#scar: u look hot but cold

[satkru]

Consider yourself lucky

heian era sukuna x male reader

A/n: I love glazing sukuna idc what anyone says sukuna is literally so fine and he has done nothing wrong, also i js wanna say ty to @ — mmonikurr for helping me w this :)

Cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT : dub-con , belly distortion , two cocks (sukuna) , manhandling , fear play , forced eye contact , begging , reader is stated to have a “feminine figure” but u don’t have to have one if u don’t want one 👍🏽 , praise kink (if u squint hard enough) , mentions of mpreg

Y/n’s eyes fixated on his once beloved clan ‘s home, his breathing came out raggedy and rushed, as if he just ran a marathon.

Who could’ve done such destruction on this big village?

Through the smoke y/n saw a large figure emerge, along with a slightly smaller figure walking beside it. The both of them bared no wounds and actually looked cleaner than ever.

Y/n slowly raised himself from his knees and began steadily walking backwards, keeping his eyes on the two figures who chatted away in front of his burning clan.

Y/n descended into the forest slowly but surely, occasionally making sure his footing was in the correct position. CRACK! Y/n’s face went pale as he realized what he had done.

A stick had perfectly positioned itself below y/n’s foot and snapped in half, causing the big sound. The man wasted no time in running as fast as he could, using the bases of the trees as small boosts as he booked it.

But tonight was not y/n’s night, as he then tripped and fell over an uprooted branch. Fear and adrenaline coursed through y/n’s veins but there was no time to get up, as both the large figure and smaller figure steadily made their way towards the fallen man.

Y/n did nothing but close his eyes and pray to himself that he would be able to survive this night and be able to see another day. The footsteps gradually became closer until they finally stopped by his feet.

“Uraume, check this boy for any injuries” a deep and menacing voice spoke, y/n heard “uraume” hum before being forced onto his knees and having to look into uruame’s red eyes.

Y/n stared into their eyes as they thoroughly checked his face, uruame’s fingers gracefully floated over y/n’s face, taking their time to touch and probe at the man’s face, occasionally rubbing some dirt off of y/n’s face.

“He’s all clear sir” uraume spoke before back to where they once stood. “Good to hear, I don���t want my playthings to be ugly with a face full of scars” the large figure walked towards y/n, their extremely buff and big figure making the smaller male on the ground cower more into the dirt in fear.

“Get up” the bigger male’s voice commanded. Y/n basically jumped to his feet, looking up at the other man’s face with tears in his eyes. “Hm, what a precious boy we have, truly much better looking than all the others” y/n’s cheeks became a sweet pink color as the compliment sunk into his skin.

A pair of large and course hands wrapped themselves around y/n’s waist, causing the male to gasp from the sudden touch. Another pair of hands caressed y/n’s face, “my name is sukuna ryomen , but to you, it ‘s master, got it?” Y/n nodded as soon as sukuna finished his introduction.

“What a feminine body you have.. are you sure you’re not a girl?” Y/n tensed up, “no master.. im no girl..” the smaller male said through trembling lips and in a tiny voice.

Sukuna hummed, “what a shame, I would’ve impregnated you the moment you said you were” y/n ‘s face grew hot with the thought of someone more huger than him rearranging his insides.

“Guess you’ll have to do for now” y/n let out a surprised gasp as he then felt his robe being undone and being swept off his shoulders. The cold air of the night breezed over y/n ‘s exposed skin, making him shiver.

“Aw, want me to warm you up sweet boy?” Sukuna ‘s words were laced with lust and desire, y/n opened his mouth to respond but was then cut off as sukuna ‘s bottom pair of arms lifting him off the ground as if he were nothing.

Y/n and sukuna were now at eye level with each other. Sukuna ‘s four eyes staring deep within the naked man ‘s soul, y/n couldn’t help but avert his gaze away from sukuna ‘s deformed face.

Causing sukuna to get irritated and grab y/n ‘s face with one of his many hands, “look at me, boy, I am your savior, I am your god, so you will treat me as so”.

Y/n could do nothing but whimper and force himself to once again look into sukuna ‘s eyes. “Good boy” ryomen purred, his already cocky smirk growing even more cockier by the second as he looked at y/n’s fearful face.

And just like a god, sukuna dropped y/n back on the forest floor because “mortals have no business being on par with their gods”.

The “god” placed a hand on y/n ‘s head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging him more close to his upper inner thigh. “As a servant, you must do everything I say, alright?” Y/n nodded eagerly.

“Hm, that’s what I like to see, now, as your first task for me, you will suck my cock. Got it?” Sukuna watched as y/n shakily nod and reach up to untie his pants lace.

Y/n then grabbed the hem of sukuna’s pants and slowly pulled them down, revealing not only one, but two extremely long and thick cocks. Drool dripped out the corners of y/n ‘s mouth as he stared intently at the two cocks.

Sukuna chuckled, “hasn’t anyone taught you staring is rude?” Y/n blushed and bowed his head, “m-my apologies.. master..” , sukuna chuckled and pulled on y/n ‘s hair. Causing the man to yelp and grab onto sukuna ‘s strong thighs.

Y/n looked up into ryomen ‘s demanding eyes, “well? Get to it slut” , y/n let out a quick ‘yes master!’ Before wrapping his lips around the tip of one of sukuna ‘s cocks while groping the base of the other.

Sukuna groaned as he then moved his hands that were in y/n ‘s hair down to the base of his neck. Y/n licked and slurped on sukuna ‘s big and girthy tip, coating it entirely in saliva.

“Fuck.. go down that shaft, I need to feel my head hit the back of that whorish mouth” y/n did what was asked of him and began to slowly deepthroat sukuna ‘s cock. Gaining a loud and drawn out groan out of sukuna.

Soft and whispered curses leaked out of sukuna ‘s mouth as y/n began to bob his head on sukuna’s cock, making his way down the base.

While y/n worked on sukuna’s top cock, he began to stroke the bottom one at a slow pace, making sure to fondle the balls as well.

“Fuck.. I’m c-cumming.. don’t even try to pull back now, you’re going to take my entire load deep in that slutty throat of yours” and just like that, sukuna came in y/n ‘s mouth, coating his once pink insides a creamy white.

Sukuna ‘s second cock spurted it’s essence onto y/n ‘s bare chest, some dripping down to his abdomen and down his own cock.

Y/n ‘s pushed himself off sukuna ‘s cock with a gasp, coughing up some left over cum that got stuck in his throat. “We’re not done yet boy, get up”.

The cum-covered man got up, his legs trembling as if he were a newly born fawn. Sukuna ‘s bottom arms wrapped themselves around y/n ‘s waist, hoisting him up to where his head laid comfortably between sukuna ‘s pecs.

Sukuna’s hands then slowly slid down towards y/n ‘s ass, taking the two cheeks into his palms. Spreading them out enough to where y/n ‘s hole was visible. Sukuna then took one of his hands off of y/n ‘s ass to perfectly position one of his cocks directly below y/n ‘s hole.

The sound of the combination of a wet cock and a dry hole filled the quiet forest, along with a surprised moan from y/n. Sukuna smirked at y/n ‘s response, but he wanted a more extreme reaction.

A light went off above sukuna ‘s head as an idea popped into his malicious mind. Ryomen thrusted his hips up, making contact with y/n ‘s plush cheeks. Y/n through his head back as he let out a much more pleasurable and loud moan than before, along with that, a string of a certain warm and creamy white substance squirted out of the tip of y/n ‘s cock.

“Cant even handle a single thrust? This isn’t looking good for you boy” sukuna said with a snicker, y/n was about to argue with him but decided to kept his mouth shut. Ryomen slid y/n back up, earning a groan out of him. Sukuna then grabbed his other cock and positioned beside his other cock.

He slid the tip in, causing y/n to dig his face into the crevasse of sukuna ‘s pecs. And with another thrust, ryomen ‘s other cock had successfully entered y/n ‘s already filled hole.

Y/n clawed at sukuna ‘s arms, drawing a bit of blood. The pain that sukuna was suppose to be feeling was replaced with ecstasy and the desire for more. MORE pain, MORE pleasure.

“Ready?” Sukuna asked, but didn’t wait for y/n ‘s response. Sukuna slid y/n up one last time before delivering a powerful thrust into his hole. Y/n cried out, tears forming in his eyes from the thrust of sukuna ‘s hips.

Ryomen continued to deliver harsh and heavy thrusts into y/n ‘s already recked hole, y/n begged for sukuna to stop, but he was already too far gone in pleasure to be able to hear y/n ‘s pleads.

Y/n felt the many veins that drove along sukuna ‘s long and hard cocks, the veins were enough to drive y/n insane as they rubbed against the tight and gummy walls of his insides.

Sukuna ‘s cocks twitched, signaling that he was close to his release. Y/n sobbed as he realized that he would be downgraded to nothing but a cumslut and a cocksleeve for a curse that was way more stronger than him in every way.

“Take my kids into that precious hole of yours slut, maybe then you could actually gain a purpose for something” y/n knew what “purpose” he would gain, he would become a mother to children he could not bare.

With a couple more thrusts, y/n felt sukuna ‘s cocks unload their last gallon of cum into his once pure hole.

Sukuna breathed heavily, trying to catch an ounce of fresh air in the steamy and hot ecosystem him and his new slut had made.

“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t kill you, but now, you must work for me, you’ll worship me and my existence altogether, your nothing without me, your only purpose for me is to be a hole I can put my two cocks in and bare my kids in that stomach of yours” sukuna whispered delicately into y/n ‘s ear. Causing the poor man to shiver and shakily nod.

“Uraume, mind cleaning me and my new toy?”

[balladeerssong]

a piece of me.

| SYNOPSIS | sweet things they do out of love.

| INCLUDING | Albedo, Cyno, Dottore, Kazuha, Tartaglia, Wanderer.

| A/N | posting this draft i've been procrastinating on for a while. Dottore's is the longest lol (can u tell i like him a bit)

𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨 - ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍˢ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵗᵘᵖⁱᵈ.

oh, you don't understand how his latest thesis works? don't worry, he'll explain! he's got just the right vocabulary to translate how all of these messy assumptions and ideas connect. no matter how small your knowledge is when it comes to alchemy, you will understand everything after he's done explaining. he never doubted your ability to understand, either. he believes the key to grasping this kind of knowledge starts with a good, patient teacher.

𝐂𝐲𝐧𝐨 - ˡᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈʷᵉᵃʳ.

walking through the hot desert? strolling on the cold, windy streets? Cyno's headwear is perfect for both. it's kind of like it's infused with magic - cooling you down in the hot weather and providing warmth when it's cold. he never misses any sign of you being a bit too hot or cold. the moment he sees even a drop of sweat on you, or a shiver run down your spine, you'll feel a heavy but comfortable weight on top of your head.

𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 - ᵐⁱˣⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᶠⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ.

i know some might disagree but i think Zandik is gentle with his darling, wether that be out of manipulation, or because he knows how fragile you are. pulling his hand back when you hiss while he's treating you, secluding materials you seem to be allergic to in his lab, having you wear full protective attire when he's experimenting in the same room as you, even if you're not even in the 'danger zone' kind of distance. let's say one day he overhears you complaining to one of your friends about something. acne scars, dry or greasy hair, dark circles under your eyes... he's on it right away. in a few days, you're presented with a container with a mysterious substance in it. it glows slightly, the consistency is somewhere between a cream and liquid, and it has this soft pink colour you've never seen in Dottore's lab... ever. before you can question, he explains where he got the idea, and you can't hold back that fuzzy feeling when you realise he came up with the perfect product just for you! after all, he's very much familiar with your body, he knows exactly what it needs to get rid of the problems at hand.

𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 - ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖᵘˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ˢᵗʳᵃⁿᵍᵉʳˢ' ʷᵃʸ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵉᵉᵗ.

walks through Inazuma City with Kazuha aren't uncommon. there's so much to do and see, especially under the starry sky. that being said, the people living there also know this, often resulting in crowded streets. walking forward while looking back at Kazuha might not be the smartest idea - but don't worry. he's got you. he holds your hand and gently tugs on it to pull you to the side before you could bump into anyone. he also has this soft, loving smile on his face the whole time.

𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚 - ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ.

being loved by Ajax means being loved by his family. his siblings - both younger and older absolutely adore you and see you as a member of their family before you even have a ring on your finger. his parents are also very affectionate towards you, and you can't deny how delicious the hearty, warm snezhnayan meals are that they welcome you with. snowball fights with the youngests and ice fishing are also a must!

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 - ʰᵘˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗ ʸᵒᵘ.

he's already at least slightly annoyed by everyone in the Akademiya. they all seem so full of themselves - and the moment you get interrupted mid-sentence just proves it to him. he doesn't hesitate to threaten ask anyone to shut up while you speak. he couldn't care less about how smart or important they are, his darling was speaking, so they will listen. it doesn't even matter what you're talking about, he simply can't let anyone make you swallow your words.

[silvercloverr5]

James Potter is easily the biggest of the three. He’s just so muscular and strong, but in a soft way. He’s got a soft layer of fat protecting his muscles, and I imagine he’s very freckled too. Not sure why. He is the epitome of a golden retriever boyfriend. He likes being the big spoon, and has an INCREDIBLE weak spot for getting his hair played with. Like, it’s literally orgasmic to him. He grew up with everything. Love, money, etc, etc, so he’s probably the touchiest (at first), and is all over you from the start. Also, I think he often forgets his strength and squeezes u too hard and you’ve gotta be like “uh.. Jamie..? You’re.. you’re kinda squeezing-“ and he just puts an arm over ur mouth like “shut up, baby. Sorry. Love you.” He’s adorable.

Remus Lupin is just a normal sized boy, and runs hot like a radiator. Honestly. He doesn’t even need all those knitted sweaters and warm coffee because he just is the embodiment of autumn warmth. He’s littered with silver scars from his lycanthropy, so when u see him naked for the first time, he’s so self conscious. He’d have his arms wrapped around himself, shielding his scars from your view, and you’ve got to prize his hands off of himself. “I’m sorry.. i know they’re not.. appealing.. it’s…” and you’re just like “woah, rem, what? You’re fucking beautiful.” You say that, and he’s yours. He’s not used to love like James is, but he’s probably the one to start getting cuddly. I imagine it’s winter and he’s reading in the common room, and ur shivering because by some miracle the fire isn’t on. He looks up from his book, admiring you for a while and then lifts up his sweater. You SHOOT underneath it and basically curl up like a cat against his bare chest. I repeat: HE IS SO FUCKING WARM. You’d probably have an ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ moment with him at the start of your relationship though. You know when Clementine is saying she always thought she was ugly and Joel starts kissing her and saying “you’re pretty, you’re pretty, you’re pretty…” yeah, you’d be Joel and he’d be Clementine. But once he’s comfortable, he’s a fucking fiend. You’ll never be cold again, trust me.

Sirius Black is skinny and pale. Like a vampire. Endearingly. I imagine he has a nose piercing and an eyebrow piercing, and he’s all tattooed up. Will DEFINITELY get your initial on his abdomen or collarbone in swirly penmanship. Sirius will act like your best friend even when u two are dating. Bless him though, he’s so used to being hurt and abused by those that are meant to protect him that he can’t trust you at first. I think the first time he came to realise you were different is when you asked him what happened after winter break at his parent’s house, because he was being really quiet and flinching a lot which is unlike him. You cornered him in the common room when no one else was there, and asked him “hey, Siri? What’s going on, man? Tell me.” He insisted, “I’m fine. I swear, sweetheart.” You went to tuck his black curls behind his ear but he flinched, which shattered your heart. You said “Sirius, please. I need to know you’re okay, because I need you safe.” And hearing that, he broke down into your arms. From then on, he’s always in your arms. He adores comforting you, because he’s a big brother himself and so he has the instinct, you know? But man, does he fucking adore being in your arms. He WILL curl up beside you wherever you’re sitting or lying, and is always rubbing against you. He always says “I can’t help it, babe, it’s just the dog in me.” Which he seems to find HILARIOUS. Oh yeah, and he literally can’t sleep unless you’re the big spoon or his head is on your chest or in your neck. He likes to feel safe and protected for once, and you do that for him to no end. He’s THE 70s rocker stereotype, and he loves having matching nail polish with you. You’re best friends as well as lovers.

Sorry for yapping to no end guys!!!

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Cold-hearted wolf

Masterlist

Pairing: Cregan Stark × Martell reader

Tags: arranged marriage, cregan starts out mean in this, enemies to lovers cus he's grumpy and has no time for feelings,

Chapter 3: the way he's obsessed with you, can't stop thinking impure thoughts while he's away, the calm before the sex... pick your favorite.

Note: I made up a war with Highgarden subplot that's not Canon. Ahem, for the plot, so bare with me.

Cregan Stark sat inside a tent with his face twisted in a mix of pain and discomfort. The maester carefully worked to stitch up a nasty gash that ran from his neck to his lower abdomen, courtesy of an enemy soldier's sword. He had little pity for the other man when he cut him clean through the heart with his own blade. The wound was a battle scar from the successful siege, a strategic victory that had his soldiers celebrating and chearing outside.

One of Cregan's knights entered the tent, bearing two pints. He handed one to his injured ruler. "This ale should ease the pain, my lord."

Cregan took the offered drink. "Bring more. This stitching feels personal."

The old man, still focused on his task, dismissed Cregan's jest. "Your Highness, if you'd stop squirming, it would help."

Cregan held still as the maester continued his work. "How many casualties did we suffer?"

The knight looked thoughtful for a moment. "Surprisingly low, my lord. The plan was exceptional."

Cregan's gaze shifted to the ground, and a sense of guilt crept over him. The plan that had proven so effective during the battle was one that you had worked on together. Right before he rudely discarded you. Your tactical insights and knowledge of warfare had been instrumental to saving his and his men's lives today. "I should have listened to her sooner.”

“My lord?”

“Lady y/n.” Cregan specified.

The knight nodded in understanding.

The maester stitching spoke up. “It takes time to see the wisdom in others, my lord. We can only strive to make amends."

Cregan hated being proven wrong. He kept his mouth shut.

As the stitching neared completion, the knight spoke up, "You've fought well today.”

Cregan shook his head with a satisfied smile. "I can't take all the credit. Tyrell's sword was his own downfall.” His enemy's weapon, though notoriously giant, was unwieldy, and Cregan, younger, more agile, and more practiced with his weapon, found his opening.

With the gash stitched and the pain somewhat subsiding, Cregan took another sip of ale. He couldn't help but feel a need to have you close. To celebrate with you, and thank you for your strategy, which was invaluable to his cause. He wanted you beside him in the next council meeting.

But you were far off, warm, and safe in Winterfell. No doubt giving his sister an earful about what an awful husband he's been if the letters he's received from her were any indication.

I like her very much, Cregan. And if you open your mind you would come to like her too. Also, it would help if you'd stop behaving like an ass.

The thought of you two getting along made him smile. Even if it was at his expense.

He was ashamed to admit there was truth to your accusation that night. No, he had not seen you as an equal. How could he?

What could you possibly know of the plight of living in the harsh and unforgiving environment of the North. Of its values and way of life. He'd read about Dornish life in his studies. Sunspear was warmth, music, dancing, and hedonism, literally the opposite of Winterfell. This showed to be true the moment you stepped foot on his grounds. You, with your carefree attitude and enticing dresses, perhaps accepted in your culture, but downright scandalous in his.

He remembered his anger in the hot springs when he heard the men going on about your wardrobe.

“I'd like to see if the Dornish sun forgot a few places.”

They were only jesting. Men, especially soldiers, made vulgar jokes all the time. But the fact that his men spoke about you in such a way made his blood boil hotter than the springs underneath the palace grounds.

All it took was a look from Cregan, and the man shut his mouth, swallowing nervously. But Cregan's anger didn't subside so easily.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, remembering taking his frustration out in your bedroom that same day he heard the vulgar comment, and the two more times that evening, and once more the next morning. His hands gripped his chair, mimicking the possessive way he'd held you with every thrust.

He wondered if you questioned why he was so upset. Although even if you did, judging by your whimpers and moans, you didn't seem to mind.

Visions of you flooded his mind. Walking around with a high brow, flaunting your skin freely with seductive silks for his court to admire. Looking elegant and graceful while flipping him onto his back in the training yard. Unknowingly offering up a fantasy of an exotic warrior princess from the far south to hungry and repressed northern eyes… all just so you could prove a point.

He laughed. Maybe his sister was right. Stubbornness was something you two definitely had in common.

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

War was a lonely ordeal. And despite the women from the neighboring towns being more than happy to keep his men company, Cregan’s mind kept finding flaws in each of them.

Their lack of quiet defiance made them too agreeable, he decided. Although, no, not only that. It was also the missing fire in their eyes, the missing pride. They also had the wrong color hair and the wrong length, too. And on top of that, their clothing was also too... cold, yes. Too modest.

The gods help him. He was fucked.

Amidst the noise of his tent, he sat at a table surrounded by his men who were drinking and celebrating. The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm ambiance in the night. A raven's message had arrived, and he quickly sloppily unfurled the parchment, his eyes scanning the words eagerly.

The letter was from you, recounting the events of the day. "In an attempt to offer you a change of scenery, I will try to paint an image of how things are back home.” Your handwriting said. “Winterfell is alight with celebration of your victory. The town square was full of life. The common folks greeted me with glee and danced and sang. I even tried deer meat at an inn. It was… chewey."

A corner of his mouth lifted as he red the letter in your voice.

"You are well loved and admired, my lord. And missed. Also, please pet Grey for me as he is dearly missed as well."

A chuckle escaped Cregan's lips as he reached over to scratch his loyal dog behind the ear before continuing to read. "I even showed one boy how to use my Dornish blade. My favorite one."

Your willingness to connect with his people - your people, he corrected himself, was quite marvelous. A smile tugged at the corners of Cregan's lips as he pictured you among the celebrating townsfolk. He felt a painful pull at his chest, his hands itching for your skin.

He wondered, not for the first time, how he could remedy his actions of your last night together before he marched off. Regretfully recalling the fire and hurt in your eyes.

It would take more than a letter to make up for it. Cregan was neither poet nor a man of many words. He took action. He needed to fix this the only way he knew how.

The next day, he helped his squires and men pack the Stark army camp. With victory secured, they would be marching back to Winterfell.

Cregan was coming home.

@malfoycassimalfoy @leahnicole1219 @literishdegree99

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hiiiii, Congratulations on your 5K !!! Idk if ur reqs r still open, but I'll try (pls feel free to delete this if it's closed alrdy)

I was supposed to ask for a Cap. Price but since u've said that there are low reqs for Soap, I'm (humbly and kindly) asking for a Soap oneshot. U can do whatever u want (I just want fluff pls, I'm so inlove with him, he's such a cutie)

—Alive and Breathing

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞

Your head pounds violently, groaning softly under your breath as the room pulses with heat and fever. Sweat stains your forehead—dripping off the side of your nose as the bed is heavy with it. The window was shut tight, the sheets layered high on you in a heap akin to a garbage pile with shaking feet twitching from out the end. Your muscles jerk, lungs heaving for air that gets harder to come by. 

No matter how hot you tried to become, nothing was making you any more comfortable. You felt like you were freezing; standing out on an ice sheet and plunging into arctic waters. Everything was a sheen of blurry delirium, and you hoped that John would get home soon so you could have him help out around the house. 

You’d taken some cold medicine after you called him, but nothing was working. 

Not moving beyond the ragged coughs that make you gag on your saliva, you stay there even when the front door opens—a call of your name on the air a dull buzz in your drums. Like a fly. 

And then, suddenly, there’s a serious face in front of yours, and a hand is shoving back your blankets until you’re partially visible. 

“Up you get, now,” John grunts, eyes narrowed and his scar pulling tight at the sight of your state. Your mouth twists into a tight frown, panting at the chill of the air; you shiver violently. “I’m takin’ you in, aye?”

“M’cold, John,” you mutter through a hoarse exhilation. Shapes shift and shadows move. A heavy hand is pressed to your forehead, flinching momentarily at the heat that makes John hiss lowly. He looks your body up and down, taking in the scent of sweat and sickness. 

This was worse than the light fever you’d described over the phone. 

“Holy hell…” He breathes, glancing at the rapid pulse point in your neck. “Cold? You’re fuckin’ burnin’ up down there, Dearie. Did you take anything while I was away? Christ.”

A mind is made up quickly, concern striking John in the heart. 

He digs you out of the last remaining covers, gripping your slick body as your eyes flutter—you don’t answer him, muttering under your breath. 

“Fuck,” John growls. Once he knows you’re not going to slip out of his arms, he grips you tighter and rushes into the bathroom, nerves in his gut not leaving as your limp arm sways. “Hey!” He shouts at you, jostling your shoulder blades.

You whine, your head stuck at his pec. Everything pulses. 

Glaring, John’s blue eyes are laced with worry as he sets you down into the tub—scarred hand snapping to turn on the water on the coldest setting. 

Hands grapple your cheeks. 

“Hey, now,” the man utters, accent thick and deep as emotions take over. “Hey, focus on me. C’mon.” Water spreads over your legs—soaking into your clothes as your shivering continues even now. Your lashes flutter, teeth chattering. “C’mon, Sweetheart, right here.”

The water sloshes over the lip of the tub by the time John turns it off, the liquid cold enough to make the man shiver himself, but he doesn’t even notice—eyes trapped on your body. 

After a few long, tense, minutes, your rapid heartbeat slows to the visible eye. Your lungs ease back to a nearly-normal rise and fall; small hitches still in the muscle. 

“That’s a girl,” John runs his thumbs up and down your flesh. “That’s right.”

You huff, face still full of drying sweat until the man ahead of you takes a palm full of water and drenches your head with it. Sputtering, you weakly push at his other wrist near your cheek, gasping down air. 

“W-what the hell,” you stutter, water dripping off your nose and over your eyes.

“I’m getting you medicine,” John grumbles. “The correct kind. Cold bath won’t help in the long run, but I was out of options.”

You blink at him, still sluggish. 

“I’ll be fine, John.” A firm brow raises in challenge and you sigh shaking your head.

“It’s that or I bring you to hospital. Your choice.” 

Silence falls, only broken by the shift of the water and your small sickly sniffles. Blue eyes move and soften before John brings a hand up to his face and rubs it. He holds the limb there for a moment, taking a shallow breath. 

A kiss is pressed to your still steamy forehead, the lips staying there as you sag forward into John as his arms circle you, bringing you to him. 

“Scared me,” he utters lowly. 

You hum, tired. 

“I had the strangest dream while you were gone,” your mouth whispers. John grunts into your skin. “You were fighting a bear.”

“A bear?” He smirks, eyebrow quirking and pulling his scar tight. “Bit big for me to do alone, Dearie…I win?”

“Of course,” you try a hoarse chuckle, arms limp in the water. 

“Oh, aye, an accurate dream.” He chuckles with you. “How’d I do it, then? Was I barehanded? Knife?”

“...I’m just stroking your ego, John.”

“Can’t stroke something you can’t reach, can you?”

[ikkyfics]

hiiiii im ur new fllwer!!

came here to say that ur writing was so effortlessly beautiful,

but then i couldn't deny that im a bit devastated that u didnt write for remus lupin, which is fine as long as u writes for the characters u're most comfortable with.

andddd dont u dare stop writing, it was so beautiful i love u for existing.

take care dearest <33

Adorable

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Summary: “You know, Remus, if you weren’t so adorable, you probably wouldn’t have gotten the chocolate.”

Warnings: fluffy - just a shy Remus with chocolates, being a lovely boy and affectionate teasing

A/N: honey, thank you soooo much, that was really sweet of you, so maybe I'm all flustered and embarrassed reading this. I really hope you are having a delightful day, full of lovely little things and I love u tooo. I spent the afternoon putting this together, it's the first time I've dared to write about my boy Remus, so I hope it didn't come out too bad

Masterlist

It was a pleasant early spring afternoon, and the garden seemed to invite anyone passing by to sit and relax. You walked through it, holding a small parchment wrap that hid a piece of chocolate, something you knew he loved. The sun filtered through the trees, and the soft sound of the wind filled the space between the birds’ singing.

That was when you saw him.

Remus was sitting on a stone bench near a row of yellow flowers that were beginning to bloom, his brown hair tousled by the wind and his face slightly tilted to one side, completely engrossed in the book in his hands. You noticed the scars on his cheeks and temples, which the sunlight made more visible, but which he seemed to carry with a serenity that only made him more endearing.

It was a Muggle romance, you realized, something he read often. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him — he looked so peaceful, so at ease in that moment. It was in these moments that you couldn’t help but think that he was, without a doubt, the most adorable boy in the whole school.

Without lifting his gaze from the book, he spoke, his voice gentle and familiar: “Are you going to watch me all day or come join me?”

You froze for a moment, your heart racing. He knew you were there, and, from the tone of his voice, he seemed more amused than annoyed. When you finally mustered the courage to take a step forward, Remus looked up, and with a smile that seemed calm and sincere, he nodded towards the empty space beside him.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up today,” he said, closing the book for a moment and resting it on his lap. “I thought we could enjoy the weather.”

His smile, soft and genuine, made something tighten in your chest, and you tried to hide the wave of butterflies that flooded your stomach as you approached. Even though you were friends, he always had that effect on you — the simple, warm way he carried himself, the voice that seemed to hold the comfort of hot chocolate on a cold night.

You sat beside him, adjusting your coat against the light spring breeze. The stone bench wasn’t exactly comfortable, and you quickly realized that the space was too small for both of you. Remus’s shoulder brushed against yours lightly, the unexpected warmth of his closeness contrasting with the cool breeze.

He seemed not to notice — or he was pretending very well. Remus’s brown eyes were fixed on the wrap you held, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “Is this for me?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if he didn’t want to assume too much.

You lifted the wrap and pretended to consider it, raising an eyebrow. “Depends,” you replied, your tone dry but playful. “Do you deserve it?”

Remus let out a soft laugh, the sound warm enough to seem to fill the air around you. He tilted his head to the side, as if thinking over the question. “I think I’ve been a good friend,” he said, his voice tinged with a nearly melodic quality. “But can you remind me of any transgressions I’ve committed recently?”

You tried to contain a smile, but it emerged despite your efforts. “Hm, maybe I should share, then,” you murmured, unrolling the parchment to reveal a generous piece of chocolate. “But only because I’m incredibly generous.”

Remus accepted the piece with a look of genuine gratitude, but he hesitated before taking a bite, his eyes meeting yours for an instant longer than necessary. “I always knew you were generous,” he said, the tone almost clumsy but sincere.

You looked away, trying to mask the light blush rising to your cheeks. The wind tousled his hair, and the scars seemed to soften in the filtered sunlight. He took a bite of the chocolate, and his face lit up with a look of childlike pleasure, as if that piece were the best he had ever tasted.

“This is amazing,” he said, his voice full of warm enthusiasm. “Did you make it yourself?”

You shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, even as you felt thousands of butterflies take flight in your stomach at the compliment. “Of course. It’s nothing special.”

He looked at you, his eyes shining in a way that made your heart stumble. “It is. You’re talented,” he said, and there was something in the softness of his voice that made you look away, pretending to watch the flowers in the garden.

The comfortable silence that followed was broken when, without thinking, you said:

“You know, Remus, if you weren’t so adorable, you probably wouldn’t have gotten the chocolate.”

The words slipped from your lips like a secret that shouldn’t have been revealed, and their weight hung in the air between you. His eyes widened in that instant, and you wanted to shrink right there, maybe disappear among the flowers around you. As for Remus… Remus seemed frozen in place, the piece of chocolate still between his fingers, his brown eyes locked on yours as if trying to decipher something you didn’t know how to explain.

You tried to regain control. Maybe you could make it seem like a joke, just another casual tease between you. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the warmth rising to your face and the intense sparkle in his eyes left you speechless.

Remus, however, was quicker. He placed the chocolate on the bench between you and tilted his head slightly, a shy but utterly sincere smile forming on his lips. “So… is that all I need to do to get more chocolate? Be adorable?”

The question was asked in such a light, almost playful tone, but his eyes… his eyes told another story. There was something there that you couldn’t help but feel: an immense tenderness, an admiration that seemed genuinely disarming.

Your heart pounded so hard that you almost believed he could hear it. “Don’t get cocky,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended, trying to sound indifferent, but the hesitant smile on his lips gave you away.

Remus laughed, a soft, warm laugh, and you felt the sound reverberate through your entire body like an unexpected ray of sunlight on a cold day. He scratched the back of his neck, a gesture that seemed to be his way of handling embarrassment. “I just wanted to know,” he continued, the tone gentle, but now there was something more vulnerable in his voice. “If it’s that obvious that you think I’m adorable… what else do you think about me?”

The world seemed to stop. Your brain desperately tried to find an answer, but your mind was in complete chaos, torn between the disbelief that he was really flirting with you and the sheer panic that maybe he was expecting an honest answer.

You looked away, feeling the warmth in your cheeks grow even more. “I think you should share the chocolate,” was all you managed to say, pointing at the piece he had left on the bench.

He laughed again, but didn’t push further, as if he knew he had taken the conversation to the safe limit — for now. Remus picked up the piece of chocolate, carefully broke it in half, and offered you one half. When you took it, your fingers brushed briefly, and the warmth of that simple contact felt so intense that you wondered if it was possible for someone to feel that way just from being close to another person.

“You have excellent taste in chocolate,” he commented, taking a bite and closing his eyes for a moment, savoring the sweetness as if it were the best he had ever tasted.

You watched him, allowing yourself a small moment of contemplation. How could he be so… Remus? So kind, so unassuming, so… adorable. And then he opened his eyes, catching you staring with a look that lingered longer than he probably intended.

“I’m sure the chocolate is so good because it came from you,” he said, and there was something in the way he looked at you, something so full of sweetness that left your heart completely vulnerable.

You swallowed hard, feeling as if you were on the brink of something new, something that maybe even Remus hadn’t noticed yet, but that was there, in the air between you, impossible to ignore. The sound of birds, the scent of flowers, the soft breeze — everything seemed intensified by his presence, and by the smile he couldn’t help but wear when he was beside you.

“You talk too much, Lupin,” you murmured, breaking the moment with a small, mischievous smile, though your cheeks were still on fire.

He smiled back, tilting his head as if accepting the tease. “I guess someone needs to make up for your silence.”

And for the first time that afternoon, you allowed yourself to laugh. A genuine, light laugh, full of something you could perhaps call happiness. Remus joined in, and in that moment, nothing seemed more perfect than being by his side, sharing chocolate and moments that felt made just for the two of you.

[cillivnz]

more than what you bargained for [k. heisenberg]

PAIRING — KARL HEISENBERG x DIMITRESCU!READER

TROPE — DBF! [here, mother’s friend, no really close relation] WORD COUNT — 1163 (short and sweet)

WARNINGS — NSFW. 18+. fem!reader. loss of virginity, hefty age-gap (reader is in early 20s, Karl is in his 50s), daddy kink, innocence/corruption kink, cursing, pet-names (bunny, little girl, etc.), slight degradation, slightly mean!Karl, p! in v! sex, brief orgasm denial, dacryphilia, slight exhibitionism, overstimulation, clit-play, mention of blood, spiting, cum-play, inappropriate usage of stuffed toys!

A/N — requested! i wasn’t going to leave y’all hanging high n’ dry, nonetheless, but thank you, all! (💋 for u) no mention of Alcides [ gender-bent Lady Dimitrescu ], didn’t want to jinx the two verses, so Alcina is Alcina.

i’ve decided to write this as a mini-series, can absolutely be read as stand-alones, the title would be “cockuette”, inspired by the coquette-ish aesthetic of the series, hence the 🎀 on Karl!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations from romanian to english]

draga esti acolo : sweetie, are you there? da, mamă? : yes, mother? da, mamă. am doar febra : yes, mother. i just have a fever.

YOUR NIGHT HAD JUST begun.

spinning you around, you were manhandled into a vulgar, shameless position— with you face squished against your pink, cum-slick duvet, and your ass up and spread for the older man.

“such a pretty pussy, baby. you’re really givin’ this ol’ man a treat,” he spread your gushing hole with both his thumbs.

you felt his hot breath fanning over your clenching cunt, whimpering like a wounded animal at how painful the anticipation from the lack of contact made you feel.

“hurts, daddy—” you moaned, your subconscious choosing your words.

“—daddy, huh?” he cocked a brow.

you looked back with widened eyes, face flushed with embarrassment.

you gulped, taking in the scars painting his handsomely aged face.

why was he even more beautiful up close?

“sorry…” you bat your lashes, pussy twitching involuntarily around his thumbs, still stretching you wide for the cold air of your room.

“nah, bunny. ‘s nothing to be sorry for,” he let go of your round ass to pull you closer, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

you felt every crevice of the metal man’s lacerated face, his soft silver locs brushing against the apples of your cheeks, pale grey eyes staring lovingly into yours only after his plump lips parted from your kiss-swollen ones.

he flipped you around, girthy cock falling heavy on your clit almost immediately.

without another word, he pushed the tip inside you, making you gasp.

“K-Karl! holy fuck—” you whined, showing hostility towards the fat penetration.

“sh, daddy’s here.

i got you, pretty bunny.”

only stopping when your hips didn’t allow him to go further, he let you adjust for a brief moment, before starting at a slow pace.

“Karl, it’s too much— too full.” you winced, eyes watery with pain.

“you’ll get used to it, bun. it’s made for you.” he grunted, eyes half-lidded, relishing in the feel of your tight cunt squeezing along his length.

“look at me when i fuck you, miss,” he grabbed your chin firmly, forcing your eyes open. the hand that hadn’t got an ironclad grip on your hip snaked its way onto your clit, rubbing vigorously. “Mama really didn’t teach you manners, huh?” he continued, thrusts gaining brute force and speed.

“that’s okay, darling girl. daddy’s here to teach you lessons. this is one of many.”

he chuckled viciously, eyes glinting with mischievous malice that once again dominated his softer side.

by now you were a moaning mess, crying over the assault of his fat cockhead on your sweet spot, and over the bruises forming on your body from his relentless groping and squeezing, his way of marking you in your most private, sensitive areas.

a reminder that you had wronged Karl earlier, and now you weren’t going to forget.

he turned you around in the blink of an eye, your returned to your initial position with the same sense of degradation; face down, ass up.

now, Karl was not holding back. not when your velvet walls were letting him glide through you.

only the sound of skin-on-skin slapping was sound, until a curt knock was heard.

“draga esti acolo?” your mother’s deep voice echoed.

you were frozen in place, life flashing before your eyes while the man balls-deep inside you only slowed his movements.

you raise your head meekly to look back at Karl, only earning a sly smirk from him.

“da, mamă?” you croaked.

“i’m sorry for leaving you alone with that bastard for so long, i couldn’t have left without dealing with those pests.” she sighed, referring to the people Mother Miranda had ordered her to deal with, but the only thing you cared about right now was Karl’s reaction to the insult.

and knowing him, you knew he was going to take it out on you.

instantaneously, he began pounding into you with brutality, using your g-spot as a punching bag for the mean shaft inside you.

you bit down on the cotton sheets, letting your sharp teeth gnaw into the floral print.

“when did he leave?” your mother’s voice was heard again.

“ah- ab-about an h-hour ago!” you grunted the high-pitched response.

silence met you momentarily.

“are you okay, dragă?” she asked, concerned.

“da, mamă. am doar febra!” you groaned.

your mother cursed under her breath, “it’s my fault for keeping you up so late. i’ll send Pasha in with remedies,” was the last thing she said before her heavy footsteps grew distant.

you moaned a sigh of relief, while the man behind you only chuckled. “bastard, huh?” he mused, still stuck on your mother’s insult.

“bet she’d chew on her words when my seed coats her daughter’s womb.” he scoffed, increasing the force of his thrusts by tenfold.

“daddy!”

your eyes rolled back, his heavy balls slapping your sensitive clit with every thrust, his large palms slapping your fat ass cheeks; could this be—

“—MORE THAN WHAT YOU BARGAINED FOR, bunny?” his hand found your clit, pinching the bud.

he looked over to your side, amused by the sight of your childhood toy, a bunny you named ‘Mina’ staring at the filth unravelling in-front of it.

he grabbed the teddy, still thrusting in and out of you, “choke on this,” he squeezed your cheeks together, opening your mouth just enough to shove the teddy bunny’s arm inside.

your cries were muffled, Karl finally able to focus on chasing his high.

pinching your bundle of nerves, he pulled out completely, feeling you sobbing fully into your sheets at the orgasm denial, cunt convulsing around nothing— the perfect moment for him to shove his cock in whole (in hole, literally) and shoot his load into the pussy whose virginity he just stripped off.

he groaned in your ears, hoisting you up by the hair to kiss you with fervency.

“that’s how a good host treats their guests.” he bit down on your lip, earning sobs from your breathless self.

pulling out, he was eager to spread you open again and see the his cum drool out of you, and lo and behold— your puffy cunt oozed out traces of blood in both of your fluids mixed. Karl stretched you wider and spat right into your hole, causing you to flinch and clench.

he chuckled, pulling Mina the bunny away from your arms, and using its saliva-soaked arm to clean your folds.

you winced at the contact, but the softness felt so good.

“milady, Lady Dimitrescu has sent some soup— OH, GODS!” Pasha the chamberlain dropped the big bowl of remedies to the ground, and charged out the same door she barged in on seeing the princess naked as the day she was born, getting her wet cunt cleaned by the most dangerous of the Lords, holding a teddy bunny in all his glory, with that goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

poor Pasha deserves therapy as compensation for the shit she sees at Castle Dimitrescu.

pt. I. COCKUETTE MASTERLIST. more from ‘resident evil: village’. main masterlist.

[daisies-daydreams]

task force 141 + konig where they gangbang y/n (they corner them in the lockerroom/barracks-- y/n accidentally goes into the wrong room, or is it really the wrong room??) OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT and they each take their turn :DD AAAA im so sorry if its difficult i just really love ur writing :") please take ur time and if u ever do consider this THANK U :")

Pairing: 141 + König x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Consensual Gangbanging, Multiple (and I mean multiple) Orgasms, Clit Play, Oral Sex (69), Penis in Vagina Sex, Thigh Fucking, Anal Sex, Spanking, Vaginal/Anal Fingering, Reader is Going to be Sore 💀 Word Count: 4.1k+

Author’s Note: Hi there! Thank you very much for your request. There were so many different scenarios but I was able to eventually dwindle it down to Y/N walking into the wrong locker room (whoopsie daisy). Also, König is included in the fic, I just couldn’t find a picture with all of them. I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You yawned as you stretched your arms above your head. The sound of the water spraying from the showers was music to your ears-your body worn and grimy from the recent mission. You pushed open the door and padded inside, your steps heavy with exhaustion. All you had on your mind was taking a quick shower and slipping beneath your covers. Billows of steam rushed towards you as you opened the double doors. You headed towards your locker and paid no mind to the other bodies wandering about the room. You furrowed your brows when the combination didn’t work. You frowned as you tried again. Nothing. You flinched when a distinctly male voice cleared his throat behind you.

“Think you’re in the wrong room, lovie”.

Your eyes widened as you slowly turned around. Your blood ran cold. Your lieutenant, Ghost, was standing in front of you with crossed arms, his bulging muscles still dripping with hot water. You blushed when you realized he wasn’t wearing his mask. His face was rugged and littered with scars, an obvious sign of him living through years of combat. Your heart began to race as he took one step closer. You couldn’t tear your eyes away when they wandered down to see his girthy cock hanging between his legs. You bit your lip when you caught a glimpse of it twitching to life. Ghost was only a few feet in front of you as his arms fell to his sides.

“What’re you doin’ in ‘ere, hm, Sergeant?” he mused with a raised brow. His shadow swallowed you whole as you tried to look away. You swallowed a lump in your throat, gripping the towel you held in your arms.

“I-I’m sorry. It was an accident-truly,” you stammered as you felt heat rise to your cheeks. Your eyes flicked around the room to look anywhere but at him, only to lock eyes with the other men. Your knees felt weak as they all stood there staring at you and your flimsy cover-up. You felt your breath punched out of your lungs when you realized they were just as stark naked as Ghost. Your lips parted as your mind began to buzz with a whirlwind of emotions.

You were embarrassed beyond belief…and yet, you couldn’t help but feel the intoxication of pure lust coursing through you. Your blood ran cold when you saw your very own Captain in the same room: his stormy, sea green eyes piercing into you as he gave a wry grin. You felt dizzy as you tried to brace yourself against the lockers, clenching your legs together. Ghost chuckled as he slid his hand beneath your chin, tilting it up so you could meet his gaze.

“You sure it was an accident? Cause the way you're shifting your cute little thighs together tells me otherwise,” he muttered, his hot breath fanning over your neck. A small moan left your lips as his lips raked across your skin. He looked back up at you, his mahogany eyes dripping with pure desire. “Tell us what you want, love,” Ghost murmured, his hands falling to delicately brush over your hips.

Us?

Your eyes were as wide as saucers as you looked around the room. All of the 141's cock’s seemed to twitch and throb to life. Your mouth nearly snapped open when you saw a towering man, who you assumed to be König, pawing at his massive length. Was this really happening? You whined when Ghost peppered your neck with open mouth kisses. A rush of heat struck through your core as he suckled over your pulse, then licked across the blooming hickey. You swallowed thickly before parting your lips.

“I-I want you…all of you,” you squealed when Ghost suckled another hickey onto your neck. He parted from your neck and nipped at the shell of your ear. Your body trembled at the prospect of having every one of your holes stretched and pumped full of cum while you jerked two other men off with your smaller hands. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as Ghost sank his teeth into your neck. You gasped as he flattened his tongue over the throbbing bite mark.

“Gonna take our sweet time with you-right lads?” he rumbled before kissing up your jaw. You heard the men grunt in agreement, their voices falling onto your ears like a melody. You felt lost in your own emotions as they tumbled and crashed together. You squeezed your legs even tighter as Ghost pulled his head up and gave you a soft smile. Your heart cracked at the sight-you were so used to seeing his macabre visage that his expressions seemed lost to you.

“Can’t wait to see how good that pussy feels,” he said before stealing a slow, tender kiss from your lips. The distinguished sound of a door locking felt numb to your ears as the taste of your lieutenant flooded your mouth. It was slightly minty with a hint of tobacco, the flavors blending together as both of you slung your tongues together. You sighed into the kiss as his hands worked to peel your towel off of your trembling body. You felt goosebumps bloom across your body as the fabric fell to the floor.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Ghost breathed, admiring your body. You blushed furiously before he dove back in, his hands gently massaging your hips. Your eyes shot open when another rugged body came up behind you and sandwiched you together. You turned to see Soap beaming at you with his usual, cheeky grin.

“Mind if I have the first go?” he whispered as he licked your jawline. You keened at the feeling of his hot member twitching against your ass.

“P-Please,” you sighed while nodding your head. Ghost remained still for a moment, though decided to step back, admiring the view before him as he gripped his own girthy cock. A deep rumble rose from Soap’s chest as his hands slowly came up your sides. You gasped as they landed on your breasts.

“So fuckin’ soft,” he murmured. You felt arousal start to leak between your legs as he slowly tweaked your sensitive nipples between his rough fingers. You arched your back, pushing your butt further into his hips. The movement caused his dick to slip between your thighs, his head just barely poking out from the front of them.

“Please, Johnny,” you mewled. Soap moaned at the sound of his real name as his hands spread over your tits. You went to spread your legs. A whimper left you as you felt him harshly squeeze your breasts.

“Keep your legs together,” Soap ordered with a husky growl. You nodded before throwing your head back, letting it fall on his sturdy shoulder. Soap pressed kisses up your neck as he began to slowly push and pull his cock between your thighs. He groaned as your cunt coated his thick length with your juices.

“Mm, that’s it,” the man groaned as he kneaded your breasts. Your mind became more fuzzy as he added another bite mark to your shoulder. “That’s my good lass,” he lilted. You felt your walls clench as the head of his cock continuously breached through your slick folds. Soap grunted as his thumbs flicked your hard nipples, his hot mouth enveloped over your shoulder in a wet kiss.

“Christ, Soap-hurry up,” Gaz whined. You gazed up at the man with half-lidded eyes. Gaz stared at you with a similar expression, his nostrils flaring as he squeezed his leaking dick in his hand. Your eyes squeezed shut when Soap’s hand fell down and began to rub meticulous circles around your swollen nub.

“Ah, don’t stop,” you whined. Your knees buckled when you felt Soap pinch your clit. He wrapped his arm around your torso, pressing your back flush against his broad chest. You felt like you were being rocked by an ocean of bliss as he started to buck into you at a hungry pace.

“‘M not gonna stop-not when you feel this fuckin’ good,” Soap groaned. The sound of your slick movements stoked the fire growing in the pit of your belly. You mewled as Soap drew faster circles around your clit. “C’mon-cum with me, bonnie,” he moaned with a sharp snap of his hips. You gasped as the cord inside of you snapped violently. You arched your back as a white-hot wave of ecstasy washed over you.

The feeling of Soap’s cock twitching beneath you only prolonged your blissful contractions. He coated your thighs with rope after rope of his cum, the warmth dribbling down to your knees as you writhed in pleasure. Soap kissed your cheek as his cock began to soften between your legs. You panted as your high dissipated.

“Look so cute when you cum over my cock, hen,” Soap praised as he still held you close. He kissed your temple before slowly backing away from you, his hands protectively placed on your hips. You stared into his deep blue eyes before you felt a new pair of warm hands . You gazed behind you, meeting a pair of chocolate brown eyes.

“‘Scuse me, love,” Gaz gave a wry grin as he laid himself down on the hard surface. You mirrored his expression as you sat on top of him, angling yourself to take his cock. He clicked his tongue.

“Not quite what I had in mind,” Gaz said as he grabbed your hips. You gasped as he spun you around, your dripping cunt hovering just above his mouth. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of his thick cock twitching right in front of your face. Your breath stuttered as you heard Gaz smack his lips, his hot breath cascaded over your folds.

“H-Holy shit,” you whispered. Your hands flew up to brace Gaz’s thighs as he slipped his mouth over your cunt. You moaned, a jolt of electricity shooting through your core. You took several deep breaths as he moved his tongue back and forth, writing out his name across your slit. You took a few deep breaths before slowly sinking your mouth around his shaft.

Gaz groaned as he swiped at your folds while you bobbed your head up and down his length. He was thicker than you imagined-his girth stretching out your jaw more than any other man you’ve been with. The taste of his salty-bitter precum danced over your tongue as you swirled your wet muscle around his head each time you came back up.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” he murmured into your pussy before taking your clit between his lips. Your hands clenched around his thighs as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive nub.

“Gaz, fuck,” you whined, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the head of his cock. The sergeant chuckled before thrusting his tongue inside of your quivering hole. You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose before angling your head to take him in deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

Both of you moaned and panted as you ate each other like starved wolves. The vibrations from Gaz’s voice sent ripples of arousal straight into your core. You released a breathy sigh around his dick as he slipped his tongue out and slid one of his digits inside of you. You shifted your hips over Gaz’s face as he stroked you tenderly, his finger reaching and caressing your g-spot. You heard him emit a low growl as his cock twitched inside of your wet cavern.

You moaned his name as he gave a harsh suck to your clit, your second high tearing you in half. Your whole body grew tense as his cock was lodged deep in your throat. You gasped as you felt something warm spill into your mouth, his cum draining down your esophagus. His brows furrowed as your walls clenched around his finger, sucking him in eagerly.

As your high began to fade, you slowly pulled your lips off of his length. You made sure to keep your lips tightly wound together, carefully holding his seed inside your mouth. He smoothed his hands over your hips, raising them before he gasped out for air. It made you wonder if he wanted to suffocate as he devoured your cunt. The thought made a small shiver course through you.

“Fuck me, (Y/N). That was incredible,” Gaz gasped between heavy breaths. You smiled sheepishly before turning so he could see your slightly swollen cheeks. His lips parted as you audibly swallowed his cum. You grinned as you stuck out your tongue. No trace of white was left. “Bloody hell,” he shuddered.

You smiled as the man guided you to rest on his chest. You closed your eyes and caught your breath, the afterglow of your orgasm warming you from head to toe. Just as you felt your heart rate steady, a shadow crossed over you. You cracked an eye open to see your Captain looming above you, his thick hand pumping at his red-hot length.

“Believe I should’ve gone first-bein’ your Captain and all,” Price muttered. Gaz huffed as he helped you off of him, guiding you to sit up while he slid off the bench. You gazed up at Price with the biggest doe-eyes you could pull, though it seemed futile when you were shoved onto your stomach. You winced as his calloused hands kneaded at the flesh of your hips. You turned your head slightly to see your Captain leaning on the bench with one knee, his other leg balancing himself on the tiled floor. He raised a thick brow as he continued to jerk himself off.

“Think you should be disciplined, Sergeant. You’ve walked into the men’s locker room like a naughty girl,” Price grunted. You cried out as he laid a smack against your ass. He groaned as he watched it jiggle, a red mark staining your bum. You felt your heart race when he grabbed your asscheeks in his hands, spreading them apart.

The man shoved two of his fingers into his mouth before releasing them with a wet “pop”. You moaned as he circled your puckering asshole with his digits. Your hands flew in front of you to grab the edges of the bench as he moved to massage your ass with one hand, the other slowly dipping into your hole.

“Say it-say what a naughty girl you’ve been,” Price commanded as he pumped his fingers into you. You gurgled incoherently, your mind intoxicated from two mind-shattering orgasms and the feeling of him stretching your hole wide open. You lunged forward as he smacked your bum again, this time leaving another red mark.

“I-I’m a naughty girl,” you keened, shaking your ass as he thrusted his digits inside with a sudden squelch. “A-And I need to be disciplined,” you batted your lashes. Price growled before curling his fingers inside of you.

“Damn right, you do,” he huffed with a small smirk. You jolted forward as he suddenly shoved his length into your asshole, molding your insides the shape of his cock. Your mouth snapped into a tight “o” as you felt yourself being stretched out by your Captain, inch by delicious inch.

“So fuckin’ tight-Christ,” he grunted as his hips became flush with your raw ass. You moaned at the tightness before he slid himself out, leaving his head inside. Your fingers curled around the bench as he pistoned into you, his hands bruisingly gripping your waist. “Love how your hole stretches around me,” Price rumbled. You felt tears prick at your eyes, the sensations overwhelming you from head to toe. You yelped as he laid another slap to your ass.

“Fuck-I want to see you, love-but this arse just feels too fuckin’ good,” he hissed between gritted teeth. You arched your back as he grabbed your hair, pulling on it while he shoved a few fingers into your mouth. You instinctively suckled on them, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. You jolted when his other hand laid a sudden smack to your cunt, your slick spraying across his hand.

“I’m so close,” he grunted. Your head rolled to the side as your third orgasm washed over you, sending a shockwave through your core. Price growled as he slammed his hips into you. Your entire body lit on fire as he filled up your insides. It was an entirely new sensation-though it was one you could certainly get used to. He patted your thighs before slipping off of you, his rough palms lingering on your waist. Your limbs felt like they were full of lead as you tried to stand up, only to remain prone on the bench.

“Steamin’ Jesus, Price-I think you broke her,” Soap gaped. You blinked lazily before being pulled into two strong arms. You looked up to see an unfamiliar face above you. You gave a small smile as you recognized the pair of icy blue eyes that gazed down at you softly. The tip of a water bottle was pressed to your lips and you greedily slurped up the cold liquid.

“Ah, the little Maus just needed a break,” König cooed. You tapped his wrist, letting him know you were done with your drink. You smacked your lips when he pulled it away from you. You sighed and nuzzled your face into his rugged stomach as he gently rocked you in his arms, your naked body resting on his sturdy lap. His hand caressed your red cheek as he leaned down, kissing your forehead.

“Do you think you can handle any more, Schatz?” the Austrian murmured. You stared at him, eyes half-lidded and body shaking with overstimulation.

“Y-Yes,” you rasped out. König’s brows knitted together.

“If you’re feeling too tired, we don’t have-” He gasped when you straddled his hips, legs clumsily wrapping around his back. He moaned as you kissed him deeply, your pussy lips gliding over his massive length.

“I want to,” you said resolutely. König beamed before pressing his forehead to yours.

“Turn around for me then, Kätzchen,” he commanded gently with a pat on your waist. You smiled as you spun around, making sure to rake your ass against his abs. You could feel the rumble in his chest as you spread your limp legs over his. He muttered sweet phrases in German as he slipped his hand down towards your heat. You shivered against him as he spread your labia apart with his thick fingers. Your cunt was a mess of slick and cum that dribbled down from your asshole. He groaned as he felt around your puffy folds and swollen clit.

“Gonna take it nice and slow, ja?” König soothed. You nodded and relaxed as he slipped a finger into your hole. You gasped at how just one finger filled you up, your walls mush around the ridges of his digit. König grunted as he began to slowly pump his finger inside of you, his other hand massaging your bundle of nerves. You moaned as he played with your pussy, his movements calm and gentle. You gasped when the pad of his finger brushed against your g-spot. “Are you alright, Kätzchen?” he asked. You nodded, curling your hands around his wrists.

“Yes-you feel so good, Kö. Making me feel so good,” you praised. König grinned before he added another finger into your cunt, stretching you out wonderfully. His movements grew a bit faster as his thumb flicked and stroked at your clit. You gasped when his fingers were replaced with his cock. Your eyes nearly crossed as you felt his immensely thick shaft split you down the middle.

“Meine,” was all he could rasp out before he gently bucked into your heat. You moaned when you saw his head bulge beneath your stomach. You could feel your body melting in his touch. He continued to swirl his finger around your nub as he bounced you on his cock, his voice cracking with every moan and pant that left him. Despite his gargantuan size, he was handling you like you were made of porcelain. Your eyes glazed over as you felt yourself tense again. König whined as your walls constricted around him.

“König-I’m gonna cum,” you mewled. He rumbled before pistoning his hips up into your heat.

“Fuck-me too,” he gasped out. Both of you moaned at the same time as your walls contracted around him. He stilled inside you, your cunt milking his cock dry. You whined as you felt his cum gush out of your pussy, flooding his lap. The rush of liquid never seemed to end as he slowly pulled you off his length. He peppered your face with soft kisses before giving you another sip of water.

“You did so well for me, meine Schatz,” he praised while stroking your cheek with his thumb. You smiled at him sleepily before he receded back. You glanced above you to find Ghost standing tensely, his cock cherry red and ready to burst. He grabbed a towel lying on the floor and helped you up. You sighed as you were laid back down on the soft fabric, his palms stroking over your shaking legs.

“How you feelin’, lovie?” Ghost asked softly. You felt your voice die in your throat as he gazed at you with his gentle, brown eyes. Eyes you’ve seen full of a quiet rage countless times in combat.

“I think…I can do one more,” you puffed out. Ghost hummed as he adjusted his hips.

“Atta girl,” he praised. You smiled up at him as he slid his cock inside, pushing some of König’s cum out of your hole. You melted as he thrusted into you, gently massaging your tender breasts. “Been wantin’ you for so long-fuck-you feel better than I could ever imagine,” Ghost grunted. You bit your lip, taking in slow, deep breaths as he bottomed out inside of you.

Your limbs felt like putty in his hands as he raised one of your legs to fall over his shoulder. Both of you locked eyes and you nodded. He exhaled through his nose as he pumped his cock through your plush walls. You could feel your mind starting to grow fuzzy as he rocked his hips into you.

“Simon,” you murmured. Ghost’s hips stuttered as his name softly fell from your swollen lips. His movements became a little more hungry, his balls slapping against your cum-coated ass as he snapped his hips.

“So perfect f’me,” he groaned. You barely had time to brace yourself before your fifth orgasm shook you to your core, electricity trickling down to your fingers and toes.

“Christ, how many is that? Five?” he groaned. You nodded your head, letting your eyes close as you were rocked by his strong thrusts. Ghost rumbled as he crashed his lips onto yours. The sound of your sloppy, cum-filled cunt fluttering around his dick made your mind completely melt. “You’ve taken all so well, love,” Ghost praised as he bullied his cock into your hole. Your brows knitted together as he kissed you again.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, stuff you with my cum,” he moaned as his balls twitched against your folds. “You’d like that, love?” Ghost huffed. You nodded.

“Please, please fucking fill me,” you gasped. He chuckled as he sped up his thrusts, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing throughout the tiled space. You moaned and raked your nails down his shoulders as he slammed his cock into you, stilling inside and shooting his load into your tight hole. Your jaw went slack as you felt your pussy warm, only to feel exhaustion wash over you once more.

“(Y/N)? Are you with me?” Ghost’s muffled voice called. You only managed to make a small mumbling noise before sleep finally overtook you.

+++

You gasped as you shot up beneath a cozy comforter. You looked down, seeing you were wearing a fresh pair of clothes. Your hair was still wet and smelled of shampoo. Your eyes scanned the dark room. You finally recognized that you were back in your quarters when your vision adjusted. You puffed out a breath of air as you sank your head down onto your pillow.

Was all of that just a dream?

Your face turned a deep shade of red at the many lewd acts that transpired. You yawned before shifting in your bed, gasping when you felt a dull ache blooming in all of your holes.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[urhoneycombwitch]

hold me like water

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader in the aftermath, you and Eddie learn how to live again.

foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD… lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft… not done w them yet!!

cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini

wc: 3k

___

For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.

More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie. 

While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall. 

Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud. 

After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously. 

Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head). 

The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.

It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more. 

The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.

Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”

“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”

Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks. 

“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”

You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.

Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.

“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.

The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).

Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.

Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.

By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries. 

They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.” 

“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips. 

The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers. 

Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf. 

Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore. 

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home. 

Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.

You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie’s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.

Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of. 

When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends. 

Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry. 

The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.

Sex has been… different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.    

The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds. 

You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.

Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.

And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh. 

You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release. 

“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”

As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to. 

There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap. 

He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good. 

If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness. 

Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths. 

Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you. 

A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.

If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.

Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along. 

Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.

He’s dumbstruck with it. 

That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.

It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.

He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing. 

You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.

“Come swim with me.”

In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge. 

Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze  and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity. 

Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through. 

So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.

“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”

“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”

The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time. 

“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.

Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.

Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops. 

The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”

“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”

Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye. 

“I love you.”

“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest. 

Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is. 

You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.

___

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

[love-toxin]

a lil raunchy whoops

omg im just thinking of (after many more months together and getting a LOT more comfortable) reader eventually pulling 💕Tommy💕 (tcm my beloved) into doing all the slutty slasher behavior that would normally get an unsuspecting college student killed.

pulling him into skinny dipping at a nearby lake…. fooling around in the barn…. drooling rn

(also cause of u i’ve started doing “//GUNSHOT” whenever i say smth completely wild. thanks for that 😪😪)

HEHE!!!! I've rotted ur brain <3 good <33

anyways AAAUAGYGGGGHGHHHH i want him so bad. Tommy never having any of the experiences a normal kid/teen/adult would have and not realizing the thrill of being a lil naughty until you drag him into it like the bad influence you are. so diabolical you would bring up skinny dipping the very idea has me RABID--just the thought of Tommy all antsy and nervous as you slip away with him but slowly growing more comfortable as you lead him to the edge of the lake, help him out of his clothes and gently pull off his mask. once you get in the water he's almost done a 180, and starts splashing you and being playful with a crooked, scarred smile on his face. he manhandles you and throws you around like you weigh nothing, and doesn't realize how hot and bothered he's making you when he paws at you with those big, grubby hands all over. doesn't quite understand why you're all hot in the face and squirmy until you start touching him back, and then oops--looks like you woke up the beast!

and the barn......Tommy getting the idea to put you in the breeding stock. him putting you in the stock and realizing it's way hotter than he even imagined it'd be. Tommy making you both late to dinner cause he's making you dinner, trying not to shake the whole thing too much as he grips the bars and plows you like he's gonna make you meet your maker, you having to dust the hay and the dirt off your clothes and try to mask the limp when you both hurry back into the house for a cold supper.....mhmmngghhn.

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc 

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart. 

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him. 

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend. 

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart. 

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them. 

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it. 

However… 

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up. 

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.” 

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue. 

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has  strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right. 

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.” 

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation. 

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen. 

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks. 

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you. 

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call. 

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention. 

He starts speaking once he knows he has it. 

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.” 

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues. 

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.” 

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud. 

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.” 

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.” 

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand. 

A validation. 

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are. 

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?” 

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had. 

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you. 

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all. 

“Yes, she’s safe with me.” 

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.” 

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.” 

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen. 

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready. 

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi. 

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.” 

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end. 

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across. 

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.” 

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words. 

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has. 

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break? 

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world. 

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.” 

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.” 

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it. 

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty. 

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling. 

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible. 

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end. 

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it. 

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?” 

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?” 

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?” 

There’s simply no way this is real. 

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.” 

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now? 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior. 

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.” 

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?” 

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand. 

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” 

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him. 

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued. 

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest. 

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange. 

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside. 

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest. 

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol. 

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie. 

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you? 

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders. 

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for. 

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?” 

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside? 

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face. 

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.” 

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety. 

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?” 

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth. 

And your words seep into his fist. 

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.” 

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?” 

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.” 

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.” 

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality. 

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin. 

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek. 

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment. 

“You have a bathtub?” 

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you. 

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen. 

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you. 

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach. 

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life. 

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being. 

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again. 

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well. 

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face. 

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way. 

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.” 

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too. 

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly. 

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours. 

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?” 

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging. 

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.” 

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.” 

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his. 

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand. 

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this. 

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk. 

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness. 

He might have just found his ultimate weakness. 

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him. 

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily. 

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.” 

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city. 

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time. 

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe. 

“Did I remind you of it again?” 

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water. 

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?” 

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him. 

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser. 

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into. 

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts. 

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.” 

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it. 

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated. 

For now. 

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him. 

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.” 

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength. 

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.” 

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn��t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life. 

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.” 

You love him. 

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place. 

You love him. And it’s real. 

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around. 

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully. 

“Put it in.” 

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.” 

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.” 

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.” 

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.” 

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.  

This is happiness. 

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful. 

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child. 

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager. 

“Please, Jungkook, take me.” 

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath. 

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.” 

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you. 

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite. 

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.” 

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger. 

He’s starving. Terribly starving. 

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you. 

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight. 

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.” 

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there. 

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.” 

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.” 

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.” 

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation. 

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you. 

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you. 

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?” 

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound. 

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.” 

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him. 

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you. 

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this. 

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.” 

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him. 

“I want you.” 

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?” 

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.” 

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.” 

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity. 

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know. 

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love. 

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist. 

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.” 

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to. 

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him. 

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm. 

“That’s enough.” 

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all. 

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists. 

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.” 

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over. 

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased. 

Looks like you need another form of punishment. 

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will. 

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for. 

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes. 

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands. 

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?” 

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.” 

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you. 

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?” 

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger. 

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level. 

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him. 

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?” 

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him. 

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm. 

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?” 

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down. 

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there. 

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?” 

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.” 

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.” 

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart. 

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.” 

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair. 

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?” 

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night. 

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you. 

He overflows with a thrumming life. 

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?” 

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there. 

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?” 

You merely laugh through your nose. 

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you. 

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.” 

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again. 

“Good night,” you say. 

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[lint-beetle4]

Can u do a Macaque x Female reader smut. The scenario is that they had some history and dont want the group to know(but they eventually find out). One night, Macaque and reader talks and they let out how they felt ever since they split. " Like even though I was mad at u I still loved u" or like "When it rained I remembered how u liked it". Then they just make love knowing they missed each other.

Old Scars (Macaque x Fem!Reader Smut)

The Guardian and The Warrior were like the stars and the moon, their light reaching where The Sun's rays missed, casting the world in their protective glow

This story is as old as time itself, yet many failed to realize that as the sun and his shadow grew, the stars twinkled weakly compared to the light around them

So, as The Moon chased The Sun, the stars were left to glow in the dark sky, forever to wait for the cold moonlight to return with the sun's rays

You and Macaque were old, ancient in modern times

Of course, that meant you naturally found each other when empires were thriving and the world seemed big, gravitating towards the other as immortal beings

Yet, something happened between the two of you, something that led to you leaving Macaque's side and away from Wukong

In the modern age, you found him again, surrounded by new friends and old foes

You wanted to run from him, but you couldn't escape his ears. He still remembered what your heartbeat sounded like

So there you were, surrounded by strangers while two pairs of eyes looked at you with such melancholy--deep down, you wondered if death would set you free from the pain you've lived through

"So, Monkey King--this another enemy of yours?" Pigsy sighed, turning to you with a tired gaze. "Look, you're gonna fight, do it outside my shop, will ya?"

You averted your gaze from the surprised monkeys before you, shaking your head with a nervous smile. "No, no, I just smelled the food from your shop. I--err--wanted to buy some noodles."

Pigsy perked up, shock evident in his face. "Oh--Well, you have any preferences in your noodles?"

"No, this is my first time trying them if I'm honest." You chuckled, remembering the lands you've traveled during your life. "I'll have whatever you think is best."

"One house special then."

As you waited for the food, you felt more eyes on you, a group of familiar energies before you. Macaque looked away, almost hiding behind Wukong as a young man turned to the monkey.

"Monkey King?"

Wukong sighed, still looking at you with those pathetic eyes. "It's been so long. Where do I even begin?"

"By letting me eat my food," You shrugged, grabbing the hot bowl. "You haven't changed a bit, Great Sage. I see Macaque still hides behind you as well."

Macaque remained unresponsive to your quip, and you merely ate in spite of it. Wukong stepped closer to you. "Where have you been all this time? I couldn't find you anywhere after--"

"Sorry, but just--not here, Wukong." You set down your chopsticks, eyes boring into the shadow behind him. "I'm trying to eat."

A girl stepped up to you, eyes naively curious yet her voice confident and strong. "So, what your deal with those two?"

You fought back a laugh. "We just have--a complicated past is all. Macaque and I were a team, partners. But, I was too weak to stay by his side. I'm not powerful like him and Wukong."

"It wasn't like that." Macaque growled, glaring at you. "You never came back-- We needed you."

"You didn't need shit, Liu-Er." You stood up, broth sour on your tongue as you paid for you meal with a hefty tip. "Neither of you did."

You left the building quietly, returning to your home.

The presence of The Warrior was obvious to those who knew him--you were no exception. Turning your head, the glowing eyes of your shadow widened, Macaque emerging strangely quiet.

"You needed anything?"

Macaque sighed, a growl underneath his throat. "Look, I just--the argument--everything that happened I just--"

"You what?" You snapped, eyes glaring daggers into the agitated simian. "You didn't mean to leave me behind, fueled by your petty anger towards Wukong? You didn't mean to attack Wukong's master, leaving me alone--?"

"He left us first!"

"The moment Wukong was freed from that mountain-- the moment you laid eyes on him again, you went mad!" You shouted, voice quivering against your will. "You died for a cause that didn't exist. You died trying to send Wukong to his old ways."

Macaque practically snarled. "He killed me."

"I know." You whispered, hugging yourself tightly. "I tried to stop you. I tried to save you from yourself, and you pushed me away."

"You hurt me, Macaque." You shuddered. "And because I couldn't stop you, you got killed trying to be a monster."

"It's just like you to take the blame for something that doesn't involve you." Macaque scoffed. "The world has been brought to its knees more than once, but now you show up, spewing your self-pity?"

"You said it yourself--You didn't want to see me around anymore." You sighed. "Plus, Wukong wasn't too pleased that I didn't tell him about your plan. I didn't want to be a memory lingering over his head, so I simply just--left."

"Oh please, you know Wukong loves to see you." Macaque rolled his eyes. "...I didn't mean it."

"What?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I didn't mean to push you away...You were right," Macaque's gaze lowered, his shoulder tense. "I was a fool to try and convince Wukong away from his journey, and I paid the price for it."

"That day--When I left, before I--" Macaque sighed, gritting his teeth. "Before that, I was so afraid of losing you. I was angry at Wukong--at myself, but I was afraid you'd join Wukong and leave me behind."

Macaque reached out, gently grabbing your hand. "I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be forgotten."

"When Wukong told me everything," You smiled sadly. "It was raining... like that Sun had hidden itself away, allowing only darkness in the world. I was--I was--I felt like I lost everything that day."

"I didn't see Wukong again after that, and--" You swallowed harshly, tears emerging from the corner of your eyes. "Every time it rained, I knew I wouldn't see you again either."

You felt strong arms embrace you, squeezing you gently. "I came back."

"I saw--" You laughed. "You certainly made an entry with how much property damage you caused."

Macaque smiled fondly, nuzzling into your hair. "What did you expect? You know I have a knack for the dramatics."

"I missed you so much." You kissed the shadow demon's cheek. "I could never stop loving you, y'know."

Macaque cupped your face, pecking your lips. "Neither could I. I'm so glad to have a second chance with you in it."

In a flash, Macaque had taken you to your bedroom, kisses and light nips littering your neck.

You chuckled beneath the increasingly desperate monkey--only you could get him so worked up with a few words. Macaque tore off your clothes--actually ripping a hole in one of them to your dismay-- hands fondling your body, squeezing your breasts as another traced circles into your hips.

You jolted as Macaque's teeth lightly bit around your nipple, tongue soothing you quickly. The shadow monkey was meticulous in showing his dedication to you, biting at you collarbones and shoulders and rubbing at the soft skin in your inner-thigh.

You gasped lightly as his finger entered your pussy, stroking the inner walls with pressure that you out of breath in an instant. Macaque entered another finger, stretching you slightly as his scissored the two appendages, curling up to find the sensitive spot that made you moan loudly.

His hand drilled into you, fingers digging into your walls while another hand help your hips down. You grinded against hand, practically screaming his name as you felt his tongue lap at your clit, his mouth sucking it lightly.

Your body felt light, drifting through the waves of pleasure that were rising in your core. Feeling your pussy tighten against the fingers that abused your g-spot, you whimper lightly, hips trying to grind deeper into them.

Macaque's voice was by your ear, familiar shadows stimulating your clit and hugging your body, "Go on, cum for me. Let me hear that beautiful voice of yours."

You moaned deeply, feeling your orgasm wash over you almost painfully. You breathed heavily as Macaque pet your thighs comfortingly. You looked at lover, seeing his flushed face gleam at you warmly.

Eyes drifting, you saw how painfully hard Macaque was. Lifting your heavy body, you laid Macaque on his back, crawling over him as your second wind slowly came to you.

"I've craved you for so long, my shade." You smiled, stroking Macaque's cock as he looked at you with wide eyes. "Eternity could pass, and I'll still crave you more."

[pokechbi]

Healing Simon (Chapter 3)

NSFW (18+) MDNI !!!

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Psychiatrist!femreader

WC: 2.3k!

made Simon in this smut scene a little *desperate*, which is something i'm fairly new to so lmk how u guys like it! T-T

enjoy lovies ! <3

Your back presses against the glass of the car window, the cold seeping through the fabric of your jacket. Nothing could pull you from it, or from him. Simon’s mouth was delicious. You didn’t expect it to be anything less, but hot damn. His tongue snaking its way into your mouth, your lips wrapping around it and eliciting a groan from his throat. He slowed his pace, allowing you to suck on his tongue with an unmistakable ferocity. You wondered just how long it would be until you were bobbing your head against the hardening cock between his legs instead. He presses his leg between your thighs, silently giving you the okay to grind your clothed heat against him.

You do just that, a moan escaping from between your lips, the contact sending a soaring heat to your core as you move your hips. You’re practically sitting on his lap now, the wetness seeping through your panties and onto his jeans. You relish in the taste of him, the smell of him and the pure, raw and sexual energy flowing between the both of you. You whine, frustrated at the need for your release.

He separates from the kiss, dragging his lips against yours painfully slow. “So eager to cum already, love?”

You feel his breath, hot against your lips and taunting you as you inhale his scent deeply. You look up at him with pleading eyes, your lips parted and mouth left empty and cold, breathing heavily. You see the smirk spread across his perfect lips, glossy, wet, and puffy from the vigorous kissing. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and brings his hand up to your face. You watch it as he runs his thumb across your cheek, trailing across your jawline until he reaches your chin. His thumb presses against your lips, big enough to shush your labored breathing. You smile, still aware of your ass basically sat atop his leg.

A car passes you by, honking loudly at the scene of you and Simon eye fucking each other against the door of your car. He pulls his balaclava back over his mouth swiftly, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pulls his leg from between your thighs. He looked down at it, a smug chuckle leaving his lips.

“What a pretty mess you’ve made” He purrs against your ears.

Your heart thumped so hard, it felt like it’d break a hole through your chest and run away.

The honking snapped you out of the moment, the realization dawning on you. You had kissed your patient. And not only did you kiss him, but you practically dry humped his leg in public while he fucked your mouth with his tongue. You look down at the wet spot on his jeans, something else stirring inside you. Guilt? No. Arousal? Maybe.

You smile to yourself, partly embarrassed, partly wishing the mess was made on his face instead.

“I’m not usually that eager during a kiss” You chuckle.

“Well now I’m curious to see how much more eager you can get.” He teases, his fingers trailing against your hips, his voice lowering to nearly a whisper. You smile, pushing your guilty thoughts aside. You raise your hands, sliding them under his shirt. You feel his stomach tense, the heat of his scarred skin warming your cold hands as you look into his eyes. He lets out a breath, one that seemed he was holding as soon as you touched him. He steps closer, closing the gap between you.

“Let me show you, Simon..” You lower your tone, the heat simmering in your core rising up to coat your voice in pure need. You see his eyes slant as he smirks, the smile falling softly as you touch him.

You raise your hands up, pressing your nails into his skin softly, dragging them down his stomach. You reach his belt, tugging at it as you take your bottom lip between your teeth in a suppressed grin. He lets his arms hang loose, letting you tease him. Simon didn’t strike you as the risky type, or one to do things like this in a public place. So you decide to press him until he breaks. If he’ll break. You unzip his jacket, watching as his muscular chest rises and falls slowly.

You press the button to unlock your car door, opening it with one hand while you hook the other through his belt loop with your pointer finger. You fall into the backseat, pulling him towards you. He ducks as he gets in, sitting in the seat next to you. His towering frame makes your car look tiny. Simon is just so masculinely…there. Every cell in your body screamed to jump his bones, but you persisted. As he adjusted himself, closing the door behind him, peering at him while kneeling on the seat next to him. You watched him, your eyes trailing down his jaw and chest, until your gaze reaches the growing shaft trapped in his jeans.

You smile to yourself, reaching over and tugging his jacket off. He helps you, leaning over to kiss you softly as you drag it down his broad shoulders. Your lips wrap around each other’s hungrily, soft grunts and moans filling the air. Once his jacket is off, you stare at his arms in awe. They’re covered in a sleeve of tattoos, all the way down to his wrist. Some decipherable, some not. You run your fingers over them, the hairs on his arm prickling at your touch. He parts from the kiss softly, eyeing you. Your fingers run over a scar or two, the muscle in his arms tensing as you get near them. But he stays, watching you with curious eyes as you touch him.

“Got a story for each of ‘em, if you want to hear sometime.” He says so quietly, you almost didn’t hear. You smile at him, running your hand down his arm, landing in his hand. You interlace your fingers with his, noticing how he squeezes your hand in his.

“I’d love to” He chuckles lowly at your reply. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you toward his lap. You stop him, placing a finger against his chest. You smile teasingly, backing up as you get on your knees. He chuckles, his hand grabbing his shaft through his pants, adjusting himself. He grunts as he squeezes it, a pained look in his eyes. You kiss his chest through his shirt, making your way up to his throat, licking and softly biting the skin exposed between his shirt and his balaclava. His stubble is rough on your tongue, the delicious smell of his cologne wafting through your nose. He throws his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, the anticipation killing him inside.

You smile, kissing your way back down to his stomach, feeling the firmness of his abdomen through the fabric of his shirt against your lips. He reaches up, placing a hand softly on the back of your head. He entangles his hand in your hair, following the flow of your head. He rubs your scalp, running his fingers through your hair, and twirling strands of your hair around his fingers. He lets you tease him, soft grunts and groans caressing your ears.

When you finally reach his belt buckle, he looks down at you, his eyes lidded with frustration, his breathing heavy and labored. You suppress your smile, keeping eye contact as you slowly undo his belt. You swiftly undo the button on his jeans, unzipping them slowly. He pushes his hips forward, a desperate look in his eyes. You move your head back, with just an inch to spare between your mouth and his clothed cock. You hook your fingers in his belt buckles, pulling his jeans down while his bottom is off the seat. You drag them down his legs, never breaking eye contact as they fall around his ankles. You lean forward, rubbing your hands up his legs, trailing them inside his thighs. You smell the arousal coming off of his cock, noticing a small wet spot on the gray boxers tightly hugging his thick frame. You place a soft kiss on it, rubbing your tongue against the wet fabric. He huffs, throwing his head back against the seat.

“Please, baby.”

Your ears perk up, the sound of Simon becoming so sexually frustrated because of you..it stirs your core. You smile, not responding with words. Instead, you take the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to expose the head of his cock. You watch it in awe, swollen and ready. You lean down, running your tongue around it, taking it between your lips and sucking softly.

Simon moans roughly, groaning with a hint of a whine in his voice. You continue teasing the head of his shaft, his hands slowly pulling his boxers down more and more. You pretend you don’t notice, taking more and more of him between your lips as he pulls them down. You help him, dragging them down his legs until they reach his ankles. He huffs in relief as you take him in your hand. Hot to the touch, hard, and huge. The size of it makes you pulse from the inside out, the thought of him filling you fully, forcing you to take every inch until you adjust to him and love it, begging him to never stop.

“Like what you see, love?” He says, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. You look up at him, a wide grin on your face as you nod your head yes. He smiles back down at you, evident in his eyes as his gaze flits between his cock and your lips. You maintain eye contact as you take him into your mouth again, your mouth beginning to water at the taste of him. You wrap your hand around the base of him, taking as much as you can into your mouth. The tip hits the back of your throat, with a considerable amount of length to spare between your lips and your hand. You bob your head, allowing your wet lips to drag against his cock, the warmth of him making your salivary glands weep. You begin to feel saliva drip down your fingers, dripping down to his balls. You let go of him, rubbing his balls in your hand instead. His hips buck forward as you do this, a strained groan ringing into the air.

“F-fuck..don’t stop” He pants.

You weren’t planning on it. But you don’t say that. Good girls don’t talk with their mouths full, do they?

You look into his eyes, watching him as he admires you. You slowly push your head forward, his cock filling your mouth with every inch you take. Your cheeks puff out as you gag, feeling the tip of his cock stretch your throat. Your eyelids flutter closed, tears beginning to well as you try your hardest to breathe out of your nose. Simon softly places a hand on the back of your head, keeping you in place. You don’t fight it, the feeling of his shaft growing harder a telltale sign that this is not the time to stop. Your back arches as you relax it, trying to angle yourself comfortably.

“I’m close, love..” He says, his voice now higher pitched, a throaty whine in his tone. He lets you up, and you don’t waste a second before you massage his balls again, bobbing your head at a steady pace as you feel his legs tremble under you. You wrap your other hand around the base of his cock, stroking him as you suck the rest of him.

“Fuckkkk- '' He lets out a strained groan as you feel him twitch in your mouth, pushing himself back into your throat. He grabs the sides of your head, bobbing it up and down on his cock as he thrusts upwards. Your eyes spill tears, your nose running and your lips swollen as he finishes inside your throat. Hot spurts of cum threaten to overflow the tight fit, as his chest rises and falls.

He pulls your head up slowly, bringing you face to face with him. Your eyes lidded with lust, you stare at him with a lazy close-lipped smile on your face. He presses a thumb against your lips, his eyes grazing over your features.

“Swallow, baby.” You do as you're told, swallowing the stray drops of his seed pooling on your tongue.

“Good girl.”

…

You sit in your passenger's side seat as Simon drives back to your office. You frantically fix your makeup in the sun visor, trying to make it look like you didn’t just deepthroat your patient. You notice Simon glance at you from the driver’s side, a cloud of satisfaction surrounding him. He reaches over, placing a hand on your thigh. You smile at the gesture.

As he pulls into the parking lot on base, you flip the sun visor back up, satisfied with your makeup again. You smooth your hair on your head, smirking to yourself. You take a minute, you and Simon watching each other with shit-eating grins on your faces. Before you reach for the door handle, he grabs your hand.

“Same time next week?”

You bite your lip, looking him up and down. You’ll never get used to seeing him like this, a stark contrast to the stoic soldier you never thought you’d crack.

[castieltrash1]

may the gods bless you 😭👆🏻

yeah im literally fine w anything about ramsay especially if it involves the X cross thing and him being...not so nice 🙏🏻🙏🏻

ADORE UR WRITING BTW AND HAVE A GREAT DAY 💓

i didn't know how dark u wanted me to go so i tried to balance it out !!! :0 and TY!!!

ramsay bolton x gn!reader; smut, ambiguous relationship (can be read as cnc predator/prey or darker dub/noncon) bondage, mentions of scarring, hair-pulling, general roughness idk sorry <3

ramsay doesn’t like doing this, he reminds you. he’d rather not use the cross at all, preferring the way you fight against him, clawing at his skin like a feral cat and jamming your knee into his side. he likes knowing when you’ve finally given in, your stillness under him a result of submission and not the leather straps keeping you bound. the cross spoils the fun he gets from fucking you, but it’s a necessary evil. you like to test your limits with him -- it’s only natural. he knows there’s still a flickering ember deep inside you -- a remnant of the fiery spark that initially drew him in. thankfully, he finds it just intriguing enough to keep you alive, though your meaning of that word has changed since meeting him...

the ache hurts less each time, your limbs growing used to the awkward stretched pose. it almost feels better that way, though you’d never admit it. he keeps you there for hours at a time, pulling out whatever he wants, whatever punishment fits your disobedience: cries, screams, begs, orgasms, promises, drool, tears -- the list goes on. he takes and takes and takes, and you can feel it for days after, an ache that only grows more familiar as the cold months draw by.

your stomach churns at the sight of it, the haunting x-shaped shadow it casts as hot torches flicker overhead. his blunt nails dig into your scalp as he fists your hair, yanking you toward the contraption with an annoyed growl. when your eyes meet his, there’s nothing there. beady black pupils flicker over you, and then he’s shoving you against the wood, loose splinters poking your tender skin.

“one would start to think you like this kind of treatment,” ramsay dryly remarks, jaw twitching as you let him tighten the buckles around your hands with little more than a whimper. his breath is hot against your neck when he leans in, baring his teeth. “guess i’ll have to reach between your legs and find out.”

+ ramsay loves leaving scars on you. it doesn’t matter how, as long as the look and feel are there. he prefers overlapping lines, and isn’t above branding you with his name or sigil. it doesn’t matter if every person in the seven kingdoms already knows you’re his, he wants to shove it in their face until they squirm from the depravity of your devotion, staring at you with a mix of sympathy and disgust. even when he’s in a ‘nice’ mood, you’re not leaving his bedchambers without an assortment of hickeys, bite marks, and finger-shaped bruises littering your skin.

game of thrones weekend (reqs open!)

[lisannastraussisanangel]

Oooh body horror of dragon slayers love to see what u come up with 😈 ~

You get me! I'm so excited to do this!

Natsu's veins look like actual lava. Most times its very faint and you can't see it but when he gets mad they glow

His blood is so hot that it burns through things. He got a nose bleed once and melted a table

If he uses dragon force too often, his skin starts to blister and peel like super bad burns.

He also has a ton of burn scars. He didn't build up a tolerance to heat overnight and almost all of his body has rough, painful looking scars (little Natsu was always wrapped in bandages)

Gajeel's dead skin is straight iron and can give people tiny cuts. He wears a ton of lotion because any bit of roughness can hurt the people close to him

This is also the case for cuts on his body. The edges of the wounds sharpen and make it almost impossible to get stitches or bandages. He's also injured several doctors

His eyes and skin end up yellowing with age because of the extreme amount of iron in his body

His skin is either insanely cold or hot. If he gets too hot his skin turns bright red and sizzles. Too cold and he can actually freeze over (also yes, he rusts especially around his fingers and toes)

If Wendy uses her Dragon Force too much, she starts sprouting little feather nubs in her normal form. She has to pull them out with tweezers. It's very painful

Overtime her face and hands develop muscle spasms and tremors. She has a hard time controlling her expressions and gets to the point where she can't even hold items because her hands shake so violently

When she uses too much magic, her skin starts to turn blue from lack of oxygen. She has passed out from it before but it's very rare. The blue is almost every time and her lips are now constantly blue

Her finger nails are black/brown from the lack of oxygen in her blood. Overtime her finger tips turn the same color, but the nails start soon after her first dragon force (she hid it by painting her nails but had to tell others once her actual fingers started to turn)

Laxus' veins are also insane. They mostly look crazy like lighting bolts across his entire body. Drawing blood from him is a nightmare. Especially because his veins are incredibly thin too

He also has a shit ton of burn scars. More so on his hands and arms but also the inside of his mouth is incredibly scarred because of use of his magic

His entire back is covered in those lightning bolt scars too. They are not super visible but if you get up close it's insane

Erik's blood is straight acid. Just a papercut is enough to seriously injure someone. It's so strong that he can't even be operated on.

His skin is super thin. Like if you shine a strong flashlight on him, you can see all his veins and stuff

Because Sting's entire body makes light, he has like an insane amount of sun damage. His skin is very rough, cracked, and often has random burn spots scattered around his body

Rogue straight up feels like a dead body. When he was a kid, he looked like one too. Too skinny, bones popping out, super pale, and cold. As he got older he learned how to bulk up, but his magic still takes it's toll on his body

His pupils are always super big. Like you can barely see his eye color because his pupils are massive. Because of this, his eyes look absolutely massive

[stephaniebrownslover]

My Immortal(Worst Fanfic Ever) From Toby's POV

We're in an offical cringe fight with @skullcfusher I told you to not push me because I would do this and post it. Now eat it up.

AN: Special fangz (get it, coz Im goffik) 2 my gf (ew not in that way) raven, bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da story and spelling. U rok! Justin ur da luv of my deprzzing life u rok 2! MCR ROX!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hi my name is Toby Rogers Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have emo style raven hair (that’s how I got my cheek scar) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-neck and stone cold brown eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Greg Heffley (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a vampire proxy but my teeth are straight and white and I hate Slenderhoe. I have pale gray skin. I’m also a witch bitch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I’m in the seventh year (I’m seventeen). I’m an emo (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I wasn't very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Toby!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Jeff Da Griller!

“What’s up Jeffery?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AN: IS it good? PLZ tell me fangz!