#satine: special request

[fromnewashes]

A shop that does my shopping for me? Sounds a little far fetched. [user is a supernatural shapeshifting bird.]

Well, I normally claim the shop to be an apothecary and then let them figure it out for themself with a walk-through. But yes its magic. Just think of something you want within reason and the shop will find it for you.

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ���I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[reilemon]

🦪Iridescent Scales🦪 heads up - audio is nsfw-ish

♡︎synopsis: You help Rafayel with whatever he's going through (mermaid heat).

♡︎pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw: temperature play, blowjob, multiple orgasms (both Rafayel and reader), creampie

♡︎word count: 1.5k

♡︎a/n: Ofc I had to write a spicy version for Ebb and Flow.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

divider by @cafekitsune

"Don't hold back. Share your warmth with me." Rafayel breathes out, his hand clutching your wrist.

"..." You're confused by the request, almost a plea. Before you can say anything, his hand starts guiding yours from his satin cheek, over his neck, down his exposed chest...

You try to free your hand when you realize where he's going. "Rafayel - !" But his hand doesn't let you move.

"You're burning up! I need to get you some ice!" With that you manage to free your hand and hurry towards the kitchen.

For whatever reason, your boyfriend didn't have any ice packs in the freezer, so you filled a resealable bag with ice cubes. You might go grocery shopping for him tomorrow, if he doesn't get better.

You slowly approach him as you notice that his eyes are closed, but they flutter open and he turns to you when you sit down next to him. He doesn't say anything, just lets you gently rest the ice cold bag on his neck. He's still wearing that uncomfortable frown, as he's looking at you, studying you, like he's waiting for something.

Even if this condition, whatever it is, only happens once a year, you still feel bad for Rafayel. You wish you could take away the pain.

You switch the bag to the other side, and you press your lips to his forehead. Still burning up.

"I wish there's something more I could do." You softly murmur.

"I've told you..." He groans and grabs your free hand and starts leading it down again. And you stop him again.

"Rafayel, I'm not gonna take advantage of you!"

Now he frowns at you in both discomfort and confusion. "I'm not intoxicated, am I? And I'm both telling you and showing you how to help me."

Is it how he used to make it go away? You don't want to make him even more upset by asking that. Even if he says it will help, you're still hesitant about helping him in that way. An Ice cold bath would certainly help the most, but he's too tired to move and you can't drag his dead weight to the bath.

You still have ice though.

With a new idea, you open the bag and take out one ice cube. Setting the bag aside, you work the rest of the buttons and open the shirt, exposing his torso.

His breath hitches as you slowly drag the ice cube from his collar bone and his toned chest. Rafayel pants as he watches you take another ice cube, the first one melting on his hot skin in seconds. You take two, three more, the ice gliding and melting over the ridges and valleys of his muscles, goosebumps sprinkling his pale, glistening skin.

You rest your hand on his chest, feeling the damp and cooled skin under your touch, thinking you made some progress, but his chest is still rising and falling rapidly.

Rafayel whispers your name and takes the hand on his chest, this time gently, bringing it to his lips, planting a soft kiss. "Touch me, please."

And how can you deny him, when he's looking at you with those mesmerizing, pleading eyes.

"Okay." You give his lips a small peck. "But you need to tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable."

He nods, agreeing to your condition, and pulls you by the back of your head in a deep, desperate kiss, while the other hand frees his hard member in mere seconds.

You don't want to tease him, as much as you love doing that to him, you know that now is not the time. You're going to indulge him, and you love that even more.

Rafayel hisses against your lips, as your still cold hand wraps around his so fucking hot dick. You whisper a small sorry and he just shakes his head and continues the kiss, tongue darting out to lick your lips, and to slide inside, meeting yours.

Your hand, already warmed up, slowly starts stroking him, your finger playing with the tip, spreading around the precum, so much precum, that was leaking out. You spread it around, making it easy to pump his cock, going up and down, twisting your wrist, rubbing the sensitive swollen tip.

And it's getting harder for Rafayel to keep his lips locked with yours, moans and pants following your every move.

You're no better. Watching his flushed face with those beautiful scales, while his cock is throbbing under your touch, has you holding back moans, your mouth salivating, and your panties soaked.

Telling yourself that he needs this, you get down on your knees, sitting between his thighs. Rafayel watches you in awe, as your tongue goes from the base towards the tip, licking and swirling, followed by your plump lips wrapping around, working your way down. He curses under his breath as you suck and slowly bob your head, his hand resting on your head.

"Fuck, princess, you're - haah- doing so good ..." He chokes back another moan. "Touch yourself for me, please..."

And you do just that - your free hand buries itself inside your panties, two middle fingers sliding between your folds, then zeroing in on the bundle of nerves, going up and down, and around. You moan around his dick as you pleasure yourself, the vibration and the lewd sight driving Rafayel crazy. His hips thrust upwards with more vigor, the cockhead hitting your throat more, and you let him use your mouth and throat however he wants. The sensation of his dick hitting the back of your throat, while moans are spilling out of his lips, with your fingers in your panties, makes you so desperately aroused, so needy for more.

With one last thrust, hot semen fills your throat and mouth, tears pricking your eyes as you choke a little. There's so much of it that some of it still spills down the corners of your mouth.

Swallowing, you pull your lips away from his still hard cock before you start overstimulating him, and you take your hand out of your soaked underwear. Rafayel brings you up and makes you straddle. He brings the hand covered with your essence to his lips and wraps them around your digits, eyes closing as he savors your taste.

He pulls away from your fingers and cups your cheek. "Get yourself off on my dick."

You almost yelp at his words. "But - You -?"

He throws the blanket from the sofa onto the floor, sweeps you up in his arms and lays you down on top of it. He tugs off your pants and underwear in one swift motion, picks you up, and you're on top of him again. His breath fans over your lips as he lines his cock against your dripping entrance. "Use me, pretty girl. I'm all yours."

The frown from before is gone, and is replaced with lustful daze in his eyes, the only thing on his mind being chasing each other's high. And you're not sure if it's your skin adapting to his heat, or if his body temperature has actually gone down. The burning red on his cheeks and chest is still present though.

He makes the decision easy for you as he pushes his tip past your entrance, and like a reflex, you slide down his length, a slight sting following the motion but is replaced with waves of pleasure as you start moving your hips.

"That's it doll, just like that." Rafayel admires you from below as you roll your hips, your clit grazing his pelvis as he thrusts up in your rhythm, moans leaving your alluring lips. His hands, clinging to your hips, dig into your supple skin in a bruising grip, as he feels another orgasm building up.

You whimper as he sneaks his thumb between your bodies, rubbing your sensitive nub, and you hold onto his still clothed shoulders. "Don't stop - !" You pant and within seconds you lie down on top of him, waves of your orgasm leaving you breathless, letting him move you to ride out your high.

His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, his feverishly hot body making you sweat. Rafayel grits out "Can I cum inside you?"

You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and nod, sloppily kissing the smooth skin and delicate scales, tasting his sweat on your tongue. You're held in place as he pounds into you, his dick hitting your sweet spot over and over, his pelvis slapping against your clit. Your pussy throbs with another orgasm, and with strangled, breathless moans, Rafayel fills you up, the twitching and his cum - all of it making you lightheaded.

With the last few slow thrusts, Rafayel pulls out, the emptiness and cold air against your leaking entrance making you shiver.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, resting on either side of his head. You brush away the curls sticking to his forehead. You softly whisper, still catching your breath "Are you okay?"

He smiles and caresses your cheek "Yeah. But I'll feel even better if you can spend the night by my side."

[cherrywrecked]

what iffff g!p karina corrupting her innocent step sister wonyoung by playing a blindfold game whete she has to guess whatever’s in her mouth and rina takes advantage of that🫨then it escalates from there until she forcefully takes away wony’s virginity

i'm not sure about the forcefully part... i embarrassingly missed that part of the request... but here!

karina and wonyoung as step sisters would be deadly, honestly, but can you imagine being karina in that situation? a situation where the girl had been secretly crushing on her younger step sister? exactly.

it was supposedly one of their family game nights, but tonight, their parents had to leave halfway through it, being on call at work. it was just karina and wonyoung left together. the older one doesn't know what to do, she felt awkward… being alone with wonyoung like this. specially if she was just thinking of fucking the innocent girl before they went down to play with their parents? bullshit, right? the two of them were now left alone and wonyoung was obviously upset that their game had to end early.

“unnie, can’t we continue the game together? i’m bored.” wonyoung said with a pout, head resting against her sister’s shoulder as they sat next to each other on the couch. she was looking at the item in hand—a slim alcohol bottle they had in the living room. they were playing the game guess what’s on my hand! after all. maybe she was ovulating, but god… wonyoung looks utterly gorgeous tonight. was it her hair tied up in a ponytail or was it her satin pair of nightwear that made karina’s cock twitch under the throw pillow she’s using to cover her thighs? “are you that bored, wonyoung-ah?” karina says with a chuckle, one arm draping around wonyoung’s shoulder as she pulls her closer. “mhm! very. i want to continue our game earlier, or maybe make it more difficult?” wonyoung looked excited. her long hair swayed along with her body as she sat on the couch, legs crossed. “how about we play the game, but instead of using our hands, we use our mouths instead? but of course, no disgusting stuff, okay?” wonyoung was so firm with her words, it was cute and funny that it made karina chuckle. but was it really that, or was it the nervousness coming out of her in the form of giggles as she thought of something crazy?

“alright. who goes first?” karina, mirroring wonyoung’s position. wonyoung asks karina to go first and it didn’t even last long, karina guessed the item right away. “unnie! you’re no fun, how are you so good with your mouth?” wonyoung says with a pout. karina only looked at her, staring at wonyoung’s innocent face, trying to find any trace of malice from her expressions, but no. was wonyoung really really that innocent? it made karina want her more. “you’ll do better than me, wonyoung! trust yourself. alright, let’s have you wear this.” karina said as she carefully put on the blindfold on wonyoung. it was now or never.

karina asked a minute for wonyoung and the little girl only hummed, already making guesses in her brain what her unnie’s item might be. a notebook? it was easy to kiss around it… or maybe a spoon? she doesn’t know! she doesn’t have any idea at all. “alright, wonyoung-ah. open up.” karina, now naked on her lower half and stroking her slightly erected cock, she watches wonyoung open her mouth and fuck. the string of saliva against wonyoung’s teeth, her wet mouth… she wanted her pink lips around her tip so bad. “unnie, where is it?” wonyoung says, whiny as she was getting impatient. karina first brushed her tip along wonyoung’s lower lip. “mhm? that feels soft!”  wonyoung comments, eagerly kissing around the tip of karina’s cock. the older girl held her erection making sure none of wonyoung’s kisses would be missing. she was so fucking innocent, it’s funny and at the same time, pathetic. how can someone so beautiful be this innocent, pure… virgin. virgin. right! wonyoung has to be a virgin.

karina didn’t even notice wonyoung’s hands now wrapped around her length. “wonyoung…” karina mumbles and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the younger girl. “yes, unnie?” the little girl says in the cutest voice possible. “you can try sucking on it… you know, to feel it better?” karina felt disgusting. fooling her sister like that. but she can’t take it anymore. a gasp escapes her mouth when wonyoung encircles her lips around her tip, sucking on it. “unnie, what is it? i really don’t kn—” wonyoung’s words were cut off when karina unconsciously thrusted her hips and fucked her mouth. slightly choking on her cock, wonyoung pushed the girl away and took the blindfold off, eyes widened when she saw karina’s big dick in front of her. it was hard, pink, clean, and wet at the tip. “w-what are you… unnie!” wonyoung squealed, blushing as she pulled away, but karina was faster than she was. karina held her wrist. “wonyoung-ah. please. help unnie just this once, mhm?”

karina’s eyes were big and shiny, she looked desperate. wonyoung has to admit, kissing and even sucking on her unnie’s dick definitely wasn’t that bad at all… in fact, she could feel her core getting wet at the thought and sight of it. “b-but i don’t… i haven’t…” not letting her finish her words, karina sat next to her and guided her hand on her cock. “just wrap your hand around it… yeah, just like that. now move up and down slowl—holy shit. y-yeah, like that, wonyoung-ah… so good.” she fit perfectly around wonyoung’s hands. the younger girl already knew her step sister was different than her and it had always made her curious about… that. and she also already knew her sister was hot. fuck, even wonyoung’s friends are all over karina, but she never understood why they kept saying they would fuck her… until tonight. “unnie, i feel weird… here…” wonyoung, shyly points at her core which made karina giggle. ah, her innocence was driving the older girl insane.

“want unnie to make you feel good, wony?” the girl nodded rather too enthusiastically and the next thing she know, they were now both naked, karina’s lips are now on her tits, sucking on it, even leaving marks around it. wonyoung could only moan and grope on karina’s thighs as she carelessly feel for her cock. “you’re learning really well, wonyoung-ah… but this isn’t fun anymore, is it?” wonyoung looked at karina with her sultry eyes, lower lip caught in between her teeth. “how about you lay back for me, mhm? there we go, open your legs, angel.” 

wonyoung lays there with her legs wide open. karina settles in between her legs as she stroke her cock in her hand while the other caresses wonyoung’s inner thighs, bringing it up to her pussy, obviously soaked as she could see wonyoung dripping. karina uses her hand to play with wonyoung’s clit, rubbing it in circular motions while her tip teases wonyoung’s hole. karina’s cock twitches at the warmth of wonyoung’s cunt and so does the younger girl who now can’t keep her legs open. overstimulated, lightheaded, horny, all she ever wants is her unnie. “i’ll make you feel good, mhm?” before wonyoung could even reply, karina already had her tip inside wonyoung’s entrance. a loud gasp escapes wonyoung’s lips. karina stays still, waiting for wonyoung to breathe again. and she does. it was karina’s queue to push deeper.

wonyoung’s mouth was left ajar, legs slightly trembling at the pain and pleasure she was feeling. but the pain was not only for wonyoung to bear, but rina’s too. she was too tight. like her cunt was never penetrated before. a shame, if karina would think about it, but at the same time, she was glad. right now, this cunt is hers, and for her to take only. “i’m going to move, mhm? stay still, princess, just trust me, alright?” karina’s voice was deep, sexy—wonyoung trusts her. the pleasure is just too much. more so when rina’s fingers ghost atop her clit as she started thrusting her hips. “u-unnie~! h-hnng… rina unnie…” wonyoung drags her words in between the moans. 

karina focuses on her movements, her pace moderate until it increases, earning more sinful, loud moans from her younger sister. “fuck, wonyoung… you’re so tight… fucking hell.” wonyoung can’t speak, not even think… they both focus on each other. wony can feel karina’s cock getting bigger inside of her, if that’s even possible. it twitches with every thrust, hitting that same spot that gives the most pleasure to the younger girl.

there was a familiar notch forming on karina’s stomach as she approached her high while wonyoung, she doesn’t know. she doesn’t know anything at all. but it was her body telling karina everything that she can’t say. the way the younger’s body arched and her hands clench around karina’s wrists, her legs locking karina in between them—she was close. “baby, hold it in… please, baby—fuck, you’re so hot around my cock, wonyoung. i’m close…” wonyoung nodded, not really knowing what to do but to clench her pussy around karina’s dick. this was the older’s last straw. the tightness and warmth of wonyoung. karina gives one last hard push into wonyoung before releasing her cum inside of the younger. wonyoung moans loudly, screaming karina’s name as she shook under the older girl. rina groped wony’s tits as she too, rides her high. her index finger and thumb rolling the sensitive nub.

the older girl slowly pulls herself back, the sound of her cock escaping wonyoung’s tightness made the younger gasp softly before she curls her body, legs closing, making karina’s cum and her own ooze out of the girl’s tight hole. it doesn’t miss karina’s sight, and fingers, apparently. rina uses two of her fingers, coating it with their cum before pushing wonyoung back to face her. “open your mouth, wony. we’re not done playing yet, aren’t we?” karina says with a sheepish grin plastered on her face while she shoves her cum coated fingers inside wonyoung’s mouth, forcing the girl to suck them clean.

[kookslastbutton]

When I Say Forever ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: Today’s your wedding day and the slightly shy yet handsome, doe-eyed stranger who chased after you when you dropped your wallet on the street three years ago just happens to be the man standing before you today.

Original request: can you please write something about oc's and Jungkook's wedding? Your readers just need to witness it. We would highly appreciate it. Thank you!

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/AU: fluff, smut, wedding au

word count: 4,696

warnings: a cute wedding where jungkook gets emotional and is very eager to be married, they get a little scolded during the ceremony ahaha, jk is romantic and prepares something very special for his lovely bride, mentions of absence of parents on oc's side (nothing gets too deep but I chose to go this route due to the very real factor that parents aren't always around), and finally sexual content bc come on it their wedding night 🥺

sexual warnings: soft dom!jk, sub!reader, swearing, explicit s*x, jk asks for consent bc yeah i don't even need to justify it, f*ngering, oral (both m. and f., multiple orgasms, dry humping, t*tty suck, heavy making out, overstimulation, possessive!kook, m*ssionary, c*wgirl, oc claws at his back which jk seems to have a kink for, a little bit of steamy rivalry at the end (just a hint), our kook is attentive even though it gets kinda rough

now playing: My You by jjk

a/n: my you has been one of my on repeat songs and im not sorry. Also, thank you for the request, i hope this is alright! Anyway pls enjoy! ❤

Dozens of cherry blossom trees are sky-high in the air, covering you as you walk down the aisle in the grass. Some of the blush pink and white blossoms shake from branches every few steps to shower over you in a cascading effect. The temperature is also perfect, a steady 68 degrees.

This is why you and Jungkook chose to marry in the spring–it was beautiful.

You look to your left, then to your right. Rows of seats filled with family, friends, and co-workers stare at you in awe. The only two people missing, however, are your parents.

With the passing of your father years ago and your mother's absence in your life since then, your half of the guest list isn’t extensive by any means. It's for those reasons that you both agreed a small wedding would be ideal.

Still, even with the minimized guest list, you find it difficult to hold eye contact with any of them. It's not because you're nervous exactly–you simply don’t believe your reality is real.

Was this another one of your silly dreams?

Are you going to wake up just as you reach the front?

You keep your eyes straight ahead and towards the man who's waiting for you with tightly clasped hands. He makes all your worries melt away in that instant.

No, you remind yourself. This isn't a dream.

The veil you’re wearing drags on the ground behind you and flows over the small train of your delicate, white gown. You chose a form-fitting sheath dress that’s made from the softest satin fabric. Its clean, sharp lines allow the semi-deep-v neckline to appear more elegant than revealing.

The closer you get the more Jungkook’s cheeks wet with his tears. He knew he was going to cry today. But he was hoping it’d happen towards the end so he could see you walking down the aisle to him without his vision blurring.

“Hi,” he whispers to you once you’re fully in front of him. He wipes his face with his thumbs as subtly as he can.

You bow to each other in greeting and, with the request to join hands from your officiant, you hand your bouquet of fresh-cut flowers to your maid of honor and place your hands in his gentler ones.

“Hi,” you reply, equally quiet and with a small smile.

Jungkook’s dark, raven hair parts in the middle with a few strands tastefully out of place. He’s wearing a black, pin-stripped suit with a matching vest and plain black tie. The white dress shirt underneath is buttoned all the way up to the top too and he’s kept all his piercings in, including his lip ring. He’s unbelievably handsome–and he’s yours.

When your officiant begins making the welcome speech, the guests settle down in their seats all at once. Yet you and Jungkook keep whispering to each other as softly as you can.

“You look amazing.” His thumbs rub soothing circles over the top of your knuckles.

“So do you.” Your gaze holds his reddened ones. The fact that he’s still on the verge of tears causes you to form watery eyes as well. But you blink them back. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know. I feel the same way.” He pauses and grins at you. “Did you see who came with whom?” He gives a side-eye, gesturing at Jimin, one of his best men.

“I saw.” You and Jungkook start giggling at once because the person who Jimin brought as his plus one is perhaps the most annoying person in the world to him–your co-worker who’s had an insane crush on him for the last year. They insisted that Jimin be a “gentleman” and show them a good time while at your wedding.

“Do you think they’ll…you know,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively to finish the sentence.

Jungkook shakes his head lightly. “I don’t know, maybe. I can’t really bother to think about who’ll sleep with who when you’re gonna be the one under me tonight.”

Though he says it with the most sincere tone, more endearing than flirty, you swallow hard. It’s not your first time with Jungkook but you’re unsure what to expect tonight. You’ll be his wife after this.

“Why do you get to top?” you mouth.

Jungkook gives a half-smirk.“Why do you pretend to hate it?”

You open your mouth to form a response but the harsh clearing of a throat behind Jungkook orders you to stop.

“Everyone-ahem-can hear you,” Taehyung coughs. “Stop it for god sake.”

“Yes, if the bride and groom could please save the after-wedding affairs for later, we can move forward with the ceremony. Thankfully I don't see many children in the crowd today,” the officiant adds as humorously as she can and the crowd chuckles.

Oh god. You bite down on your tongue to keep from embarrassing the two of you further.

Once your officiant is able to finish her welcome speech she turns her attention to you. "__ do you want to marry Jungkook, to be your husband, to love and to cherish all the days of your life, today, tomorrow, and always? 

"I do. Yes."

She looks at Jungkook afterward. "Jungkook do you want to marry __, to be your wife, to love and to cherish all the days of your life, today, tomorrow, and always? 

He stares at you, wordless for a moment as every memory between the two of you hits him like a tidal wave. His hand starts shaking in yours, and tears start spilling from his eyes again.

"You okay?" You whisper and this time it's your turn to rub soothing circles on his hands, calming him down.

"Yeah," he sniffs. "I just never imagined myself to be standing here today. I love you so much."

Your officiant decides it's best to wait for the right time to speak but Jungkook smiles at her softly. "That means yes by the way," he jokes and the guests laugh in unison.

She turns to the ring bearer, aka Namjoon's eight-year-old son who stands on Jungkook's left by his father. "May we have the rings please?"

The boy walks over to her, hands over the small gold bands, then returns to his previous position.

"The couple will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and devotion. I understand they have prepared their own vows thus binding promises to love, honor, and cherish one another. __, please place this ring on Jungkook’s finger and when you're ready you may begin."

You take the ring and begin slipping it on Jungkook's finger. "They say when you marry someone you become one. You consider each other in every decision, make compromises for the other, and be the strength when the other cannot. We've been together for three years now Jungkook, doing those exact things and I couldn't fathom stopping now. I love you and I promise I'll always be here next to you, however and whenever you need."

"Jungkook," your officiant hands him your ring. "Please place this ring on __’s finger and when you're ready you may begin."

"When I saw you years ago, waiting at the crosswalk, I thought you were the most beautiful and intriguing person I'd ever seen in my life." He puts the ring on your fourth finger. "And then you dropped your wallet and it gave me the best opportunity to approach you. Little did I know, the sight of a man running after would make you run too. But you took my number in the end and three years later, the love of my life is standing before me. Everything I am and have belongs to you __, always and forever."

Your officiant smiles at you both as Jungkook struggles to keep his distance from you a few seconds longer. He's been waiting for this very moment since the day you agreed to be his boyfriend. He just can't take it any longer!

"In the presence of...oh for the love of might," your officiant stops mid-sentence when she sees Jungkook shuffling his feet closer and closer towards you. "Never in my twenty years of performing marriages have I seen a groom this eager to get married. Go ahead and kiss your wife hun! Mr. and Mrs. Jeon Jungkook everyone!"

Massive grin on his face, Jungkook grabs your waist and dips you low into a romantic kiss. The crowd goes wild at the dramatic gesture, whistling and clapping behind you.

After about a million more tears, speeches, first dances, a surprise song preformed by the wedding party, and Jungkook practically ripping off the lace garter around your thigh with his teeth, the wedding festivities come to an end. But not before you both find yourself being guided to a secret place led by Taehyung.

The wedding party insisted you be blindfolded beforehand. So here you are, almost pitch black out and clinging to Jungkook's arm.

"I don't understand why I need to be blindfolded and you don't," you say.

"I'm not sure," he replies. "Maybe they got you a gift or something."

"We're here! Stop!" You hear Taehyung shout from a few feet ahead and Jungkook freezes in place. You're body jolts forward a little with the sudden pause.

"__." Jungkook calls your name softly. "Open your eyes."

You flutter your lids open and at first, the sight before you is hazy as you adjust to the night sky. But then, your jaw drops to the ground.

In front of you is a charming river surrounded by perfectly arched cherry blossoms with lanterns hanging from the branches. All the lanterns illuminate the entire length of the stream, including around the bends and curves. At the edge of the stream is a small dock where a wooden row boat floats with a set of oars inside.

"Oh my god." Your eyes trail as far down the river as you can. You've only ever seen this in movies, so you're incredibly overwhelmed by the sight. "Jungkook, are we-are we going in there?"

He watches as you openly gape at the scene in front of you. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

You whip your head in his direction. "Are you kidding? It's amazing! Did you know about this?"

His big grin tells you everything you need to know.

"He planned everything himself," Namjoon speaks up. "Come on, your boat's waiting. It'll take you all the way to one of the best hotels in Seoul. I know you're going on your honeymoon tomorrow but we thought a night up in a five-star hotel might be nice. Unless you want to go back to Jungkook's house of course but...we kinda already grabbed your suitcases for the trip and had them put in your room."

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious __."

You snake your arms out Jungkook's arm and swing them around him. "I can't thank you enough for doing this, Joon."

He places a gentle hand on your upper back. "Of course, but like I said. Jungkook planned everything so you should thank him more than me." He laughs and breaks away from you when he sees the younger man eyeing the two of you excruciatingly close. "I think your husband would like you back now."

Jungkook comes up behind you and sneakily slips your hand in his tatted one. "Are you ready?" He gestures towards the boat.

You nod and he pulls you towards the dock, helping you into the boat first when you approach it. He sits across from you after and grabs the oars of the boats, lowering them into the water one at a time.

"Wait!" Taehyung lunges over the edge of the boat with something small and black in his palm. "Don't forget this." He clips a tiny microphone to his shirt and you scrunch your eyebrows.

"What's this about?" You ask.

Taehyung only half-smirks at you and backs away from the boat. "We'll see you when you come back from the honeymoon okay? Have fun! But please, for the sanity of us all, don't text us any details. In the words of the wise, keep the private things private!"

Jungkook laughs and starts rowing the boat forward and down the stream. You, on the other hand, wave goodbye to everyone as you drift further and further away from the dock.

"So, husband," you sit with your elbows on your knees. "What's the mic for?"

Jungkook doesn't reply but shushes you instead. He tests the mic a couple of times before soft music comes from either side of you. Apparently, there are stereos lined down the banks of the river.

When he starts singing, you cover your mouth in overwhelming joy.

"Summer has already spread in the air

Breeze is already blowing.

The last cold snap is going out

The days were getting longer and longer

But my days were still going on and on and on

I got wet in the sunshower, I looked up at the night sky..."

At this moment the lanterns start twinkling, reflecting like raindrops in the water. You look all around you, taking in the change of atmosphere. Jungkook's cool eyes focus on you intently as he continues serenading you.

"It was quite a lonely night

In the blink of an eye, the dark faded out

Blooming under the sunlight

Memories with me and you..."

The boat rows left and you peer over your shoulder. Taehyung and the rest of the wedding party are barely visible by now. When you look ahead again, you see that you're about to go under a stone bridge. On the other side are more cherry blossom trees and a glimpse of downtown Seoul.

"All these lights are colored in by you

All these times are precious due to you

Four seasons have passed with you

Four scents were left 'cause of you

All the reasons why I can laugh out

All the reasons why I sing this song

Thankful to be by your side now

I'll try to shine brighter than now..."

Jungkook rows the two of you closer to the city as he finishes his song, passing a number of other couples taking night strolls together. The wind blows a little but it doesn't make you shiver at all—his voice warms your soul.

And when you lean in to kiss him once the boat reaches the dock near the hotel, fingers grazing his cheeks, your body yearns to be near his.

It takes little to no time for the two of you to find your hotel room. Jungkook swipes your keycard in the door and in you both go, your hand shamelessly yanks at his tie.

He presses you up the back of the door once it's locked shut and kisses you with a fiery passion. It's different from all the other times; neither rough nor soft, as he sucks on your bottom lip, eagerly begging to deepen the kiss.

"Kook," you let out a muffled moan when his tongue finds its way into your mouth. It's a wrestle at first, your tongues toying with each other. And once you get the hint that he's not about to back down you start threading your fingers through his hair.

"I love it when you do that," he groans and pushes himself against your body, grinding his growing bulge against your center.

You whine against his lips and grind your hips back into his. "I know you do," you tease and a strong pair of hands wander your waist before traveling behind to grip your ass.

You yelp when he squeezes your cheeks and starts rutting himself into you faster. He moves his pillowy lips to the side of your neck too, peppering you with kisses from the the sensitive area right below your earlobe and all the way down to your collarbone.

"Fuck," he grunts, nothing short of frustrated, when your dress stops him from kissing down any further. The hands gripping your ass move up to find the zipper of your gown. "Please, baby, can I remove it?"

"Yes, go ahead," you nod and retract your hands from his hair to let the gown fall off your shoulders. Jungkook watches lustfully as your bare breasts are revealed to him little by little. He's seen them a million times but each time is always like his first, his eyes never fail to dilate.

"Perfect," you hear him whisper under his breath. And when the gown pools to the ground around your feet with a heavy thump, he can't hold himself back any longer.

He needs you.

One by one he starts tearing off his suit jacket, then his vest and leather belt until he's left standing in nothing else left except his black underwear. His muscles bulge without even having to flex and his pecs are more than solid.

If he weren't the love of your life, you'd say he was damn intimidating. Yet the pleasure you get from simply viewing his perfectly toned body is ridiculous and what pushes you further is the gold band wrapped around his fourth finger.

Jungkook must be feeling the same as his hands are back on your hips in the seconds following, pushing you to the wall adjacent to the door and attacking the area near your collarbone again with his plushy lips. You whine when his large pecs rub against your pebbled nipples.

"God what have you been lifting these day Jeon? Half of Seoul?" You rest your hands on his biceps which tense at the touch.

"Uh uh," he tsks in response. "Can't call me that anymore. We share the same name now." He kisses your shoulder then moves his mouth over to a nipple. He licks one first, teasing it with the tip of his tongue until you moan for him to keep going.

"You have such soft boobies," he comments before finally sucking on one. Your head falls back from the pleasure it sends up your spine.

"Do you have to say it like that?"

He switches to the other breast, licking and sucking it firmly like the he'd done previously. "What's wrong with boobies? I like the word."

You chuckle and decide to let him have his fun. Pick you battles __, you hum to yourself.

Jungkook tugs at the string of your underwear after placing one last kiss atop each boob. He slowly pulls the thin material down your legs at your consent and you step out from them.

"Lean against the wall and throw your leg over my shoulder," he tells you on bended knees.

You do as he says, swinging a leg over his shoulder. The movement has his head face to face with your cunt which is not in the least bit dry from all the teasing and grinding earlier.

Jungkook sticks a finger in his mouth, wetting it with his spit and then rubs it back and forth between your folds. The lubrication mixes with your own arousal.

"Jungkook," you whine when he doesn't sink his finger in right away, despite the fact that you're well prepared for it.

He blinks at you through his lashes with a devious smirk. "What?" He asks. "You don't like this?"

"I do but I need more. Please," you beg. "Fingers. In me. Please."

He groans at the way your voice seems to crack the more you beg. Well, he's made you wait long enough. Jungkook pushes his finger into your velvet walls all at once, dragging it back and forth in search of your sweet spot.

He knows he's found it when you instantly buck your hips and the leg that's over his shoulder reflexively clamps down on him.

"Right here?" He curls his finger inside you and it has your pussy already throbbing for him. You don't even have to ask for a second finger before he does the honors himself, sliding another into you then proceeding to make a scissoring motion with both digits. "Or here?" He asks again.

"Anywhere," you barely make out through your gasps. "Just don't stop what you're doing."

"What if I wanna lick your pussy?" He pumps his fingers faster all while maintaining focus on your face. "Make you come all over my tongue."

"God Kook, do whatever you want," you reply and it's all the push he needs to remove his fingers from out of you to replace it with his mouth. "Fuck!" You cry as he desperately licks long stripes up your slippery folds, tongue dipping inside for additional pleasure.

He repeats the motion several times until he decides its not enough and sucks on your clit.

"Oh, that feels so good, fuck, fuck Jungkook," you moan with eyes closed and a shaky breath.

Your legs start trembling as your first orgasm of the night builds inside. It gets closer and closer as Jungkook works faster and faster before finally, the cord inside you breaks free.

Jungkook happily swallows as much of your cum as he can. He uses his wrist to wipes his mouth after, cleaning up any leftover.

"First time eating my wife out," he starts, guiding your leg over his shoulder back on the ground. "What a fucking turn on."

Jungkook stands up and pulls you into an embrace with both hands, your bare bodies press tight against each other. Then, without any warning, he swoops up your legs with one hand supporting your lower back and lifts your into his arms.

"Kook!" You call his name in suddeness of the action.

"Yes? What is it wife?" He carries you to the large, king size bed that's covered in rose petals and lays you on top. His handsome face leans over you with careful, attentive eyes while a hand reaches for one of the soft pillows nearby to slip under your head.

It's now that the weight of the moment hits you, as if you've just doven off a steep cliff and head first into the rushing rapids of the ocean.

"I love you," you say.

Jungkook sticks his thumbs in the band of his underwear and pushes it down until he can easily remove them. He's fully hard when he crawls over top of you after, and places his hands on either side of your head.

"I love you too." He lowers his head to capture your lips into a deep kiss. "Now," he continues, sitting up on his knees and shimmying his thighs up your frame. "I think I might need some help here."

He grips his pulsating length, tan tip leaking with pre-cum. You widen your mouth gladly and he shoves his length to the back of your throat.

"Mm!" You gag but to say you hate it would be a lie.

Jungkook doesn't move at first, letting you get used to the weight of his cock on your tongue first. He bites his lip as you hallow your cheeks the best you can.

"I don't want to come, I just want it wet okay?" He tells you and you nod in understanding. "Fuck, so good," he lets out a throaty growl after the first thrust.

You suck him as hard as you can as he fucks your mouth at a steady pace, making sure his cock will be nice and well-lubricated with your spit this time.

"Can't believe we're married," he thrusts faster, teeth clenching together. "My wife, mine forever. No one else can have you. I won't let them."

You blink your glassy eyes at him, thighs struggling to rub together due to the arousal pooling between your legs for the tenth time tonight.

You love him so fucking much.

Jungkook pulls himself out of your mouth while you're in thought, a string of spit following. He backs himself down your body until he can properly hover over you in a straddling position.

"Legs up," he commands and you wrap them around his waist in a criss-cross position. His wetted length finds your entrance with little guidance and pushes forward, stretching your walls so deliciously well.

"Oh my god," you shudder as his cock sinks all the way in thanks to both of you being incredibly worked up and lubricated. Your hands fly under his arms after two thrusts, to grip his back. "Fuck, you're so deep Kook."

"I know, holy shit," he grunts and beats himself into you. He likes the feeling of your body bouncing up and down underneath him so leans down on his elbows to fuck you faster and harder. "I think this might be the deepest I've been in you baby, so wet for me—fuck!"

He moans loudly when your nails claw his back. "Shit I'm sorry!" You relax your fingers immediately when he winces at the slight pain.

"No," he nips at your jaw. "I like it, keep doing it. Mark me up." He snaps his hips into yours and you claw at his back again, harsher than the last time; not enough to hurt him but enough to make him moan in your ear over and over again.

"Jungkook! Too much," you pant as he burries his head in your neck, trailing hot open mouth kisses to the area. "It's too much, I'm gonna come!"

"Fuck, that's the goal baby!"

"Yeah but, don't wanna come so soo—"

He shuts you up with his tongue shoving between you lips, kissing you with a purpose. You's body squirms at the pleasure and you find yourself clenching around his thick length that yes, twitches in response.

"Three years together and you still think I'll give you one round and call it quits. Since when baby?" He groans as he feels himself achingly close to his high (you too). "Tell me, since fucking when?" He emphasizes once more.

You're too lost in how close you are to your second orgasm to give him an answer.

"That's right, never."

One hard thrust later and you come on his length. It takes little time before he releases in you as well, yet he continues his pace.

"That's one down," Jungkook says, riding out both your orgasms which slowly works you up to another. "Not including any eating out. And if my memory serves our record is five. Don't you think we should surpass that now that we're legally bonded to each other Mrs. Jeon? In sickness and in health was it?"

"I'm still trying to recover from the first two orgasms I had tonight, including the fingering and you relentless dry humping."

"Baby," he coos. "My sweet baby, come here." With both arms Jungkook lifts your body with his until you're both in an upright, seated position. Your legs that were once wrapped around his waist rest on the mattress as he thrust up into your cunt. "Don't you know I just want to make you feel good? Why recover when you can be wrecked so heavenly over and over again?"

You moan and squeeze your hands on his shoulder. Jungkook studies your face, maintaining slow, calculated thrusts into you.

"Come for me again," he says.

And you do, sticky white liquid dripping down to the base of his cock and onto the sheets under you.

"You enjoyed that didn't you?" He smirks. "Let's see you get on all fours now. I'd love to see how well my wife takes it from behind."

You catch him off guard by pushing on his chest and guiding him flat on his back. "Mm no," you refuse him. "I think I'd like to get a taste of my husband as a bottom instead."

Jungkook's cock hardens inside you and his fingers settle around your hips as he smirks up at you. "Go ahead then," he tests. "Try getting yourself off."

"You think I can't do it?" You narrow your eyes and grind forward on his cock, earning you a deep growl from your new husband.

"We'll see how long you'll last before I have to flip you on your back and take over," he spats. "But good luck beautiful."

With a huff and determination in your eyes, you start a strong pace. Jungkook watches you with lustful eyes as you bounce on him– enjoying the show a little too much.

a/n: Thanks for reading! Lmk what you think 🥰

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[nichoswrld]

first time with &team

pairing boyfriend!&team legal line x afab reader

warnings protected sex, virginity loss, foreplay, aftercare, making out, one mention of food (breakfast), oral (f receiving), dry humping, showering together (non-sexual), i got carried away with some of these oops !!

playlist a little death - the neighborhood

note requested here, don’t be shy and go drop an ask !!

kei

kei may give off demon in the bedroom vibes, but he’s really just a sweetheart who wants to give you a good time. he’s such a gentleman, he takes you to a nice candlelit dinner at a restaurant, but you two don’t make it to the bedroom before the foreplay starts. right when you get home you find yourself pressed against the door, kei’s mouth pressed against yours. his teeth and tongue make you dizzy and disoriented so you don’t pay much mind when he lifts you into his strong arms and carries you to the bedroom. he lays you down gently, and kisses down your body with fervor. he gives you multiple orgasms that night, cleaning you up while you lay exhausted on the bed before coming back to hold you until you both fall asleep.

fuma

fuma doesn’t have sex with you until well after the first “i love you.” don’t get him wrong, he wants you every moment he’s with you, but the man has incredible restraint. he needs to make sure you’re absolutely certain you want him to take your virginity. when the night finally comes, he surely makes it special. there’s flower petals leading up to the bed, fresh satin sheets, vanilla-scented candles, the whole shebang. he eats you out as foreplay, and is gentle and sweet the whole way through. he asks you if you’re doing okay a few times and makes sure you know it’s perfectly okay to want to stop at any time. gives the best aftercare as well, carrying you to the bath and washing you both before tucking you into bed for cuddles.

nicholas

oh he jumps right into it. it happens randomly one night while you’re both listening to music, you on his lap while he probably games, and the lyrics turn sexual and you’re both turned on. you share one look and your lips are locked. he spins you around so that you’re straddling him and you grind against each other for a bit. when you move to the bed, he eats you out like a starved man. you literally have to remind him to take it slow because he nearly rips your clothes off. he does nottt care, he just wants you so bad. he remembers to be gentle, though, it’s your first time and he would never want to hurt you (unless it’s pleasurable but we’ll cover that another time). nearly forgets aftercare pt1 because he’s so tired after, but he makes sure to at least get you in the shower and change the sheets so you both can sleep in a clean bed (just to dirty it again the next morning pls).

euijoo

euijoo is the sweetest boy. he overthinks the whole thing- changing the sheets several times to make sure the color is just right, keeping wine on hand in case you need a bit of liquid courage, and even buying color changing led lights to set the mood. he loves you so so so much and just wants the night to be perfect for you both. when you get to the room, he lays you down and you make out for a while before he gives you head that leaves you within an inch of your life (biggest ej munch enthusiast!!). he’s so serious while taking the your clothes off after, you may have to crack a few jokes to release the tension. once he’s inside of you, he’s the softest man alive. he whispers words of praise in your ears like “you feel so good.” “so tight for me.” is serious about aftercare too, makes sure you get a nice warm shower after and you do skincare together afterwards. expect the warmest cuddles after, and to wake up to breakfast in bed.

yuma

yuma finds it so hard to hold back and be gentle once you’re undressed. that’s why he’ll make sure you have some foreplay - something like over-the-clothes dry humping, or kissing down your body so you can get used to his touch. when it’s finally time to have sex, he softens up a bit, remembering you’re very inexperienced yourself, and is gentle with every touch. every thrust, ever caress, and every handhold- all soft, to the point where you literally have to verbalize that you want more. from then on, he’s the opposite of soft. almost forgets about aftercare pt2 because he’s so happy. says “i love you” about a million times. you can’t walk the next day, but it’s okay because it was the night of your life.

jo

jo is so very nervous, you’d probably have to take the lead most of the time. he’s just really large, as we know (in multiple ways…) and doesn’t want to hurt you. you’d be watching a movie or something on the couch, and having discussed beforehand that this was the night, you grow impatient and end up straddling his lap before the movie even ends. you’d make out for a bit, and probably end up making love on the couch for the first time, then again on the bed. jo definitely has good stamina (inspired by the waterbomb pics) and can go multiple rounds. for aftercare, he’d do things differently than the rest and try eating you out to bring you to your third orgasm of the night. probably cums himself too because it’s such a sight, you all fucked out for him on the bed. then, you take a shower and eat some ice cream, drink plenty of water, and finish the movie in bed finally (you both probably knock out before the end but it’s okay).

©nichoswrld | do not copy my work or repost onto any other platform.

[edenesth]

The Painter's Muse

Pairing: painter!Wooyoung x princess!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Stay still, your highness."

You fidgeted in your chair, adjusting the satin dress to alleviate the stifling warmth within the famous painter's studio. The movement inadvertently exposed more of your skin, causing him to clear his throat and avert his gaze, a blush colouring his cheeks.

After enduring hours of posing, you finally voiced a plea, "Wooyoung, it's been ages. Can we please take a short break?" The subtle pout on your lips sent a rush of emotions through him, the desire to kiss you now more potent than ever.

Succumbing to your request, he nodded hastily, "Y-you're right, let's take a break. I apologise for losing track of time, princess."

In reality, both of you needed the pause to collect your thoughts and calm the rapid beating of your hearts. The artist grappled with the realisation that nurturing feelings for the princess was a forbidden path. Surely, you were destined for a match of higher societal standing, not with a mere painter. But your enchanting presence made it increasingly difficult for him to resist falling in love with you.

The intricacies of this predicament were not lost on him—the princess of Wonderland being his muse presented its own complications, especially when emotions became entangled in the delicate dance of artistry and affection.

Wrapping a robe around yourself, you opened a window to let in the fresh air while Wooyoung occupied himself with tidying up his paintbrushes and changing the water. Stealing a few glances at his familiar silhouette, you sighed, contemplating the possibility of a future with him.

Never did you anticipate that things would progress to this point. It started months ago during one of your occasional trips to the town, seeking respite from the burdens of your princess duties. The joy of blending in with the commoners, momentarily forgetting your responsibilities, was something you cherished.

As an avid art enthusiast, nothing brought you greater delight than your visits to the local art museum. Unaware of the lingering gaze fixated on your every move, you settled into your regular spot at the museum one day. Little did you know, the very artworks that captivated you were born from the inspiration drawn from you.

The painter had committed every nuance of your ethereal beauty and graceful gestures to memory from the moment you first graced the museum with your presence. While Wooyoung was no stranger to the allure of beautiful noblewomen, there was an indescribable quality about you that set you apart.

As he observed you engrossed in one of his favourite paintings—a celestial figure bearing a striking resemblance to you—he felt compelled to unravel the mystery of your identity. What had initially captivated him was your poised demeanour, but over time, his admiration had blossomed into something more profound.

You looked up, meeting his gaze as he gathered the courage to take a seat beside you, marking the first time he made his presence known. Returning his polite smile, you gestured toward the painting, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The artist nodded, a faint blush tinting his cheeks, "I agree. After all, it finds its full inspiration in you, my lady."

And that was how you met your favourite painter and how he discovered that his muse was none other than the sole princess of the nation. Despite the initial disbelief, he came to accept the truth, recognising the unique qualities that made you different—a true embodiment of royal elegance.

Since then, your visits to town have become more frequent, driven by the desire to spend more time with your new friend. As you grew closer, he gathered the courage to request the honour of painting you in person. Given your profound admiration for his work, you were more than happy to pose for his paintings.

Now, in one of your many sessions, there was tension lingering in the air. Both of you were acutely aware of each other in a different light as romantic feelings blossomed, leaving you both uncertain about how to address them.

Biting your lip, you shed the robe and settled back into your chair, frustration evident as Wooyoung deliberately avoided meeting your gaze. The awareness of mutual feelings lingered, yet the uncertainty weighed heavily. Both of you, usually playful and carefree, now trod cautiously, reluctant to overstep any boundaries.

It irked you—the palpable connection between you, the unspoken desire—yet the circumstances demanded a careful dance around your emotions.

Deep down, you pondered the unfairness of it all. If your brother, the crown prince, could marry a palace maid, why should there be obstacles for you and a talented painter like Wooyoung? Besides, he was no ordinary artist but a renowned one. Why should anyone else dictate who you could be with?

The resolve built within you. The opinions of others mattered little. No one can tell you what to do; you were the princess, and this is the man you love.

To hell with it. You're mine, Jung Wooyoung.

Opting to revive your playful side, you deliberately shifted around, purposefully trying to get on the artist's nerves. A smirk played on your lips when he emitted a tired sigh, "Princess, please, why are you being so difficult today?"

Your scoff echoed through the studio, "You're acting as if you don't already know what a brat I can be. Admit it, you secretly enjoy it."

He rolled his eyes, visibly uneasy as you continued your antics, causing your dress to ride up and reveal more skin, "Just sit still; we're almost done."

Crossing your legs, you shot him a defiant glare, "Well, what if I don't want it to be done?"

Frustrated, he set his brush down, reciprocating your glare, "I swear, princess, if you don't cooperate—"

With a challenging gaze, you interrupted, "And what exactly will you do about it?" Your taunt hung in the air as he shot up from his seat, advancing toward you, "Will you quit being a brat?" He growled.

You grinned mischievously, "Make me."

Unable to resist any longer, he muttered, "You asked for it, princess." Without a moment's hesitation, he leaned down, kissing you hard enough to leave both of your lips tingling and bruised. This was it; he was tired of feigning indifference, tired of concealing the depths of his love for you. The pretence was no longer sustainable; he craved to have you close to him every second of every day.

You smiled against his lips, reciprocating the fervour of his kiss. He pulled you close, orchestrating a swift turn until he was seated, and you straddled him on his lap.

Breaking the kiss, you both caught your breath as he rested his forehead against yours. Tenderly caressing his cheeks, you whispered, "I love you, Wooyoung."

His arms tightened around your waist, overwhelmed with emotion at finally hearing those words from you, "Are you sure, your highness? What would the people think?"

Cupping his jaw, you locked eyes with him, "It doesn't matter what they think; no one can stop me. Now, will you submit or stand beside me?"

Biting his lip, he responded, "I'll be on my knees, worshipping you for the rest of my life. I love you too, my princess."

By the end of the day, you found yourself subjected to endless teasing from your royal tutor. It seemed like a fitting revenge for your previous interference in his love life. Secretly, you relished the playful banter; it meant that what you and Wooyoung shared was real.

Holy crap, 400+ followers already?! Thank you all, my lovelies! <3

Also, this ended spicier than I planned HAHA only Mingi's part left to go and we're finished~

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[girlwithadragonheart]

A Court of Crows and Rooks

Rook x Lucanis

Requested by @cirillabelle

Summary: What happens when the First Talon of the Crows requests you by name for a job? All eyes are on you and the Demon of Vyrantium as you take to the floor of a Trevisian Masquerade.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Assassination, creepy man

A/N: This was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy <3

DATV Masterlist

The note arrived with the scent of lavender and the heavy, unmistakable wax seal of the First Talon. You didn’t touch it at first. It sat there on the table, pristine and foreboding, as if opening it might unleash something you can’t take back. The address was what unsettled you most. Not “Veilguard Operative.” Not “Agent.” Just your name.

Rook De Riva.

It was signed in the slightly shaky, swooped script that you knew was Caterina’s handwriting.

You had sent for Teia as soon as it had arrived, needing the moral support before you could even open it.

“Congratulations,” Teia says, leaning over your shoulder with that sharp grin of hers. “The First Talon doesn’t call for just anyone. You got her attention.”

You scoff, pushing the note toward her. “If it’s so special, you read it. This is clearly a job for a Talon, not… me.”

“Don’t be a coward,” she teases, snatching it up before you can protest. Her eyes flick across the elegant Antivan script. “Well, well. Looks like you’re going to a masquerade.”

Your stomach twists. “A what?”

“A masquerade. You know, dancing, intrigue, a den of vipers dressed in silk and lace.” Teia folds the letter neatly and presses it back into your hands. “And you’ll need to dress the part.”

You glance down at your worn leathers, the daggers strapped securely to your thighs. “This is the part.”

“Not this time,” Teia says, already calling for an attendant. “You’re going to look stunning. “Deadly, but stunning.”

--------------------------

The mirror feels like an enemy, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

The gown Teia had commissioned fit like a second skin, the dark blue silk pooling around your feet like shadows. When it caught the light, the fabric sparkled like stars at midnight, just enough to look expensive without being gaudy. The dress was skin tight with a deep V cut to accentuate your chest and curves. There was a high slit, nearly up to your hip on one side. The hem was embroidered with silver vines, adding a touch of elegance you’ve never thought to claim.

The mask, silver filigree laced with Sapphires, hid enough of your face to make you feel anonymous, though it left plenty of room for scrutiny.

You don’t recognize yourself, staring in the mirror. Your lips have been colored with a seductive burgundy, making them look fuller than you thought possible.

“That’s the point,” Teia says, grinning as she adjusts the mask on your face. “They’ll never see you coming.”

When you step into the main room where the others wait, silence falls. Teia’s grin widens as she steps back to admire her work. Viago gives an approving nod, already slipping into his own role for the mission.

Lucanis is the last to react.

He stands near the door, and for a long moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable.

“You are not going alone,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going with you.” His voice is steady, leaving no room for argument. “For your protection.”

“I don’t need--”

“Yes. You do.” He steps closer, towering, but not intimidating. There’s something resolute in his tone, something that makes you pause. “I won’t let you walk into that room full of snakes alone.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

-----------------------

The ballroom is overwhelming the moment you step inside.

Golden chandeliers hang high above, casting a warm glow over the sea of silk and satin. The air is thick with perfume and intrigue, every masked figure playing a part in a grand, dangerous game.

You glance up, seeing Lucanis crouched in the rafters in his leathers. He gives you a subtle nod, and you tear your eyes away, trying not to draw attention as you head inside. Head high, don’t let them smell your fear.

A dance begins soon after your arrival, the music shifting to a lively rhythm. Teia and Viago have already melted into the crowd, leaving you feeling exposed.

Your eyes scan the room slowly, your hands folded delicately in front of your midsection as you gaze at the onlookers. Many sets of eyes are on you; you can feel the weight of them as you walk. Men and women rake their eyes over your form, some practically drooling.

A heavy-set magister with a leering smile---appears before you. His gaze lingers a little too long on your figure as he extends a hand.

“My dear, may I have this dance?”

Your stomach twists, but you force a smile, placing your hand in his. “Of course.”

The dance is a careful game. You keep your movements precise, your steps measured, all while his hand slides lower than it should and his grip tightens.

“So,” he says, his tone dripping with false charm, “you must be new to this sort of thing.”

“I get by,” you reply coolly, resisting the urge to yank his hand away.

He chuckles, leaning in closer. “Perhaps we could---”

Before he can finish, a shadow looms behind you.

Lucanis, now dressed in formal attire with a sleek black mask, steps in smoothly, his hand covering his heart as he bows slightly. “My apologies, I couldn’t help but notice your beauty among these dogs. May I have this dance, my Lady?”

The magister hesitates, his gaze flicking to Lucanis before he forces a tight smile. “Of course.”

You let out a quiet breath as Lucanis guides you away, his hand steady against your back. “I had it handled,” you mutter, though your heart is still racing.

You take a moment to study the crow---his dark Antivan suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and thin waist. His mask is simpler than yours, a sleek black piece that lets his brown eyes show through. Lucanis glances down at you, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. “You shouldn't have to.”

The music slows, and the couples around you draw closer together. Lucanis doesn’t let go, his hand still firm at your waist. His other hand takes yours, his touch warmer than you expect.

“You’re blending in better than I thought,” he murmurs, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You smirk faintly. “Part of the job, right?” Your gaze holds his, but your smirk falters. “Lucanis, you look…” Your voice trails off.

“Clean!” Spite hisses through his teeth.

You can’t help the slight laugh that bubbles from your chest, tight with anxiousness. “Nice,” you say. “Handsome.”

His lips twitch in the ghost of a smile, but his eyes remain sharp, scanning the room even as you move together in time with the music. His focus is unshakable, though his grip on you doesn’t waver.

“You’re staring,” you tease lightly, trying to break the tension.

“I’m watching,” he corrects, his tone steady but quieter now.

You move as one, each step drawing you closer to the center of the room. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you keep your face neutral, aware of the eyes watching you. As the song draws to a close, Lucanis dips you low. The motion is fluid, practiced, but as he holds you there, his grip tightens just slightly.

You’re close enough to feel his breath against your lips, his chocolate eyes locked on yours. For a moment, the rest of the room falls away.

Then he pulls you upright, the spell broken as quickly as it was cast. “Focus,” he says gruffly, releasing your hand.

You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to steady your breathing. “I am focused.”

Lucanis doesn’t reply, but the faintest flicker of a smile crosses his face before he steps back, the mission pulling him away once more.

It isn’t over yet, but your breath catches as you watch Lucanis slip into the crowd. For a man so popular, he disappears like smoke, weaving through the throng of silk and secrets with a grace you hadn’t quite been able to appreciate until now.

Your heart still pounds, the echo of his lips leaving your skin warm and your mind foggy. Shaking it off, you glance around, searching for Teia or Viago. They’re somewhere in this sea of masks, playing their parts as flawlessly as always. You envy their ease.

Lucanis’s words echo in your mind. Focus.

Easier said than done.

By the time the next dance begins, you’ve managed to slip into a rhythm. The first few exchanges were tense---too tense---but now you move with calculated grace, careful to keep your face neutral and your voice light. The target is watching you again, his lecherous gaze sweeping over you as you pass by.

You force yourself to smile, to keep your movements slow and deliberate. If he thinks you’re easy prey, all the better. A pretty, oblivious smile and doe eyes was all it took to entrap a man like him.

“Careful,” a familiar voice murmurs in your ear, and you nearly jump.

Lucanis is at your side again, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure even in formal attire. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes scanning the crowd, but his presence is a relief you hadn’t realized you needed.

“I thought you were blending in,” you say quietly, keeping your voice steady as you turn slightly toward him.

His lips twitch in the barest hint of amusement. “You’re drawing too much attention.”

You arch a brow. “Isn’t that the point?”

His eyes rove over you, following the dips and curves of your skin and exposed flesh. “Not all of it is friendly.”

You glance past him, noticing a pair of masked figures watching you from across the room. Their posture is relaxed, but there’s something about the way their heads tilt toward each other, their whispers concealed behind their masks, that sets you on edge.

Lucanis follows your gaze, his expression hardening. “Stay close.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, his hand brushing yours as he steps closer. The touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

When the music shifts again, Lucanis offers his hand. His posture is formal, the gesture deliberate, as if daring you to challenge him.

You hesitate for only a moment before placing your hand in his. His grip is firm but careful, his touch steady as he leads you onto the floor.

The eyes of the room are on you, everyone else dancing branching out to give you space. You can feel it, but Lucanis’s focus never wavers. He’s calm, confident, and entirely unbothered by the attention.

The music kicks up, and he spins you, pulling your back to his chest, one hand splayed over your stomach, the other guiding you by the hand. The steps are simple at first, the kind you’ve practiced a dozen times in training. But Lucanis moves with an elegance that makes it feel effortless, guiding you with a confidence that’s hard to ignore.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you murmur, your voice just loud enough for him to hear.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice smooth and low, his beard tickling your ear as he speaks right into it.

A second later, you’re spinning away from him, his grip on your hand warm and firm as it pulls you back, clutching you close. His touch is like fire, burning through your skin straight to your soul. You let out a breath, trying to keep up with his steps.

“You’re good at this,” you admit reluctantly, your hand covering his on your stomach.

He doesn’t reply right away, but you can feel his eyes studying you intently. “You’re better than you think.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you falter. His grip tightens, steadying you before you can fumble.

“Focus,” he says softly, the word almost teasing now.

You roll your eyes, but a quiet laugh escapes you. “I am focused.”

-------------------------------

The target watches you from the edge of the room, his expression unreadable behind his mask. You’re acutely aware of his gaze, of the way he lingers a little too long, as if trying to decide whether to approach again.

Lucanis notices too. His hand shifts slightly, his fingers brushing against the small of your back in a subtle but protective gesture. He leans down to your ear, murmuring so only you can hear. “Get him to the balcony. This ends soon.”

You nodded subtly, and Lucanis disappeared into the crowd again. Immediately, you missed his warmth. The absence of Lucanis felt like stepping into shadow after basking in sunlight. Without him at your side, the weight of the room seemed to press in on you. You let out a steadying breath, forcing yourself to relax into the role you needed to play.

The target was still watching, his gaze lingering on you like a spider waiting for its web to tremble. You met his stare with a coy tilt of your head, your lips curving into a faint, inviting smile. Slowly, you began to weave through the crowd, your steps deliberate, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

He took the bait. His hulking form detached from the edge of the ballroom, his movements smooth but predatory. The mask obscured his features, but his posture screamed arrogance. He thought he’d won already.

You led him toward the open doors leading to the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you stepped outside. The space was quieter, the music and chatter from inside muffled. Stars sparkled overhead, their light glinting off the silver trim of your gown.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” he began, his voice thick and dripping with false charm, “you’ve captured the attention of the entire room tonight.”

You turned to face him, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “And yours, it seems.”

“Of course.” He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the soft glow of the lanterns. “A beauty like you doesn’t go unnoticed. Though I must admit, I’ve been curious about who you truly are beneath that mask.”

His hand reached for it, but you stepped back with a playful laugh, keeping the distance just enough to leave him wanting. “Now, where would the fun be if I gave away all my secrets?”

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hunger. “Perhaps I can persuade you.”

The air shifted, the predatory undertone in his voice setting your teeth on edge. You glanced toward the shadows near the balcony’s edge where you knew Lucanis would be watching. The target was close now, too close. His hand grazed your arm, and your pulse quickened---not with fear, but with the need to act.

“You’re quite bold,” you said, your voice light but firm as you stepped back again, toward the railing. “And here I thought Tevinter men were supposed to be more subtle with their charms.”

The target smirked, following you like a hound to prey. “We are, but I’ve always found boldness more… rewarding.”

His hands grabbed your hips, sliding lower as he pulled you into him. You hummed, your hands splaying out over the railing behind you. The cool stone was solid beneath your palm, grounding you. 

“And what is to be your reward tonight?” You asked coyly. 

He smirked. “Oh, my dear. The reward is you.” He leaned in, flashing his teeth in a predatory smile. Your hand slipped to the dagger hidden on your thigh. As he went for your neck with his lips, you went for his with the blade. Your touch was light with your free hand, tilting your head as though to allow him access. Before he could taste your flesh, your dagger sunk into his skin. 

Blood splattered across your cheeks, matching the darkness of your painted lips. The magister tried to cry out, but gurgled as blood filled his throat. You stepped out from under him, watching his body tumble over the side of the balcony.

“Ta ta, darling. So sorry, I must’ve slipped. A shame you couldn’t catch me.” You smirked, hearing a dull thud from the ground below.

A hand started to slip around your waist, and you turned, pinning them to the wall with a dagger to their throat. Lucanis’s lips upturned. You pulled the blade away, sheathing it back under your dress.

“That was exquisite, Rook,” Lucanis said. “For all of Viago’s complaining, he was right about one thing.” His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you close to mutter in your ear. “You make a wonderful Crow.” He pulled back to look at you.

“Lucanis, you’re staring again,” you flushed from head to toe under his gaze.

“Perhaps I’m simply watching. It’s hard not to with such a beautiful woman before me,” his lips turned up, chocolate eyes appraising you.

“Who knew the Demon of Vyrantium was a flirt,” you teased.

“Ah, no, you seem to have mistaken me for Illario.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” Your hand fists in the collar of his formal sirt, pulling him toward you.

Your lips meet, and Lucanis pulls you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other gripping your hip. You hear the music swell inside, fireworks going up into the air and exploding, bathing the gardens below in warm light. Lucanis leans over you, bending you backward, your hands gripping his shoulders as he holds you up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Let me know if you want to be on the Lucanis tag list!

Have a good day/night!

[deonsx]

When You Ask Them To Be Tougher

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor

Content: Nfsw

Dazai Osamu

Finally, both of you were tired and you were at home, but as if Dazai had enough energy, he climbed on top of you while you were lying on his bed. "Hmm..Bella.." He took your hands and spoke, "Pft I see you still have enough energy" He giggled at what you said and gave you a lot of kisses in the world. You knew what he wanted, of course you wanted it too, but he was always so gentle with you...like a glass that would break more than it should, but you always wanted him to treat you harder, but you never expressed it

You stopped him with your hand as he was already taking your underwear down from your leg. "Osamu..I need to say something.." the brunette, who looked confused, looked at you in surprise and the room fell into a long silence. "And? What is this? Is it something worth ruining the current atmosphere? " you couldn't speak "So you know..You're so kind to me..I'm so happy about it! I'm not saying I'm unhappy..just a little more.." dazai frowned "A little more?" You finally let out a deep breath, "I want you to be harder on me during sex”

Dazai's face didn't change, he looked serious. "Osamu?" You asked trying to break away from the silence. "Yes, my love, I understand." Dazai narrowed his eyes looking at you in a very obedient tone. You smiled at this and pulled him into a hot kiss. His hands went to your legs and he quickly untied the bra, which was the last remaining underwear on you, and threw it aside, leaving scars on your neck that will remain tomorrow. His fingers danced on your chest, while he was playing with one, he was sucking the other with bites with his mouth, then he slowly spread your legs

"Wow..a wet pussy already? Is this because of your request today?" He slowly leaned down to your ear and bit your ear. You felt his breath everywhere. "You are very naughty, aren't you? You are a naughty woman." You shivered as the cold air touched your pussy while he spread your legs with both hands. Dazai unzipped his zipper and you saw that he was already hard. This made your face blush. He slowly adjusted it towards you and gently put his head inside. It was the same as usual, but what was unexpected was that he suddenly pushed in. "Fuck, Osamu!" Your back arched quickly and you threw your head back screaming, "Nothing's Even Started Yet, 'Donna, Let Me Take This Chance You've Given Me”

Chuuya Nakahara

A shining red satin dress and blood-coloured wine on a beautiful dinner table. Everything that adorns this table is together, but for whom? Chuuya Nakahara Your boyfriend PM Leader finds less time for you just with this excuse, so you are angry with him, but is this the real reason for your anger? Not really... You always loved your night life... I also loved your fantasies in your sexual relationships, but it seemed like everything was too monotonous, everything was so simple and calm, you always wanted more from him, you had dreams, you dreamed dreams, but you never had the chance to tell him this

Tonight was a golden tray presented to you to give you that chance, you were going to do your best to seduce him, a thin red dress, black ankle high heels, a silver jewelery necklace, blow-dried hair, simple make-up and spicy perfume, everything was what suits you best, the doorbell rang and The sound of your heels echoed every time you walked on the parquet floors, each step became more exciting to see your lover's face. "Welcome, my love" You said to him in a flirty tone

his tired self seemed to recover quickly he chuckled "you look attractive darling...but all this preparation? are we waiting for someone?" you made a frown on your face "Not really...a special night" chuuya frowned "special?? I forgot an important day? that's impossible.." you giggled at his daze and shook your head no "It's a special night just to talk to you" He turned towards you while looking aside his jacket and hat. "hmm? What do you want to say?" You tried to look away in embarrassment but you had already made up your mind

"My love...I...I think our relationship, that is, our night life, has become a little simpler.." This sentence made Chuuya frown, "Do you mean it's become boring?" You tried to put it together quickly, "no no! Don't think like that...I'm just very towards me...I think you're being delicate" Chuuya caressed your hair and chuckled lightly. You didn't understand this and made an angry face. "What..what's so funny??" Your lover didn't speak and took you in his arms with an unexpected move. "H-hey!" you thought he was taking you to your bedroom but he placed you at the table with the wine "What are you doing??" Your boyfriend remained silent and slowly undressed you by placing kisses and bites on your neck. He slowly took the wine glass and dripped it from your neck to your breasts. "If You're So Shy, Then Let Me Handle İt, You Won't Be Able To Walk Tomorrow”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

Your relationship with your lover had been going on for a year, of course you had a night life, but... he didn't spare enough time for you, but even if he did, he acted very lightly. You knew him, he wasn't that type of person, but then why was he treating you like that? Your nights came to your mind... "My love, I need you... " your fingers crossed his chin as you spoke to him in a flirty tone "Hmm? You need me so much right now darling" whenever you asked him and he agreed it was only licks oral or fingering

You were tired of begging him, of course you didn't tell him openly, but you knew he wasn't stupid either, so why was he hesitant to touch you? Have you ever had real sex in your one-year relationship? suspicious...of course you didn't suspect him, you knew he wasn't cheating then why? Finally you were going to discuss this issue with him. You were really tired of complaining. You tied your hair up in a messy bun and wore a light black dress. Fyodor always came home on time, this was like his routine. Finally, at exactly 20.00 the door rang and finally

You saw your lover with beautiful long purple hair, she had tied her hair into a ponytail, her beautiful purple eyes gave you a quick sharp look "I didn't know you were waiting for me so eagerly" she let out a small breath and quickly walked in she doesn't seem to care much "Fyodor...please I want to talk to you you have to listen ?" Fyodor took off his jacket and put it on the coffee table, rolling his eyes and leaning into the comfortable chair. "What is the reason for this relentless conversation, darling? You seem nervous these days." His eyes followed you until you sat next to him. "Or is some bastard bothering you? Just tell me, I will get rid of him in the most painful way." " you placed your hands on his hand "no no! this is about you..I-I mean us"

You felt so nervous 'what if I break his trust?' you thought, "How long has it been since I last had a truly passionate night with you?...I mean..you love me but you act so gentle and untouchable towards me" Dostoyevsky raised his eyebrows in surprise and tilted his head slightly to the side. This was the first time you saw him make that face. It could have been "I.. I heard you liked such things a long time ago.." your eyes widened old memories came to your mind when you were talking to your friend and she asked you what kind of men you like and you said "Let him treat me like his goddess~~fufufu" the things you said teasingly are now got into trouble

“Oh..those were just things I said casually..” fyodor gently held your chin with his hand “just like that?” You slowly lowered your head and leaned towards his hand, Fyodor's tired eyes closed slightly and he giggled. His harmonious giggle embarrassed you and made you blush. His hands wandered over your black dress. "I understand, dear.. It's all just nonsense." He left bites on your neck and made you blush. He pulled you onto his lap and while you was waiting for him to gently take off the dress you was wearing, he caused you to tear it from your chest. "Ah..!" It caused an unexpected gasp as you took off your underwear and threw them to a corner of the room “So You've Been Lusting After Me For A Long Time, Darling...Today I'll Make Sure You Take İt All İn”

Enjoy!

[laylaplease]

Warnings — Birthday sex, dom!Anakin, praise, oral sex (Fem receiving), fingering, clit play, nipple play, slight daddy kink, pet names, missionary sex, hinted overstimulation. Ani's a worshipper in this one <3

Word count — 2.5k

Notes — Requested by a celebrating reader, happy birthday, pretty! 🤍🍪

Princess treatment wasn't something you weren't used to while being in a relationship with Anakin — the man goes above and beyond to satisfy your every need and desire, even the ones you're not aware of yourself. Your birthdays weren't an exception.

The morning sun shining through your Coruscant's apartment windows wasn't the thing that woke you from your slumber like every other day; this time it was Anakin's hands grabbing your thighs open and diving his head deep between your folds. "My sweet flower, I'm going to devour you all morning..." He had spent at least an hour all the way down, lapping on your wetness like a starved man while muttering endless praises and happy birthday wishes. And the best part is that he did not deny you any of the orgasms that shattered through your sleepy body. "Come, my love, let me taste you again and again..." The day was just too special; you deserved to feel as much pleasure as you desired.

After he's done with birthday breakfast, you are to spend a day wasting money in your favorite cafes and stores while gossiping with your best friends. Of course, that is after he steals your purse and sneaks in a credit stick with enough currency to swarm all of your favorite places around the Coruscant. By the time evening comes, Padmé literally has to drag you back home because you're having so much fun! But after she promises you another surprise at home, you bend.

You're welcomed with your place decorated with the prettiest flowers and colorful balloons. Once you enter, Anakin wastes no time to grab you and spin you around in the air, as if he's been missing you for months. He kisses your cheeks and lips with no shame, muttering how beautiful his birthday girl is. "My pretty princess, never seen an angel this beautiful." As you bathe in his affection, your friends are singing happy birthday to you, with Obi-Wan struggling to carry a two-story birthday cake without it falling in the background.

When unwrapping presents, you save Anakin's for last, just to toy with his anticipation to see the expression on your face when you see something you love. The second your eyes sparkle, it makes him absolutely melt; thus, he loved to spoil you with gifts just because of that little twinkle in your beautiful gaze. He's already given you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, but you surely were as eager to unwrap the neatly wrapped rose pink box with a matching bow on the top and a card that said, "To the love of my life." Unfortunately, he advised you to wait before everybody leaves. So the second you locked the door after the last guest, you rushed to your bedroom, where the secret box was hidden from the peering eyes.

"How I missed you all for myself." Anakin's needy arms wrapped around your waist once he followed you, nuzzling his nose into your neck. He wasn't able to resist the scent of you. He wasn't done pampering you. "Open it, sweetheart." He encourages you with a peck below your jaw.

You open the wrapping paper, careful not to rip the pretty pink apart. Satin ribbon slips off easily, and you're quickly welcomed with a lidded box with silver lettering of a brand name you've never seen before. Anakin admires the movement of your delicate hands exploring the presents, so gentle to treat each and every thing he gives you. The smile on his face, the soft caresses on your hip s— you could already sense he'd be glued to you for the rest of the night.

You lift the lid up to discover a floral lace lingerie set in a shade of lilac. It was a custom-ordered piece in which Anakin made sure to hide little pieces of you. The transparent cups were embroidered with your favorite flowers in silver threads, and between them — a zodiac charm pendant decorated with a tiny silk bow. Thin double straps would adorn your shoulders, and a matching pair of high-cut panties would sit perfectly on your body, leaving little to the imagination due to the transparent material lined with lace. And the last detail, a print of words in Anakin's handwriting on the inside of the waistband: "My beautiful starshine." The intimate nickname that only Anakin ever called you.

"Ani..." You look at him with awe in your eyes, thoughtful gift making your heart swell with joy. "That's— Thank you..." You cup his cheeks, leaning for a kiss. "I love it. I love it so much..." You whisper as his lips caress yours with an obvious eagerness he's trying to conceal.

"My starshine, my beautiful starshine." He pushes you down on the bed, climbing on top of you, while he explores your clothed body with his hands, kneading the skin and kissing your neck. "Happy Birthday, my angel..." He whispers with a shaky voice, trying to take his time, but you can already feel the hardness in his pants rubbing against your stomach.

"Ani— wait," You giggle, slightly pushing on his shoulders. "Let me try it on— Baby, p-please—AH!" His hand slips past your waistband and instantly finds its way onto your clit, rubbing it gently.

"No...No, sweetheart." He keeps touching you, enjoying every second of your beautiful whimpers and pleads. "If you'll try it..." He sighs shakily, pulling away his face from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. "I'll tear it off your perfect body."

You could feel yourself stiffen at his dirty words; the tingle in your lower stomach increased with every sentence he whispered and with every hungry stare his eyes gave you. You knew he meant every word. Anakin was satisfied when your blushing face and a soft smile greeted him.

"You'll try it later, angel..." You weren't sure if he was commanding or reassuring you, but you weren't going to deny that. Not when his digits were already knuckles deep inside of you, gently bruising your wals with slow but first strokes.

"A-Ani!—" You squirm underneath him, back arching ever so slightly when he teases a certain soft spot inside of you.

Anakin smiles proudly, knowing only his hands can turn you into a whimpering mess. He slides his hand from your pants, kneeling back between your thighs to admire your flushed expression. The soft bite on your plum lip and the heavy rising of your chest told him everything he needed to know.

"What does my precious birthday girl desire?" He grins, looking down at you, while his tongue twirls around his dripping middle and index fingers.

At first, you just moan at the sight. He knows damn well what you need; you need him. You need to feel him; you've been craving it since the very morning — to have his naked body on top of you. He knows, and he wants you to say it.

"Please— Anakin, just..." You groan in desperation; he's so unfair; it's your birthday; you deserve to get your way without having to beg for it.

"Two words, sweetheart, all I ask." He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand, wiping the pout off your mouth. "Say it."

"A-Ani, please— " You buck your hips up slightly, feeling the wetness soaking through your panties. "—Fuck me."

Anakin knows he's been pulling on your strings with his little teasing game, so the second you express your wishes, he discards your pants and tosses them across the room.

"There we go. Wasn't so hard now, was it?" He kisses your stomach while lifting your blouse up, which soon slides over your head.

The wet kissing doesn't stop tracing your burning skin; he moves his lips up to your chest, peeling the bra off your breasts and latching his mouth on an already hardened nipple. His tongue toys with a sensitive bud, pulling on it gently, making you shiver with pleasure.

He's quick to remove his own clothing before laying on top of you and giving you a passionate kiss on your lips. He looks at you like you're a star fallen from the sky into his arms; he holds you and touches you like he's burning with desire and love. His hands are all over your body, touching you, feeling you, you're the air he breathes — the source of his life.

"Can I, baby? Can I have you, please?" He whispers into your ear, nudging his aching cock against your panties, the dampness making him twitch.

You nod frantically. Yes. Yes. You need him to have you. You pull him closer, wanting to feel as much of his hot skin on yours as soon as possible. The chosen one is still a mere mortal, too weak to resist the desire for his goddess.

Anakin grabs the hem of your panties, unwrapping you like you are the present. No matter how many times he does it, it's never enough. Your whole body is just so beautiful; your juices so sweet, insides so warm and welcoming. He wants to be one with you and never be parted from you.

He positions your hips above his and lets himself slide gently into you, so you can feel each and every vein that's molding your walls to the shape of him.

"Ahhnii!—" Your moans mix with his name; you want more. You try to move your hips and have him fuck you, but his strong grip won't allow you to squirm.

"Shhhhh..." He whispers, eyes rolling back to his skull while he slowly sinks inside. "Be good."

Once the blissful torture ends and he's settled deep in your body, he leans all the way forward, snaking his arms under yours, all the way to the back of your head to make you look at him.

"My love," He holds your face in his hands, still balls deep in your cunt and not moving an inch. "Thank you for blessing me with you." He looks into your eyes with lust and a deep sense of admiration all together.

Your fingers wrap into his hair. "I‐"

"I love you." He interrupts you, and you feel your walls pulse around him at his desperate voice. He doesn't let you answer when his hips set a slow pace, thrusting back and forward into you. "Look at me; keep looking at me." He moans, still holding your head, so you have no choice but to attempt to keep your eyes open as he makes sweet love to you. "I can't get enough of you."

Every thrust seems to be penetrating impossibly deeper than later; he's panting heavily, forehead pressed against yours, to easily kiss you when he's not looking into your eyes. His hands keeping you still and hips pressing onto yours hold enough strength to keep you from squirming and have you take it all.

"So good, Ani, yes..." You chant his name, which only speeds his movements, making your body quiver violently in his embrace.

"Just like that, you love it, don't you?" He encourages your whimpers with his raspy voice and a rare, more forceful thrust, which bruises against your spongy spot.

"Yeaaah, fuck— Yeah, don't s-stop...!" You hold onto his back, digging your nails into the muscle, which only arouses him further.

"No, not tonight. Tonight, I won't stop." He reassures you with a gentle nod and a sentence with two meanings — both of them correct.

You shake helplessly under him, wanting to continue, wanting to come, wanting more of him and more pleasure, and Anakin is aware of that. He reaches down to grab your thigh and bring it over his shoulder so he can reach deeper into you and abuse your g-spot as much as you both wish.

Every clench of your cunt makes him grunt just a little bit louder, and every grunt he makes forces you to spasm more, creating an endless loop of overwhelming pleasure. Anakin rocks your body into the mattress, your limbs limp in his arms while the headboard crashes into the wall repeatedly, and he's is too pussy drunk to make a mental note to adjust the bed position later.

"Look at me when you cum. Look at me, or I'm fucking you through more orgasms than your perfect tight cunt can handle." He orders you. It was your birthday, but he was still the one on top of you at the end of the day, and there was no point in fighting or arguing. Even if the suggestion sounded a bit tempting for a second, so with the last strength you have, you brace yourself.

His forehead presses against yours again in an attempt to keep you from turning away, creating a sharp stretch in your left hamstring from your leg still resting on his shoulder. He keeps thrusting into you repeatedly, angling his cock to brush over your favorite places. You stare into his eyes, tearing up from how absolutely delightfully he's fucking you.

"C'mon, birthday girl, come for daddy, yeah?" He supports you when your pretty eyes stare at him so intensely. "Cum all over daddy's cock." He moans, unable to speak clearly himself.

So close. So so close. Stare at him, look, look, don't close your eyes. He told you to look. That's it. His eyes, so pretty, staring back at you, telling you how much of a treasure you are while he thrusts deeper and faster into you. Keep looking. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, his hand reaching down to rub on your clit. You close your eyes in bliss, he thrusts rougher, and you open them back up. He holds you close, his whole body not losing strength, just so you can keep feeling the pleasure. One more stroke has your body trembling and clinging to his.

"A-nakin!" You spasm repeatedly as your orgasm sends your body into paradise; your back arches into his chest when your eyes involuntary close.

He slowly eases the thrusts, still hard inside of you. Anakin kisses all the way up your neck, and you're hopeful he didn't notice your little accidental disobedience. His lips find your cheek, then your temple, while his hand frees your thigh off his shoulder, letting it fall softly into the sheets. You can't help but pant heavily while your insides still twitch in the afterglow of your pleasure.

"Oh baby..." Anakin sighs, kissing your delicate skin. "I've told you—" He sighs and looks deeply into your eyes. "Told you to keep looking..." He caresses your cheek, a mock pity present on his face.

Before you can say another word, he pulls out of you and, with a tight hold of your hips, flips you to lay on your tummy, manhandling you into a position where he's taking whatever he wants from your body.

"Birthday's over, baby girl." You sense his grin right before he slams his whole length all the way back, knocking the air out of your body.

With your eyes blurry from a forceful thrust, you manage to make sense of a bedside clock that shows only a few minutes past 12a.m. The birthday's over, and now you'll play by Daddy's rules again.

[gilverrwrites]

Somethin' Sweeter

2022!Penguin/Reader, 1K words Request: LOVE the ozzie fics! Can you write something fluffy & smutty where it's their anniversary and reader prepared his favorite meal for dinner, wearing a cute sexy dress, and after dinner a special dessert 😏 Rating: 18+ I certainly can, honestly cannot get enough of this man, I don't think i'll ever turn down an Ozzie request.

CWs: Sugar baby dynamic vibes, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), petnames: doll, princess, darlin'. F!Reader.

In case nobody has told you recently: I am proud of you.

He’s been grinning at you like the early bird who got the worm all evening, but as he bit into his entrée his demeanour shifted. You perched on the edge of your seat, watching every micro-movement of his face as you await the verdict.  

Preparing for tonight had been gruelling. Tracking down all the right ingredients, multiple practice attempts, conveying to Oz’s people that he was not to be disturbed, not to mention the priming that went into looking good for him. You know he would have loved whatever you’d made, would have fawned over you however you looked, but you wanted tonight to be perfect, and it was all worth it for the blissed-out look on his face right now. 

He takes a second bite, and you can’t stand the anticipation. “Well, what do you think?”

“It's great, Doll.” He smacks his lips as he speaks. “It tastes just like my-“

“Just like you’re Nonna’s. I know!” You feel bad for interrupting, excitement getting the better of you. “It’s her recipe.” 

“How did you manage that?” He asks, dabbing his mouth with his handkerchief.

“I made a few calls, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you like it.” 

“Of course I like it, I’d like anything you serve me, but this, this is exceptional. You treat me well, don’tcha?” In earnest, you do your best, but Oz really is the caretaker in your relationship. You might cook on special occasions, make sure he doesn't work too hard, but he keeps you well-kept. No bills to worry about, a luxury roof over your head, a wardrobe full of so many clothes and shoes that you’ll never manage to wear all of them, and a soft bed where he reminds you why, of all the men in Gotham, you always come back to him. 

“I do my best.” Plates scraped clean; you begin to clear the table. “I hope you’ve saved room for dessert. We’re having dark chocolate and coffee panna cotta.”

“Oh.” The plates in your hand nearly slip back onto the table, distracted by the disappointment in his tone, but when you turn to him, he’s looking at you with a sly glint in his deep brown eyes. He rests his palm on the back of your exposed thigh, ever so gently caressing your skin as he ghosted upwards, lifting the skirt of your dress in the process. “It’s not that princess, I just had somethin’ sweeter in mind. If you catch what I’m laying down here?”

“Sweeter?” A giggle escapes your lips as you tilt your head at him. Dishes abandoned you stride over to him, placing yourself on his good leg, holding onto his lapels as you pull yourself closer. The way his gold teeth gleam under the dim lights as he smiles at you sends a chill down your spine. “Like what?”

Oz places both his hands on your waist, strong fingers tactfully rolling up your dress once more until he’s able to admire your panties, soft purple satin with lace trim. There's a small wet patch already forming. With anybody else you might be embarrassed by it, but you know Oz loves the effect he has on you, even when he’s not eyeing you up like a prize. 

“This is nice, but how about you hop up on the table and keep your legs spread open for me?” He punctuates his question, by tapping one hand on the dinner table behind you. You don’t need to be asked twice, as you situate yourself, Oz takes two big gulps of his water. “Cleansing the palate.” 

His hand is steady as he hooks your underwear, far steadier than you feel as you watch the casual way in which he exposes your folds.

“Looks deliciosa.” He sniffs as he leans in closer to your wetness, angling his elbows to spread your thighs further, keeping them in place. 

There’s no test taste, no teasing, his mouth covers you in seconds, engulfing you like a man starved. His tongue immediately begins work, tracing circles around your entrance, pushing in ever so slightly, in endless circles. The tip of his nose digs against your clit, every brush sending a wave of heat through your body. 

It shocks you, making you cry out when he suddenly penetrates you with a thick finger and refocuses his tongue on your swelling clit. Your fingers unwittingly spread out into his dark thinning hair, as you fight the urge to ride his face. Oz likes to eat you out his own way, and you know you’ll be rewarded for sitting still. 

“Ooh-, Oz!” 

He hums between your lips, the resulting vibrations make your toes curl. He slips a second finger inside, continuing to suck at your sweet spot, all the combined sensations have you whining and shaking, orgasm fast approaching with every wave of pleasure. You chance a look down, and the sight of him hazy-eyed and buried in your core has you cumming, fists in the tablecloth, legs in the air as hit your climax. 

The room falls silent, excluding your shared rapid breathing; you coming back down from your high, Oz catching his breath. Oz’s presence always had that calming effect on you, regardless of the situation. It doesn’t, however, stop the whine that escapes your lips when you feel his fingers brush against your sensitive slit. He thumbs your panties, situating them back in place. 

“These are nice, did I buy these for you?” He knows he did. 

“You bought the whole outfit.” You sit up straight, smoothing your dress out before gesturing to yourself up and down. “You have excellent taste.” 

He gives you a once over, for what feels like the hundredth time that night, and despite him having had his face immersed between your legs only moments ago; your face warms with a bashful heat. 

“You’re not wrong, Darlin’. But I can’t help thinking this whole get-up would look better on the floor.” It’s a cheesy line that would make you cringe if it came from the mouth of anyone else. Instead, you’re filled with enthusiasm, excited for the night ahead of you. “Now how’s about you head on to bed an’ get ready for seconds while I clean up?” 

[goddessofmischief]

can i request anything mihawk related and him pining after y/n

       —   I CAN SEE YOU (YOUNG MIHAWK X READER)

A/N: this is part of this series, which requests are open for! These fics are all one-shots, so they can be read separately.

He'd been thinking about you a lot lately.

You, the pretty girl who sailed with the Roger Pirates and made port in the same towns he did from time to time. You, who seemed to always be flanked by the boy with the red nose and the other boy with the red hair.

You. You. You.

You were clever - he noticed that at once - you had to be, to hold your own with so many men stronger and older than you, and he watched as you navigated through one dangerous situation after another, always escaping unscathed. The other boys tried to help, of course, but you didn't need them at all. Mihawk noticed that, too.

He liked the sort of clothes you wore - usually a bit oversized, which made sense, so you didn't have to buy new ones every time you grew, an unfortunate practicality for anyone growing up at sea - and often velvet, or satin, or with embroidered patterns, and usually in dark shades of olive, maroon or black. Sometimes cotton dresses of the palest ivory, which he also liked.

Mihawk had made a habit of always noticing the appearance of others, and judged them quite harshly on it - not their looks or dimensions or things they could not change, but how well they presented themselves. Living the way he did, the way you did, did not lend itself to luxury or composure or cleanliness, so he noticed whenever anyone paid special attention to how they looked.

You did. He never caught you without loosely wound curls, brushed out, or loose buns, or intricate braids that he sometimes heard the red-haired pirate protesting at doing for you. Mihawk noticed all of these things because they were things he liked about himself, and he liked them about you, too.

But even after all this liking and appreciating, which had gone on for many months now, he could never have the strength to talk to you. It wasn't for his own insecurity, although Mihawk was a good deal less boastful and more shy than most of the pirates his age, but more for fear of what he might say when he actually spoke to you for the first time. He had never struck out with girls before, but that was mostly for lack of trying. They found him, most of the time, and either liked his Hawk-Eyes or they didn't.

It was on one of those days, where Mihawk had made port at a small island and was sipping on a flute of wine at a small bar, that he found himself gazing at you again. You'd just stumbled off Roger's ship, and seemed in awe of your surroundings. Your friends already held drinks far too big for them and had wandered off, staring at the skyline, but you were clearly unsure of what to get. Mihawk watched as your fingernail dragged against a small menu, tracing every option, hesitating around the ones with dried flowers in them. You liked dried flowers, evidently, and he would remember that.

The thought crossed his mind that he might go get a drink for you, and perhaps begin some sort of conversation-

No. No. Stupid.

You could get your own drink.

And you were about to, it seemed, when a rather terrifying-looking mercenary pressed a blade to your back. Mihawk immediately reached for his own, which he had fondly nicknamed 'Yoru,' and had not yet seen much action.

"How'd you find me?" you said, voice trembling.

"Followed you," said the mercenary. "You owe us. We know you only gave us half of what you found when you raided that vault."

"That's not true," you said, and Mihawk felt you were telling the truth, although he may have been biased. "It just wasn't as much as you thought it would be-"

The mercenary forced his blade closer, and Mihawk decided he couldn't allow this to go on for one more second. Moving quietly, he removed Yoru from his scabbard, and drew the blade against the mercenary's neck.

"Move aside," said Mihawk, trying to make his voice more steady than it felt.

The mercenary stared him down.

"Who are you?"

"Dracule Mihawk," he said. "And I'd like you to step away."

"I refuse."

What happened next was completely uncalled for and also fated. Mihawk simply moved the sword very quickly to the side, and the mercenary fell, and that was the end of it.

It was not the first blood Dracule Mihawk had ever spilled. It was, however, the first blood he had spilled with this particular sword.

This sword, which would live on in infamy long after he was gone, this sword, which would become synonymous with not only his name, but swordsmanship itself.

First blood, this sword, and it had all been over you.

History would forget.

...But you would remember.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Bonus Drabble 5

Summary: Jungkook has treated you like a princess all day for your birthday and it's all lead up to this very special moment (a little glimpse into their future 🤭) Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 1.5k~ Warning: Honestly no warnings I think. Just some cute fluff and some suggestive language. Nothing crazy (written very quickly but I hope you guys still like it!) Requested by: 🧜‍♀️ anon 💜 (Happy Late Birthday my love) & another anon from a while back 💜 (sorry I didn't get it out till now 🥺) Start from the beginning

"Can I open my eyes now?" I ask, humoring him in this silly game that he's made of my birthday today. 

"Not yet, just a little closer" he say, guiding me by my hips and I soon feel the ground change from some sort of pavement to that of a stonework pathway. "Careful" he warns as I stumble when my foot gets caught on a rock. "I wouldn't have to be careful if I didn't have to keep my eyes closed" I grumble and he laughs before bringing me to a halt.

I feel him walk around me until he's standing right in front of me and tilts my head up towards him. "You and I both know you would've tripped on that rock anyways" he whispers against my lips causing me to shudder. The intensity of his words and actions mixed with the cool crisp air in this open area giving me goosebumps. 

He places a chased kiss on my pouted lips that try to respond to his but he's pulling back before I can even try to deepen it. "Okay, you can open them" he say, now standing behind me and I once I open my eye my breath is instantly taken away. 

"Jungkook" I whisper, a recreation of a beautiful white gazebo covered in twinkling lights and vines full of white roses accompanied by a table for two is the scene I'm met with. The warm glow scatters across the pathway as he ushers me closer. I turn around to face him once we've taken a closer look and I can see how nervous he looks after having revealed his hard work he had put together for the night. 

"You remembered" I say, blinking back the tears that I feel are no doubt making my eyes gloss over. "Did I do a good job?" he asks while he rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his that always makes this strong confident man turn into a shy teenage boy, melting my heart and making me fall in love with him all over again. 

"It's perfect!" I say, going on my tippy toes and kissing him, hints of how I'll show my appreciation to him when we're alone again lightly laced through it. 

"It's almost as if we're in the actual movie!" I say, walking inside of the gazebo and admiring how much attention to detail he's put into this. "No wonder we've been watching A Cinderella Story so often" I say, now connecting the dots and finally figuring out why he had been so sneaky recently. 

"What? Can't a man just simply like a movie?" he playfully scoffs, walking closer to me and wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me close. "Thank you" I say and he hums in response. "Happy Birthday Darling" he replies, leaning down and rubbing his nose against mine. 

He pulls back and waves someone forward that had been hiding in the shadows and when I turn around I realize he's somehow managed to get a stringed quartette for the night. "Jungkook this is too much" I say, knowing that stuff like this definetly isn't cheap. 

"Don't worry, I only booked them for half an hour" he says making me laugh at his ways of trying to explain away how much he's spent on me the entire day as he's bought me almost everything I've so much glanced at, even when I asked him not to. 

I turn around and take a couple steps closer to the table and see the candles just waiting to be lit accompanied by my drink of choice on ice. 

"You-" I start off, turning around to face him but notice he's holding a white gift box wrapped with a white satin bow. "Jungkook" I scold, remembering how I told him to stop buying things for me already. "This is the last thing I promise" he says and I give him a warning glance before tugging on the ribbon and opening the lid and what I see inside really makes me want to cry this time. 

"I don't deserve all this" I say, tears welling up in my eyes and he panics and places the box on the table. "Please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry" he says, pulling me closer and placing a kiss on the crown of my head. 

"You've been treating me like a princess this whole day and then you not only do that but then plan all of this as well? Even down to the smallest details" I say, pulling away from him and reaching back into the box to pull out the beautifully, intricately designed pure white masquerade mask. 

"Well I did want to give you your own Cinderella Story for your birthday since I know it's your comfort movie. You do deserve this darling, and so much more" he say, wiping a stray tear off my cheek. "You even had us get breakfast at a diner this morning too" I chuckle and he does so right along with me. 

"What's wrong with that? Sam worked at a dinner in the movie right?" he asks and I nod my head in confirmation. "I should've known something was up when I saw roller skates" I say, joining along in his laughter. 

"You're just lucky I didn't try to get Hillary Duff over here to take your order" he teases poking me in the side which gains him a wack in the arm that he so dramatically responds to by faking a wince. "I would've preferred Jennifer Coolidge. She was so mean to Sam in that movie I would've loved to see her slip and fall in roller skates again" I wink and he continues laughing at my devious words. 

"You know she's like 60 years old now right? She could fall and break her hip" he says and I wave him off. "She's 62, she's not that old. If you're talking like that about her then you better start counting your years grandpa" I say patting him twice on the same bicep I hit earlier. 

"You're a little trouble maker you know you" he says, and tries to corner me. "Yes, yes I do. Don't get ahead of yourself though Daddy, we have company" I say, nodding towards the four who have been giving us a backing track to our nonsensical interaction. 

"Careful Bunny, you shouldn't be throwing words like that out in the open. I'm not opposed to bending you over that little table" he threatens and I visibly gulp, having forgotten exactly who I'm dealing with. "You know" I squeak out before clearing my throat, "You know you still haven't asked me to dance" I say and he smirks and steps back, giving me some breathing room and grabs the mask. 

"May I" he asks, holding it up so he can put it on me and I respond by turning my back to him so he can tie it. Once he's done his hands trail down my body and rest on my waist while he leans in and places some feather light kisses along my neck.

"Jungkook" I breathe out, trying but failing at adding a sterner tone to it. "Yes darling?" he asks, running his nose along the column of my neck. "A dance, just a dance" I say regrettably, lost in the feeling of him touching me like this but too embarrassed to let any of this go any further. 

He sighs against my skin before placing one more kiss this time under my ear and then twirling me around before dipping me into a low heated kiss. 

He stands back up and steadies me on my feet, still feeling a little woozy from the unexpected motion. He laughs and keeps a hold of my waist so I don't stumble before pulling me close and into that dance that I had mentioned. 

"You still didn't ask me" I grumble and he chuckles before pulling away, doing exactly as Austin Ames had done with his princely bow. "May I have this dance?" he questions and I wait a moment as if contemplating it and when he cocks his brow at me I immediately take his hand and he whisks me off my feet and twirls us about the small space. 

"Jungkook put me down!" I giggle and he slow his turns to a stop and places me back on my feet. "Are you trying to make me sick or something?" I ask in reference to all of the dipping and twirling and his casual efforts that just continue to take my breath away. 

"Not unless it's lovesick" he chuckles, placing a kiss on my forever pouted lips and walking over to pull out my chair. 

We continue the night with a candle lit dinner and his continued efforts to make me laugh and it's at that moment that I truly, with my entire heart hope that we will spend the rest of our lives together... 

And maybe in the next one too if he's lucky. 

Series Masterlist 

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @00frenchfries00 @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater Taglist continued in reblogs on my second blog @ahgasegotarmy116recs

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

[luveline]

hiii!! i saw that you wanted some roan & eddie & reader requests sooo,, becuase barbie is trending so muchh i was wondering if you could write reader watching roan play with her barbies and instantly taken back to her childhood and getting very emotional ??

i mean its whats happening to me being reminded how much ive grown and how much effect those dolls had on me soo yeah 😭

tysm ♡ eddie and roan

A long, creaking squeal sounds from Roan when you come home. Eddie plugs his ears, knowing exactly what it is you have in the huge plastic bag at your waist —Roan's special treats, as previously discussed, for being such a lovely girl lately. 

It might be a silly thing to treat her for, but she deserves toys before any amazing behaviour, and you have the extra money to buy them. Why shouldn't she get them? You and Eddie chatted some while you were at work that morning, trying to choose what toys to get. 

"I haven't bought her toys by myself since we first met, what if I pick something crappy?" you'd worried. 

Eddie gave it a little bit of thought, hand twined in the curling wire of the telephone, slouched as he usually does against the back wall of the shop. "Hey, she hasn't had any new dolls since Christmas. They'd go over nicely. Or she always likes a new dress. I'm sure you'll find something when you're there. You can get me something fun at the same time if you want." 

You'd laughed at his joke and, if the light in your eyes now is anything to go off of, managed to find some presents you're happy with.

"Naddy's Toy Emporium!?" Roan shouts, rocketing off of the couch where she'd been standing waiting for you. 

You've a nightly routine, hugging her when you come home like your life depends on it, but clearly Roan has decided the hug can wait. For once, Eddie's finished dinner before you're return, so he has a good seat on the couch to watch everything unfold. 

You let her grab the bag's sides but lift it a touch when she tries to take it. "Hey, they're for you, I promise, but let's come inside and put them on the table!" 

Roan squeals and knocks into Eddie's knees. He sits up and grabs her gently by the waist, hoisting her onto his lap. You sit on the couch cushion trampled flat by Roan's feet, pulling the play table where she likes to eat her snacks closer. 

"Are you doing the speech?" you ask Eddie, putting down the bag. 

He grins. "Ro," he begins, turning skewiff, her back to the couch to allow you both a great view of her face, "you've been a really good girl, lately. Do you know that? You've been eating all your dinner, no tantrums before school, and now you're even starting to help clean up around the house. So me and Y/N just want you to know how proud we are and how awesome we think you are." 

"And we think all this awesome deserves some presents because we love you," you say. "Do you want the smallest or the biggest one first?" 

There's lots of nice presents. You've stayed within the confines of the agreed budget, which is a feat for you (as you love to spoil her). There's five new barbies, one of which comes with a car, and the other a puppy dog. They have clothes, accessories, and an abundance of plastic he needs to cut away with scissors. His hand is welted red by the time he's through. 

You also bought her a glittery lip gloss to replace the one she lost a few weeks ago. The proof of it sparkles on your cheek and Eddie's, twin thank yous. 

You go quiet as Roan retreats to her satin princess tent, driving the pink corvette back and forth as she makes the barbies talk to one another. 

"You okay?" he asks. You'd been wearing this huge smile for the last twenty minutes and now it's gone, he hates it. "I've been thinking maybe you deserve something nice, too." 

You smile weakly. Okay, so you're not wanting anything. 

"Dinner should be ready soon." 

"Thanks, Eddie." 

He gives up. He's about as subtle as a feather boa and you love him that way, drifting down toward your arm, his face smashing into your shoulder. "What's wrong?" 

You put your head atop his. "Well, I'm just thinking." 

"I may not look like it, but I think too, occasionally. Share with me." 

You push his arm until he sits up and sinks down into his side instead. Eddie supposes you're allowed, even if usually he'd call it sexist or selfish. "I had a lot of fun picking those out today, and I kept thinking about the look on her face…"

Eddie hums to show he's listening. Kisses the top of your head 'cos he can. "Yeah?" 

"I just remembered being her age. Do you remember wanting something really badly? There was something so nice about getting to grab a kart and– and to just stand there debating which ones to get." 

Eddie toys with your pinky finger. "That's not everything, is it?" 

Your smile presses against his arm, a deep emotion in your voice that's hard to pin. "Watching her makes me remember. Being a kid, playing make believe. I'll never be that young ever again, and there's no way to go back. But I," —you take in a steadying breath— "don't mind. I love seeing her so happy." 

He intertwines your fingers between his, shorter and a little bit softer than his. He soaks in your presence for a moment, the smell of you, your tiny sounds, the secret you've shared with him. You're a mixture of sad and happy. He's not sure which one overpowers which, only that they're hitting you hard. 

"There's lots of cool shit that comes with being a parent. You know the best one?" he asks you, raising his eyebrows at you with a fondness lining his lips. 

"No?" 

"You can play games without anyone judging you. I know it's not the same as being a kid again, but it's close." 

"Yeah?" you ask, sitting up. "You'll come play too, right?" 

Eddie casts his gaze to his daughter where she chit chats on the floor. "Hey, Roanie? Can we come play with you?" 

Roan is almost as pleased as when she first laid eyes on her treasure trove of dolls. 

[puddingyun]

rosy . ݁₊ ⊹ c.sn

sannie x reader

: 782 words, drabble, petnames (little lady, baby, darling), nudity, soft angst, fluff :

requests open ♡

You'd been looking forward to today for what felt like an eternity. After weeks away performing and doing all sorts of press releases, your boyfriend San and his band were finally going to be coming home. You'd planned for weeks so that you'd be able to cook his favourite foods, everything was set out on the kitchen table among pretty scented candles and a delicate bouquet of flowers. You were even wearing the dress he'd bought for you years ago before you were dating, the pretty satin fabric rarely ever worn because you were so fond of it. It was as close to perfect as things could get. 

Yet, hours after everything had been set up you were sitting on the kitchen counter alone, lips bitten raw and makeup smeared down your cheeks. 

You weren't sure why San wasn't home yet. He'd assured you night after night that he'd be home by seven at the latest, his voice tender and blue over the phone. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Quarter past eleven. Had you gotten the date wrong? Had his flight been cancelled? Or did he just have better things to do after arriving than coming home to see you?

No, you thought to yourself as you blinked away more tears from your sore eyes. You couldn't let your mind wander anymore, you'd just end up hurting even more than you already were. With a soft sigh you got down from the kitchen counter, powder pink nails tapping against the wood as you settled on the floor. Sniffles escaped you as you padded to the bathroom, trying to pretend like the hot tears on your cheeks weren't there. 

Your reflection taunted you from the mirror, wet lashes, smudged lipstick and sad eyes dressed in a pretty dress for special occasions. You turned away from yourself as you let the dress fall to the floor, a little pool of shiny folds of fabric, topped off with the lacy patterns of your underwear. As pretty as the outfit was, you couldn't wait to be wrapped up in your pyjamas, warm and safe from the disappointment of being all alone for yet another evening. 

You put on a playlist San had made you before leaving - songs that sounded like orange sunsets, minty kisses and sheets tangled in your calves - and turned on the shower, stepping beneath the thundering warm water. You turned to face the corner of the shower to hide your tears from the mirror as you cried freely, the shower washing away your tears before you could feel silly about your special evening being ruined. You were allowed to feel sad, you tried to reassure yourself. You still had no idea where San was, or if he was alright even. 

You rested your forehead against the cold shower tile and shut your eyes. If you'd kept them open you might not have been so startled when you felt the warmth of somebody else step beneath the shower water, soft breath hitting your shoulder and strong arms wrapping around your middle. Your eyes shot open and you spun around in the hold, eyes meeting San's teary ones.

"Hey, little lady."

You felt tears fill your eyes again as he leaned in to close the space between you, kissing you gently while you smiled against his lips. He tasted like orange Tic Tacs and his cheeks were radiating warmth against you. When you parted you saw that he was red in the face, eyes like melted chocolate taking in the sight of you.

"What happened, baby?" you asked breathlessly, just his presence leaving your lungs empty. 

"There were all sorts of delays and I lost my phone charger during one of the layovers," he sighed, lifting a hand to cup your cheek and gently wipe away the tracks of mascara with his thumb. "I'm so sorry, darlin', I saw all the things you set up in the kitchen. I wish I could've made it home on time."

"It's okay. You're here now," you mumbled, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him. San hummed, peppering kisses on the top of your head. You could already picture the rest of your night, microwaving the food gone cold on the table and cuddling on the sofa until one of you fell asleep and dragged the other to bed. You smiled against San's skin and nuzzled your face into him. He chuckled. 

"That's right baby," he said. He ran his fingertips down your spine and held you close, like he never again wanted to miss how you felt in his arms. "And I ain't leaving any time soon."

[xxsycamore]

Bestie, love i just woke up but concept

😈+🪱 @gilbert. Ywah i know I'm breaking rules. You could ignore my half asleep ramblz

Love <3 V

HEY YOU CAN'T DO THAT‼️‼️ I'm definitely making this a worm request after a careful examination where I concluded there are no other worm gilbert requests.

[🪱] 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝙶𝚒𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚖 …

GILBERT:

Blinking into awakeness, you slowly but gradually come to remember how you got into your current state. Gilbert offered to read together, but you didn't feel like going anywhere special, so instead you opted for lounging on the bed. You must have fallen asleep amidst it...

Since you were on top of the black duvet, Gilbert simply covered you with the part of it that was on his side of the bed - so that now you're completely wrapped in it like a warm, tight cocoon. You crane your neck upwards to see him reading calmly as before, with his back rested against the bedframe. He's completely out of reach and you here you wanted to nuzzle onto him to signal you're awake...

Determinedly, you push your feet upward, crawling closer to your lover, thankful for the added glide of the satin covers. Gilbert's attention is successfully captured - less by the nuzzling and more by the sight that preceded it.

"Has my little bunny turned into a little worm?"

A worm!! He could at least say a caterpillar... Though you know deep in your heart that Gilbert would always see you as nothing short of dear to him, no matter what form you take - he'll do anything for you, make sure you're loved and taken care of. Still, you can't help but ask a very silly question...

"Would I still love you if you were a worm? Heehe."

You don't appreciate the "wouldn't you like to know?" tone of his little giggle, but it seems like he's giving it a thought after all. You begin to regret asking.

"I want to see something. Why don't you try giving me a kiss?"

Without the use of limbs to prop yourself up?! You'd rather wiggle your way back down in retreat, turn around, fall asleep, and pretend all of this was just a dream.

∎ (REQUESTS CLOSED) Steal My Heart!! - xxsycamore’s 1500 followers celebration event | 💌 event masterlist