor and started to unpack some essentials. I laid my clothes out on the bed - some of these outfits may come in handy later on. For now though, I’ll just stick to what I was already wearing. Lastly I grabbed a tin that was down in the bottom of my duffle - inside was a bunch of fake IDs that Bobby insisted on making me a few years ago. I smiled, remembering him always answering the phone to the Winchesters, pretending to be their FBI boss. I was always dying to know what they were hunting when he got those phone calls. I admired them a lot back then. I shook away the memory and pocketed the IDs, marching to the bathroom and splashing some water on my face before leaving, locking the door behind me.

The boys were already waiting for me.

“You boys ready?” I asked, to which they both nodded. “Where to first?” my question was aimed at Sam, but Dean replied.

“The old antique store just down here on the corner,” he grumbled as we started walking, still unimpressed that I was tagging along. I shot him a look as he practically glared at me from the other side of Sam.

“Get over yourself Dean. I’m along for the ride so deal with it,” I snapped at him, hoping he un-rustles his jimmies quickly. I wasn’t going to let him drag me down, not when I’m excited to actually be on a case. My first ‘out in the field’ case of all things. I wanted this to be a good memory. He scrunched his face up at my words, mouthing an angry ‘I hate you’ at me, to which I flipped him off.

“Guys just behave yourselves!” Sam stopped in his tracks right as we were outside our destination. “We are professionals so we need to act like it. We’re here to do our job,” Sam said in an authoritative voice - which undeniably sounded very attractive on him. I walked a few steps ahead of them and stopped with my hand on the front door to the store.

“Sam’s right. I’m happy to be here helping these people,” I smiled a little too sweetly before throwing a dark look at Dean, “so pull your shit together Dean, you’re making us look bad.” I heard him start to protest before I pushed the door open and walked into the shop, hearing the two brothers scurrying to catch up with me. As we walked in we were greeted by an older gentleman, with a kind face, a neatly trimmed pure white beard and round specs.

“Good morning and welcome to the store,” he said, his voice soft, “Can I help you?” He looked between the three of us. The boys reached for the fake badges, but they were lost for words when I beat them to the chase - obviously being unaware that I’d come prepared. Holding my badge up for the older gent to see, I spoke without missing a beat.

“Hi! Yes you certainly can help me - I’m agent Granger and these,” I jabbed my thumb to Sam and Dean who were standing right behind me, “are agents Crabbe and Goyle. We’ve got some questions for you regarding the strange occurrences going on around here recently.”

“Of course, it’s about time these things were investigated,” the older man turned and beckoned for us to follow, which Sam did immediately. Dean and I were left behind, staring each other down. I could tell he wasn’t happy that I had a badge, and I couldn’t help but smile at that. He scowled.

“This isn’t a fucking game.”

“You’re just mad that I got one up on you so early on,” I grinned up at him, his frown not budging.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” he huffed.

“I’m safe from doing you then aren’t I?” I couldn’t stop the words from spilling from my lips.

“What?” He looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head, obviously not catching on. I chuckled a little, walking past him to catch up with Sam, leaving him standing there confused.

“Don’t think too hard about it Dean, you might hurt yourself,” I called back over my shoulder.

“Fuck y- hang on- oh you BITCH!” He shouted after me as he caught on finally. I laughed, not looking back.

“Only to you Dean.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 5

[chunksworld]

Behind Closed Doors

IVE Yujin x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut) | fuckbuddy!Yujin

A/N 1: I am down astronomically bad for her. Thank you @kaedespicelatte as always for beta reading this piece.

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“Come on, let’s go out tonight! Drinks are on me.”

You should’ve turned her down then, when all she had in her system was a glass of champagne from the after party, when she still isn’t as possessive as she is right now—arms wrapped tightly around yours as she tries, and fails, to make her way back to the dorms. You should have remembered just how much of a lightweight Ahn Yujin is, and how it could spell trouble for you for the rest of this lovely night. Another rookie of the year award bagged, another round of partying, and another night spent with her. It truly is the most wonderful time of the year.

“Hmm you look good today.”

Even just a drop of alcohol turns her into the most dangerous woman on the planet—and with the dress she’s wearing that hugs her curves tightly, it takes every ounce of self-control not to make any moves that could jeopardize your friendship with her. Not even when she presents those inviting lips that makes you just want to drag her to a narrow alley and fuck her senseless. Not even when that intoxicating scent of hers makes her even more alluring than she already is. 

Are you even just friends? The countless sexual encounters with her proves otherwise—from quickies in the practice room to full-on sexual escapades in her bedroom, you two have done it all.

A partnership forged by her desire to alleviate the stress that comes with being the leader of the most popular group in the nation has led to quite an interesting relationship with her, a relationship that you didn’t even think would exist.

“Y-Yah why are we walking so slowly!” 

In fear of being recognized, you opted to walk her home instead of taking a cab; which might have been a bad idea considering her dorm is two miles away and carrying an albeit light woman who is constantly trying to grind up on you is not exactly what you need—maybe you should have just accepted Wonyoung’s assistance. And considering that you’re just as shitfaced at this very moment, your fuse is infinitesimally small. “Can you just stay still, Yujinnie?”

There’s no use arguing when she’s breathing down your neck, sending chills down your spine as you attempt to give her a piggyback ride. You grab onto her thighs as she wraps her arms around your neck  and the moan she releases into your ears is only urging you throw all decorum away—not that you had any in the first place. If everyone just knew how much she bends to your will during every encounter, if only they knew just how lucky you are to have such an experience with her.

Sensing your distress, she laughs; a sultry laugh that only makes it that much harder to maintain composure. God, she really knows how to manipulate you. “Ohhh looks like someone is angry.” Then you feel her lips hovering near your ears; those damn, tempting lips. “Had a little bit too much to drink tonight, sweetie?” Look who’s talking. You shiver as you feel her softly nibble on your earlobe, wandering hands exploring your body as she tightens her hold around you. It’s a battle of who can keep their cool the longest and she’s clearly on the winning side.

“Can’t wait for you to fuck me hard once when we get back.” Maybe it’s the fact that this whole friends-with-benefits ordeal with her has been going on for a year now, but she sure knows how to push your buttons. But you’re not exactly doing anything to stop her, in fact you love it. Who else can say that they get to have sex with Ahn Yujin regularly? “I know I’ll definitely be screaming for that cock of yours.”

“Yujin…..”

She dismisses your words like the wind, a hand slowly creeping down towards your pants. How pathetic, you already have a bulge and you haven’t even fucked her yet. “What position are we gonna try this time? Missionary? That’s boring. Doggy style? That’s too basic. Maybe you eat my pussy while I suck your dick, hmm?”

You almost stumble forward but you fortunately save yourself in time before you end up faceplanting on the sidewalk. The imagery Yujin places inside your brain is enough to cause it to go haywire. But you must remain firm, any advantage given to her will only boost her already inflated ego. “Just shut the fuck up, will you?”

“The only way that happens is if you stuff my mouth full of that dick. Look how hard you are for me.” She doesn’t stop fondling your clothed length, as if the fact that other people can clearly see the sinful things she’s doing urges her even more. “I can already imagine it hitting the back of my throat. Or hitting my cervix while you pound me from behind.” A groan as she gives your clothed bulge a squeeze. “God, you’re so big.”

You grit your teeth, knowing that any words that come out of your mouth will encourage her even more. But your silence doesn’t stop her, continuing to whisper the dirtiest things right into your ear as you make the treacherous walk back to the dorms. Nothing she did made the trip easy nor the fact that you became more and more drunk as time passed by—almost falling to the side multiple times as she just laughed at you. Are you really going to endure such things just to get in her pants?

The obvious answer is yes. Otherwise you would have just called a cab like you should’ve and dropped her off before making your way home. But instead here you are, struggling to press the combination to her dorms as she somehow made herself heavier. Your legs are aching and trembling, your dick has been painfully trapped inside your pants for the past hour; at this point you’d want nothing but to vent out your frustration.

Forget the fact that all of the other members are deep in their slumber, crash your lips into hers as soon as the door is shut. The taste of whatever alcoholic concoction she consumed lingers on her lips, those plump lips that have been teasing you for the past few hours. Thankfully you’ve memorized the outline of her dorm to be able to maneuver the two of you to her bedroom in complete darkness—though not without bumping into some furniture in the way.

Thank goodness Yujin’s bedroom walls are soundproof because she releases a moan so loudly that the other members definitely would’ve heard by now. But it’s not like the two of you would’ve cared anyways—she’ll loudly proclaim to anyone how good you fuck her. She pulls you immediately into another kiss as soon as you enter the room, this time it’s filled with even more passion and lust. Fuck, you can’t get enough of her and tonight, you’re going to have your fill of her. And based on the look on her eyes, she’s dying to do the same.

She grabs onto the collars of your dress shirt while your hands fumble with the zipper on the back of her dress, trying your hardest to focus on the task while she moves down to your neck and proceeds to leave kisses there. “Shit, we’re gonna have such a good time tonight.” You’re definitely sure that she left hickeys that will definitely have to be covered by tomorrow but you don’t care at the moment. Not when you’ve finally undressed her, leaving her in black lingerie as the flimsy dress pools at her feet. Your eyes immediately scan her body, from her plentiful cleavage; her toned abs; her thick thighs; and her ridiculously long legs that you just want wrapped around your body.

A knowing smile from her as she can see your yearning eyes scanning her perfectly sculpted body—she’s got you right where she wants you to be. She knows that it only takes one little thing to piss you off and for you to end up right here inside her bedroom once again. “My eyes are up here, oppa.” But you are far in too deep, her intense aura captivating you to no end and with nowhere else to go. 

A devilish smirk from Yujin, then a lip bite as she works on unbuttoning your dress shirt while you work on taking off the rest of your clothing—soon you are only left in your boxers but before she could take it off, you push her onto the bed. With how much teasing she’s done to you tonight, it’s time for you to get a little revenge. And perhaps, a taste of her.

You urge her to move further up the bed before diving in towards those lips again. This time swirling your tongue around hers as you give her clothed breasts a gentle squeeze. Whimpers and moans vibrate in your mouth as you move your hands further down from her tight stomach down to her heavenly thighs. Eventually, you have to pull away from the kiss to recover your breath. “I’ve had it enough with you. I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

“Good, then you’re gonna have to explain to Gaeul unnie and the rest of the girls why I’ll be stuck in my room all day. How’s that?” She cups your length through your boxers and it makes you jump. Then that moment of vulnerability allows her to pull down your boxers and you shiver as cold air meets your fully erect cock, precum already dripping out. “I don’t think either one of us wants that to happen. Right, oppa?”

She leaves you speechless. Either because she looks absolutely stunning under the warm lights of her bedroom or the fact that the alcohol has completely taken over your system. But as she slowly wraps her dainty fingers around your cock, the only thing you can do is groan in pleasure. You need her more than anything else, an addiction that you’ll gladly suffer from for the rest of your life.

“Y-Yujin, shit…”

“Hmm, what was that? I can’t hear what you’re saying.” Then she begins to stroke your length at a delicately slow pace, causing you to fall back on the bed and for her to be the one on top now. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The sensory overload she provides leaves you breathless and scrambling. “You’re gonna have to speak louder, oppa.”

As if to punish you, she begins to stroke you faster, even spitting on your cock to lubricate her hand. But it’s hard to focus on anything other than just how stunning she looks in her bra and panties—even more so without them. A body seemingly sculpted by the gods and only yours to see. Fuck, you can’t wait to explore more of her.

Just the thought makes your cock throb in her hand and she could feel it, making her stroke you even faster. “Yujin, please!”

“Please what?” She then begins to move her face towards your length and the angle allows you to get a glimpse of her breasts and it’s causing your brain to go haywire even further. “You’ve gotta tell me what you want, oppa.”

And as much as you hate giving in to what she wants, you have no choice but to swallow your pride and oblige. It’s not like this was going to end any other way. You take a deep breath before giving her a pleading look. How truly pathetic. “Just suck my cock, please.”

Then she flashes that signature, bright smile of hers and for a split second you see the idol side of her. Though that mirage only last for a fleeting moment as you are quickly reminded of how much she changes during sex. “Good. I’ve been wanting to taste this dick the entire night. How could you make me wait, hmm?” She strokes your length for a few more times before hastily taking your cock inside her mouth. No time to get used to it, this isn’t her first rodeo and neither is it yours. Lean your head back in pleasure as uncontrolled moans and groans escape your mouth.

Yujin’s trained gag reflex along with the added lubrication allows her to take you all the way in easily, switching back and forth between sucking you off and jerking you off. Sometimes she would swipe her tongue on your slit, licking all of the precum coming out of you. Or sometimes she would fondle your balls as the lewd sound of her going to town on your dick reverberates throughout her room. Can the other members not really hear anything?

She pauses to wipe the drool coming out of the sides of her mouth and the sight of her ravaging your cock turns you on even more. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you? You better return the favor later, oppa.”

You’re supposed to be the one taking over and yet you melt into putty under her expert touch, the combination of her hands and mouth working their magic on your cock only serves to grow the familiar tension building up in your stomach. The events of this night are causing you to last much shorter than usual but you don’t mind, you want to stuff that mouth of hers full of cum. 

“Of course, I-I am.” You pant, finding it hard to even speak. “I wanna paint that pretty face of yours, Yujinnie.”

Apparently that’s not the right answer because a disappointed look spreads across her face as she stops pleasuring you. “Listen, I didn’t make you come all the way here just to have that huge load wasted on my face okay?” Is she pouting? “I need your cum to fill my pussy, breed me.” In a flash, she strips herself off of her undergarments—now she’s completely naked like you are.

As expected, she’s already wet—her juices dripping down her lovely thighs as she sits back on her bed and spreads her legs wide. She licks her fingers before using them to spread her lips wide open, showing you just how ready she is to be stuffed full of your dick. “Come on now, oppa. I’m all yours.” Yujin winks, then another lip bite as she presents herself to you.

That only sends more blood rushing towards your blue-balled cock. “Fucking hell, Yujinnie.” You immediately follow her towards the top of the bed and crash your lips with hers once again. No more foreplay, no more games. You insert your cock inside her awaiting pussy and the familiar warmth invites you to start pounding her and breed her like she begged you to.

“A-Ah wait!” Yujin then wraps her toned legs around you as you vent out all of your frustrations on her, fingers leaving scratches all over your shoulders and back as she holds on to you for dear life while you piston your hips at an unrelenting pace. 

You then bury your face on the crook of her neck as you roughly knead her breasts, continuing to stuff her full of your cock. “You like that, huh? Is this what you wanted?” For the first time tonight she’s the one rendered speechless, only giving you a curt nod as her guttural moans go straight into your ears. But you’re not exactly giving her the opportunity to talk, your thrusts only becoming more hurried and desperate as you trail your lips down to her left nipple and begin to suck on it harshly.

“Shit! Shit! Keep sucking on my tits please….”

You can feel her walls tighten around you as a response, such a simple action leading her that much closer to her orgasm. Her desperate cries of pleasure only increase in volume as you switch your target to her right nipple, sucking on it just as harshly while your fingers sneak in between where your crotches meet to rub on her clit. Meanwhile her own fingers are either clutching the bedsheets tightly or leaving more scratch marks all over your back, the continuous loud moaning of your name is the only sound that can be heard aside from the lewd sound of your cock giving her the pounding that she wanted. “That’s right, shout my name. Let everyone know just how much Ahn Yujin likes this dick deep inside her pussy.”

And as if it’s only the two of you in the dorms, she does exactly that. After a particularly hard thrust, she arches her back off the bed, her saliva-drenched breasts pressing against your chest as she experiences a strong orgasm. She squirts so violently that it forces your length out of her pussy, leaving her inner thighs a drenched mess very much like her silk bedsheets underneath. At this point, you two are both soaking in sweat but that just makes Yujin look even more ethereal. Her tanned skin glowing beautifully as you give her a passionate kiss while she comes down from her orgasm. 

“Fuck–” Yujin pants heavily, laughing at the mess she made. “You never fail to make me cum hard. You should stick around more.” She wipes the excess drool on her lips with the back of her hand, taking a couple more deep breaths as she slowly calms down from her high. You brush loose strands of her hair aside, diving in once again to capture those lips as your other arm rests on the mattress to make sure not to crush her with your weight.

After the brief makeout session, she then lightly pushes herself off of you and returns to her original position twenty minutes ago: legs spread wide open as she sits near the top of her bed—this time she looks more messy with her disheveled hair, bruised lips, and her pussy still dripping with her juices. 

“Now it’s your turn to cum, oppa. Take me how you want.”

That is all that you needed to hear from her as you gave her a quick kiss before grabbing her by  the waist and flipping her over on her stomach, causing her to squeal. Take this moment to appreciate her curves, her wide hips, that ass that never fails to make you hard when you watch her perform. And to think that this is only for you to see still blows your mind to this day.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck me already!”

Right. It’s time for you to fill her up and considering how intense this night has gotten, it will certainly not take you long to reach your own climactic end. You proceed to grab her wide hips with one hand while guiding your cock–still drenched with her juices–inside her waiting pussy. Soon, she’s moaning your name again as you quickly settle into a nice and steady pace. Her buttcheeks jiggling with every thrust is a sight that you will never get tired of. But there’s no better feeling than having her tight body pressed against yours so you grab onto her shoulders with one hand to pull her in an upright position, using your other free hand to fondle her breasts as you resume your pounding.

The lewd position allows you to leave kisses on her neck as she reaches behind her to wrap an arm around you. Her alluring scent only drives you crazy as you continue to slam yourself into her pussy, her orgasm making it easy for your length to slide in and out. It didn’t take that long for you to near your end, to explode into a supernova of pleasure that can only be provided by the woman writhing underneath—you could only handle so much pleasure and you received plenty of it tonight.

“Shit! I’m so fucking close, Yujinnie.” 

Hearing this, Yujin begins to bounce on your length with authority—her buttcheeks continuing to jiggle as the air in the room begins to grow hotter. “Fill me please! I want that thick cum inside me.” She then pulls you in for another deep, passionate kiss while she works hard to help you with your impending orgasm. “I want it flowing out of my pussy, I want it dripping down my thighs—”

“FUCK!”

It only takes her dirty words for you to reach your peak, vision going white as you begin to shoot ribbons upon ribbons of thick semen inside her tight, velvety walls—seemingly trying to milk your balls out of all the cum it has. Your cock throbs violently as you fill her to the brim much like she begged you to. You can’t count how many shots of semen you’ve left inside her but you know it’s enough as it immediately begins to drip out of her freshly fucked pussy the moment you pull out. You crash beside her right on the bed and you think that your night ends here but Yujin seems to have an infinite reserve of energy as she stands up from the bed just mere minutes later, your heavy load staining her thick thighs beautifully. She takes this moment to fix her hair once again for a few moments before reaching a hand out to you:

“Round three in the shower?”

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

"Did you tell her my name?"

Megumi lives in a flat above the clinic, and has since he was 23. The old vet he'd studied under had lived there for years, right around when he was his age, but as he and his wife got older and their family grew, they needed more space than the little two bedroom provided them.

It's the perfect size for Megumi, though. Well-suited in every way to his lifestyle: large enough that he doesn't feel cramped but still small enough that he can easily keep it tidy, and close to work so he can always quickly pop downstairs to check on any animals boarding overnight—though he does still sleep sometimes on that lumpy couch in the staff room if he's just too exhausted after a long day to climb up the stairs.

The apartment has served him well over the past decade, and he's happy with his little home, a perfect space just for him.

Well, him and Yuuji at present.

"That was soooo crazy."

Yuuji has made this remark roughly forty-seven times in the past two hours since the two of them came upstairs following Nanami, Kota, and your departure from the little clinic. He's downed two thirds of the beers he brought with him, though—and a healthy pour of the whiskey Megumi keeps in his cupboard—so that might be as much a cause as any for the repetition.

Megumi sighs, taking another little swig from his own drink.

It's not like he's completely wrong, either.

Megumi is still reeling from the excitement earlier in the evening, and unsettled by feeling that he can't quite seem to shake in the aftermath. He keeps thinking of the little boy who has his eyes, and of the mother who couldn't meet them.

Why does he feel like he should know you? Like he does know you? Or did, maybe, once.

But try as he might he just can't bring back any memories of you, or where the two of you may have once met. Megumi prides himself on his memory, and his ability to remember names and faces, so why is this the moment that it's failing him? Deceiving him into believing something he knows just can't be true?

Is it because he wants to know you? To know Kota?

No. That's ridiculous. He'd felt dread when Kota had first appeared on the clinic doorstep, convinced it was some kind of haunting or a cruel hallucination.

Yuuji couldn't recall with any certainty that he'd told you Megumi's name, but Nanami could have easily mentioned it at the police station or on the drive to the clinic. Hell, you might have seen his name on the wall when you came in. But none of that explains why you behaved so strangely towards him, so evasive in his presence. He was sure that you were tired after the frightening ordeal of losing your son, but it still didn't necessarily make sense why he was the only one whose gaze you had such a hard time meeting.

"What restaurant does she work at?" Megumi suddenly asks Yuuji, and his friend peers at him over the table they're seated at on the floor of his living room.

Yuuji shrugs. "Nanami didn't say, and when I texted him he said that he's not allowed to give out personal info like that."

"But it was nearby, right?" Megumi asks again. "It would have to be if Kota made it here all on his own."

Yuuji shrugs again, watching his friend's face.

"What's up with you?" he asks him bluntly. "You're being weird."

"No I'm not," Megumi argues, his lips pursing.

"Yeah you are," Yuuji counters. "Weirder than normal, anyway."

Megumi shoots him a weak glare, pushing himself up from the table. He's a little unsteady on his feet, and he looks down at the place where he was sitting once he's risen. He had more to drink than he'd planned on, and it's hitting him now that he's upright.

"I'm gonna wash up and go to bed," Megumi mutters.

"Mind if I crash on the couch?" Yuuji asks, as though his friend has ever once denied him. Megumi waves his hand dismissively, shuffling past his friend in the direction of his bedroom.

After getting ready for bed, Megumi finds himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom listlessly. In the other room he can hear Yuuji laughing along to some late night variety show, but that's not what's keeping him awake—having long grown used to it. He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut as though he might be able to will sleep to come to him by force.

He can hear the sound of his heartbeat.

Ba-dump.

Yer still a young fella, Megumi, but ya won't be ferever.

Ba-dump.

Gotta start thinkin' about yer future 'ventually.

Ba-dump.

Settlin' down, findin' yourself a pretty girl, babies.

The old man's cheeks were so red that night that Megumi started to genuinely worry for his health. He remembers trying to sneak a glass of water into his hand in place of his sake, but it never quite worked.

"I don't want any babies."

The old man snorted when Megumi said that.

"No bachelor as handsome as you ever wants babies," the old man replied. "But one day yer gonna wake up next to the girl ya love and realize there's somethin' missin'. Then you'll know whatcha want."

Megumi hadn't bothered correcting him, still too busy processing the opportunity—the enormous, terrifying opportunity—that had fallen into his lap that night. Didn't bother telling him that no girl would change the way his brain is wired, or sway his fire-forged conviction.

"Can I get you two anything else to drink?"

"'nother round of sake!" The old man requested jovially. "We're celebratin'!"

"And what exactly as you gentlemen celebrating?"

Megumi looked up from his hands then, towards the server with the smile in her voice.

You.

An apron tied tight around your waist, and a youthful glow in your cheeks. You were probably a few years younger than Megumi, if he was judging right. Maybe 23 to his 28, or somewhere thereabouts.

"Fushiguro-kun here's takin' over the business!" the old man exclaimed, even though nothing of the sort had been agreed upon yet.

You looked over at Megumi, your eyes meeting for the first time, and he watched as your smile grew.

"Well," you said, a cheerful, easy warmth lilting in your voice, "congratulations."

Megumi couldn't bring himself to say anything in reply.

You laughed a little as his eyes skirted away.

"Your next drink's on me, gentlemen."

Megumi sits straight up in his bed, soaked through in a cold sweat. On the other side of the wall, the variety show is still playing, but instead of laughter he hears Yuuji's rumbling snore.

He clutches at his heart, his fingers shaking as he twists them into the sweat-dampened cotton of his t-shirt.

All he can think about when he closes his eyes is the phantom memory of your smile from that night in the early spring five years ago, and how it looks just like Kota's.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 10:15 AM

Tags/Warnings: awkwardness, blossoming love, Idol!Jungkook, Fluff, Established Relationship, SFW but implied nsfw, implied long distance relationship, implied foreigner!Reader, not home AU though

Lenght: very short.

Languages are marked as English / Korean.

AU-Masterlist

This AU doesn't have a name yet, so I'm simply using times as a name for now.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

When you wake up, you're a little drowsy. Your head isn't hurting- but just slightly uncomfortable inside, as if it's starting to become a headache, but your body can't be sure yet. You've also got to use the bathroom, and you're sure your hair must look like a rat's nest, not to mention that you forgot to wash your face or anything the night before when Jungkook had left you to sleep on his sofa, having given you numerous blankets and pillows in case you needed any.

While you've been technically a couple for almost three years, this has been the first night you stayed over at his place- and it makes things feel as if you've just started being friends, if anything at all.

His apartment is unfamiliar yet also, isn't; you've seen almost all of it from video calls and images he'd send you, but seeing it in person was a whole different deal. Objects that appeared small in his hands turned out to be not so small after all - him included.

During the pandemic there was no 'let's meet up', so all memories of his height and body compared to yours had been long washed into blurriness, details unsure and revived as soon as he'd opened the door for you, your neck having to bend to look up at him. He'd laughed. He couldn't help himself - he loves to tease you after all.

But even he himself had forgotten the simplest differences between you both.

It had led to him asking you to sleep on the couch for now- the singer worried that if he was to roll over in his bed, he'd surely crush you under his weight and muscle. While you attempted to soothe his concerns, there was really no good option either to make it comfortable for the both of you than this- so you accepted, refused his apologies for 'being so awkward' the entire time he'd prepare the blankets and pillows on the couch for you, before he would explain his AC unit in case you got too cold or too hot.

You don't understand that thing, even after he explained. Maybe you were too nervous standing right next to him to really take in any information properly.

You make your way to the guest bathroom, quietly so as to not disturb him if he's still sleeping, before you brush your hair and wash your face, toothbrush clattering into the sink in a way that makes you flinch with your arms pressed against your body, eyes squinted shut. It's so loud, the noise of the plastic against the ceramic, awfully so. Did you wake him?

Why does that worry you?

You finish up before you walk back to the couch, folding the blanket and placing the pillows back into their respective corners where you remember them laying yesterday, prior to him adjusting them.

While you by now know almost every secret you both have, it's still weird to be so close now. It's different, new- the person that's in this apartment currently walking out of his bedroom all clouded with sleep and without a shirt, is the same guy that's been in your life for years now.

And yet, it's different. Strange. Odd.

He yelps as he realizes you're there, probably having forgotten it as well for a second. You try and fix your hair without any reflection to help, a bit embarrassed by the sight you must've given him before he'd rushed back into his room. Maybe you shouldn't have dyed your hair prior to flying over. You've put effort into caring for it, it's still soft and it looks shiny- but there's a distinctive frizz to it that happens after putting it through the whole ordeal of coloring it.

He emerges back with a black shirt covering him, wiping his hands that have gotten clammy with the rush of being reminded of your presence so suddenly. "You.. did you sleep well?" He wonders, licking his dry lips. You look so cute sitting there, barefaced and all shy. He doesn't know how to deal with it.

You simply nod, toes curling anxiously as you play with your fingers. It's quiet, you should say something- but then he walks off, stops in his step to think, scratches the edge of his jawline before ehis pall rubs the front of his neck. "You want breakfast? Or just, tea?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Eh- yeah, tea. If you have." You say, and he nods. He remembers you don't like coffee. It's why he bought your favorite kind online to have, for a moment like this one; when you're actually here with him, close and in physical reach.

He's happy for the modern day technology because without it, he might've never been able to really get close to you like this. He likes spending time with you, believes he's in love truly, and now is the last stretch to find out if you're truly compatible. If you can handle him - and if he can handle you.

He can hear you shuffling into the kitchen behind him, quietly sneaking around before you look around. He can't help but laugh, smile to himself. "Come here." He says, stretches out his arms with his hands opening and closing into fists, grabbing for you who slowly walks closer to hug him. It's awkward. He knows why. You don't really hug people. It makes it even more special now. "You know you don't have to, right?" He asks, holds you, and you nod.

"Hmhm.. this' nice though." You say, and he can physically feel you relax in his hold, tension leaving your shoulders as you adjust where your face lays against him.

It makes him grin so hard his cheeks hurt.

He really does love you.

He truly believes that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

[neochan]

i’m glad ur enjoying 🤭🤭

a week or so after this whole ordeal, you find yourself at another one of these parties, a little more comfortable now that you knew jeno and jaemin (did you really? not exactly but it didn’t matter because they made you forget about that part anyways). you’re looking around for the two boys when you’re suddenly spun around, pressed into the chest of someone else. “so you’re the pretty girl that jaem and jeno were playing around with?” he coos and instinctively, you go to pull away from the stranger but his grip on you is too tight to allow that. “i’ll take you to them, come,” he murmurs and you follow him, believing his every word until you end up where you are now, some random bedroom, door locked and you trying to move past the man blocking your path to the doorway upon realizing that the two boys you knew weren’t there.

“c’mon, baby, don’t be like that. you should be fair and let me have some fun with you too,” he hums, taking a rather long hit of his blunt before gripping your chin and pressing his lips against yours. you practically have no choice but to inhale and he smirks against your lips, his free hand wanting your body, slipping under your top to grope at your tits or under your skirt to toy with your pussy through your panties, already feeling the wet spot start to form. he’s somehow convinced you (or forced you) to take a couple more hits and your resolve melts away with every hit until you’re back to the giggly, dazed high and his friends were right, hyuck does think you look so fucking cute like this.

“good girl, nice and relaxed, pretty pussy all wet for me, hm?” he whispers against your neck as he pins you against the door, one hand back to teasing your clothed cunt while the other works on his belt. “gonna have so much fun with you”.

okay pause you have to write it now. like actually i’m not saying a damn word bc you’re going to have to write this or maybe…..a collab fic (if u hate the idea pls tell me , let me know if i’m being so delusional rn) but dude. hyuck and .. im giggling and kicking my feet lord have mercy i actually squealed “i know where they are i’ll take you too them” OH HES SO MANIPULATIVE ITS FUNNY

[goatcheesecak3]

Comfort

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x gn!reader

Fic type: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, caregiver reader

Warnings: brief mentions of gun violence, ptsd

Summary: Adam has been suffering from panic attacks since news of another jigsaw attack hits the news, and needs comforting.

A/n: hello! I've been looking forward to writing more about Adam's soft side, so i hope you enjoy! Remember requests are open, and I'd love to hear feedback! Knowing that people enjoy the things I write really helps motivate me to write more <3

Adam had been having a real rough time as of late. Usually, he was quite good at not letting his past trauma get to him, and when the news broke that the jigsaw killer,  John kramer, and his right hand man, Amanda Young, were found dead, he really felt as though his nightmare was over. But news had recently broke that another one of John's sick "games" had taken place. Five people kidnapped and put through torment, only two of whom had lived. Maybe it was another "apprentice" as the police had called them. Or perhaps a copycat? It wasn't so far fetched, jigsaw had accumulated a somewhat cult-like fan base. Most of them were just people with morbid curiosity, they followed the case a little too obsessively but swore they disapproved of John's actions, although a few nutcases had popped up all over the city, thinking of John as some kind of pied piper, cleaning the city of the people they deemed unworthy. One of whom was Adam's ex best friend, Scott Tibbs. In the time that Adam was missing, Scott had completely lost it. He never was the most stable person but this was crazy, he was jealous of the horrific ordeal that Adam went through, he saw it as some kind of rebirth, he thought John was a genius. It made Adam feel sick to know that there were others out there who shared the same views as the evil fuck who ruined his life.

On a good day, Adam could mask his fear with anger, but today was not one of those days.

"Adam, do you want a cup of tea before bed?" You called from the kitchen into the bathroom where Adam was just stepping out of the shower.

"Yeah, that'd be great babe" he called back.

So far, it was a normal night (or about as normal as a night can be when talks of your boyfriend's attempted killer making a return are all over the news). Normalcy was something both of you had strived to keep, it was important not to let Adam slip back into his reclusive ways. He was doing good, but you knew any small thing could set him back, so you kept a close and caring eye on him.

"Here," you smiled, entering the bedroom and handing a mug to a rather tired looking Adam. He looked adorable in his loose tshirt and boxers, his thick black hair still damp and ruffled from a futile attempt at towel drying it.

Adam kissed your cheek and held your waist- a little tighter than he usually did. He was scared. He did a good job of hiding it, but the signs were there, that fear was bubbling up just below the surface.

"You wanna watch a movie tonight? I like the idea of getting all cosy with a movie in bed" you suggested, climbing under the duvet and patting the spot beside you. You wanted to distract Adam from his own thoughts as much as you could, and a movie was a good place to start.

"Sounds good" he smiled softly, knowing your intentions. He gently placed his tea down on the bedside table, and clambered into bed, snuggling up to you.

After flipping through the channels for a little while, the two of you found a channel that played exclusively dogshit, straight to TV romcoms.

Finding, watching and poking fun at the worst movies possible was a particular favourite past time for the two of you, so when your disparaging comment on how cheesy the protagonist was, was only met with a half hearted chuckle, you knew Adam's mind was elsewhere.

That fear was growing, you could practically feel it radiating out of Adam's chest, a palpable sense of anxiety emitted from the poor man, all while he tried his best to seem calm.

That was when a from somewhere outside, a car backfired. That was it for Adam, before you could even process where the two loud bangs had come from, he had burst into floods of tears. He was blubbering, holding his hands over his ears and hunched forward, as though trying to make himself as small as possible. His cries were the most heartwrenching sound you'd ever heard, they weren't that of a grown man, no, in this moment Adam was no more than a frightened little boy. He was so small and helpless, so afraid and so tiny. He hugged his legs to his chest tightly as his eyes rapidly scanned the room before fixating on the bedroom door.

Of course, ever since the bathroom Adam had associated loud bangs with gunshots, with a madman running into the room with the intent to kill. In his head he was back there.

"Sweetheart, deep breaths" you whispered, ever so gently placing a hand on his back and rubbing in slow circular motions.

Adam gasped for air between sobs, gripping onto the duvet so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Shhhhh, that's it honey, just catch your breath"

You spoke softly, not wanting anything else to alarm him.

Adam's breathing had slowed, but the tears still poured down his face and the wails still rung out from his mouth. You pulled him into an embrace and he collapsed into you. You took this opportunity to carefully guide him into a laying down position, so that he was cuddled up to your chest while you wrapped your arms around him. Your poor, sweet baby, you'd do anything to protect him.

"I know honeybun, it's scary isn't it? But you're so brave, who's my brave boy, hm?" You cooed, stroking his hair and letting some much needed praise rain down on him.

"I am.." Adam sniffled, taking in deep gulps of air and feeling immensely safer now that he was starting to remember where he really was.

"That's right, baby! You're the bravest boy in the world" you smiled, hoping your warm and nurturing tone would bring him some sort of comfort.

"Do you want your kitty?" You asked.

'Kitty' was Adam's childhood stuffed animal, he didn't like to sleep with it every night, but you kept it in a box right under the bed in case he ever needed it.

In that box was an array of things that helped Adam with his ptsd, panic attacks and insomnia. Noise cancelling headphones, eye masks, stress balls, snacks, even activity books. But none of them ever held a candle to kitty, a raggedy black toy cat with a big bald patch on it's head from years of nuzzling from Adam.

You felt around under the bed for a few seconds until you found the box and pulled it out, taking off the lid and handing Adam his kitty. Adam took it and held it to his face, burying his nose in it's head and closing his eyes.

"Do you want anything else, sweetpea?" You asked, offering the box to him.

Adam didn't speak, he never did when he got like this, instead he pointed at a packet of animal crackers.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, he looked adorable, and the fact that he was hungry was a good sign.

"Alright my love, crackers it is" you said, opening up the packet for him and handing them over.

Adam took one out and began to nibble on it slowly, he liked to chew things when he was anxious. Sometimes it was his shirt sleeves or fingernails that got the brunt of it, so you were trying to help him find alternatives.

You turned to look at Adam, he had stopped crying but his eyes were still wet, and his face tear stained. He sniffled quietly, his eyes vacant and his hands trembling as they clutched onto his teddy. You could tell exactly how he was feeling, still frightened but mostly embarrassed. He hated feeling so pathetic, being reduced to a snivelling wreck, trembling like a lost puppy. Reassurance was imperative to make sure Adam felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable, you didn't want him to start bottling things up again out of shame. You wiped his eyes dry with your thumb, and cradled his chin so that he was looking at you.

"It's alright, baby. You're safe," you whispered.

Adam snuggled up to you, burying his face in your chest and breathing you in, slowly and calmly until he had stopped shaking. He was starting to feel a lot better.

"Y/n?" He said, so softly that you almost didn't hear him.

"What is it, my sweet?"

"Can we put alien on?"

Alien was Adam's favourite film of all time, not your conventional comfort film, but Adam associated it with fond memories of being a young boy. One of his friends had stolen it from their older brother, and Adam and all his boyhood chums had watched it together at a sleepover. To this day, whenever Adam watched that film he could practically smell microwaveable popcorn, taste cans of flat cola, hear raucous laughter and feel the safety of being surrounded by people that loved him. He didn't have the best upbringing, and his family weren't so kind to him, so this particular night with all his buddies in a house far from his own was one of the few comforting memories from his youth.

You'd put the dvd in the player and turned on a few lamps, just so the extra light kept Adam aware of his surroundings, and climbed back under the covers where Adam, having finished his crackers and tea, shuffled over to you and rested his head on your chest.

He clung onto his kitty, and stared at the TV, his eyelids very slowly becoming droopy.

"Y/n?" He mumbled, almost out cold

"Yes, hun?"

"Kitty says thank you for looking after us"

You could hear the smile in his voice

"Well, tell kitty I'm always happy to look after both of you" You chuckled, kissing the top of Adam's head and giving him a squeeze.

He hummed sleepily and began to drift off, dreaming of cats, aliens, and best of all,  you.