#so i took the matter into my own hands and wrote it myself

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[cupcakeslushie]

I’ve been debating on saying something because I have a lot of thoughts about this, but I just want to say a quick (maybe not so quick) thought…

“Comfort Character” is not a declaration of ownership. Just because you relate to a character deeply, and see yourself in them, does not mean you get to go around policing the stories that get told regarding them, or the how they’re depicted in said stories.

I wanna be clear. Im not saying you can’t pose genuine questions and have perfectly reasonable discussions about the intricacies of hard topics. In fact, fiction can even help make those discussions easier to digest by lowering the stakes, because there are not any actual stakes when none of it is real.

Unfortunately, I’ve been seeing the entire opposite. People taking stories that may make them “uncomfy”, and declaring that they’ve now decided they are taking it personally, to near obsessive levels. You are not the only one allowed to play with these characters. It is a huge sandbox, and these toys are mass produced enough for everyone to have their own doll to do with whatever they’d like.

I get you might see yourself in a character, but that doesn’t give you the right to go around sending death threats just because someone wrote, or drew your current blorbo in an unfavorable light. Prioritizing some cluster of lines and colors over the mental health and safety of actual real human beings, is worse than whatever fictional, moral “atrocity” that you think you’re championing against. You only end up sounding just like the people calling for book banning in schools.

You are not the character. You are not being hurt. The character is not even being hurt, because they do not in fact, exist to actually experience any of the pain creators are putting them through. And most importantly, you have no claim on how other people entertain themselves with said character. Because that is what these characters are. Entertainment. They can be used in good or bad stories. If you don’t like how a creator is using them. Move on. Don’t send death threats or attacks.

Block and filter your tags.

I have triggers, but that is my issue to control and maintain. It is appreciated when steps are taken by creators to help me avoid the things that trigger me, but I don’t wish death and pain on anyone who doesn’t view the world through the same lens as myself, and might not have considered my own personal feelings on the matter. My feelings of unease or anxiety from coming into contact with my own triggers, might be valid, but initiating an attack on a creator, because I took a personal offense to their story, is not. I do not outright assume that something was created with me and my tastes in mind.

Also, this is not aimed at any one person. This is a rampant issue that I have seen first hand, going back all the way to more than a year ago. I’ve seen it happen in multiple fandoms, but as I spend most of my time in the Rise fandom, that’s where I see the worst of it. I’ve received attacks, I know other creators have received attacks, and if this keeps up, creators will just stop wanting to share anything at all.

I also need to emphasize, I’m not mad. This is not a lashing out. This is just a frustrating and hurtful trend to constantly witness, when creators are putting their own heart, time, and energy into creating intriguing and complex works of all kinds in order to broaden the beauty of this fandom, and they’re getting anonymous messages to kill themselves.

Please think about the real life person behind the art and stories you are consuming, instead of prioritizing the fictional comfort of made up characters inside the story, that will in actuality, never have any opinions on what’s being done to them. Because they do not exist.

[simp-ly-writes]

What Would You Do?

─────── · · A The Comment Section (spin-off / pt.4.5)

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: In this standalone part, everyone finds out how Spencer seems to know you better than you know yourself and the comments go wild over it. It's still recommended that you read the series for the full effect.

─ · · TAGS: standalone, gender-neutral pronouns, social media au, attempt at comedy, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART ONE | PART FIVE

─ · · A/N: thank you so much to the wonderful @sserendiipiity for this idea and sorry it took so long to write this! All original images belong to their owners, my work is my own. Asks are open for Smosh!

─────── · ·

Being in front of such a small crew was refreshing besides the hundreds of workers you were starting to get used to for your up-and-coming movie entrance. Still to this day, you didn't know how you landed such a part with all of your acting history coming from youtube but nevertheless as Courtney called you all to take your positions; a newfound anxiety found its way into your mind. This episode was solemnly focused on you and how well your fellow cast members and friends knew you.

Soon the heat of a thousand LEDs made you start to sweat as you smiled at the camera and introduced this weeks episode, "Hey guys, welcome to what would (name) do. And here today I am with my friends Trevor, Amanda, and of course, Spencer. Yes, we have been reading your comments everyone-"

The crew in the background began to laugh as Spencer shook his head with a small smile, foot taping yours from underneath the table as you waited for everyone to finish. "-and Spencer and I will be going back to our regularly scheduled content together. But thats besides the point! I am going to be reading these question cards that I totally wrote and your goal is to guess my answer. So if I said, 'Who do you think if the last person I messaged?" You all would answer..."

Putting the cards down quickly and going for your phone, you rolled your eyes at yourself for seeing who, as always was at the top of your history. Head now in your hands- knowing how quickly the fans would clip this next moment. Courtney began to count down behind the camera, voice trying to hide her giggles as everyone knew the answer right away.

Picking yourself up and trying not to make eye contact with anyone at the table, Courtney didn't even get a chance to hit one as both Trevor and Amanda have already flipped over their boards, arrowheads pointing towards Spencer with large grins strapped across their faces.

"And why do you think its you Spencer" you ask, not even having to look to look as you stare into the camera with a straight face. "Because we are each others conscious?" Spencer answers matter-of-factly, the smile he sends you breaks your character as you announce one point each before moving on to the next question.

"Okay, If I could learn any skill and be super good at it, what would it be?" You take a second after reading the card, unsure of your own answer as you look around the room for any ideas. Peering down the table, everyone seems to be writing a lot as you tap your marker lid against the table. Courtney begins to count down once more as Trevor rapidly erases his answer and writes down a new one as you raise your brow curiously before marking down your own.

"Let's see these answers, because I am unsure myself."

Trevor goes first out of the line, "I had a few ideas but I think I remember talking to you about being a better driver... that or being a quicker reader."

"I completely forgot about that- I would agree, being able to read and remember scripts super quickly would be awesome. Let's see what everyone else wrote down though, Spencer?"

"Well I said that you want to learn everything about music. I know that you always have wanted for some groups to make one more album or for others to pick up their sound. But what if you could make your own music just how you want it to sound?"

"Fuuucckkk, thats so good!" you moan out, trying to imagine everything you could make before your eyes flash back open in horror. You clasp your hands over your mouth before throwing your head back laughing as Spencer shoves your shoulder, "Not in front of the cameras!" He points dramatically at every single one as you grip his shoulder trying to calm yourself as he two joins your laughter.

Amanda had erased her answer by the time you two caught your breaths as Courtney asked off-camera why. "This game is what you kids would say, rigged. Like what am I going to say thats topping thing one and thing two here? But I was going to say skateboarding," Amanda responds in a lighthearted tone.

"Skateboarding?" Trevor asks, eyebrow raised as you nod your head, curious to learn the answer. "I don't know! I just thought it would be something cool that you would like to be really skilled at."

"I mean... it would be pretty cool. I could be all Tony Hawk Skate Park all around the office," you voice, picturing a future video idea before giving points out to Spencer.

─────── · ·

The video continues as expected, your fellow cast mates mocking annoyance and play-fighting amongst one another as Spencer nails question after question, often answering better than the answers you come up with for yourself about yourself.

At some point, Amanda and Trevor had tackled Spencer to the ground, begging him for answers as he held his hands, glasses askew as you sat and watched from your chair, tears stringing down your face as you hunched over, your stomach hurting from laughing so much as Courtney yelled for break, you all taking your fourty minutes to grab drinks and snacks at the cart.

"You do know how crazy the comments are going to be underneath the video, "OMG I ALWAYS KNEW SPENCER AND (NAME) WERE MARRIED'" Amanda mocks in an obnoxious girly tone as you shake your head, knowing her words to be all true true as Spencer leans down and steals a bite from for sandwich. You glare playfully at him as he turns around chewing, going to find Alex to ask how the other shoots are going back at Smosh Games.

"Well, its better than the hate. I thought I was actually going to get fired or killed if we didn't release that video soon enough," you respond a bit tensely as Trevor flicked your forehead. "Hey, none of that, (name). We all would've made sure it never came down to that."

Amanda nods in agreement as Spencer rejoins you both. He places his chin on your shoulder, asking you quietly, "How're you doing?"

"Better," you respond with a small smile, taking in his equally tired expression as you ask him the same question. He hums out positively before leading you both back in front of the camera.

As soon the red dot starts to flicker in your face once more and before you can finish the question, Amanda had already stood up, chair screeching against the floors as the table shook from her enthusiasm as she screamed out her answer. "Describe what you think I would wear tomorrow-"

"SOMETHING OF SPENCERS AND JEANS, where are my points?! Take THAT SPENCER!" Amanda dances for the camera, fingers flipping the man off as you hide behind the board, giving her the point as no one else bothers to answer.

─────── · ·

"And for our second to last question today..." you all were starting to grow loopy. After a full day of shoot after shoot, you all started screaming out random things at one another, sometimes without context and the outline of a gameshow had gradually turned into a shouting fest. "...Fuck, Marry, Kill-"

"SPENCER, SPENCER, SPENCER," Alex shouted from off-camera, chest raised proud of his throw-back answer to an earlier episode as Amanda wheezed out, Trevor throwing his board for the bit, "that was going to be my answer too!"

Spencer's ears had flared bright red as he started off into the distance. You hide your face in your hands once more, shoulders rising and falling with silent laughs before managing to read the rest of the actual question left.

─────── · ·

By the end of the shoot, Spencer had one as he raised your hands together cheering before taking a bow to the crew and then the camera. "Well, to no one's surprise, Spencer won todays episode but I have to say, you all surprised me with your answers. It feels so good to know I have all of you as my friends. And to all of those watching at home, be sure to check back in the next few days to find the new content we have cooking up. Bye!" You all wave towards the camera's before the screen shuts of to black.

─────── · ·

A few weeks later...

🔔 Smosh Pit just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

What Would (name) Do?

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 132k | Dislike | ... 8.29M subscribers 430k views 1 day ago you'll never guess who wins this episode! click to read more

3,333 Comments

username01 1 day ago The team was COOKING on this video. username11 1 day ago Well, this is one way to shut us all up and goddam it I'll take it all! username44 1 day ago Anyone else had to pause this video multiple times to look at the camera in their room and scream BC this was TOO much for little ol'me to handle. username13 12 hours ago "You'll never guess who wins," - yeah right. ▼ 50 replies ↳ username88 4 hours ago IKR? The bigger shock would have been if Spencer was banned from participating hahaha. ↳ username20 12 hours ago Kinda feel like he should've been. I mean the cast was taking it great but it must get kinda annoying how he knows every answer. Some even seemed like (name) didn't even know themselves! ↳ username54 30 minutes ago This is concrete evidence to the (yourshipname) case, these two idiots belong together. username73 12 hours ago I am salivating over all of the edits I know will come from this video. Where is @ (yourshipname)updates when you need them? ▼ 1 reply ↳ (yourshipname)updates ✓ 10 hours ago I am here and am happily overworked! We are eating good folks! username52 30 minutes ago Trevor and Amanda pinning Spencer to the ground with (name) cry-laughing in the background was not a meme format I thought I needed. I can't wait for the next Who Meme'd It!! username14 1 day ago "Spencer, Spencer, Spencer" - Alex Tran 2024 username02 just now I honestly thought they would all be quicker to name Spencer as (name)'s lest message. Like whenever they are not actively filming I swear I see them smiling at their phones in the background of videos. username05 23 hours ago (name) and Spencer: try not to fall in love. difficulty? impossible. username66 15 minutes ago Amanda calling the game "rigged" was so good. BC let's all be real here, this was fan service at its finest and i'm not even upset about it. username70 1 day ago The fact that they kept (name)'s: "Fuuucckkk, thats so good!" in is shocking to say the least. These edits about to be straight WILD. username23 14 hours ago There's literally to much to comment about, I am going insane. username80 1 hour ago "SOMETHING OF SPENCERS AND JEANS, where are my points?! Take THAT SPENCER!" Amanda has confirmed what we all believe people, let us all thank her in the comments below \/ ▼ 44 replies ↳ username54 30 minutes ago Yes, thank you dear Amanda!! ↳ username90 30 minutes ago I love confirmation bias. ↳ username54 just now I love how Spencer wasn't even mad. Like bro was damn smug about that fact while (name) was blushing so hard thinking none of us would ever catch on XD

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: I am kinda obsessing over (name) and Spencer...

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios

[hoseoksluna]

RUSE | jjk

pairing: yandere!jungkook x strategy!oc (feat. police officer!taehyung)

genre: smut; angst

rating: 18+

summary: due to his reasons, jungkook wants to reciprocate what you've done to him, but what he doesn't know that you're always one step ahead.

word count: 6.2k

pin: strategy

warnings: dark content not to be romanticized — stalking, manipulation, gaslighting, smoking, stray animal, mentions of cum eating, trauma, ptsd, depression, metal anguish, fear, anxiety, male masturbation, disgust, post nut clarity, gun, mentions of female oral sex and sexual intercourse, mention of rape, lack of hygiene.

FORMAL WARNING: jeon jungkook written in this work is a figment of my imagination and does not reflect the living person and his family.

luna’s note: oh my babies, i didn't have much time to write throughout the week because i've been so busy, stressed out and tired. i wrote this rly fast today, but it actually wrote itself. i myself was surprised when i wrote the end of this chapter and i need to talk about it, so hit my askbox as soon as you finish reading. ENJOY MWAH. <3

past chapters: STRATEGY ; SCHEME ; masterlist

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster,

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

@rrosiitas @KookieNooki @cristinamajadera @Chaelvrx @mimikoba

@junecat18 @deepops79 @notsevenwithyou @futuristicenemychaos

@psychicjellyfishalpaca @Kooloveys

Jungkook didn’t sleep a wink that night.

As much as his hands yearned to clean you off his cum under the hot steam of a shower and his lips to kiss yours in order to shift the moment into an atmosphere of tenderness, he didn’t do any of those things. Like a person bereft of any blood, any worth and any purpose in life, he stood there, outside of the bubble of your self-indulgence while you consumed, quietly in your frantic pursuit, the sticky beads of his passion for you, which he splattered your body with. Your gaze didn’t wander off to see where he’s gone—you weren’t concerned about his empty hands at all. Instead, you stared at your own, licking them off, and then, like him, you got off the bed and hit the shower without so much as glancing back at him. 

You didn’t even leave the door open. If you had done that, he would’ve crawled on his hands and knees like a needy cub and pawed at your legs just to get a droplet of water, cascading from your skin, upon the bottom of his lip. But you didn’t. You didn’t care for him at all. And because of that, there was nothing left for him to do than to pick up his clothes, get dressed mid-walk, and slam the door behind him so harshly that he felt the reverberation of his rage crawling across the muscles in his arms like spiders. Back and forth, back and forth—like the motions of his cock that slid in and out of you just a moment ago. 

He didn’t hope you heard it. Hell, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind because as soon as his finger pressed the elevator button, it was burdened by a certain memory that penetrated it like a body of water breaking open the wooden constitution of a boat. While what he felt for you as an individual in that moment was something akin to hatred, what suddenly budded in his soul for that swollen pearl of lasciviousness and for that tight hole below, which leaked so much liquid sweetness that he still felt it coating his inflexibly stiffened dick… it unequivocally contradicted it. In his heart, he knew that the dreams flooded him because he had fought them and repressed them for so long, but the logic of the matter was useless to him. The overlay of your pussy eclipsing, at last, over his mind, was so cosmic, dotted with the stars of your arousal, and so paralyzing that he didn’t know when the doors had opened and when they had closed, when the transportation took him down and when the air finally hit his lungs. His fingers didn’t rummage through his pockets for his cigarettes—he stared at absolutely nothing while perfectly seeing your cunt that he fucked. Yes, cunt. The word that you deserve after what you had done to him. The shiny folds. The clit that he rubbed, licked and sucked until you gave him your orgasm. And the tight hole that falsely welcomed him behind the pretense of adorably needing him. 

The other half of him, which was ruled by his anger, was heightened. He clenched his fist, yearning to express that emotion laced with his frustration through the act of breaking something. He saw red, but he saw pink too—the pinkness of your flesh, and within that second he perceived that he wasn’t an amalgamation of you and him, but that he was a mere dusky particle of chaos, a bundle of confusion, lack and abandonment. Unloved, unneeded in the right way, fruitless and purposeless, an instrument of lust—a spear hardness that got you off, and nothing else. 

Jungkook was fuming, but at the same time he relived the memory of him rubbing his nose on your clit while his tongue slipped in and out of you, and the split drew his tears to his waterline with such harsh, painful hardness that he closed his eyes just to soften the pain. And had it not been for the bright streams of his car headlights digging into his eyelids, he would’ve sleepwalked like this home. 

He had left the door to his driver seat open, and the edges felt soothingly cold as he gripped them for support while getting inside. He didn’t close them because he longed, now that he was partly outside of the dream, for the equally cold spring air to filter through his lungs. Soak up the heaviness and the nicotine he’d shared with you, exchange it for absolute lightness. The tears burned behind his eyes, pushed against them, and they would pour out and spurt down onto his cheeks, had a small animal not made a soft noise somewhere below him. 

A shivering, sodden ginger cat placed its round paws against the threshold of the car. 

At first, Jungkook nearly soundlessly gasped. A desperate, yet saddened huff of air escaped his mouth as he looked down and saw that fragile body freezing due to the aftermath of the rain. And then, his heart ached so much that he picked up the animal with careful hands—as if he were handling a baby, he slid his hands under the armpits of the cat and cradled it to his chest. From this close proximity, he studied the state of the furry friend while he caressed its head. And upon noting the scratches across its brow and the bridge of its nose and feeling the jagged bones of its ribs under his hand, Jungkook discerned that it was as broken as him. 

A friend in need, indeed. His pain multiplied, and the dam of his emotions burst apart. Like the debris fell, he fell as well. Burying his head into the wet fur of the still shivering cat, he wept. He wept for its misfortune and low living conditions, and he wept for his own, too. There weren’t many differences between them. And the more he wept, the more the cat settled down. His bitter tears warmed its cold body, eased up its shivers, and it rested against his shoulder and the crook of his neck until it began to purr. And then the services of utmost kindness and love were exchanged as the cat’s feline murmurs of comfort soothed him and paused the cascade of his tears. As if telling him—don’t cry anymore, you have me. 

Evocatively, Jungkook sensed that he bonded with the cat. More than he ever bonded with you, and something whispered to him that the furry friend would never treat him the way you did. 

A torrent of logic surged through his mind. While he may have picked up the cat in a moment of weakness because he needed the relief from the emotional pain he experienced, it didn’t mean he was quite willing to let go of it and let it go back to its old life of desolation. The cat clung to his neck, and that alone gave him the strength to reach over and close the car door shut. To turn on the heater, not for him because he was burning under his clothes, but for the poor animal. Abel Tesfaye’s voice boomed through the dark interior of his car, but Jungkook turned down the volume until he eventually shut it off entirely. He longed for the cat to be undisturbed, especially if it alone longed for him back. 

He couldn’t get it off his neck, and that alluded that it was his now. 

He wanted to place it on the passenger seat beside him. Roll the seatbelt over its small body and clip it shut, securing its safety. The cat, however, would not budge, and would actually sink its claws into his throat, ever so gently, if he would try, after the millionth time, to pry it off. It wasn’t until he was halfway home that the kitty began to softly snore and, using all the tenderness he was capable of, Jungkook used the opportunity to place it on his lap. The cops didn’t see, his phone didn’t ring—all went smoothly. 

You didn’t haunt his mind. 

He carried the cat upstairs, holding its butt for support as he diligently put it back to its original position on his shoulder so it wouldn’t notice it was moved. It slept so soundly that it didn’t stir awake even when he set it down in the corner of his couch and covered it with the only blanket he had. He wondered how long it had searched for food that it was so exhausted, and the tears rushed back up his eyes with their bitterly hot temperature that he couldn’t handle. He caressed its head again, kneeling on the carpet in front of the couch, careful not to touch the wounds it had. Thought about how he was going to take it to the vet the next morning. He had saved up enough for your future to now spend it on the animal, and he didn’t feel one ounce of regret that you were never going to see that money. 

The kitty would, and it would appreciate him for it. 

Jungkook traced its fluffy ear and even in its deep sleep, it twitched in response. He cooed and pondered how he was going to take care of it and pour all of the love he had for you into it until his eyes became heavy. Then, he got up and ritually took off his clothes in order to take a shower—but when he stood in front of the tinted shower doors, he realized he was standing in front of his greatest enemy. 

And it is at this present moment that all the memories are hurled at him like bullets. 

But they’re not of the lustful kind, the blazed snippets of your femininity that were strung together in his mind as soon as he flung your door shut. They’re of a sinister kind, reminding him of what you’ve done. And the shower represents some sort of portal that holds the heartless hazard of him reliving the pain again if he were to step inside. All because you ate his cum and left him barren, overlooking or plainly ignoring his own sensitive needs and taking a shower without him after he thought what you and him had was more profound than the casualness you showed. 

Jungkook takes a step back. His heart thumps, and the tears that have been threatening to pour out in the last minutes stain his cheeks in immense fear. 

Fear of the pain. Fear of the heaviness. Fear of… you. 

The teardrops form a rivulet upon his clavicles, trickling down his empty heart that feels full at the same time. Full of love yearning to be given out; full of love ungiven to you. 

He doesn’t know how he does it—gather the courage to wipe his cheeks down with his palm and use the same hand to plunge deep into his chest somewhere and grab the bunny of his love. Kneel on the tiles and lead it to jump out of his hold in front of the shower. Turn around and refuse to watch the way the innocent and the sinless herbivore tuck down its ears, tilt its head up and beg him not to leave it behind. 

This is the first time it hears it speak. Please, please. Such subdued, little tone and how great of a power it bears. Still, Jungkook grabs the door knob and as gently as he can, he clicks the door shut, ignorant to the last part of the plea that he shall never hear again. 

Wearing nothing but his black Calvin’s, which are sticky and uncomfortable, he walks into the kitchen where he washes his hands. Pulling out a plate of eggs and a tube of spam and pouring one and a half scoop of rice into the rice cooker, he fixes a quick dinner and doesn’t hesitate to grab a small black teacup plate, the smallest he has, which belonged to Taehyung once. He had broken it and Jungkook fixed it for him, but hyung never wanted it back. Still to this day, whenever Jungkook looks at it, he wonders why he never took it back. He traces the glued split fracture before he tenderly tears the spam for the kitten and places it on top of the unseasoned scrambled eggs he made for it. With both of the plates, he walks over to the couch to see the animal still folded in a deep slumber. 

Jungkook thinks if a human slept in the same position, his heart wouldn’t melt as much and he wouldn’t feel so much for it, especially now after he got rid of all the love he had. 

Setting the plates down, he sits beside the kitten and folds over it just the same. Petting its head, he’s adamant to wake it up, the picture of its fatigued and starved body very much vivid in his mind. It can sleep peacefully for the rest of the night, but it needs to eat now. 

“Wake up, baby.” 

The pet name reminds him that he’s never checked for its gender. In the moment of weakness, it wasn’t important to him, he didn’t care and he didn’t need to know. But if the animal is supposed to be a part of his life now, he should know for the sake of a deeper bonding. It should have a name as well. 

Jungkook rubs his nose in the especially sensitive and soft place of its head—right below its ear. “Are you a little boy or a girl, hm?” 

He’s guilty to think that he’d rather prefer it to be a boy after what happened tonight. That he overall considers the option to be safer rather than if the kitten was a girl. His heart constricts, and he fights his own feelings for the sake of it because it doesn’t deserve it. It shouldn’t matter. 

“Your food’s getting cold. Wake up.” 

Despite the fact Jungkook used a singsong pitch of tone, the cat doesn’t budge. Still it breathes evenly, the blanket lifting and falling under his chest, and he thinks it's time to pull out the big guns. 

Reaching over for its plate, he picks up the smallest piece of the spam and brings it to its nose. The kitten sniffs it, quickly opens its eyes and lifts its head, confusingly searching for the source of the delicious smell. It doesn’t get up like Jungkook expected it would, and it looks at him like it makes sure he’s the safe person it chose before it slowly nibbles on the meat. Jungkook feels the tears rush up again and his heart does a somersault as he feels the kitten’s teeth and its gentle scraping on his fingers. 

And somehow this time, he doesn’t stifle them back. 

Freely, he lets them out, but the unrestrainment to his emotions causes him to sob with all the violence that was stored in him for so long. It scares the cat however—it gazes up at him with a parted little mouth, drawn an inch back from his fingers—and he regrets it. Terribly, terribly he regrets it. 

“No, I’m sorry. I won’t cry again,” he apologizes to the animal, wiping down his face. “Enjoy your food. I won’t interrupt again. Just eat.” 

And he pushes the rest of the piece of meat to its mouth. The cat sniffs it before it hesitatingly takes it again, and Jungkook is ready to give it the tiny scrambled egg as he watches it chew, choking on the surge of tears and the lump in his throat. Once it swallows, it denies the egg and instead gets up on wonky, sleepy legs, waits for Jungkook to lift his torso and once he does, it walks over to his lap and settles into a position of a loaf of bread. 

Was that to comfort him? A tear and a cry escapes, which he quickly muffles with a palm over his mouth, and he distracts it with the scrambled egg that it willingly takes. And because it can’t see him, he silently weeps. Because it eats, because it so evidently comforted him, and because it chose him in the middle of his loneliness. 

The kitten doesn’t finish its plate. Jungkook’s own dinner has gone cold, but he doesn’t mind. He picks up the cat and returns it to its former position, but it surprises him by rolling over onto its back, showing him its flat, skinny belly. Jungkook immediately remembers one of the short videos he had watched in the past. He himself never grew up with any animals, let alone a cat, so he never knew how they worked, but as a little boy he always longed for one non-human friend—he’d gaze with a certain kind of jealousy at neighbors who’d walk their dogs and as he got older, he’d satisfy his longing with videos. And the recent one he saw, it explained how cats show their vulnerability and sense of safety with their owners by showing their belly. 

He doesn’t hide his emotions. This is all he ever wanted all his life, beside the sight of the sea. With a tear-stained hand, he rubs its belly. And there he sees the gender of the kitty—as if it showed it to him, as if it could see the contents of his anxious thoughts and it decided to smooth them out. 

The cat is a girl. 

A faint line of disappointment courses through his veins, which is then smoothed out, once again, by the purring she exudes. As if she was saying—don’t worry, I’m not a human, remember? And for that, Jungkook kisses her belly, sinks his thanks into the fur, which slightly stinks. He doesn’t want to contemplate where she lived all this time. Not that he can—because a greater problem resurfaces. 

If he can’t wash himself, how will he wash the cat? 

Many thoughts of many faces swirled in his mind while the kitty girl snored. 

Jungkook didn’t realize the sun had unraveled its light across his street until one of its beams, streaming through the window, landed on the wounds of the animal. She stirs awake, peeking with one eye open, which soon closes back again as she stretches her jaw in a big, long yawn. 

He held her the entire night. Sometimes, he would press his ear against her heart just to get answers to his unending questions. There, he would doze, but he would never fully sleep like her. Sometimes, he would caress her; sometimes he would just keep his hand on her while he tried to figure out what the next day and the following trajectory of his shared life with her shall look like. 

He did figure it out, and Jungkook thinks that somehow, in her dreamland, she radiated her smartness to him through transcendent waves of a human-and-animal relationship. There was no evidence of heaviness in terms of the decisions he made, and while he did feel the pinpricks of the pain poking through his heart when he thought about the events you made happen in his life, he also felt good in the long run. And he’s sure he has the kitty girl to thank because she kept him company and because she saved him. 

He feels the need to share it all with her, now that she’s awake. 

“Good morning, baby,” he intones, coaxing out her purring, which showers him with shocks of muted joy. “Did you sleep well?” 

She stops her purring, jutting out her tongue just to clean her paw that she was laying against all night. His heart twists, its jagged parts piercing his lungs. 

“I know, I know,” he soothes, fondling her head and her ears. She stops her cleaning just to gaze back at him as if she was double checking that this was reality, that she didn’t dream about her rescue. His lungs bleed at that. “We’re gonna go to my friend’s place downstairs and Appa’s gonna scrub you clean. He needs a shower, too. I’m sorry that we can’t use mine.” 

His heart doesn’t allow him to expand on the reason, not quite yet, and he’s relieved that the kitty continues doing her thing without pressuring him. He’s so used to your ways that the silence feels more than rewarding—something way beyond that, incapable of being confined by the walls of the human, worldly system. He smiles at her, his eyes getting teary again, but the violence of his emotions has quieted. He kisses her head, over and over again, making kissing sounds that do bring back the memories of what he did to your lips and cunt last night, but they’re so faint and so powerless that he’s able to tune them out. He doesn’t want to imagine what his morning would look like if he didn’t have the kitten to distract his thoughts, and so he continues kissing her until a certain matter floats up. 

“What is Appa gonna call you?” 

The kitten purrs, drifting to a serene morning nap, ignoring him or rather giving him the reins. Jungkook did think about this matter, but he couldn’t figure out a name that would flow out of his lips for her with an ease such as the pet name. He planned to have a conversation with her about it, but it seems as though she’s too sleepy to pay attention. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. 

“Are you Appa’s baby?” 

The kitten sighs, and that’s good enough of an answer for him. Baby, it is. 

He leaves her to nap while he goes to make his morning coffee. Stronger and blacker than usual. Yesterday lies inside the pit of his stomach that is empty of all food, having ingested the little he ate, and he wishes to scald it with the dark liquid and burn it with the ash of his cigarette, and that’s precisely what he does, suppressing the memory of the rising ash of the cigarette you smoked while he ate you out. 

He smokes three of them while he’s at it, lost in the realm of his thoughts. Baby is taken care of, but there’s the lingering matter of you that won’t let him be, simmering somewhere low within him even through its faint temperament. Does he ghost you and live a placid life with Baby, never driving up to your street or through the streets of Hongdae to protect girls better than you—or does he take his revenge? Take your schemes and adjust them, make you pay for what you’ve done? 

This is a silent dead end that he faces, but something of a kind, hopeful nature whispers to him to leave it be for now. But if the matter of you won’t leave him be and he’s asked to leave it be in reciprocation, then he’s relatively inclined to be radical and ruin your life. 

Nevertheless, he doesn’t punctuate that thought—he truly leaves it be for now, despite the fact that the idea arouses him. His sack feels heavy, having only orgasmed once yesterday when he usually needs to do it at least one more time in order to secure his sexual well-being. When the memories of your pussy haunted him, he was too numb to be aware whether he was hard or not, but now, now that numbness is slightly swept away from him as if it were a fabric of silkiness draped across his body. His cock stiffens, and he senses that familiar pressure in the low of his abdomen, and he sighs, overcome by lust that he can’t say no to.  

He checks whether Baby is still sleeping and once he sees her resting, he makes haste. 

Carefully shutting the door behind him, he wraps his fingers around the bottle of lotion to his right, which sits upon his desk. He plops down onto his bed, his body situated in the middle of the mattress while his legs are perched on the floor. He tugs the material of his boxers down, his cock springing free, sticky with dried crumbs of your virginal blood. He closes his eyes at that, willing the pain to go away, refusing to go through it again, and instead he focuses his mind on his own personal ruse. 

Stealing you away to a place far away. Lots of ropes. Lots of lube in the right places. 

Jungkook fists his cock. His veins throb under his hand, but the stickiness of your residue and all that blood gives him an icky feeling. Normally, he would wash himself before doing this, but because he physically can’t, he fixes the issue with a great amount of lotion. He spreads it all around with both hands, letting out little breaths and gasps of pleasure when his fingers squeeze the right spots. All is increased by that overspilling creamy substance as it begins to squelch like your cunt did—and Jungkook sweats and pants for air. And allows himself to form a mental image of his ruse. 

He would tie your wrists up around the headboard of a bed he never slept in and never shall. And while you would try to shimmy out of your panties, he’d only pull them up higher. Squirt an overwhelming amount of lube on his cock and slide it inside from the edge of the fabric. Like this, he would moisten your cunt. He wouldn’t touch it, he wouldn’t rub it. Only start fucking it like this, using your femininity, holding your panties in place and also tightening it around his shaft. He’d shock you and he’d disappoint you, giving you a taste of your own poison.

He would count how many times you came like this when you weren’t allowed to, and just as many times he’d punish you because you were such a little bitch that didn’t deserve anything. 

There his fantasy paused. His chest shudders, his pleasure on the cusp of the peak. He doesn’t know how he would punish you without spanking you because he didn’t want to encounter his father again, but the idea of it, the idea of it being different nearly makes him come. 

He lets go of his cock. His shaft pulsates, reddened and milky. Drops of his precum slither down, melting into the thickness of the lotion, and he’s so out of breath and his vision is swimming so much that he has to rub his eyes with the back of his hands, devoid of the makeshift lube. 

And then it comes to him and his manhood asks for him again. One hand wraps around his thickness, the other clutches his full balls. And it’s so perfect, so smart and exactly what you deserve that when he begins to move again, the orgasm feels as though it’s about to fasten around him. He speeds up his movement, concentrating on the tip of his cock, and the idea plays out over and over again on loop. He whimpers needily, bucking his hips into his fist as he massages his sack, eyes squeezed shut, the image of it so bright and so impeccable that it almost makes him feel as though he were soaring. 

What he would do to you is that he would— 

A scratching on the door yanks him out of the flawlessness of the dream. But his body is still there, and despite the fact he stopped the movements on his private parts, he comes so hard that his torso is pushed back onto the mattress, his cock leaking so much of his cum that it bathes him in white. The pulsation is vivified, amplified, worsened, and while he should be experiencing a celestial relief that would cleanse out his spirit, he’s strapped down by a guilt so boundless that feels more awful than he did before. All because Baby is scratching the door, asking for his presence. 

He should’ve been with her, deepening her sense of safety, not fucking his cock to the thought of sexually using a person he hates. 

His orgasm is ruined, no aftershocks of pleasure run through his body, stained with so much fucking cum that he’s disgusted by it. Post-nut clarity hits him, putting salt on his wound, and he’d much rather die right now than get up and live with the fact that he’s a sorry case of a human being. He can’t catch his breath, the sweat lining his body is aggravating him, and the heaviness returns to him. 

No redemption for him, no saving because despite the poison absorbing his system, he still wants to follow through with his ruse. He was steered to let this be, but he simply can’t.

“Just a second, Baby.” 

Jungkook wipes off the cum stains with a bunch of tissues and tucks his flaccid cock back into his dirty boxers, cringing all the way through. He hurries as he opens the door to find the ginger kitten sitting on her butt, looking up at him. He can’t read her emotions, he can’t tell if she’s asking questions, and he’s ashamed to take her into his arms. Not after what he’s done, not when he’s so soiled. 

And he takes his gaze away from her potential disappointment when he turns around and leaves her there, opening his closet to get dressed as quickly as possible. And he’s not ignorant to the fact that she won’t step inside, as if the ghost of his sin prevented her from entering. 

Rightfully so, Jungkook thinks. 

“You have a cat? Since when?” 

The sound of Taehyung’s deep voice outright irritates him as soon as he hears it. His hyung had scowled at him once he opened his front door after Jungkook ringed it, but his distasteful expression dropped the second his brown pools noticed the small, unnerved orange kitten in the crook of his arm. 

Jungkook had to grit his jaw and push through after he got dressed and Baby meowed at him from the threshold. The act alone of putting clean clothes over his dirty body squeezed every last ounce of life out of him, and the fact he had to pick up her up and touch her with his sinful hands, cradle her to his dishonorable chest revolted him. His mood plummeted down, and even the softness of her fur couldn’t lift it back up. 

It didn’t help that Baby didn’t like the change of scenery. She started fidgeting and tried to escape out of his arm as the darkness of the hall enveloped them. The song of his door locking behind him scared her and as her fear spread out, she cried so loud that Jungkook had a hard time quietening her down. His fast paddling down the stairs stole her attention from it and decreased her cries, but her body wasn’t still and Jungkook really wanted to die. 

And now he wants to strangle Taehyung for asking a stupid question, but since he’s asking for a favor, he puts on a fake smile whilst his eyes remain dead. Baby buries her head in his breast, her claws digging into the muscle there. 

Upon seeing the feigned kindness, Taehyung steps aside and Jungkook walks in.

His apartment is a mess, stacked full with strange decor, take out food and cups and bottles of different unfinished soda. The first thing Jungkook’s gaze lands upon, however, is the rumpled police uniform thrown over a chair right in front of him, and his stomach turns over, bile rising up. 

A dead dream, indeed. 

Just yesterday, it was the greatest thing he longed for, and today he shall never venture out into the evil streets of Hongdae. He’ll never take care of the girls seeking adrenaline, and his fist will never break bones of the little pussies who take advantage of their enthusiasm. He’ll never probe Taehyung's real cases of crime and he’ll never sit in the passenger seat of his own police car. And he’ll never ever again dream about wearing that uniform. 

The tears don’t reappear, but a thick layer of sadness adheres to him, gouging out a hole inside his chest, where his dream can rest for all eternity and where the funeral for it can take place. Jungkook will be the only one present. 

He hears the shuffling of Taehyung’s feet and Jungkook pulls himself together, forcing himself into the reality. Taehyung asked him a question, and even though it exasperated him so much and he’d much rather just wordlessly take a shower and leave, he turns around and answers it, playing a role because there’s nothing left for him to do. 

Taehyung can’t know about this pain. No one can. 

“I found her yesterday,” Jungkook says, truthfully, willing strength and a steady façade to his voice so Taehyung doesn’t pry in something that isn’t any of his business. 

Taehyung comes to stand beside him. A question is wrung into his features that is let up a little when he looks down at Baby. Both of his hands are in the pockets of his silken carmine pajama pants and one of them raised to pet Baby’s head. Distrustful, the kitten buries her face deeper into Jungkook’s chest and respecting and honoring her wishes, Jungkook maneuvers her and upheaves her to her favorite place, swallowing the memory of you, too, having favorite places on his body. Baby almost crawls to his neck and Jungkook lets her, stroking her back. 

“You found her? You didn’t rescue her?” Taehyung asks, slowly, and it’s pissing him off that he’s asking so many questions and that he can’t retort back like he’d wish to. 

He sighs. “Sort of. She came to me when I was about to drive away from… a friend’s house. She’s a stray and I took her.” 

Jungkook swelters under his clothes, feeling more uncomfortable than ever. Taehyung studies him and the whitely dotted orange fur of the cat, contemplating the information he was given. Jungkook dislikes the principle of him assimilating his personal business to such an extent that he’s ready to open his mouth and just outright ask to do what he came here for. But Taehyung is faster, and he’s not quite satisfied with what he got. 

“Have you taken it to the vet yet?” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not yet, but I’m about to. This is actually what I came here for—”

“You should’ve taken it as soon as you decided to keep it. You don’t know how sick it can be. What did you feed it?” 

Jungkook fully swivels to face him, cocking his brow at the absolute disrespectful tone he used. Anger pricks his fingertips and he no longer wants to be here because he knows that the longer he stands here, the more he’s going to be affronted and Taehyung is going to make him feel like a small child. Mirror shards of his father begin to be placed on Taehyung’s unkempt form and Jungkook is aware that this is a test and that he needs to fight. 

“First of all, it’s a she and second of all, I know what to do—”

“Where were you last night?” 

The question catches him off guard, diminishing the fact that his speech was interrupted again. Who is this person and where has his friend gone? Why is everyone against him and why does no one seem to love him? Is he that unlovable, that worthless? 

Jungkook sucks in a breath through his teeth, cognizant of the fact that he can’t stay here any longer. “What’s it to you?” 

Taehyung rolls his shoulders back, his oversized sleep T-shirt clinging to his prominent muscles. He looks down at his feet before he brings his gaze back to him, biting his bottom lip briefly. Jungkook feels as though he’s being investigated, and he doesn’t like that one bit. 

“You smell like sex. Who did you fuck last night?” he questions, his tone low and deliberate. Jungkook’s heart sinks, his mind blanking out at the personal attack. “I saw your car parked in front of my girl’s house on my patrol last night,” he adds, mentioning your name, firing a gun at that unlively flesh that a ghost of you is holding with him. “At first I didn’t believe it until I checked the license plate and found out it was yours. And then I called her, many times, but she wasn’t picking up her phone. I’m sure you’re the reason why.” 

Jungkook’s lungs cease to function. His body goes into a state of numbness and his mind spins, his vision scattered with a lusterless kaleidoscope of stars. The memory of a ringing phone that he foolishly thought was his own slinks into his eardrum, where it begins an orchestra of madness and bloodshed. 

And it gains volume when the ghost of you that he saw develops into a true human form. 

You emerge out of a room, wearing a lacy robe that leaves nothing to the imagination. Your breasts show through, your stomach and the cunt that caused this all. The long bell sleeves conceal the end to his existence, and it is soon revealed when you lift a hand, around which a gun rotates, and place it on Taehyung's shoulder. 

“This is the guy that stalked me and raped me, Oppa.” 

This is the end of him, but what will happen to Baby? 

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist

[vaspider]

Last year I wrote about what happened at Pride when a couple of kids didn't understand why us older folx were so bitter about Reagan.

This year, I have something a little softer.

Someone who looked a little older than me came up to the booth wearing a pink t-shirt proclaiming him one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, San Francisco chapter. As I was ringing him up, I asked if he'd been involved for a while.

"Yes," he said, "for a bit," in that way us middle-aged people do when we're sort of wincing and feeling old.

"Okay, well," I said, sitting at my register in my queer booth full of queer clothes and patches and pins, topless in public for the first time. (I had pasties on for my own comfort bc I was working, but I live in the city of the Naked Bike Ride, and I took full advantage). My baby brother and both of my partners ran around behind me, my brother wearing a loose tank top that makes his scars visible.

"I need to tell you that you all helped keep me alive."

He blinked at me as I continued, "I was a kid in high school in the early 90s. I lived in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, and what you all were doing was so loud and so out there that even I heard about your work. It was one of the things that kept me alive. So thank you, and please thank the rest of the Sisters."

I heard about them through people in my parents' church complaining about them, and then I sought more information through the beginning of the internet, through newspapers, through anything I could find. I found the cover of Newsweek that one of the Sisters was on. I read about their "exorcism" of fundamentalist preachers whose books sat on the shelf in my parents' basement and probably still do. I saw how loud and colorful and unapologetically queer they were.

The knowledge that someone was out there, so full of defiant joy, refusing the shame that people kept trying to put on them? Oh, that kept me alive. I saw them, and I knew I could make it through. I wrapped my hands around that knowledge, and I held on so tight.

It took me a long time - a long, long time - to unwind most of it for myself and get to the point where my fat butch ass was sitting bare-chested in the July breeze, looking up at him as he held out his arms and said "you're actually giving me chills." I answered, "I mean every word. You helped keep me alive. So thank you."

I never know what to say when people come up to me in public and tell me that I helped them or changed their life in some way. I appreciate it, and I genuinely love the people who apologized for "fanpersoning" at me last weekend, I just never know what to say. I'm incredibly grateful that the Sister I spoke to was incredibly gracious, saying "usually we give blessings, but I feel like you blessed me." Another member of the party let me pet their tiny dog, who was not very interested in me, and that's okay. It was an overwhelming day. Then, they moved on.

Me? I'm still sitting with the fact that I looked last weekend into the faces of people who didn't know they were holding my head above water, and that I got to tell them the work they do matters. It's a rare thing to get to tell someone, "You saved me," and I'm treasuring it.

Last weekend, I wore my new battle vest with nothing underneath it, unless it was too hot, and then I just sat in my chair, chatting and ringing ppl out with my skin free to the air. I decided last year that top surgery isn't for me, but that also I'm going to love this body unapologetically, and it's no less a transmasculine body because the soft new dark hair on my belly isn't accompanied by pink scars along my ribs.

I didn't get here on my own. I got here because someone else cut through the undergrowth ahead of me so I could take another step forward. Here I am, decades later, still taking step after step, one at a time, and trying to lay paving stones behind me.

Last weekend was another step along that way, another step through unwinding the fear and shame and sadness that my parents and their church built into me. Another step out of hating myself for hiding parts of myself for so long, for acting out in other ways to distract people from my queerness, for feeling so much guilt when other people tell me I'm brave, because I know how much of myself I hid for how long because I was a coward, because I was afraid.

Another step into expiating stigmatic guilt.

[paulyenvol6]

Made To Take It

Jackson!Joel x female!reader

Part two to this smutty one shot I wrote. Hope you enjoy it :)

Contains: oral (f receiving), fluff, dom!Joel, subby and needy reader, lots of aftercare and sweetness, protective and caring Joel, praise, dirty talk, begging, reader is literally too tired to hold herself up, use of names like princess/babygirl, angst, crying, reader has pubic hair

Wordcount: 4,677

Masterlist

The words hadn't fully reached you.

You had heard them, but weren't entirely aware of their content which was why you flinched in surprise when Joel cupped your mound and pressed his palm against your stubby hair.

"Hey there, 'lil one," he smiled, his eyes soft and his lips pursed and then slid a hand around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"Joel," you mumbled and turned your head to the side so you faced him.

"Yeah… Tell me how you're feelin'… Tell me what ya need."

A coiling heat spread through your lower belly, the cruel reminder that you hadn't finished yet and as his words to Tommy hadn't penetrated the cloudiness of your mind, you had no reason to believe that it would change any time soon. Angry and frustrated tears welled in your eyes and glistened on your lashes and although you were beyond tired and exhausted, all you could think about right now was finishing.

"Please… Please I need to cum, fuck… You were mean not lettin' me cum too," you complained and allowed the tears to roll down your face as you were gripped by a defiant and desperate rage that was only enhanced by your tiredness. You simply didn't care about anything, but the desires of your body and were too exhausted to restrain yourself.

You had broken eye contact, your lips forming a pout while Joel adjusted himself next to you and then took hold of the side of your face with a sigh, forcing you to look up to him.

"I'm gonna let ya cum, angel. If you play by my rules."

He teasingly circled your entrance, dipping two fingers in, but not giving you quite the satisfaction yet which frustrated you so much, part of you wished he would just stop and you could make yourself cum on your own fingers. But then you wouldn't see his beautiful face anymore and wouldn't enjoy the pleasure of hearing his arousing voice, and you didn't even want to start with his thick fingers. You knew how well he was capable of making you feel, he had proven that earlier when he had toyed with your clit. All you had to do was make him give in to you instead of teasing you.

"I'm even thinkin' about goin' down on ya," Joel continued, pressing his palm against you, missing your clit by inches. You were sure he was torturing you on purpose.

"Maybe I'm gonna eat your sweet 'lil pussy 'cause you've been such a good girl earlier, but I'm only gonna do it if you behave yourself. If you do as I say an' shut up when I tell you to an' don't squirm. You understand me?"

"Yes Joel," you replied, your voice thick with tension because you were scared to make one wrong move. The prospect of him diving between your legs turned you on so much, your head began to spin and your surroundings became indistinct.

Joel clearly noticed your reaction and chuckled. "Good."

He was about to crawl to kneel between your legs, but before he could you reached out to touch his chest and stopped him.

"Please… Can I clean myself first," you asked, no, rather whined and Joel almost broke at your big doe eyes. He didn't though.

"No. I'll get you cleaned up afterwards. Look way too pretty like this."

Discontentment surfaced on your face and for a brief moment he wished he had accepted Tommy's offer to assist in making you cum because his brother would have been quick to put you in your place. Joel could do it too when it really mattered, but he had to admit that Tommy was better and stricter than he was, even if that wasn’t always how he came across to others.

"Don't even start with that pout o'yours. I told ya, you can be lucky I'm gonna make you finish and not just throw you outta the house an' join my brother."

You nodded and averted your gaze which Joel considered a sign that you had yielded and he decided to proceeded with his initial plan. He settled between your legs, sensing how weak and tired you must be when he parted your lifeless legs and then put a hand on your hip. You truly were a sight for the eye, covered in cum and tears, your hair messy and sweat reflecting the dim light on almost every part of your body. You were a mess, but the kind Joel more than welcomed.

You didn't react when Joel crawled down your body, your head still thrown to the side, but he made a mental note to change that soon. Once his head was on the same height as your pussy, his face hovering right above your mound, he pinned down your knees so you couldn't close your legs around him and glanced up to you.

"Eyes on me. I didn't think I'd have to remind ya, babygirl."

Your eyes snapped open at his words so he knew he hadn't lost every respect and dominance now that his brother was gone. You were still able to obey him and he silently triumphed. Joel rewarded you by rubbing over your inner thigh and then lowered his face to your pussy, pressing a slow, but forceful and sensual kiss to your clit.

Your first reaction was resistance, your body overstimulated and swollen after hours of teasing and taunting so you arched under him and let out a heart-breaking sob.

"Shhhh," Joel cooed you, his grip on your hips tight and firm so you couldn't jolt away.

"You're gonna like it. Gonna like what I'm doin', just lemme go on, alright? Your 'lil clit's gonna enjoy it, I promise."

Joel almost wanted to ask if you had never been eaten out before based on your reaction but perhaps it was just your exhausted and overwhelmed body speaking, which surely yearned for a break after the way Tommy and him had wrecked you. Joel carefully started to kitten-lick your bundle of nerves and soon your cries actually turned into quiet moans and a little later your hands enclosed around the sheets, your lips parted as your breath hitched in your throat and your body trembled in anticipation. You poor girl…

A twisted part of him found pleasure in seeing you like this, wrecked, used and completely at his mercy. Your beautiful body so wonderfully marked and Tommy and his doings so clearly visible with a single glimpse at your tits and face. It filled him with sheer pride and fulfillment.

But of course you were now at a point where you truly deserved to reach your high as well and so Joel didn't waste much time teasing you and instead went straight to work, sucking your throbbing clit in his mouth and rubbing over the underside with the tip of his tongue, a technique he had perfected over the years and that had a satisfactory effect on you as well.

Your sleepy body did things you yourself hadn't believed it to be capable of, your back arching from the mattress, your toes curling and digging into the bed and your hips shifting when he flicked your clit to the side. When he additionally worked two fingers inside of you, your eyes rolled back and you reached for him with your hands without really knowing what you wanted. Joel seemed to though, and grabbed them with one large hand, pinning them down on top of your stomach while his other kept you wide open for him.

"That's a good girl…," Joel growled, the vibrations transferring over to your body and making a shiver run down your back where new sweat gathered.

"You're gonna cum for me, mhm? Your poor pussy needs it so badly, right?"

He curled his fingers at his words and you rejoiced, your teeth sinking down hard on your bottom lip while you repeatedly blinked, trying to catch up to the things he was making you feel.

"Please," you cried and Joel frowned seeing new tears spill from the corner of your eyes.

"Whatcha need, pretty girl…," he whispered trying to make his voice sound as soft as possible and ran his thumb over your knuckles in fear of that he was doing something you didn't like.

"Need to cum, please… Please Joel, I…"

You didn't end the sentence but Joel had a pretty strong idea of what you were going to say so with a grin, he connected his mouth with your pearl again while simultaneously curling his fingers again to hit that spongy spot that was hidden so deep inside of you and surely was never found by your dumb little boyfriends. Joel was motivated by the way your body flexed, feeling sure about the fact that you were close to cumming and glided over the sensitive underside of your clit over and over again, savouring your salty taste on his tongue and occasionally blowing some air over the nub which made you shiver every time.

"Oh my sweet girl… You need it that badly, huh? Turned you on so much suckin' our dicks, hm?" he whispered when you buckled up your hips, your hands moving under his grasp.

"Sh shh… Just like that, stay still for me," Joel purred and sucked your clit into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he applied pressure to the sensitive little bud.

When he looked up to you again, noticing how your eyes watered a crease appeared between his brow and he raised his head from your pussy for a moment to check in with you. He did all of this for you – well, not entirely, but in its core, yes – so he wanted you to feel good of course.

"What's wrong, babygirl?" he asked with a voice as soft and gentle as a blow of the wind.

"You in pain? Is it too much for you, do you want me to stop?"

"No," you whimpered and pulled your hands back under his grip which made him finally release them so that you could wipe over your eyes.

"Don't stop, Joel, please…," you sobbed, your body trembling and your legs trapping him between your legs, but now that Joel intended to take care of you rather than use you for his pleasure like the Miller brothers had done earlier, he knew that he would feel bad if he continued without paying attention to your crying.

"Why you cryin' mhm? You feel sad or – or somethin' wrong?"

If only you were able to answer him. You didn't know why the tears had started streaming down your cheeks again, but now that they did you felt awful and wanted them to stop as quickly as they had come. You enjoyed Joel's touch so much and didn't want him to think that he was doing something wrong. And what you definitely didn't want was for him to stop.

"N-No," you whimpered and reached down to grab his locks. "Please. Please, go on, Joel, I need it. I don't know why m'cryin', everything's fine, I swear."

Part of you couldn't believe that this was the same man that had split you open on his cock half an hour ago and had laughed at your pathetic yelps with his brother. You had been able to sense a certain tenderness about him back then too, but now the only thing he seemed to care about was your well-being and as much as you had come to enjoy their rough treatment, you were also able to appreciate Joel's kindness and the way he took care of you. Half an hour ago you didn't have to do anything except stay still and leave all of your body parts available while the two men wrecked and used you for their liking. Now, you also felt like you didn't have to do anything, but that was because Joel was here to keep you safe and protected while giving you the most thrilling kind of pleasure and apparently that was his priority above everything else.

"You sure?" he asked, still not giving in although you pressed his head down – to be fair, your hands couldn't apply a lot of force – and gave you a stern look.

"Yes. Please, Joel, I promise, I want it."

His eyes wandered over your face from one ear to the other like he would be able to find the source of the tears somewhere in your expression, but then lowered his head, said nothing more and went straight back to work with the same passion as before.

The two fingers that were snug inside of you started to move again, the tips tapping against your g-spot while his lips and tongue stimulated your clit. He tried something new now, gently taking the swollen nub between his teeth with the hope that you were down for pleasure that bordered on a little bit of pain and luckily the squeal seemed to be caused by joy rather than fear.

Joel's forehead wrinkled as he looked up to you, his chest tightening at your parted lips and your glowing skin. Your face radiated heat and lust as well as sheer joy and delight about what he was doing to you and Joel couldn't have been more proud. When your hands in his hair tightened, your nails leaving a sting in his scalp, he growled lowly in his throat and added a third finger. You whinced, rocking your center against his face and felt like the world around you was about to collaps.

"Joel, I think… Ughh fuck, I think I'm close," you whimpered and were surprised by the fact that the words were relatively understandable.

"I know, babygirl," he hummed, palming your hipbone in a soothing manner while he put even more effort into circling your clit.

It was almost a possessive action, using his lips and tongue on you like he wanted to prove to you that no one would be as good as him and something made you believe that it perhaps was the truth. How would anyone be able to top this? How would anyone be able to make you see stars the way Joel did right now? How could a tongue feel warmer and more endearing than his? How could you ever move on from this? But these were all questions you could ask yourself at a later time because right now you were focused on your breathing and not fainting. The air in the room was hot and stuffy, your body exhausted and dehydrated and your head spinned with arousal.

"Come for me, little one…," Joel whispered and also picked up the speed with which he pressed against the spongy spot deep inside of you.

"C'mon… Soak my chin, I know you want it so bad."

And then you finally came and it was one of the most heavenly experiences of your life. Heat spread in your tummy, but now it wasn't the uncomfortable and overstimulating kind, but one that hugged and embraced you like a warm blanket or warm water that was streaming down your tummy. Your thighs tingled and prickled and over all it just felt like a giant weight was dropping of your heart and all you could do was stare at Joel between your legs with your mouth open while the pleasure just wouldn't fade.

"Fuck. Joel, fuck…," you cried and arched on the bed, your head thrown back although the view of his gorgeous face between your legs had been captivating. His eyes were so dark, you couldn't distinct between his pupils and iris, his lips and chin covered with your wetness and his brow sweaty like eating your pussy was an sporting competition.

"There ya fuckin' go…," Joel growled and slapped your outter thigh roughly, licking a strip from your hole up to your clit to savour your juices and then raising his face to take a look at you. And god, what he saw made him want to laugh and sigh equally. Your eyes were closed, your breathing heavy, but evenly, but what was the main reason for the way his heart fluttered was the slight pout on your lips.

"Oh jesus…," Joel chuckled to himself and was fast to crawl up to you, your lids flinching when his weight pressed you into the bed. He was careful though, resting most of his body weight on the knee between your legs and his elbows he propped himself on as he hovered over you.

"Look at me, sweet girl," he demanded and lifted the corner of his mouth as you didn't react at all.

"C'mon, baby, needa make sure that you're good."

He cupped your chin, gently tilting your head and then your lashes moved and you looked up to him through tired and hazy eyes. A soft cry left your throat and Joel couldn't help himself and pursed his lips while trying to process the adorable picture. You were so sweet, he would have dived right back between your thighs to give you one high after the other if he hadn't had so much empathy with you and your fucked-out body.

"Oh my… Someone's gotten all sleep, right?" he murmured and grabbed the side of your face to run his thumb over your cheekbone.

"C'mon, open your eyes for me, love. You can go to sleep soon, just needa check up on ya 'n' then we're gonna get ya cleaned an' then you're gonna eat 'n' drink somethin'."

The protesting whine was more than clear, but Joel remained uncompromising and squeezed your bicep.

"Babygirl…," he said softly, but with a slight warning. "C'mon, now. I'll take care of ya, alright? Gonna carry you to the bathroom and clean ya up, but you need to cooperate."

He melted at your hands coming up to grasp his thumb and leaned in to kiss your hairline, the stubby beard tickling your skin and making you shift.

"S'okay… I'm gonna take care of ya, don't ya worry…"

You whined again, but this time it was a sound of satisfaction, like a cat purring at the way it was gently petted.

"Yeah, s'right… You did so well, baby. So goddamn well for us… You deserve to get some rest now. S'not gonna take long, I promise."

The grip around his thumb tightened and it took everything in Joel not to just roll of you to lay next to you, pull you snug against him and cuddle you until the both of you were sound asleep. He would have loved to fall asleep with the sound of your sweet moans in his ears and your scent in his nose, but before this would even just become a prospect, he had to clean up the mess on your face, your tits and between your thighs and then make sure that you would drink enough water.

Unwillingly Joel rolled off you, a sigh catching in his throat when you whimpered in frustration and his own body instantly regretting the loss of contact. You still silently cried when Joel slid a hand around your shoulders and one under your knees and lifted you in the air, but when you realised what he was doing, you buried your face in the curve of his neck and nudged your nose against his collarbone which made his mouth curl.

"I know, I know…," he whispered and carefully carried you into the bathroom right next to Tommy's bedroom, turning on the light switch with his elbow and then helplessly searching the room for a place where he could put you down.

You definitely didn't have the strength to hold yourself up if he made you sit on the edge of the bathtub so he chose to lower you onto the carpet that certainly wasn't as comfortable as the bed, but fortunately was quite fluffy and cosy. He moved it to the bathtub with his foot and then slowly put you down, his hand holding the back of your head so you wouldn't bump it against the edge of the tub. You squealed again, your hands immediately searching for his body once his hands had left you and Joel kneeled next to you to kiss the top of your head. You were sitting on the carpet now, your back resting against the bathtub wall and your eyes half-closed.

"I'm right here. Not gonna leave you."

As quickly as possible he grabbed a towel from a cupboard near-by and wettened it while making sure the water from the tap wasn't too cold, but not too hot either. Then Joel returned to his position next to you and placed a hand on your knee.

"Open your legs, alright? I promise I'm gonna be gentle."

Your eyelids quivered, a sign that you had understood him and then parted your legs so that Joel could slip the cloth between them and rub over the insides of your thighs.

"Good girl…," he praised you, thinking that you might need the encouragement right now and then continued to clean you up with the towel and return to the washbasin every now and then to wash it until he was finished with your pussy. He had noticed your squirms from time to time, your clit overstimulated and swollen after the intense night so it was natural that your body rejected the touch of the rough fabric, but Joel had talked you through it and now that he was done with your most sensitive part he rewarded you with a kiss on your cheek right next to your ear.

"See? Wasn't that bad, was it?"

You gave him a nod and put your hand above his that held your head.

"Mhmm," you made and then finally glanced up to him again, your eyes tired, but at least you were able to focus on him.

"Good girl… Don't forget to breathe, mhm?"

"Yes, Joel," you even managed to reply and when Joel briefly pressed your head to his chest it was with pride.

"Yeah, you're being such a perfect girl for me… Now lay back, alright? Gonna clean your tits and face now. It's gonna be even less uncomfortable, babygirl."

With a groan Joel rose to his feet and headed to the washbasin again to wash off the remains of your body fluids and continue to clean the rest of your body. Your feverish skin made him think that you might prefer a cooling touch over the warm towel so this time he soaked it with slightly colder water. Then he knelt down next to you once more and began gently stroking your tits where Tommy's cum had hardened and left a crumbly trail which Joel carefully removed.

You were calm under his touch, your breathing lulled into a soothing cadence and your body completely pliant and welcoming which once again made the burning coil in his stomach revive. Next up on his list was your face which he was even more careful and precise with when he rubbed over your skin and neck. Your pretty eyes were on him at all times and although they looked exhausted and swollen Joel appreciated that you made the effort to pry them open just so that he knew you were still with him. Perhaps you even enjoyed the view, Joel thought with a crooked smirk which you were too tired to register.

"I'll be done soon. We made quite the mess, sweetheart. But you took it so goddamn well, what were we supposed to do?"

There was no reaction except for the the twitch of the corner of your mouth but it might have been caused by the washcloth that was now cleaning your cheeks, still covered with remains of your tears and Tommy's spit.

"But you still look so pretty, babygirl. Always so pretty for us…," Joel whispered and then drew back the cloth, finished with his business now.

"I'm done. Do ya need to pee or do ya want me to carry you back to bed?" Joel asked over his shoulder while carelessly throwing the towel over the edge of the tub.

"To the bed," you replied without hesitation, already stretching your arms longingly towards him.

"Alright. Whatever you want, baby."

You smacked your lips, your eyes softly closing and your upper lashes touching your waterline like feathers lightly falling to the ground as Joel glided one arm under your knees again and the other tightly wrapping around your upper back.

"There we go…," he mumbled while lifting you into the air and then carrying you the few steps back to the bed where he gently lay you down on your back. You had pressed your face against his torso again with the hope that this time the moment might last longer, but you were disappointed again and whined in disapproval at the loss of contact.

"Joel," you whimpered, your heavy eyelids lifting, but then you felt a large hand on your bare shoulder.

"I know. I'll be right there. Just gonna tug you in real quick so you won't get cold later."

Now that was something you could settle with so you remained quiet while Joel pulled the blanket over your frame, ensuring the hem touched you right under your chin. You gave him a sweet smile, your eyes following him like you feared he would vanish if you didn't pay close attention, but fortunately he kept his promise and the next thing he did was slipping underneath the covers right next to you. A muffled cry of sheer joy and satisfaction left your throat and you were quick to crawl to him, a new bubbling energy in your tummy giving you the strength to nestle against his chest, your hands clenching in fists that rested on his stomach.

"You alright?" Joel growled and moved an arm around your shoulders to keep you close against his broad body.

"Yes. But please stay. Don't wanna do anythin' else."

He gave you a nod that you couldn't see but he hoped you might feel and then leaned in to kiss your brow.

"Fine. Even though you really need some water…"

Your head that rested on his collarbone shook in disagreement, your hands possessively pressing down on his ribs to prevent him from leaving.

"No. Joel, please… I just wanna stay like this…"

He lowly chuckled, the vibrations prickling on your skin and your stomach fluttering with nerves while you reflexively had to smile at the happiness and peacefulness he radiated.

"Okay. But if you wake up feelin' thirsty or hungry or if you're feelin' uncomfortable in any way, you wake me up. I'll get you anythin' you need. Even if it's just a glass of water."

Although you felt that with him at your side, there was nothing you could possibly be missing, you nodded.

"Promise me," Joel insisted, his gaze on you to figure out if his words had reached you and his forehead wrinkled.

"Yes. I promise."

He pursed his lips, still in doubt about whether it was wise to give in, but when you crouched against his chest, your fingertips drawing patterns across his torso his mind went blank and there was no space left for any concerns or worries.

In fact, there was no space left in his head for anything except you. He forgot about what he had told Tommy about the two of you joining him downstairs as soon as he had cleaned you up. He forgot about his own rumbling stomach. He forgot about the mental note he had made to himself earlier to make you some tea as soon as he was done with you in the bathroom to help you with your sore throat.

Now, his thoughts were consumed by you, your plump lips, your glowing face and your little hands that felt so firm and determined in your need to make him stay right here, it made his pulse quicken.

"Sleep well, princess," Joel whispered into the darkness and heard you swallow.

"Goodnight, Joel."

He gently stroked the small of your back and it was not just an affectionate and soothing gesture, but also the promise that he would stay here with you for as long as you needed him to.

[pearynice]

Another day another birthday drabble for @penny00dreadful (IM ON TIME YAY) prompt: rockstar

Has Corroded Coffin’s Eddie Munson Finally Settled Down?

While Eddie Munson’s lips have been sealed for comment, photos from last night prove they’re anything but when it comes to his new beau.

Eddie Munson and his new mystery man were spotted again last night, this time on the streets of Chicago, hand in hand as they made their way to Munson’s residence. While the rockstar took great care to hide his man’s identity, covering him in his own suit jacket and continuously stepping in the way of photographers, the two were seemingly incapable of waiting for privacy as paparazzi were able to snap several pictures of the two clearly locking lips in a move many are finding reminiscent of Munson’s maybe not-so-former licentious ways.

This is the first time the public has seen frontman Eddie Munson with anyone for more than a few weeks since his volatile breakup with director Jonathan Byers nearly five years ago, and fans and haters alike have been speculating ever since on whether or not he’d settle down again.

However while the frontman has been more than transparent in nearly all aspects of his life, speaking candidly over the years on his most private of matters, such as the end of his previous relationship (triggered by the extremely public exposing of his then-partner’s months-long affair), the sudden and tragic death of his uncle, and his dozens of spells in rehab centers for his various addictions, the singer has barely given reporters the time of day when it comes to his new relationship.

“I’m not letting myself screw this one up.” Is the only quote Munson has so far given to reporters, taken this morning outside his Chicago apartment, “you’ll know who he is when we’re both ready for that.”

The clip has already racked up nearly a million views on Twitter as of this morning, with fans celebrating the fact that it seems as though the frontman has turned a new leaf.

“He looks so happy!!” Wrote @xXCorCofGirlXx, “if it can’t be me, then I’m glad it’s this guy🫰”

Other fans have voiced similar sentiments, with various compliments and remarks on the singer’s appearance, one fan even noting how he looks “lighter” than they’ve seen him in years.

Unfortunately the rockstar’s track record is against him, and even long-term fans are finding it all a little hard to believe.

“This guy will be gone by next week 😒” Wrote @lovelylady77599, “why are we still believing in Eddie’s relationships again?”

Others have tweeted along similar lines, wondering how permanent of a fixture this new man will be and questioning how seriously Eddie is taking it.

It’s easy to see where the disbelief stems, as the frontman himself has admitted on more than one occasion that “love is not for him”, centering the band’s most recent album around this exact message. Their chart-topping single Never Enough has been one howled to millions as the singer belted the lyrics that promised my love will never be enough.

Despite this, the misgivings seemed to have been too much for guitarist Jeff Williams, who took to Twitter shortly after Munson’s clip went viral to say his piece.

@yesimjeffwilliams✔️

“I’m speaking for the entire band when I say we will all have never stopped believing in Eddie. He has and always will be our best friend, and there is nothing that could make any of us happier than seeing him find his peace. We are all thankful to his person for helping him with that.”

While there will certainly continue to be questions as long as this new man remains a secret, it is difficult to remain skeptical when those closest to the singer publicly state their belief in the relationship, and in Eddie Munson as a whole.

It was not so long ago that the public was doubting the artist could ever be sober, however after publicly posting his one-year chip on Instagram several months ago, it’s safe to say Eddie Munson is one who will continue to surprise fans and haters alike.

While only time will tell how this all plays out, it seems as though Eddie Munson has finally found his home.

Permanent Tag List (please let me know if you want added or removed)💗: @hotluncheddie @hitlikehammers @hbyrde36 @littlewildflowerkitten @chaotic-waffle

@westifer-dead @perseus-notjackson @finntheehumaneater @theheadlessphilosopher @spectrum-spectre

@itsall-taken @marvel-ous-m @bookworm0690 @acasualcrossfade @transvampireboyfriend

[love--and--venom]

Bite Me

Summary: You're fed up with the cold shoulder you've been getting from your best friend. So you show up to his apartment to confront him. The reason behind his silence is one you can hardly believe

Warnings: Blood, biting, suggestive for most members (especially Heeseung), lmk if i missed anything

Pairings: OT7 x Reader [separate], platonic Ni-ki and Sunoo

A/N: so i read part of this series called "house of night" when i was definitely too young to be reading it. anyway, when the vampires in that series feed on people, the human gets like super turned on. so i wrote that lol

Introduction

It’s been more than a week since you’ve heard from your best friend. The two of you normally texted every day. At the very least, you reacted to messages when either of you were too busy to fully respond. Your texts were going through and you knew he was reading them. Your anxiety grew worse as each day of silence passed. You were fed up, so you took matters into your own hands and showed up unannounced to his apartment. The door was locked, but you had each other’s keys, so you let yourself in. The overhead lights were off and all of the windows were covered in blackout curtains. None of the bright spring sun entered the apartment.

“You shouldn’t be here,” his voice came from the darkest corner of the living room.

“Don’t give me that shit,” you scoffed and stormed into the apartment, not even bothering to take your shoes off. 

“Stop! Seriously, you need to leave.”

“No! I’ve been so fucking worried about you. I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay,” you argued, dropping your bag on the kitchen counter. You stood with your hands on your hips, jutting one out to the side and raising your eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m fine, now go,” he insisted. You barely saw his outline in the dark. He was hunched on the floor between the couch and the wall.

“You’re obviously not fine. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.”

“Listen, if you’re mad at me, we can talk it out. Don’t just ignore me,” you moved closer to the seam separating the carpet of the living room from the tile in the kitchen.

“Y/N, I’m not mad at you. Please just leave. I promise I’ll call you later,” he pleaded. His shoulders shook in what you assumed was barely-contained anger.

“I’m not leav-”

“Get out! I don’t want to hurt you,” he shouted, startling you enough to take a step back. It was silent for a few tense moments, save for his heavy breathing.

“I don’t understand. Why do you think you’d hurt me?” In a split second, you were backed against the wall, caged in by your best friend’s arms. Your mind reeled at his speed and the unnatural red glow in his eyes. 

“My supply ran out. I couldn’t feed and I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself for much longer.” 

“Wh- supply? Feed? What are you talking about?!” You demanded, eyes wide and brows furrowed. The string lights lining the ceiling of the living room glinted off his teeth. No, not his teeth. His fangs.

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. I think you can figure it out.”

“You’re a fucking vampire?!” His fists balled up next to your head. His eyes bore down on you, draining some of the confidence you had conjured up. You couldn’t meet his eyes, opting to look at his hoodie strings instead.

“How long?” You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“How long have you been… like this?” 

“What, how long have I been a vampire?” He asked incredulously. You nodded and he sighed, relaxing his hands so they pressed flat on the wall. “A little over two years.”

“Two years? And you never told me?” 

“How was I supposed to tell you, Y/N? ‘Hey when my family was in Romania some psycho bit me and now I drink blood’? Come on, you would’ve called the cops on me.” As his sarcastic rant continued, your jaw tensed and you struggled to stay calm.

“Stop!” His words died on his tongue. “I would not have called the cops or have you hospitalized.” You peeked up at him through your lashes. 

“I’m sorry,” he caved at the shakiness of your voice. 

“You said your supply ran out. What does that mean?”

“I met an older vampire during the first week after I turned. There’s a small circle of people like me that he introduced me to. One of them works for the Red Cross, and she brings us blood bags,” he explained, looking at the floor.

“I don’t…" You took a deep breathe before continuing. "It feels wrong to take donations like that, but I understand why it’s necessary.” He sighed, somewhat relieved that you didn’t immediately run for the hills. “So you ran out of the blood bags?”

“Yeah. The Red Cross nurse has been out of the country for a few weeks. I thought I had enough, but I was wrong.”

“And your solution was to isolate yourself? You couldn’t possibly hide until she got back. I mean, do you even know when she’s supposed to come back?” You pointed out all the flaws in his flimsy plans.

“I don’t. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You need blood, right?” He nodded. “Why don’t you, uh, feed straight from a person?”

“Seriously?” He scoffed. “I can’t just ask someone, they’d think I’m insane.”

“I’ll do it,” you stated, feeling oddly calm now despite the very real danger you were in. He narrowed his eyes on you.

“You’ll do what, Y/N?” The way he asked screamed ‘rethink what you just offered’.

“I’ll let you feed from me. I mean, it’s just this once, right?”

“No. No, absolutely not. I can’t do that to you,” he refused immediately. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re going to starve if you don’t. Please, I want to help you,” you insisted. He hesitated, checking your eyes for any hint of fear or doubt.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, just bite me.”

Jungwon

His eyes darkened, shifting from a bright red to a deep maroon. His hands lifted from the wall, one grabbing your jaw and the other hooking into the collar of your t-shirt. He angled your head so your neck was bared for him, pulling your shirt to the side at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Jungwon whispered against your neck. His cold breath sent a shiver down your spine. You assumed he would get straight into it, get the whole thing done as quickly as possible. Your heart jumped when he pressed a feather-light kiss right below your jawline.

“Jungwon-”

“Shh. Let me do this right.” You nodded against his hand, uncrossing your arms to grip the front of his hoodie. His lips trailed down the side of your neck, smirking against your racing pulse. He settled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, right above your collarbone. He kissed your skin one last time, licking over the area before piercing your skin with his fangs.

You squeaked at the sensation. The sharp sting from the bite quickly faded once his teeth retracted from your neck. Then his lips closed around the wound and he sucked. Your eyes widened at the sudden heat pouring from your neck into your core. 

“Oh, fuck. Jungwon, is it supposed to feel like this?” You panted and tightened your grip on his hoodie. He hummed but couldn’t pull himself away, too caught up in the taste of your blood. You rested your head against the wall, eyes rolling back and thighs squeezing together. You waited in silence, mind racing to catch up with everything you learned in the last 15 minutes. You let him take as much as he needed, until the edges of your vision began to blur.

“J-Jungwon, too much. I’m getting dizzy,” you pushed weakly against his forehead. 

“Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry.” He forced himself to release your neck. The puncture marks still slowly leaked blood. 

“I sh-should bandage that,” you trailed off, just as reluctant to move as Jungwon was.

“Hold on, let me just…” He ran his tongue over the wound, pulling an involuntary moan from your throat. “My saliva is a coagulant.” He pulled back with the intention of making sure you were okay, but froze at the almost fucked-out expression on your face. Your nails dug into his biceps, shattering the last of his self-restraint. Both hands cradled your cheeks as he crashed his lips into yours. You gasped, allowing Jungwon to roll his tongue over yours. The metallic taste of your own blood flooded your mouth and his fangs scraped over your lower lip. Your knees buckled. If Jungwon wasn’t pressing you into the wall with his body, you definitely would have fallen. He might not need to breathe anymore, but you did, forcing you to break the heated kiss. 

“Are you okay?” He brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, resting his forehead against yours.

“Mhm, just a little tired,” you answered once you caught your breath.

“I went overboard.” He picked you up, hands under your thighs, and carried you to his couch. He fell back against the cushions, settling down with you laying on his chest. “Sleep. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

Heeseung

A wide smile broke out on his face, showing off his razor sharp fangs. He swept you up in his arms, moving to set you on the countertop.

“What are you doing?” You asked as he slotted himself between your legs. Heat crept up on your cheeks.

“Having you sit down,” Heeseung said and tilted his head at you. “Just in case you get light-headed.” You rolled your eyes, dropping your hands to rest on the edge of the counter. You realized something right as his lips grazed the skin of your neck.

“Wait!”

“What? I’m sorry, what happened?” His eyes washed over in a panic as he squeezed your hands. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no that’s not it. I have work tomorrow. My uniform won’t cover my neck, you have to bite somewhere else.” He sagged in relief. He bit his lip delicately while his eyes raked over your body. You suddenly felt very exposed despite being totally covered in your t-shirt and leggings.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shot into your hairline. Heeseung leaned closer, so close that you could feel his cool breath on your lips.

“Take. Off. Your. Shirt.” He repeated slowly, pausing between each word for emphasis. 

“W-why?”

“Don’t blame me, babe, you’re the one that wanted me to bite in a hidden place.” Your flush grew at the pet name, hesitating just a moment longer before removing your top, leaving you in your simple black bra. You fought the urge to cover yourself under his heated stare.

“Now what?” His eyes flicked to yours one last time. His hands moved to grab your hips. Your breath hitched when his head dipped down to lick over the top of your breast, right next to the edge of your bra. His fangs sank into the soft skin, making you wince at the sting. He pulled his teeth back to suck on the fresh wound. You smacked a hand over your mouth to stifle your moan, the other gripping the counter so tight your knuckles turned white.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking sweet,” Heeseung mumbled against your skin. The vibrations sent your mind reeling from the unexpected pleasure. You held out for a solid few minutes until dark spots danced in your vision.

“H-Heeseung,” you whimpered and pushed at his shoulder. 

“Sorry.” He soothed the punctures with his tongue, effectively stopping the bleeding. His eyes were back to their normal brown. Your eyes dragged over his features in a daze, stopping at the smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. You tried wiping it away with your thumb, but it only spread further down his chin. Without thinking, you leaned forward to lick your blood from his face.

“Goddamn, you can’t just do that to me, Y/N.” He ran a hand up the back of your neck to tangle his fingers in your hair. 

“What do you mean?” You shivered when his nails grazed over your scalp. He poked his tongue into his cheek. A primal instinct in him was pleased with your blissful expression. 

“You know… my senses were heightened when I changed,” he started, holding back a devious grin. Your eyebrows creased, confused as to where he was going with this. 

“So?”

“So.” He tugged you toward him to whisper next to your ear. “I’ve been able to smell how turned on you get when you’re around me.” 

“Wh…what?” His hand trailed from your hair to cup your jaw. His touch and his smile were incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to the fire in your lower belly. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I feel the same about you,” Heeseung confessed, brushing his thumb below your bottom lip. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence to respond. Instead, you pressed a quick peck to his lips. Both of you sat in a stunned silence for a minute, until he pulled you back in for a slower, more languid kiss. He licked into your mouth, dragging his tongue along yours. You whined when he broke away, chasing after him and nearly tumbling off the counter.

“Easy there, hot stuff,” he teased. He grabbed your t-shirt and helped you re-dress. “You need to eat and rest right now, I took a lot out of you.”

“Don’t say it like that, you’re making it sound dirty,” you pouted and let him carry you to the couch. He laughed, maneuvering you so you sat between his legs with your back to his chest. 

“Rest.” You relaxed in his hold, drifting off to the sound of a movie playing on the TV.

Jay 

“You’re insane, you know that?” He tilted his head to the side, moving one hand from the wall to brush against your cheek. 

“Yeah, well, I have to be a little insane to put up with you.” Butterflies crept up in your stomach at the soft affection in his eyes. 

“Right,” he shook his head with a breathy laugh. “This is going to be a lot like donating blood. You might get dizzy if you haven’t eaten anything recently.”

“I had lunch before I came over. I’ll be fine.”

“Where do you want it?” His question caught you off guard. You hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Uhh, it doesn’t really matter. Just somewhere I can cover so I don’t get weird looks at school and work,” you answered after mulling it over in your head. 

“Somewhere you can cover, huh?” Jay smirked, slowly dragging his eyes down your body. 

“Quit it, you’re making me nervous.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” He pecked your cheek then dropped to his knees in front of you, making your brain short-circuit.

“Jay! Wh-” You cut yourself off with a squeak when he hooked your leg over his shoulder. 

“Relax. I’m just making sure it’ll be covered, like you asked.” 

“But where-?” He tore open the inner seam of your leggings to expose the plush skin of your thigh. “My pants! Jay, I still have to walk home later!”

“You can borrow some of mine. Just relax and lean back against the wall,” he instructed gently, rubbing circles on your knee until you let the tension release from your shoulders. He smiled up at you one more time before leaning in to lick a thick stripe along your thigh. He hooked a hand under your knee to keep your leg securely on his shoulder while the other rested on your hip. 

His fangs pierced through your skin. The sharp pain caused you to jolt against his hold. His grip tightened and you felt his fangs shrink back to normal teeth. The image of Jay kneeling between your legs coupled with the blood loss clouded over your mind. Your hands hovered uselessly, unsure of what you could hold on to in order to ground yourself. You settled on curling your fingers around the hem of your shirt until Jay guided one of your hands to thread through his hair. If anyone were to walk in at this point, it would look like something very different was happening. You closed your eyes with a tiny whimper, pouring all of your focus into sitting still.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Jay’s voice broke through your stupor. You blinked down at him, seeing his eyebrows crease in concern. 

“I’m alright. Do you need more?” 

“No, I’m done. I’ll grab some sweatpants for you after I stop the bleeding,” he stated, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of his tongue running over the wound. He set your leg back on the ground then stood to cup your face in both hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t take too much?”

“I’m okay, just a little tired.” He paused, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes flitted over your face, eventually landing on your lips. You stared back at him with big, sleepy puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, pulling you into a soft kiss before he could chicken out again. You melted against him, draping your arms around his neck. It was much too short for your liking, but you didn’t argue as Jay broke the kiss to lead you to the couch. He disappeared into his room briefly, returning with a pair of gray sweatpants. He busied himself in the kitchen, grabbing you a snack and tea while you changed. After you ate, he guided you to lay your head in his lap, scratching your scalp soothingly.

“Thank you, my love,” you heard him whisper moments before succumbing to sleep.

Sunghoon

“Promise me that you’ll stop me if I go too far,” he urged you, holding your face in his hands to force you to meet his eyes. 

“I will. But I trust you, Sunghoon. I know you won’t hurt me.” You leaned into one of his palms, lightly wrapping your fingers around his wrists. His eyes softened into an emotion you haven’t seen from him before, and it drew a flush to your cheeks. His arms dropped to his sides, taking the slightest step back.

“Okay, uhh. Do you have a… preference?”

“Huh?? A preference for what?”

“God, why is this so fucking awkward,” he muttered to himself, clearing his throat before asking a bit louder. “Where do you want me to bite you?”

“Oh! Right, I guess somewhere on my legs. It’s still cool enough to wear pants, so I can hide it easily.” He nodded, dropping to his knees to scan over your legging-clad form. He furrowed his brows.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Where exactly should-”

“Just pick somewhere! Seriously, it doesn’t matter,” you huffed impatiently. 

“Fine, but I don’t want to hear any complaints,” Sunghoon smirked, eyes glittering with mischief. Your eyebrows shot up, but before you could question what he meant, he yanked down the waistband of your leggings on one side. His fangs dug unceremoniously into the skin of your outer thigh, just under the side of your underwear. 

“Ow! Fuck, give me a warning, Sunghoon,” you yelped at the sharp sting. He glared at you from below, keeping one hand hooked into your leggings to keep the fabric out of the way while the other gripped your other hip. His fangs retracted, but didn’t fully disappear. You felt them scrape over your skin as he sucked at the wound. The feeling of your blood being drained from your body was incredibly odd. 

“You doing okay?” Sunghoon pulled back slightly to look up at you. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“What does it feel like?” He asked before continuing to feed. 

“It’s weird. I thought it would hurt, but it feels…good?” He hummed and tapped your hip for you to keep talking. “Okay, please don’t judge me, but the only way I can describe it is, uhh, arousing.”

“Really?” He released your hip with a light pop, grinning wolfishly at your blush. 

“Sunghoon I swear if you make fun of me for this-”

“I’m not, chill.” He paused to lap at the punctures. “Thank you, seriously. You have no idea how much this means to me.” He fixed your leggings then stood to pull you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“You know I’d do anything for you.” The words were muffled by his shirt, but he heard them loud and clear. He broke away to cup your jaw in his hands. He was looking at you with that softness again, making your breath hitch.

“Can I kiss you?” Rather than answering him verbally, you tugged him down to connect your lips in a tender kiss. He sighed happily, tilting his head to deepen it. Your fingers gripped the front of his shirt to bring yourself back to reality. His tongue brushed over your bottom lip, extremely satisfied when you immediately opened your mouth. His tongue brushed over yours, pulling a whine from the back of your throat. You reluctantly pulled back when your lungs started to burn.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” Sunghoon admitted, resting his forehead against yours. While you were panting to catch your breath, his chest was completely still.

“It’s so weird that you don’t breathe.” He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Really, that’s what you choose to comment on?”

“Yeah, yeah. I like you too, asshole,” you teased with a playful nudge to his shoulder. 

“You’re cute. Go pick a movie, I’ll order your favorite takeout and you can fill me in on everything I’ve missed this week.” 

Jake 

“Thank you, thank you. Seriously, Y/N, you’re the best.” Jake gently shook your shoulders to emphasize his point.

“I know,” you giggled, holding onto his wrists to steady yourself.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Don’t worry about it, just do what you gotta do.” You tilted your head, pulling your hair over one shoulder to give him easy access to your neck. He pecked your cheek before biting into your skin, unknowingly picking a sensitive spot under your ear. His hands settled on your hips as he sucked on the fresh wound, humming in satisfaction when the taste of your blood hit his tongue. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that threatened to escape your throat.

“A-ah, fuck! Gentle, Jake. Please,” you whimpered when he got a little too enthusiastic with his feeding. His fingers dug into your hips so he could reign in his instincts. He slowed down, but you could tell that there would be a massive bruise later. A minute or two later, he released your neck with a deep sigh, dropping his head to rest on your collarbone.

“Shit, I blanked out. You okay?” Jake asked, slightly panting. His breath was strangely cold against your skin.

“Yeah, I’m good, but what about you? What do you mean ‘I blanked out’?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, unsure if it was to comfort him or yourself.

“This is gonna sound weird,” he started. His head lifted a bit so he could check over your face, looking for any signs of anemic shock. His thumb brushed under the still-bleeding puncture wounds, eyebrows scrunched with worry. He lapped at the droplets and you shivered at the feeling of his tongue on the sensitive skin.

“I-It’s fine. You’ve said plenty of weird things to me before. Why are you still licking me??” Your voice pitched up at the end of your question.

“To stop the bleeding,” he said as if it were obvious. “I have a coagulant in my saliva, it reverses the venom from my fangs.”

“Interesting…”

“You taste really good.”

“I beg your pardon?!” Even with the minor blood loss, you felt a blush rise up on your cheeks.

“Oh my god, not like that! I meant that your blood tastes good. I dunno, I got almost drunk off of it for a minute.” He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Jake! Do not sniff me!”

“Sorry! It’s either I continue to sniff you or I’m gonna kiss you,” he froze, almost as if he didn’t mean to say that. If he had to breathe, he certainly would have choked on air. You bit your lip to hide your laughter.

“I’ll take option two,” you admitted while threading a hand through the hair at the base of his neck. He leaned back, the hand that had been on your neck moved to your cheek. Jake studied you, looking for any sign of doubt. Upon seeing your shy but genuine smile, a grin broke out on his face.

“I mean, if you insist,” he teased with a wiggle of his brows. You rolled your eyes, tugging him forward to press a short kiss to his lips. He surged forward before you could pull too far away. You gasped as you were pushed further into the wall, giving Jake the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. The metallic taste of your blood lingered, but it oddly didn’t bother you. His hand slowly trailed down your hip to the juncture of your thigh and ass, arching your body into his. 

“I really like you, you know,” he mumbled against your mouth after forcing himself to break the kiss, resting his forehead on your own.

“I can tell,” you giggled, scrunching your nose up a bit. “Good thing I really like you, too.” He smirked and pulled you back into another relaxed kiss, hoping to distract you from his wandering hand. 

“Nice try, Jake.” You swatted his hand away when his fingers brushed against the underwire of your bra. “Slow it down-”

“Make it bouncy?”

“You’re an idiot,” you snickered and wormed your way out of his arms to flop down on his couch.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot now, sweetheart.” He sat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders so you could relax into his side. Your cheek rested on his chest.

“I know. I’m yours, too.”

Sunoo 

His lips pressed into a thin line as tears welled up on his lash line. A wave of panic rushed over you.

“Oh no, Sunoo, please don’t cry.” Your hands waved uselessly in front of you, caught between wanting to hug him but also wanting to respect his distaste for skinship. He made that decision for you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to grip the back of your shirt. Your hands immediately settled in the middle of his back, running small circles with your thumbs.

“I’ve been so scared of what would happen if anyone found out,” he sighed heavily into the crown of your head. “I can’t believe you’re so calm about this.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that vampires are real,” you teased to ease some of the tension. He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose.

“Yeah? Try being a vampire. It’s not as fun as the movies make it look.” You pulled back to wipe the tears from under his eyes.

“I’m being serious, though. You’re my best friend. We look out for each other, right?” You gently reassured him. 

“We do,” he agreed.

“Exactly. You would do the same for me if things were reversed. So eat before you die of starvation.” He rolled his eyes, unzipping your hoodie halfway and letting it fall from one shoulder. One hand wrapped around your bicep while the other sat on your collarbone to hold the strap of your tank top out of the way. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” Sunoo urged with a deadly serious edge to his voice. 

“I will, I promise.” With your confirmation, he bit into the curve of your shoulder. You winced silently at the sting, pulling out your phone to scroll on instagram while he drank from the wound. Sunoo was blissfully unaware of your distraction until Sticky blasted at full volume. He glared at you with the worst side-eye you’ve ever had the misfortune of receiving. 

“Are you on tiktok right now?” He asked incredulously, momentarily forgetting about your bleeding shoulder.

“Yeonjun did the sticky dance! How am I supposed to ignore that?”

“You’re ridiculous. I should kick you out right now.”

“Sunoo,” you whined at your friend as his eyes faded from red to their natural brown. He stood up straight, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow. “Ugh, I’m sorryyyyyyy. Put on one of your boring documentaries so I can fill you in on the bullshit between two of my classmates.”

“Say less!” You went to fix your hoodie and move to the living room, but were stopped by Sunoo’s hands on your wrists. “Hold on, I have to take care of the wound.” He ducked down to run his tongue over the punctures and you gagged dramatically.

“Ew, just say you want more blood next time you weirdo.”

“I’m stopping the bleeding! You’re so melodramatic.” He lightly shoved you toward the couch, stopping by the kitchen to grab a water bottle for you.

“Awe, you do love me,” you cooed after he tossed the bottle to you.

“I do love you, Y/N. I really appreciate your help and how understanding you’ve been,” he reached out to hold your hand but refused to look you in the eye. 

“I love you, too,” you smiled and squeezed his hand before pulling back to give him some space. 

“So, your classmates?”

“Oh my GOD they are so dense!” You launched into a yap session with David Attenborough as background noise and Sunoo drinking up every detail.

Ni-Ki

“You’re way too nice for your own good,” Riki stated with a flick to your forehead. 

“Oh, please. Like I’d let anyone other than you drink my blood.”

“Yay! I feel so special,” he teased and shot you a shit-eating grin. You shoved your hand into his face.

“Just do it before I change my mind,” you huffed with no real intention to actually leave him by himself and near starving. He grabbed your hand, turning it over a couple times to figure out where he should bite. 

“Man, I don’t fuckin know,” he muttered to himself before digging his fangs into your wrist (think Bella in the first Twilight). 

“Ow,” you half-heartedly complained. You let him drink in peace for a solid minute. Then you got bored and decided to mess with him, poking his cheek repeatedly. 

“Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet?” You asked with each poke. He released your wrist to groan loudly.

“Y/N.”

“Riki.” He glared at you for a few seconds until you poked him again. 

“I thought you were the older one here,” he retorted, showing off his fangs in a fake grimace.

“I am! I treat you the exact same as I treat my brother. Which, unfortunately for you, means I will constantly give you shit.”

“Meh meh meh meh meh,” he mocked quietly as he returned to your bleeding wrist.

“Hey! Is that any way to talk to your only noona– OW you little shit!” You flinched when he pressed into the wound with the pads of his fingers. He ignored you, so you started talking his ear off about work and the favoritism you swore your manager was showing to another girl. Normally Riki would interrupt you every 30 seconds during your ramblings, but his mouth was currently occupied.

“Oh my goddddddd,” he whined obnoxiously and in your ear. “I’m done, please shut uuuuup.” 

“Riki!” You smacked the back of his head, leveling the younger boy with what your brother called your ‘mom eyes’. 

“Sorry,” he grumbled.

“Sorry what?”

“I’m sorry, noona.” He swung your joined hands around, shaking your whole body in the process. “I just love your amazingly long-winded stories.” You decided to ignore the sarcasm in the second half of his apology. 

“Did you get enough?” You asked, nodding toward the wound. 

“Oh! Yeah, I did. Thank you. I was honestly starting to freak out.” 

“It took a whole week for you to panic?” He shrugged. “Are you gonna let my hand go so I can bandage that?”

“Nope. No need, I can stop the bleeding.” He lifted your arm to his mouth again to lick the wounds a couple times.

“Gross.”

“Oh cool, that worked.”

“What?!” Your eyebrows shot into your hairline. “You didn’t know for sure?”

“Well the older vampires all said our saliva stops bleeding, but I’ve never done it myself before.” 

“You’re impossible. You’re lucky I love you,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“How can I ever repay you,” he teased and bowed with a flourish, kissing the top of your hand with an exaggerated ‘mwah!’

“Ewwww,” you grunted and yanked your hand out of his grip. Riki clutched his stomach as he laughed at your reaction. You crossed your arms, acting annoyed despite the fuzzy feeling of pride filling your chest.

“Do you want me to order food for you?” He asked after he calmed down. 

“Yes! I want whatever Jay has been feeding you to get you that tall,” you grinned, turning to saunter over to the couch. You collapsed into the cushions and turned on the TV.

“Wait for me, I want to watch more Demon Slayer with you. Hi, can I place an order for delivery, please?” Riki’s voice trailed away as he disappeared into his room for the phone call. You shook your head, queueing up the episode you left off on more than a week ago, more than ready to spend time with your best friend again.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

[redvdress]

LITTLE BASTARD

A/N: here we are again with “stuff no one asked for”, this comes from a long series of of scenarios i wrote for myself and that now i’m in the mood to share, let’s get all delusional together! idk even know how this came to my mind but i love dick dabi, he’s just something else. soo reader took home a little black cat, but dabi spent time at your apartment like he already owned the place and when you’re not there, he has to deal with the little bastard alone. enjoy!!

Dabi woke up to the irritating sensation of sunlight streaming through the window, stabbing at his closed eyelids like a thousand tiny needles. He groaned, turning his face into the couch cushions in a futile attempt to escape it, but there was no escape—not from the light, not from the dull ache in his neck, and certainly not from the suffocating quiet of your apartment. The blanket draped lazily over him was more of a tangled mess than anything warm, leaving half his body exposed to the cool air, and for a moment, he debated setting it on fire just to be rid of it.

With a low growl, he forced himself up, blinking groggily as the familiar scene of your cramped living room came into focus.

The place was a disaster—clothes strewn across the floor, half-empty takeout containers on the coffee table, and a thick layer of dust coating just about everything. Yet despite all that, it was one of the few places Dabi found himself returning to. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, least of all to you.

But it was quiet here, no Shigaraki barking orders, no Twice yapping in his ear. Just a temporary reprieve from the shitstorm that was his life.

“Where the fuck is she?” he muttered, his voice raspy with sleep as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the stiffness that had set in from sleeping in such a cramped position. You were usually around, either tossing snarky comments his way or pretending not to notice when he crashed here. But the place was dead silent, and that immediately set off alarm bells in his head. Not that he cared—he didn’t care—but it was weird. And weird made him edgy.

His half-asleep mind barely registered the soft sound at first—a faint, persistent noise coming from the floor. He blinked, glancing down, and froze when he saw it. The damn cat.

Your latest acquisition—a tiny, black furball with bright green eyes that always seemed to be watching him like it was judging every move he made. It sat by his leg now, staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes and a tiny, pathetic meow that made Dabi’s lip curl.

“Oh, fuck no,” he muttered, glaring at the little creature. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The cat meowed again, this time a bit louder, its tail flicking lazily behind it like it was completely unconcerned with his mood. It stretched, yawning like it had just woken up from the best sleep of its life, and padded closer, brushing up against his leg with all the nonchalance of a creature that knew damn well it could get away with anything.

Dabi frowned, shoving his hand through his messy hair in frustration. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what you want, little shit. yn’s not here, so don’t expect me to start feeding you or whatever the fuck she does with you.”

Of course, the cat couldn’t care less. It just stared at him, wide-eyed and unblinking, before letting out another soft meow. It stepped closer again, its tiny paw batting at his leg with a persistence that was starting to grate on his nerves.

Dabi glared down at it, but the cat simply tilted its head, as if daring him to ignore it.

“You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” he growled. “I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

The cat, still completely unimpressed by his annoyance, jumped onto the couch beside him, curling up against his thigh as if it belonged there. Dabi recoiled slightly, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

The little bastard had made itself comfortable in a matter of seconds, purring softly like this was the highlight of its day.

“Oh, so now we’re best friends, huh?” Dabi muttered sarcastically, staring down at the ball of fluff nestled against his leg. He contemplated just standing up and dumping the cat onto the floor, but the thought of it clinging to him all day like some kind of needy parasite made him reconsider. If it wanted to sit there and leave him alone, fine. But he wasn’t about to start playing pet owner.

He leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes and hoping the damn thing would take the hint and fuck off. But of course, the cat had other plans. He felt a soft nudge against his hand, then again—gentle but persistent, as if it was demanding attention. Dabi opened one eye, glaring down at the cat like it had personally insulted him.

“You’re not gonna quit, are you?” he muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

The cat meowed again, this time louder, and Dabi groaned, slumping further into the couch. “For fuck’s sake. Fine. Whatever.”

With a reluctant sigh, he reached out and gave the cat a half-assed scratch behind the ears, expecting it to get bored and leave him alone. Instead, the little bastard leaned into his touch, purring even louder, like it had won some kind of battle.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “You’re just like her, you know that? All needy and demanding.”

The cat blinked up at him with those wide green eyes, clearly oblivious to his sarcasm. Dabi couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that escaped him. “Shit, this is ridiculous. Here I am, Dabi—wanted criminal—sitting on a couch, petting a fucking cat.”

He ran a hand through his hair, glaring at the creature curled up against his leg. “Shigaraki would lose his mind if he saw this. ‘Why are you wasting time with a stupid cat, Dabi?’” he muttered in a mocking, high-pitched voice, doing a poor imitation of Shigaraki that only made him sound more like an idiot.

The cat, still oblivious to his inner turmoil, purred louder, nudging his hand with its head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dabi sighed, scratching under its chin with a begrudging touch. “You really don’t give a shit, do you?”

The cat blinked slowly, its eyes half-closed in contentment, and Dabi shook his head. “You’ve got it easy, huh? No shitty family. No responsibilities. Just sitting around all day, getting pampered by people who don’t know any better.”

The little furball continued to lean into his hand, and for a moment, Dabi found himself almost envious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that kind of peace—if he’d ever felt it at all. The cat had no idea how good it had it, curled up on a warm couch with no worries, no obligations. Just a simple, easy existence.

“Yeah, well, I guess someone’s gotta live the good life,” he muttered, glancing at the door again.

You had better come back soon, because he wasn’t about to spend the whole damn day babysitting this thing. But knowing you, you were probably off doing something reckless—or worse, shopping for more shit for the cat.

Dabi glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even noon yet. “Fuck my life,” he muttered, leaning back on the couch. He continued to absentmindedly pet the cat, though it was more out of boredom than anything else.

“Y’know, I didn’t think I’d be spending my day babysitting your annoying ass,” he said, staring down at the little creature. “But here we are. You really lucked out, didn’t you?”

The cat meowed in agreement, and Dabi rolled his eyes. “yn’s definitely gonna pay for this shit. Leaving me alone with you…”

He trailed off, the irritation in his voice fading as the cat curled up tighter against his leg, its purring filling the otherwise quiet room.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered, though even he didn’t sound convinced. His hand stayed resting on the cat’s back, fingers absently running through the soft fur.

The minutes ticked by, and Dabi found himself, against all odds, relaxing.

He wouldn’t admit it—not in a million years—but there was something almost… calming about the little creature curled up against him. It was quiet here, warm. No chaos, no demands. Just a moment of peace in a life that was anything but.

Still, as he glanced down at the tiny ball of fur, he couldn’t help but smirk. “I’m not sticking around forever, you know. This is a one-time deal.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Dabi leaned back, his hand still resting on the cat’s back as its steady purring lulled him into a rare sense of calm.

Dabi had just started to relax when you suddenly materialized beside him, slipping out of the shadows with that quiet grace you always carried, startling him like you’d made it a personal mission to catch him off guard.

“Shit!” Dabi jerked, his hand snapping away from the cat like it had burned him.

The black furball shot him a mildly annoyed glance before hopping off the couch, its tail flicking in disdain as it padded off to find a more peaceful resting spot. Dabi sat up straight, glaring at you with the kind of pissed-off intensity he reserved for people who made the mistake of surprising him.

You stood there, arms crossed, a smug smirk curling on your lips as you leaned casually against the wall, looking every bit like you knew you’d caught him in a compromising moment. “Aww, did I scare you, tough guy?” you teased, your tone thick with mock sweetness. “But look at you, getting all cozy with the cat. Never thought I’d see the great Dabi petting something other than his own goddamn ego.”

Dabi scoffed, his body still tense as he ran a hand through his tangled hair, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity.

“I wasn’t petting the damn thing,” he snapped, voice low and rough, as if the accusation alone offended him. “It wouldn’t leave me the hell alone. You and your fucking cat…”

You sauntered over, that cocky smirk never leaving your face. “Right, right. You were just sitting there, letting it snuggle up to you out of the goodness of your charred little heart, huh? Who knew you even had one buried under all that ash?”

Dabi shot you a look that could’ve peeled paint off a wall. “Don’t push it, dollface,” he growled. His voice had a hard edge, you had been around him long enough to know when his bark was worse than his bite. The nickname—half mocking, half affectionate—was just one of the many ways he tried to keep you at arm’s length while letting you in, in his own twisted way.

You didn’t back down. You never did.

“Oh, I’m pushing it,” you said, plopping down on the couch next to him with absolutely no regard for personal space. You practically radiated that infuriating confidence, leaning in just enough to annoy him. “Maybe you’re jealous that I give the cat more attention than you, huh? Is that it?”

Dabi’s lips curled into a sneer as he rolled his eyes. “Jealous? Of a goddamn cat? You’re fucking delusional.” He tried to act unaffected, leaning back in the cushion like he wasn’t fazed, but you had a way of getting under his skin that was starting to piss him off—more than usual.

You grinned wider, sensing you’d struck a nerve. “Come on, admit it. You’re getting soft. All this time hanging out here, and you’re losing your edge. Can’t even scare a fucking kitten.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you shut the hell up for once and quit flapping your mouth?” Dabi shot back, though there was a flicker of amusement in his icy blue eyes. He leaned closer, cutting the distance between them, their faces just inches apart now. “You really think I’m getting soft?”

You tilted your head, unfazed by his proximity.

You were always like that, unflinchingly bold. “I think you’re getting softer than you want to admit, Touya.”

That name. Touya. The way it rolled off your tongue made something tighten in Dabi’s chest, something uncomfortable and far too intimate for his liking. You were one of the only people who ever called him that, and every time you did, it was like a sucker punch he never saw coming. He tried to play it off, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back slightly.

“You really love pushing my buttons, don’t you?” His voice was low, rougher now, but there was something else there—something softer, buried under the layers of sarcasm and anger he usually wrapped himself in. He didn’t like that feeling. Not one goddamn bit.

You just shrugged, leaning back herself, as casual as ever. “You make it too easy. Besides, someone’s gotta keep you in check before your head gets too big.”

Dabi chuckled darkly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, dollface. I oughta—”

“What? Burn me?” You cut him off, your eyes locking onto his with that familiar sharpness. “You wouldn’t.”

That hit harder than you probably meant it to, and for a split second, something flickered across Dabi’s face—something vulnerable, raw, and real. But he buried it quickly, shoving it down like he did with everything else. He wasn’t about to let you see that side of him. Not now, not ever.

“You’ve got no idea what I’m capable of,” he said quietly, his voice a low growl as he stood up abruptly, breaking the tension with a harsh movement. He needed to move, needed space before he lost whatever grip he had left on himself.

You watched him, your smirk fading slightly, but not completely. “Oh, I think I do,” you replied softly, standing up as well but keeping your distance. “You’re not as cold as you pretend to be.”

Dabi’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Cold.

If only you knew. If only you understood just how fucking cold he felt every second of every day, no matter how many flames he wrapped himself in. But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he glared at you, his usual defense mechanisms kicking in.

“Quit psychoanalyzing me, you pain in the ass,” he snapped, turning away from you. “You don’t know shit.”

You just stood there, your gaze steady, unwavering. “I know enough.”

Dabi hated how you could say that with such conviction. Hated how much you’d gotten under his skin without even trying. Hated how much he didn’t hate it.

Before he could come up with some smartass retort, you stepped closer, your expression softening just a fraction as you reached out and tugged lightly on his jacket, straightening it. The touch was gentle, almost too fucking tender, and it made Dabi freeze for a split second.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he muttered, glaring down at your hand on his jacket like it was some kind of betrayal.

You didn’t back off, though. You finished fixing the collar of his jacket and let your hand rest against his chest for a moment, looking up at him with that infuriating smirk still playing at your lips. “Making sure you don’t look like a total mess,” you said casually, though there was something in your eyes—something softer than the usual teasing banter.

Dabi narrowed his eyes, feeling the tension between you shift into something else—something he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with. He stepped back, shrugging you off as casually as he could, though his heart was pounding harder than it had any right to.

But his voice lacked its usual bite, and you seemed to pick up on that. You didn’t push him further, but you didn’t step away either.

“Come on,” Dabi grumbled, trying to shake off the weird tension that had settled between you. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m tired of sitting around.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What? Burned out from babysitting the cat all day?”

“Fuck you,” Dabi muttered, though his lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. He turned toward the door, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over his shoulders. “Let’s go. I need to set something on fire before I lose my goddamn mind.”

As they stepped out into the cold, Dabi felt you fall into step beside him, youe presence warm and steady in the frigid night air. Without thinking, he reached out and slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer in a way that felt almost… natural.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it.

Maybe it was the cold.

Maybe it was the weird tension between them. Or maybe—just maybe—it was something else.

You glanced up at him, clearly surprised, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him slightly, your smirk returning. “You’re getting real comfortable, Touya. Should I be worried?”

Dabi rolled his eyes, though he didn’t move his arm. “Shut the hell up, dumbass. Don’t get used to it.”

[sl-ut]

Wait a sequel to the drunk reader partying fic drabble thing where abbys trying to get you to drink water and you're refusing and arguing with her in your drunk state insisting you're fine LMAOOO (you're not)

party girl

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!reader

description: the cheer team won nationals, and they’re ready to party. only problem is, there’s a team-only pregame, which means abby can’t keep track of how much her girlfriend has to drink.

warnings: alcohol consumption, reader is VERY drunk in this, some creepy men (ew always), making out, femme reader, cursing, i was sorta rlly high when i wrote this sorry excuse any badness

words: 1.2K

date posted: 06/04/24

more college!abby

it's quite rare for abby to go to a party without her girlfriend. in fact, abby typically only goes as a formality, but she likes when her girl makes an effort to come with her. unfortunately for her, the cheer team decided that they would be having a squad-only pregame, which meant that abby would be wrapped into driving her drunk friends around before (and probably after) the party. at least she was getting a pretty steady stream of snaps from her girl throughout the night, but as soon as she starts getting the ones from nora, she gets worried.

they're all videos of y/n shotgunning, funneling, and demolishing lines of shots in record time. normally, she wasn't very possessive over her girlfriend, but she knew from their very early relationship that y/n could not handle her liquor, so she knew she was in for quite the treat when she got there.

but she could not have imagined what she was about to see the moment she walked into the crowded house. it took her a moment to truly realise what kind of spectacle could have caused every frat guy in a mile radius to flock together so wildly, until she realised that her girlfriend was swaying to the music atop the kitchen table, her skirt hiked up over the meat of her thighs and she didn't even seem to be aware of it.

abby quickly pushed her way through the crowd of boys, roughly shoving one of the ones at the front who had been attempting to angle his phone to get a proper up-skirt shot. y/n's eyes popped open at the sound of her name, an excited grin appearing on her face as she all but leaped off of the table and into her arms (thank god for all those muscles).

she laughed as her girlfriend practically wrapped herself around her, pressing sloppy kisses against the side of her face.

"heyyyy baby," y/n smiled drunkenly up at her, "i've been waiting for you."

"seems like it," abby laughed, "you having fun?"

"more now that you're here," she leaned up to kiss her, and abby almost gagged at the taste of every alcohol she could name on her tongue. "we won today."

"i know, i was there. you were so so so good, beautiful."

"mhm," y/n smiled, "i love winning. i feel like such a winner right now."

abby was the first person to understand the feeling, it was the exact same rush of confidence she felt in her own veins after her own games. she had been excited to take to the stands this time around, watching and cheering for her girlfriend in the same way that she had always done for her.

"you are a winner, baby."

she fluttered her eyelashes at her, "and i can't wait for you to give me my reward later."

"reward?" abby asked, feigning innocence.

"oh please, i know you could tell what i was wearing under here," she pursed her lips, fingers tugging at her dark red bra strap, "if you aren't gonna give me my reward, i guess i'll have to take it for myself."

abby shook in head in disbelief, "you're gonna have to sober up some if that's what you were wanting."

y/n leaned in to tug abby's reddening earlobe between her teeth, "no matter how sober i get, i'll still be drunk on you baby."

"oh, that one was bad," abby tilted her head back as she laughed, one hand coming down to grasp at her girlfriend's lower back, "you're cheesy when you're drunk."

"what, are you lactose in tolerant all the sudden? maybe i'll have to find someone who likes my cheese."

abby gripped her hips, "okay, okay, i'm sorry. you know i love your cheese."

"i know," y/n grinned, "you can make it up to me by dancing with me."

abby nodded, "that i can do."

she allowed her girlfriend to lead her into the crowd of sweaty bodies, easily pressing herself into her back and holding her hips as she moved her hips into hers. she was happy enough to just sway side to side, let her girl do all of the heavy work as she ground her ass into her groin with one arm slung back and around abby's neck, holding on for dear life as the blonde began pressing kisses along the side of her throat.

y/n's body tipped to the side the a hard push, both of their attentions being turned to the tall brunette who scowled down at y/n with a mean stare.

"watch it, bitch."

abby doesn't even remember moving, just taking hold of the front of the girl's shirt in her fist, pulling her close and breathing her own warning into her face. y/n watched in amusement as the brunette shrunk at the threat and moved as quickly through the crowd as possible. y/n laughed with glee, hugging her girlfriend tightly.

"you are so so so sexy when you get protective over me."

abby took her by the hand, pushing her ahead and guiding her by her hips to the kitchen, where they were quickly recruited to join nora and manny in a game of beer pong. abby reassured her girlfriend by promising to grab her a new drink (it was just a coke), and snickering behind her hand at how oblivious her girlfriend was to her scheming. once the cup was empty, abby changed her tactic to offering her girlfriend shot after shot of water under the guise of vodka, laughing to herself when her girlfriend commented on how drunk she must be if it wasn't burning her throat so badly.

after winning the game, y/n decided that it was time to sneak away with her girlfriend to the bathroom, where she made quick work of her top as she made a rather sloppy seduction attempt. abby had to use every ounce of her self control to push her hands away as y/n tried to unbuckle her belt.

"c'mon baby," abby groaned as she felt her hot tongue drag across her collar bone, the first few buttons of her shirt having been undone the moment that the door had been shut behind her, "cut that out."

"what? you don't want me?" she whined.

"i do, believe me i do," she groaned, taking her hands in her own and forcing her to look at her, "but not here, and not while you're this drunk."

y/n groaned, "sometimes i hate how good of a person you are."

abby chuckled and kissed her on the cheek, "i know, i know, me too. now let's get some water into you because i do plan on giving you that reward tonight."

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WAYS TO COME UNDONE

this is part 2 of WAYS TO DESTRESS but can be read as a standalone

summary: coriolanus keeps his promise about making you squirt all over him. what better way to do it than in front of the mirror.

pariring: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, fingering, sex in front of mirror, squirting, pussy spanking, p in v, use of safe word, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people), I DESPERATELY NEED A CORYO IN MY LIFE

a/n: hi 🌚 many wanted this, myself included hehe. it took a turn towards the end where it basically wrote itself. i have no control over what tickles my brain. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do. hopefully this oneshot shows more about the machinations of their relationship.

requests open ✨

From the moment Coryo showed you the racy clip of him using you while asleep, you have not been able to stop the waves of heat that consume your cunt.

You're a stellar student who always concentrates on the lectures and participates in class. Today, you find yourself in the back of the classroom, daydreaming about Coriolanus and his tongue. Focusing was out of the picture for you as you tried not to sneak your hand between your thighs and soothe the ache.

One of the many reasons your relationship works so well is that both of you are extremely perverted. Coriolanus has always been more in tune with that side of himself, but you needed assistance to bring that side out. Coriolanus saw it in you long before you did, and he patiently gauged it out and molded it to fit his crooked ways.

It's why Coriolanus using you while you were knocked cold has you acting this way. He pleasured himself when you were at your most vulnerable, and instead of feeling violated, you thanked him. You savor that instead of finding another whore to fuck his frustration out, he stays with you, no matter the state. If that makes you sick, then be it.

When your last class was over, you rushed to the apartment. You needed Coriolanus to stop this burning inside you. Sadly, he's a teacher's pet and workaholic who only managed to get home at eight at night.

He walks into the apartment calmly, humming under his breath while you watch him like a hawk. Coryo sees you on the living room couch 'lounging' and approaches you to leave a kiss on your head. Your eye twitches when he announces he's going to shower.

His upturned lips give him away. He's tormenting you. As if waiting for him all day wasn't torture enough. It could be worse, though he could've stayed longer at the lab. God knows he has a ton of experiments to work on.

With a huff, you follow him into the bedroom.

"How was your day, darling?" He asks, taking his clothes off.

He's like a masterpiece that has escaped a museum. His fair skin is unblemished except for the scars on his back that you've spent hours running your fingers over. Sometimes, he feels them burn, a reminder of what he's done in the past, but then you're there kissing over them to ease the pain.

"Long," you dryly respond, crossing your arms, inadvertently accentuating your chest.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Coryo says humorously, stepping into the steaming shower.

The foggy glass hides him from you, but you remain watching by the bathroom door. Despite your short answers, he continues to talk to you, successfully getting under your skin.

He's entertained by your lingering presence. Privacy is not in your vocabulary anymore. Coriolanus likes it when you get this needy. It's like an experiment where he tests how far you're willing to go.

It's not complicated; all you have to do is ask, and he'll give you the world, but you're too modest for your own good. It prevents you from coming right out with it. You could've had him the moment he stepped into the apartment if you had only asked.

You look at him hopefully when he steps out of the shower. Shamelessly, you take every inch of him. Coriolanus strong shoulders, his chiseled chest and abs, his pretty pink cock that hangs half hard most of the time.

He deprives you of it as he wraps a towel around his hips. Coriolanus approaches you, water droplets falling from his blonde hair and down his body.

Coriolanus is so close to you, and when you think he'll dip his head down to kiss you, he grabs your hips and moves you to the side to give himself passage into the bedroom. "'Excuse me."

You want to throw him with the vase of roses settled on the bathroom counter. You resist since you need him to be conscious for what you have planned. You're aware of how Coriolanus can read you like a book. So why isn't he asking about your mood or if you need anything?

He sits against the headboard, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his cock clearly outlined by the fabric. Coriolanus doesn't wear underwear to bed, he doesn't like the tight fabric when he's asleep. Having you hugging him throughout the night is enough.

With a huff, you strut over to the bed and straddle his lap. Expecting it, Coriolanus reaches for your hips, holding you tight onto him.

"Do it again," you say, placing your hands on his chest and provocatively arching your back as if offering yourself to him.

"What, darling?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow. He tilts his head towards you as if he didn't hear you properly.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Make me squirt," you say blatantly. It sounds wrong coming from your lips.

Coriolanus chuckles, shaking his head, "I said another time, darling. I'm tired tonight."

You punch his naked chest weakly, with your frown turning deeper. He grabs your hand midway through the air as you try to smack him again.

Amused at your boldness, he opens your palm and laces your fingers together. He kisses the back of your hand and holds it to his chest.

"You are mean and cruel, Coriolanus," you spit out, hoping to annoy him by using his full name. Maybe this will make him do it or at least provoke him to do something.

"You knew that when you accepted to marry me." His gaze hardens as he taps on the engagement ring on your fourth finger.

It glints delicately, catching people's attention and letting them know you're taken. He spent months searching for the right ring for you. Coriolanus had to find the perfect balance: nothing too simple where it would pass unseen but nothing too gaudy where you wouldn't wear it.

"I don't care how cruel you are to others as long as it's not me," you respond, cradling his jaw in your hand.

"Give me a good reason why I should do it," he asks, kissing your palm.

"I'll do anything, Coryo. I'll suck you off in the lab, cockwarm you in my father's office, let you tie me up, fuck my throat, anything! Hell, I'll even let you try anal again," you huff, winding yourself up.

You must really want it if you brought up anal. It's the one thing you've tried and haven't wanted to do again. You're pretty open to his suggestions, but that one is your hard limit.

He won't make you do it again. Seeing you needy like this is enough. Although he might take your offer of blowing him under the desk in his lab.

"You make a compelling case," he hums, looking at you carefully. You're flushed without him even touching you, and your nipples are hard under your nighty.

This isn't a whim, your body is visibly begging for him. Coriolanus has to pat himself on the back. This is all his doing.

"Coryo, you don't know how many times I've watched that video," you say as if to prove how much you need him.

"Kiss me," Coriolanus sighs, giving in.

You slam your lips against his, eagerly kissing him until you're breathless. Your fingers curl around his hair, tugging the strands and making him groan into your mouth. Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting him.

Coriolanus smacks a hand down on your ass cheek, leaving a red imprint behind. In retaliation, your teeth bite harshly onto his lower one, causing a drop of blood to surface.

"I love you, darling," he growls as his eyes darken with lust, and he cups your face with both his hands. You've turned so bold under his tutelage, stealing pages from the book he wrote.

"Yeah, I love you too, come on," you pant, taking off your night dress to reveal yourself to him.

"I've created a monster," Coryo murmurs, pawing on one of your breasts as he mouths the other one.

"Don't act like you don't like it," you moan, rolling your hips down on his bulge. Your lack of underwear is apparent as a wet patch forms on his pants.

Coryo involuntarily unwraps you from his body as he stands from the bed. You chase his lips with a whine when he pulls away from you. Coriolanus sets a chair in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room, sitting on it and motioning for you to sit on his lap.

If he's going to give you what you want, he will do it his way. You need him to make you squirt, so he's going to have you watch so you never forget about the moment. He'll engrave in your brain how it was he who made it possible.

With his hands on your waist, he turns you to face the mirror and pulls you down to sit with your back to his chest. Just like a doll, he positions you with your legs propped up on his knees, exposing your dripping cunt.

"No matter what, you're going to look at yourself in the mirror, or there will be consequences," he growls into your ear, licking the shell of your ear and biting your earlobe.

"Yes, Coryo," you moan, excitedly biting your lip.

Looking at him through the mirror, you notice his wicked stare. He begins to roll your clit on his fingers steadily, earning a sigh of contentment from you.

He's memorized everything about your body. Each stage of arousal is burned into his brain at this point. It's how he knows you've been touching yourself today.

"How many times did you touch yourself?" He questions, digging his nose into your neck to smell the remnants of your lotion and perfume.

"Two before I left for university, one during lunch, and two when I got back," you admit between moans as your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

You were late to class because of Coryo's video. Still, your arousal persisted so much that you locked yourself in one of the bathrooms of the university and rubbed your clit till your legs shook with an orgasm. You walked out of the bathroom, ashamed of your behavior, but it got you throughout the rest of the day.

When you got home, you fell on the couch, pressing one of the decorative cushions between your legs. You rocked against it for nearly an hour, edging yourself to give Coriolanus time to get home. The last one was in the shower with the detachable head minutes before he arrived.

"Five times and one in public," he chides with a click of his tongue, "What do I do with you?"

Your confession is music to Coriolanus' ears, but you can't know that. So he delivers five sharp slaps down your spread cunt. He covers the reddening flesh with his hand, putting pressure on it to ease the sting.

"Ow, Coryo," you cry, digging your nails into his thighs where you are barely hanging on.

"You should've come to me. I could've helped you much more than your fingers," he tells you mockingly.

Uncovering your cunt there is a dash of red on your skin. Coriolanus didn't hold back with his slaps. It's hard to explain why, but you like it when he manhandles you like that. He makes you cry just to console you later.

"You're busy," you sniff, hiccuping when he gathers your slick to spread it over the stinging skin.

Coriolanus takes his studies and lab work seriously; you never wish to interrupt him in any way, no matter how many times he reassures you it's okay.

"I'm never too busy for you, darling," he responds, resting his chin on your shoulder. His touch returns to your clit, rubbing it round and round until you're moaning out his name.

Finally, Coriolanus slips his finger into you, giving you the relief you desperately want. Even if it is your pleasure, his fingers are better than yours. They are long and strong and know precisely how to curve to give you the pleasure you seek.

The relief that takes over you is so much that you let your head fall back with your eyes closed. In an instant, the fingers are gone, and another slap is deposited on your sensitive skin.

"Eyes on the mirror," Coriolanus reminds you. He wants you to see how he's the only one that can make you crumble.

His free hand, which had been wrapped like a vice around your waist, comes up to your chest to squeeze your breasts and nipples. His eyes darken as he observes how your supple flesh spills between his fingers.

"Look at how pretty you are," he whispers in your ear as he adds another finger into your dripping cunt.

A sense of bashfulness settles on your chest as you do as he says. You follow his hand as it trails down your sweaty skin, your face and chest flushed because of the heat. He traces your nipples with his fingers, and you watch how they turn hard in response. Next, he touches your stomach, his fingers ghosting your belly button from which he has licked his own cum from.

It's like your body harbors memories of Coriolanus Snow, from the multicolored lovebites in your chest and neck to the thick arousal that coats your thighs. Each one was caused by him, for him.

Sensing your mind is slipping, he lightly taps your thighs, bringing you back to focus on the body he considers so beautiful. He takes his wet fingers out of you and spreads your cunt even farther with them.

He traces your pearl, which is bright red, frustrated from arousal and the constant touching it has endured today. Then, your pussy lips that puff out as blood surges to it.

Coriolanus gathers the drop of slick that hangs from your fleshy pink opening. "See? All beautiful and all mine," he says. Only now does he allow you to turn from the mirror because it's to kiss him.

Remembering why you're in this position, Coriolanus slides two fingers into you, fucking them with precision into your g spot. No more teasing and prolonging.

"It feels so good, Coryo," you whine, holding onto his arm as your hips grind further into his hand.

"It looks good, too," he mutters, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallows his fingers. Not even your nails digging into his arm snaps him away from the pretty sight.

With hooded eyes, you keep looking into the mirror, waiting for the moment Coryo promised you. Coriolanus hand presses down on the spot above your mound. It's the key to make you squirt. His fingers bully your spot more forcefully, feeling your walls clench with an impending orgasm.

"Oh, fuck, C-coryo," you choke out, breathing heavily. It's like an orgasm is coming but so much better than the needy, desperate ones from today. It feels much more fulfilling.

"Relax for me," he prompts, slowing his pace. You're always so fucking tense even as he fucks you senseless.

"Ah, ah, ah," your moans staccato as you near your precipice and tears accumulate in the corner of your eyes.

It's a constant climb where you feel the excitement of nearing the top, and then suddenly, you slide back down. A sudden burst of pleasure consumes you as a gush wets Coryo's fingers and mirror. His fingers whip out and furiously rub your frustrated clit, causing a smaller gush to stream down.

Your mouth is ajar as you gasp, your hands bunching up the fabric of his pants. Your cunt visibly spasms as your orgasm prolongs itself.

"You did it, darling," Coriolanus sweetly says, kissing your cheek as he looks at you adoringly, "How did it feel?"

He touches you all over, spreading the drops of squirt that adorn your thighs. Your legs fall down limply as you relax back onto Coryo. He continues stroking your skin, looking at the beautiful, wet mess he made.

"I-I don't know, there was this just sensation of release like everything left my body," you say between pants as you try and catch your breath.

Coriolanus smirks and hugs you tightly, lost in his own world. It's like the post-orgasmic bliss affected him rather than you.

"Can we try again?" You ask minutes after, feeling the spark reignite by just thinking about the stream of fluid that came out of you.

"Whatever my darling wants," Coriolanus agrees, spanking your ass playfully when you get up from the chair.

You kneel on the floor to pull down his pants and find his leaking cock. Going straight for it, you suck him off like there is no tomorrow, swallowing around him and taking him deep till your nose rubs against his pubic bone.

Coriolanus doesn't allow himself to cum, even if his body screams at him to shoot his load into your warm mouth. Pulling you up from the floor, he pushes you towards the bed. You get on your knees and hands, shaking your ass for him cheekily.

Coriolanus has a feeling that today it will be a quick one. You're both too wound up to prolong this any further. His hand curves over your hip as he pushes his cock through your folds, wetting it. Without a warning, he snaps his hips, stretching your walls.

"Love your cock, Coryo," you moan as he fucks you harshly. "So big and thick and so deep," you mumble, acting cockdrunk.

You bury your head on the sheets, arching your back so your chest presses against the bed as you splutter nonsense. The tension of the day gets to you, and you allow yourself to go dumb on his cock.

"It's all yours, darling," he grunts, gripping your waist to push you back onto his cock. At this point, you're a cocksleeve to him as he chases his release. The sounds of his balls slapping against your clit are loud and obnoxious.

Keeping a steady rhythm, he fucks you until you're fluttering around him again. Coriolanus bends over your back, splaying his hand on your pelvis. He had promised he'd make you squirt again. It works as you drench his cock again, soaking the sheets and his thighs.

"Oh my god," you cry as your legs shake. You would've fallen flat on your face if it hadn't been for Coryo, who holds you up as he continues to push into you.

Tears soak the pillow you're hugging. It's too good. His cock is brushing repeatedly over your spongy spot. You don't want him to stop, ever, but you're so sensitive. It's a push and pull. You want more, but you're unsure if your body is up to it.

In a moment of lucidity, a wave of emotions grabs you and pulls you down. It snaps you out of your trance and hurts your chest. Shame, pleasure, desperation, joy, embarrassment, arousal.

Questions invade your brain. Since when have you been like this, letting yourself be treated this way? How are you not ashamed of yourself? This is not how a lady behaves. You're no better than a whore in a whorehouse. You should be ashamed of yourself.

"Rose!" You cry out with a sob as the shakiness localized in your legs spreads all over your body.

Immediately, Coriolanus stops all movement, startled by the use of the safe word. Your soft cries snap him out of his shock, and he, as gently and carefully as possible, pulls out of you.

Your whole body shakes as you cry, worrying Coriolanus to no end. He questions if he did anything that hurt you but comes up empty-handed.

"Darling, are you okay?" He asks, helping you sit up on the bed. He takes the clean blanket by the end of the bed, covering your body.

"Too-too much. I-I'm sorry," you hiccup, hugging the blanket tighter against you.

Coriolanus carefully respects your private space since he's unsure if you want or need his touch. He sits beside you, though, listening to anything you might need.

Humiliation fills your body. You were the one to ask for more and couldn't handle it, worrying Coryo about something that was not his fault.

"It's okay, nothing to be sorry about," he speaks with the softest voice he can muster, "Do you want me to bring you water?"

"Just hold me," you say as more tears trickle down your face.

So, he does. Coriolanus kisses your temple and runs his hand across your back until your sobs settle. He holds you close and whispers reassuring words in your ear.

You desperately want to tell him it's nothing he did. He wasn't being terribly rough or mean. You loved every moment of tonight until your emotions and unwanted thoughts got the best of you.

In your vulnerable state, the pent-up frustration of the day and the negative emotions you kept locked bubbled up and caused a sensory overload. Even now, you can barely speak, trying to regulate your emotions again.

"Don't go," you hiccup, reaching for his hand when Coryo stands from the bed. Terrified, he believes the same things your brain is feeding you.

"I'm not going anywhere, darling. Just looking for our clothes," he says, squeezing your left hand and kissing your knuckles.

Coriolanus grabs his pants from the floor and slips them on. Digging through the drawers, he finds one of his t-shirts and grabs a pair of your underwear. Your comfort is his priority, and he knows how comforting you find wearing his clothes. He helps you put the garments on, wrapping you back up on the blanket.

Leaning back on the pillows, he pulls you towards him, hugging you to his chest. You hug his middle, burying your head in his neck, falling asleep like that.

He stays awake, feeling the puffs of breath on his neck. Coriolanus hand keeps running up and down your back, under your shirt. It works to comfort himself as well.

You've only used the safe word twice, and both times, you had been doing worse things by far. He had understood twice and had been alert in any case. Today took him off guard, and it scared him.

Coryo debates on waking you the following day. He decides to do it to check how you're doing. You can decide if you want to go to university or not. He will walk you there personally if that is what you choose.

He wakes you by running his hand up and down your arm, softly shaking you out of your slumber, "Darling?"

"Mmm," you groan, your eyes fluttering open. He'd kept the curtains closed so they wouldn't bother you.

"How are you? Do you need anything?" Coriolanus asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

You stay silent momentarily, gauging your mental state, "I'm good. Am I running late?" You ask, sitting up on the bed.

"No, it's still early. Want me to walk you to school?" He asks, watching as you get up and head into the bathroom.

"Please?" You ask, turning to look at him before closing the bathroom door.

"Of course," he nods.

"Coryo, I think I know what happened last night," you speak loudly through the door, not a moment later.

"And what's that love?" He asks, standing by the door.

"I got my period," you say simply.

The blood staining your underwear is the reason you lost yourself last night. Your hormones must've been all over the place yesterday. It explains your sudden breakdown and why you were acting like a bitch in heat before that.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He's glad it's just that and nothing he did. He feels calm now as most of his worry is swept away. "I'll go make breakfast," he tells you before he heads out to the kitchen.

His worry is replaced by disappointment in himself. He lost track of your damn period because he was so busy at the lab. He has to share part of the blame. Ever since he started living with you, he noticed those subtle mood changes you got as your period neared and passed through.

First is the neediness, constantly touching him and asking to be touched. You got freakier when you were ovulating. Then there is the bad mood you get whenever he just as breathes the wrong way or places something where it doesn't belong. You try hiding it and holding back your scoffs, but he notices. Lastly, it's the tears. Your emotions are delicate when this time of the month comes around.

Last year, you got your period around the time of The Hunger Games and couldn't watch them. Tears instantly tracked down your face when you usually don't care. Coriolanus had to record them for you to watch later because you wanted to see everything that was implemented, thanks to him.

Because he recognizes how you get, he took it upon himself to make those days more bearable for you. Not to say he tiptoes around you, but he's gentler, more restrained. He tries not to be too mean. Had he known your period was right around the corner, he wouldn't have teased you today or made you wait for it.

He scolds himself as he pieces the puzzle together. That must've been why you took the sleeping pills the other day. You had an emotional day, and your overthinking mind didn't let you sleep.

Sensing he's kicking himself, you hug Coryo's waist from behind as he places the food on the table. "I love you, Coryo," you say sweetly, pressing a kiss on his spine.

Now, this is more in line with your normal, sweet behavior.

Coriolanus turns around in your embrace, hugging your shoulders and pulling you tight against him, kissing your hairline. "I love you so damn much," he speaks into your hair. "You had me worried last night," he admits, kissing your lips slowly before he lets you go.

"I don't know what happened. One moment, I was alright, and the next…well, you know," you shrug, sitting on the chair Coryo pulls out for you.

"Your emotions got the best of you. I know how that feels," Coriolanus nods, understanding better than anyone how it feels to lose yourself in the moment.

That day in the forest of District 12 will forever haunt him.

There we go! That was the part 2 I promised you! It took an unexpected turn but it felt right to me. Sorry it couldn't be kinkier :(

If you'd like to read more of this pairing you can also read The Mentor. It's a small prequel to this one shot set around three years back when they started dating. That being said The Mentor Pt. 2 is FILTHY.

If you liked it don't hesitate to let me know!

[ciaradream8]

Where Are You? (Part 2)

A/N: So I'm still upset with Zayne for not coming home when midnight hit during new years and before that (He rarely showed up at the cafe and when he did he was on his laptop the whole time). So I'm still letting out feelings and the new year is not being kind to me in RL as well. Just needed to vent in my own way so I made a part 2. I know I know those who commented wanted a better outcome and I PROMISE there will be happy ending. It's just going to take a few parts to get there. Please be patient with me. I didn't plan on making this more than 2 parts it just happened. I just went with the flow. I didn't really proofread this either so I'm sorry for the terrible writing. Like I said I was just venting in my own way.

Warnings: Angst (with a bit of comfort from Tara until later)

Words: 1.5K

If this is your first time reading this I suggest going to the first part:

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“Did you have a good new year’s?” Tara asked as she took a bite of her lunch.

“Yeah.” I replied, giving her a small smile. She put her fork down and gave me a look.

“What happened? You don’t look like someone who celebrated and is excited for the new year.” she frowned.

I sighed. After sending that text to Zayne he still had not replied. It’s been a couple of days. All I could see was that he read it, but he didn’t do anything beyond that point. I just felt worse after that. Everywhere I looked something reminded me of him. It didn’t help that Linkon was snowing. Even if someone mentioned snow he would just pop in my head and wouldn’t leave my mind for a long period of time. I didn’t want to tell Tara what happened for two reasons: I didn’t want to worry her and hearing it from my own mouth would make me cry again.

“I…I rather not talk about it.” I spoke up after a minute of silence. Tara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. It was strange. She normally would try to pry things open, but it appeared she noticed that I was feeling at my lowest. I had my downs, but this was by far the worst I have ever felt. Things have been going wrong since the Zayne situation happened: my packages went to the wrong address, my takeout orders have been way off, my reports had errors despite me double checking them, and more. Why was this happening? They didn’t involve Zayne yet after my breakup text things have been consistently going wrong.

“Okay. I won’t force you, but at least let me do a new year reading for you! It might help!” Tara offered.

“I…I don’t know.” I hesitated.

“Please? Pretty please?” She gave me her puppy eyes.

I gave a small laugh, “Okay. Go ahead.” To be honest, I was scared. Tara’s readings have usually been on point. Let’s see how terrible my year will be. I thought to myself. I watch Tara take out her cards with excitement after setting aside her lunch. She proceeds to lay out her cards on the table while I take another small bite of my lunch. After she finishes she puts her index finger to her chin and analyzes the cards. My heart rate speeds up due to nerves, but I try to quell it down and prepare myself for a negative year. Next thing I see from her face is a smile.

“You’re going to be fine, (Y/N). The beginning of the year is sometimes rough for everyone. I can see you were let down by someone for a while, but they have their reasons. I know. I know it’s no excuse and I can see you’re going to give them a fight. This special person of yours is willing to fight to win your heart again. No matter how long it takes. This year won’t be bad for you at all. I promise.” Tara placed her hand over her heart.

“Tara…you know who this special person is…” I sighed.

“I know. But I also know saying his name will hurt you more with the way you’re feeling now, right?”

“Thanks for not saying it.” I smiled.

“Of course! What are friends for? Let me read the rest.”

According to Tara, my career is still going to skyrocket along with my luck. I just had to get through a rough patch for the time being. I hated that. Luckily she said that it was for a very short time and that soon things will fall into place, but at the end of the day I made the choices in my life. Even though I didn’t tell her exactly what happened, she made me feel better.

3 Days Later

Mornings suck. I like being a hunter, but the only complaint I have is that we’re supposed to report for duty in the morning. I grabbed my phone to check the time and nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of what I saw on my screen.

A text message from Zayne.

He’s sending me a message NOW? Why? Wait. Should I have blocked him? But I can’t since he’s my primary physician. Maybe I can call Akso Hospital to see if I can switch. The less I see him the better. I thought to myself while I unlocked my phone to see what he sent. There was no explanation. Just one question:

Can we talk?

That was it. I slapped my forehead and laughed a bit. Was this man serious? This was the last thing I wanted to do. What if Tara was wrong in her reading? Zayne doesn’t want me. He probably got tired of me for all I know. “Think, (Y/N). Think. This is a bad idea. You’ll go crawling to him after the pain he put you through.” I shook my head. The pain of wanting to see him and being disappointed in him were fighting against each other. I needed to think with my head this time. “It’s fine. I can go on without him. I don’t need…I don’t need…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. I proceeded to cry in bed again while I clutched onto my phone.

After a good cry I decided not to answer. He never answered my texts so why should I? I don’t care if it was childish. I had the right to be like this since he was the one so busy with work that he ignored me, got annoyed with me when I tried to get him to pay attention, and ignored my messages and missed out on our celebration for the new year and first year anniversary. I’m a big girl who can live without him just fine.

“Hunters. This year is off to a slow start, but that doesn’t mean we have other things to take care of. Such as your physical.” Jenna announced and everyone groaned. “It is necessary that we have all these medical appointments to ensure that your body is doing well to keep going. Being a hunter is a big responsibility. It is my hope that one day that all wanderers are gone for good and that the city won’t need hunters anymore. That the world will no longer have to fear wanderers invading their home and we can live a peaceful life. We got a taste of that these past few weeks. Unfortunately, they are not gone. That is where you come in. Maintaining a healthy body and mind is necessary for jobs like these. You may have become strong in more ways than one, but at the end of the day we are human. We have our vulnerable side too and that’s okay. Your physical must be done by the end of the month and I will receive your medical report from your doctor.”

“Yes, Captain!” We all shouted.

“Good. All of you get back to work.” Jenna said before walking away. The moment we couldn't see Jenna’s silhouette Tara pulled me to the side.

“Are you going to be okay with that?” Tara asked with a worried look on her face.

“Honestly?” I bit my lip and shook my head. “Maybe I can switch doctors or have one of the doctors do it for me?”

“Do you really want to switch doctors?”

I looked to the side, “It doesn’t matter. It’s probably best.”

“(Y/N)...”

“We got weekly reports to do. We better get started on those.” I cut her off.

After finishing work and leaving the Hunter’s Association I saw that there was heavy rain. My remaining coworkers who stayed overtime with me were frustrated since the weather report didn’t mention anything about rain tonight. I groaned.

“Just my luck. I didn’t bring my raincoat or a thick jacket. Tara…I’m probably the first person whose reading is wrong.” I walked to the parking lot to get my motorcycle, but when I tried to turn it on, a weird nose spurted out. “Are you kidding me?!” I tried to turn it on again, but next thing I knew a bit of smoke came out. I am so close to screaming. I took a deep breath to try and calm down, but with everything falling apart it was becoming difficult. I walked out of the parking lot and got my phone out to call a taxi only to see my phone was dead. That was the last straw. I threw my phone as far as I could as I screamed.

“CAN THIS DAY GET ANY WORSE?!” I looked up while the rain poured. “I JUST WANT SOMETHING TO GO RIGHT? JUST ONCE. A SIGN OR SOMETHING WOULD BE NICE DAMN IT!” Tears began to roll down my cheeks while I panted. I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t bother turning around, thinking it was a stranger who thought I was nuts. But it wasn’t a stranger.

“(Y/N).”

Impossible. I thought. I slowly turned around to face the person I was hoping not to see. He wore his black knitted shirt, dark gray coat and slacks. He held up his large, black umbrella above him.

“Zayne?”

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A/N: Thank you for letting me let things out. This year is already off to a rough start honestly, but at least it's giving me inspiration to write stuff like this? I'll probably just write whatever I want to write unless you guys have requests. I do know more than Love and Deepspace so if you're curious what more I can do you can ask and I will answer yes or no. Again I promise this will have a happy ending! I am just salty with Zayne hahaha

[hitomisuzuya]

scara smut halloween theme!

we’re carving pumpkins together and he has the idea to carve a little hole for his yk and he tells us to pull the guts out of the carved pumpkin but instead we grab his dick and things escalate from there

Halloween smut. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Blowjob. Overstimulation. Pumpkin carving.

I wasn't very confident in myself when I wrote this, honestly..

Scaramouche scoffed you, rolling his eyes when you told him you wanted to carve a pumpkin for Halloween. "How childish," He said as he lifted the pumpkin onto the table. You'd chosen a pretty good sized one from the pumpkin patch.

You looked so excited about this silly little tradition that it was almost too cute.

"I love doing this every year," You said, picking up the knife. You stabbed it enthusiastically into the top of the pumpkin.

"Okay, no more knife for you," It was both incredibly sexy, and a little frightening to see you stab the knife into the pumpkin like that excitedly. He wasn't going to lie, it made him hard. "Find a pattern on your phone you want me to carve for you."

And he didn't want to risk you cutting your delicate little fingers either.

You pouted your lower lip out for a moment while scrolling through patterns on your phone. He looked relieved when you showed him a fairly simple pattern.

Scaramouche set to work carving the pumpkin. Honestly, he would never admit this, but this was fun for him. And maybe he wanted to impress you with his pumpkin carving skills.

"Huh? What's up?" You asked, seeing he was looking at one of holes for the eyes in contemplation.

He looked right at you, smirked and said, "What do you think it would feel like if I stuck my dick in there?

You immediately blushed."Scara, I don't think that would equal-" Why did boys have such a fascination for holes of any kind?

Before you could finish, he cut off you off with a scoff. His smirk however never left his face. "Go on, take the guts out," He crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. "With your hand." He pushed the scooping spoon off the table when you reached for it.

The guts looked squishy and gross. If you weren't going to encourage him in his curious endeavor, then he wanted to see you squirm a little as payback.

"Scara, seriously?" You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Do it~," He said teasingly. "What's the matter? Think it would be too gross." He laughed when you sighed and reached into the top of the pumpkin. You refused to let him dent your pride.

Scaramouche wasn't expecting his cock to twitch and throb hearing your fingers slosh around in the pumpkin as you scooped the guts out into your hand. "It sounds just like my fingers when they squelch in and out of your hole."

"Quiet from the peanut gallery," You replied, dropping the guts from your hand onto the plate. You looked at him, and saw the growing tent in his pants.

Your back talking only made his cock strain more in his pants. Scaramouche's eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat when you dropped to your knees in front of him. At first he thought you were going to grab the scooping spoon off the floor, so he kicked it away under the table. "The guts aren't down there."

"No, they aren't. But, your cock is," You replied, looking up at him with a blush on your cheeks. His teasing warranted some payback of your own.

"Can't resist me long enough to carve a pumpkin, hm?" He purred, looking down at you as you unbuttoned his pants.

"Remember what I said about comments from the peanut gallery," You replied over Scaramouche's groan of relief when you took his cock out.

"Tch, listen here, you little-" He grit his teeth, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you prodded your tongue on the head of his leaking cock. He grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling on it before he brought your mouth closer to his cock.

You sucked wetly on the tip, wrapping your hand around it and squeezing. That made his hips jerk forward. "Fuck, I almost cummed when you did that,' He groaned, forcing your mouth down on his cock.

Your eyes widened, tears stinging in your eyes as he abruptly pushed his cock into your throat. It throbbed in your mouth, your throat spasming as your coughed. You adjusted your breathing, vibrating a long moan on his entire length.

You flattened your tongue on the vein that bulged to the surface, sucking when Scaramouche started thrusting into your mouth. The more pleasure your mouth brought him, the tighter he gripped your hair. He needed to do it to ground himself because you always sucked him off exactly how he liked it.

Messy and sloppy. Drool poured from your mouth to soak into his cock, his thighs trembling as he fucked himself into your throat. You nuzzled his pelvis, making yourself choke on his cock. He whimpered in pleasure when you immediately started sucking again after you coughed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," He cursed, holding your head in place, mindlessly thrusting into your mouth. "Don't stop sucking until I cum," He tugged on your hair. "You know I fucking love it when you moan pathetically on my cock."

You vibrated a pleased moan along his length, bobbing your head up to suck on the tip again. After a few moments, he hastily stuffed his cock in your mouth again, filling your mouth with cum.

Your mouth felt utterly worshipping as you sucked him off through his orgasm. However, your kept your hands on his thighs when he let go of your hair. Remember that payback?

You didn't stop sucking. This payback was coming in the form of overstimulation. You ground your mouth on his cock, making him whimper louder as he leaned against the wall. His knees shook and nearly buckled.

Scaramouche's head was starting to spin, the dull ache of overstimulation washing over him. He could barely find coherent words, the curling and licking of your tongue as you sucked was nothing short of exquisite to him.

He rubbed his fingers through your scalp, whimpers bleeding into moans. Panting he pulled your mouth off of his cock, looking down at you with a lustful glare. "You have 5 seconds to breathe before I fucking cum down your throat again.

[snowseasonmademe]

The day I took your hand

word count: 1,364

warning ‼️: none. fluff and marriage

pairing: william saliba x black female reader

summary: the day has finally come and nothing has felt more right in your life

tag list : @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt @btslover117 @kennaskorner

@leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

@jessnotwiththemess @thepointlessideas

note: hey guys! another fluff for you all. i needed so badly to imagine wilo at his wedding so i wrote this. i think its really sweet :) as always, enjoy and tell me what you think🤍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The music begins.

The soft strings echo through the garden chapel like a memory, floating under the hush that falls over the crowd. The melody is tender, almost reverent—and it takes you straight back to that moment, months ago, when you first kissed him.

It was unexpected. A warm night in Paris. You were standing on the curb outside a quiet café, and a car passed playing this very song. The window was down. The music spilled out like magic. “And I love you so….” filling the air just as he leaned in, lips gentle, unsure, then sure. That kiss was your beginning. And now it plays again, only this time, it’s your beginning again.

Your heart pounds in your chest as the doors open, and light spills over you like you were waiting for it all your life.

And there he is.

William.

He’s standing at the altar, frozen. His mouth parts slightly, his breath knocked out of him so hard it’s like he forgot how to inhale. He wasn’t prepared for this. He thought he’d seen beauty before. But now, looking at you walking toward him, slow and glowing and everything he’s ever dreamed of, he realizes—he hadn’t even come close.

This is beauty.

This is God’s favorite creation.

The early morning sun warms the edges of his face, highlighting the copper dusting of his freckles like stardust across his cheeks. His skin is golden, eyes glassy, lips trembling. He’s never looked more beautiful. Not even under stadium lights. Not even when he’s winning.

You’re the only victory that matters now.

And all he can think is: Wow… she will be my wife.

He could thank God in 18 different languages and still not feel like it’s enough.

As you walk, the music rises, and though dozens of eyes are on you, he’s the only one you see. There’s a tremble in your fingers, but your smile doesn’t waver. Because all the nerves melt when you see his face, your favorite face. And it hits you:

You get to see this man’s face every single day. Forever.

When you reach him, your eyes lock so intensely that the world falls away. He doesn’t wait—he takes your hands instantly. His thumb grazes your knuckles, and his eyes are wet. He tries to blink it away, but there’s no hiding.

You’ve seen every version of him, and this one—the soft, overwhelmed, in love version—is the most beautiful yet.

“You look like…” he stammers, his French accent heavy with emotion, “You look like…… I am dreaming.”

You smile, heart breaking open in the best way. “You’re not.”

The officiant speaks, but their voice is a low hum beneath the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Everything blurs except the warmth of his fingers and the look in his eyes.

Until you hear it: “William and Y/N have written their own vows.”

He squeezes your hands. Deep breath. Then:

“Before you, I never knew a quiet like this. You are the calm in my chest. The place my soul rests. You… you make me feel like I am safe, even from myself. I never thought I would have someone who sees me—not just the good parts, but all of me. And you stay. Every time. So now, I promise to stay too. To be your peace when the world is loud. I promise to keep your name soft in my mouth, to protect your heart like it’s my own. Because it is. And I know… I know I have a strong face, but l am soft for you. Always. And I want to stay like this. Faceless to the world. Just yours.”

His voice cracks near the end, his accent heavy as well as his heart. Heavy with happiness. He doesn’t fight it. A single tear falls, and he smiles, resting his forehead against yours for a beat.

“C’est toi” (It’s you) he whispers. “Toujours toi” (Always you)

Your voice is trembling, but strong. You take a breath and speak your truth.

“I spent a long time being too strong for too long. Too proud. Too guarded. But then you came. And without even trying, you knocked all my walls down. I saw the real you, and something inside me said, That’s home. So I promise to keep choosing you, even on the days that feel too hard. I promise to keep showing up with softness, even when life gets loud. I promise to love you out loud, even if no one’s watching. Because I’ve seen the face you make when you look at me, and I never want to be faceless to you.”

He doesn’t wait. Before the officiant can even finish the sentence, William pulls you into him, lips trembling against yours as the crowd laughs and cheers through tears.

You kiss him like you’ve already lived a hundred lives together. Like you’re grateful to do a hundred more.

You don’t even realize the ceremony is over until someone shouts, “Mr. and Mrs. Saliba!”

But the moment lingers between you two, like a secret no one else is invited into. William’s hand slides into yours with a sense of certainty, pulling you forward. Together, you walk down the aisle, and as the last note of music swells in the air, you both feel something more than love. It’s something deeper, something better. It’s a knowing. A knowing that everything—every single thing that has brought you here—has led to this very moment.

His fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time, it feels like both of you are no longer just living in the world. You’ve made your own space, and now, it’s just the two of you. Everything feels like it was meant to be.

When you get behind the doors of the chapel, finally out of the view of everyone else, William lets out a breath like he’s been holding it in for years. He pulls you toward him again, wrapping you in his arms. His lips find yours for another kiss—this one even more passionate, more electric, like the spark that started your whole relationship finally ignited into something untouchable.

“Tomorrow” he whispers against your lips, “I would marry you again.

You smile into the kiss, heart full and overflowing. “I’d do it every day if I could”

You pull away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. And he gazes back at you, his voice soft as he says, “You’re my wife”

The words hang in the air, but there’s something even deeper in the way he says it, something more than a statement—it’s a claim, a gentle ownership, the truth of everything he’s ever felt for you.

You laugh lightly, a soft, joyful sound, and playfully roll your eyes. “And you’re my husband” you reply, the words feeling surreal on your tongue but also perfectly right.

In that moment, everything about your life shifts into place. And as the words escape your lips, you leap into his arms, his strong hands catching you effortlessly, as you both share that moment of pure, unbridled happiness.

Then, in the midst of the embrace, you feel it: the delicate pressure of your rings brushing together. The cool metal of his band against yours. The sensation is subtle, but it’s there, and it’s perfect. Their touch against each other feels like the closing of a circle, a completion, as if you and he are now joined in every possible way. The rings are symbols of this day, this vow, this love—tangible, weighty, but also as light as the moment that holds you both in place.

He presses you closer, feeling the rings against each other too, his hand slipping to rest on your lower back, still holding you with the same awe and reverence he’s held you with from the very start. His lips brush against your forehead as he murmurs, “Je t’aime, mon amour.”

You hold him even tighter, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “I love you” you whisper back, as you both bask in the intimacy of this new chapter.

And in that silence, with your rings brushing together, it’s as if the world has paused—just for a moment. It’s yours, all yours. Everything feels perfectly in place.

[mm-lurking]

MAY I REQUEST FOR ANGST POOKS 😘😝 MYBE ABT BRINGING UP THEIR DEAD EX BY ACCIDENT DURING AN ARGUEMENT? THERES RARELY ANY ANGST IM GETTING MAD 👹

I saw your ask at 11 pm and something about the way you wrote your request made me giggle so hard idk why 🤣 Since you demand angst I shall give it to you. You’re my first ask btw so thank you very much! 

I’m not sure which character you wanted me to write for so I’m going to go for Blade and Aventurine. Though feel free to send me specific characters through the ask again!

Warnings: no fluff at all, pure angst, fem! reader and ex, reader has no chill running her mouth, Aventurine’s kinda feels ooc sorry about that WC: 1881

Blade

You were a hair’s breadth away from being gravely injured. If it weren’t for Blade’s interruption you would have been Antimatter Legion dinner tonight. In your eyes you weren’t in that much danger, you knew you could handle it on your own but in Blade’s eyes, it was just another flashback to how he lost her. It felt frustrating to watch him downplay your capabilities, it's not like you were some weak damsel in distress. There was a reason your relations with the Stellaron Hunters had lasted as far as it had; you were good at wielding your weapon and making good use of the enemy’s weaknesses. Sure there were moments when you were in trouble but you never really got to live the thrill of it because Blade would always step in to help you even when you didn’t ask for it. 

You loved him dearly and appreciated his assistance but just for this instance, you wanted to deal with things by yourself. Ultimately your agitation got the best of you and so now here you were with your arms crossed, glaring at Blade after the enemy was taken care of.

“Have you always been this foolish?”

You stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, questioning his audacity of insulting you like this.

“Excuse me?”

“You could have gotten hurt.”

He says matter-of-factly and you feel your jaws clench at the way he speaks to you.

“Blade I am fully capable of looking after myself! I need you to stop interrupting my fights!”

“If I didn’t that Antimatter Legion pawn would have sliced your head off your shoulders.”

“And how the hell do you know that was going to happen?! I could have fought it easily if it weren’t for you!”

He turns around and looks at you with cold eyes which make you flinch momentarily.

“You overestimate yourself.”

“I do not! I have worked relentlessly on my skills! I know what I can handle or what I can’t! You just never allow me to prove it!”

“You are a fool. I do not need to see you pushed to your limits to acknowledge your skills.”

“Then why the hell won’t you let me do what I want?!”

You both argue back and forth with neither of you backing down. Blade speaks calmly, just as he always has but with slight frustration whereas you on the other hand are full-on yelling and boiling over to the point of rage. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“I am just looking out for you-”

“I am not weak like Chun. Stop treating me like I am.”

You almost immediately regret it the moment those words leave your mouth. Your words are sharp and bitter, and pierce his heart like a blade slashing through flesh. His eyes are ablaze with fury and pain and the way his jaw clenches is enough to let you know you have overstepped your boundary.

Chun was his first love. She was a good woman with a kind heart, and despite how odd she looked amongst the Stellaron Hunters, they welcomed her as long as it made Blade happy. But in a world full of evil, being kind is a weakness and ultimately she met her end in the hands of an enemy during heated negotiations. For the one whose life was already cursed by immortality, he took her death hard and swore never to love again, for he couldn’t bear to witness yet another loved one depart for the nth time in his long life. His already broken heart took ages to heal and by the time you crossed paths with him, he was still grieving over her. You knew this very well because it was you who assured him that history wouldn’t repeat itself with you. It was you who helped him heal further and gave him the confidence to open his heart up once more to you. You knew what she meant to him because he had been honest with you about his past yet-

“Blade I-”

-here you were driving the very knife you had taken out of him so lovingly back into his heart in full force. He looks at you with so much despise and agony that your heart hurts knowing you are the cause for it. A blade being stabbed over and over into his body hurt, but those wounds always healed after a while. Yet the wound your words had caused was one that no medication could fix. Your throat tightens and you want to reach out to him and hold him but you stay glued to your feet.

“We don’t need to be around each other anymore.”

Despite the torment he feels, he looks straight into your eyes and monotonously speaks. There is not even a single moment spared for you to reply as he walks out of the room and slams the door shut, indicating he is done with you. The door closing was not just the end of the argument you both were having, it was also the end of what you were to each other. You stand there rooted to the ground as tears sting your eyes. Why did you have to be like this?

Aventurine

“Aventurine I swear to god I am not playing your petty games again.”

You angrily huff as you cross your arms and glare at Aventurine with disapproval. The audacity of this man was truly something, especially at a time like this. You both were stuck in an interesting situation, where Aventurine had made a gamble with an enemy territory and he wanted you to be part of it. More precisely, he wanted to turn you into his bargaining chip for a while. There was one tiny problem. He wasn’t asking for your approval, he had already made the deal.

“The table has already been set, friend. You just have to play your role real well.”

Your jaw hangs low when you realise what he has done. 

“Aventurine don’t tell me….”

“They have decided to ask for you in exchange of information. Do not worry, I will find a way to-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as a loud slap resonates across the room. You stare at him in disbelief with tears welling your eyes, unable to process what he has done. A shaky sigh leaves his mouth and he stares at you, bewildered by your behaviour.

“It hasn’t even been a full week since we finished another deal and you want me to jump head-on into another one?!”

“Was there a need to slap me like this? If you’re forgetting, friend, you agreed to help me out on these deals regardless of the risk. Or should I have the doctor examine your memory?”

“Aventurine I agreed to help you out, not be used however you please! You could have at least asked me first before making the deal!”

You rub your temples and rethink the entire situation through. Your relationship with Aventurine was compatible due to one simple fact: you both loved taking risks. The thrill of the gamble and the adrenaline of waiting for the results kept you both alive. It was the drug you both needed in this cruel unjust world.

But this, this was different. This wasn’t just any gamble and it wasn’t a small one either. Being traded off to the enemy territory for a few weeks was no easy task and you have no idea what the hell Aventurine was thinking. In your last deal, you barely made it out alive as the tables turned against your favour. It was a miracle your assets weren’t taken and that you weren’t killed in the process.

“…I promise you will be fine, friend.”

Tears sting your eyes and you try to take a deep breath. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“The gaiaithra triclops blesses me abundantly. We will not lose.”

“Is that what you said to Lilac as well before her demise?”

You hear how his breath hitches in his throat at the mention of Lilac. He coughs a little and then stares at you with a look you cannot decipher.

“Do not bring her up.”

His voice is a mere whisper and you know you’re crossing some lines already. Yet you don’t stop there. You jab your right index finger into his chest with every word you speak.

“I don’t know what’s worse, being a gambling chip on purpose or being a gambling chip unknowingly, like she was.”

He grips the hand you have on his chest tightly. You can’t help but wince a little at how he’s looking at you with red eyes filled with regret and anger. He tries to speak but you cut him off.

“Was losing her not enough to learn your lesson? Or do you turn everyone you love into pawns of your game?”

“You’re crossing the line now.”

He warns and you shake your head.

“You treat everyone like an asset, even the ones who truly love you without any hidden agenda. No wonder you couldn’t save Lilac-“

“Enough!”

Before you can process what is going on Aventurine pulls out a gun from his inner coat pocket and shoots a random vase on the table behind you. The bang of the gun and the loud shattering of the ceramic into pieces makes you jump and shake a little. He then shifts his gaze on you and lets your hand go before issuing his warning.

“…you need to leave. Leave before I accidentally hurt you.”

“I-“

“I said leave!”

He points the gun at you. His hand is shaking in a manner you have never seen before and you can tell he doesn’t want to do this but you’re giving him no choice. You stare at him for a moment and nod your head before scurrying away.

Once you’re out of his sight he plops onto the nearest sofa and drops his gun. It lands with a loud thud as he puts his head into his hands and shakes visibly. Flashbacks of that dreaded day start to play over and over in his head and he clenches his teeth as a tear rolls down his eye.

Lilac was a woman he met during one of his travels as an IPC stoneheart. They got along pretty well and eventually fell in love. A few years ago, Aventurine asked her for help during a deal he made and she agreed only for the other party to target her as leverage against Aventurine. He still remembers the pain in her eyes as she looked at him, confused and hurt from how she became the target. He remembers holding her in his arms apologising over and over for his lack of foresight, unable to figure out where he went wrong.

It was the first and last deal he ever lost. And now you, his new partner after several hard years of grief, were bringing up old wounds that never healed. Gaps of his heart that nothing would ever fill. Another tear rolls down his eye as he grits his teeth further. Had he known you would bring her up like this, he would have never told you about her. It’s always the closest ones that hurt you the most. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[ourfleur]

「Who Do You Belong To?」 [Johnny Cage x Fem Reader]

Summary: Being in a relationship with someone like Johnny Cage isn’t easy, especially when they have the same reputation he does, always so much attention always on you and your relationship. But maybe you can use that to your advantage, make them all know who this A-lister belongs to.

Tags: nsfw (basically just porn with a tiny plot lmao), semi public sex, au, dom&sub, switch reader, switch johnny, jealousy, possession, pet names (mostly baby)

An: hiii so this is my first time not only writing smut but also posting anything i write lol, i hope its not shit.. i pretty much only wrote this because i had this idea and no one had written anything like it so i wrote it myself.. anywaysss enjoy :3

follow my ao3

3 months. It had been only 3 months since you started dating the “infamous” Johnny Cage. 3 months and yet you were already more famous than 99% of the population would ever be.

You were still getting used to the fame, the constant cameras flashing in your face and the constant attention. You knew so many women would kill to be where you are, in the arms of Johnny, knowing that didn’t make life any easier. Constantly, new drama would stir up, rumours about you or your boyfriend breaking up or cheating on each other. But that… that was bearable. What wasn’t bearable was Johnny's co-star on his new movie. She wasn’t shy about wanting him and when the rumours started circulating of him ditching you for her she laughed it off and played stupid. “Oh really?”, she laughed, “I cannot confirm nor deny anything, it’s up to the fans imaginations.” That bitch made you livid.

This was supposed to be a relaxing day but you spent all of your time on Johnny's yacht reading the nasty and idiotic comments from the media. It was also extremely hard to relax considering the paparazzi was so close by, it seemed no matter where you went you could not escape them. But that revelation gave you an idea.

Getting up off the lawn chair you were lounging on, you pranced your way over to your boyfriend, who was occupied with writing his own movie. Taking the notebook out of his hands as you got on top of him. He was surprised at first but then smirked, eyeing the way your little body looked in that tiny bikini.

“Johnnyyyyy…” You whined while looking at him through half lidded eyes. Slowly, you grinded yourself on his clothed dick. “I need you right now.” You smiled, seeing the way his face contorted as you moved yourself across his lap. You leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I need everyone to understand who you belong to, so do me a favour and fuck me where they all can see.” You felt him hardening underneath you at your words. “Fuck, whatever you say baby.”

You leaned into each other, mouths crashing together in an aggressive kiss. Continuing to grind on each other while making out, only breaking to release some particularly intense whimpers. His large hands running all over your tiny body. Moving your hands down his chiselled abs, you reached the prize. Palming him through his shorts, which elicited the prettiest moans from his mouth.

Finally, you took his cock out, glistening with precum. You ran your delicate hand up and down his shaft, fingers tracing his pretty little veins and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. You raised yourself up, letting him pull your bottoms to the side. You aligned yourself with him and slowly sunk down, making you both moan. You looked out across the water, seeing the many cameras, all focused on you and him. You began moving, listening as he moaned out your name. The way his thick cock stretched you always took you over the edge. You grinded your pretty pussy on him, over and over, not even paying attention to the poor mess of a man beneath you, only staring out at the cameras. Making sure they caught every glimpse of the way you could so easily destroy this big-shot A lister.

“No one else can make you feel this way, right baby?” You purred. “Yes.. fuckkkkk baby yes only you.” You could feel him twitch inside of you while he spoke, he was close. You frowned, “Well that cunt you work with seems to think she owns you.” You pulled yourself off of him, watching him groan with annoyance, his orgasm being denied. “What the fuck? I was close.�� Cursing out your name. “Well it’s no fun if we just sit here…” You said, getting off him and leading him to the edge of the boat, your body facing the paparazzi across the water. You bent down in front of him, putting on a show as you pulled down your bikini bottoms. As you did he felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your cunt. You turned back around and moved towards him, arms reaching to grab his hair, suddenly shoving him down on his knees. “Be a good boy and eat me out while your adoring fans watch, maybe then I will let you have what you want.” Your sultry tone doing indescribable things to him.

He started by slowly nibbling and biting at your thighs, hands wrapping around them with ease. You groaned, “Don’t tease me Johnny.” Eyes staring daggers down at him. “Whatever you say…” And with that, he dove right in. His tongue flicking and circling around your clit in ways that could only be described as heavenly. Your hands dug into his hair, shoving his face closer to your aching core. He then moved his mouth down, lapping like a dog at your slick, his nose lightly grazing over your clit, leaving so much more to be desired. Your moans were getting so loud at this point you wouldn't be surprised if everyone on the beach could hear you. “Fuck Johnny, I’m close, you’re doing so good… You look so good on your knees.” Your brain turning to mush as you babble random praises, your orgasm steadily approaching.

And when it hit you were a mess. Moaning out curses and his name, legs turning to jelly. The only thing to stop you from collapsing was his hands, which were glued to your hips. After you finally regained the ability to stand on your own Johnny stood up. Licking the left behind slick on his lips with his tongue. You were about to bark another command at him before he interrupted you. “Agh fuck this. I can't take this anymore.” You were about to question him before he grabbed you, turning you around so he can bend you over on the edge of the boat. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Im fucking tired of this, it’s my turn to ruin you, sound good baby?” His voice sent chills down your spine. You nodded, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He leaned back and soon you felt his cock between your thighs, gliding along your folds. Then, suddenly, the feeling was gone. You turned back to face johnny only to see him walking towards his chair. He grabbed his phone and then winked at you. “For safekeeping yknow?” He finally was back behind you, stroking himself a bit before finally easing himself into you. He groaned your name, taking you fully. You could hardly contain your whimpers when he started moving.

“You look so good on camera, fuck, you should star in one of my films.” He laughed, now moving at a pace all too slow. “I’ll only star in it if I get to fuck you in it.” You responded, releasing a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan. He took his free hand and moved it to your clit, rough fingers circling it at an insane pace. The combination of him pounding into you and hitting that special spot inside if you and him rubbing your clit had you seeing stars. With the way you were moaning and the way your cunt was tightening around his cock he could tell you were close. “You’re so beautiful when you’re whining around my cock.” He chuckled. “F-fuck.. Johnny please I'm so close.” You stuttered out. Suddenly he grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back into his chest. He held the phone out in front of the 2 of you while beginning a relentless pace. “Smile for the camera while you come undone babe. This is your glamour shot.” You could barely focus on what he was saying due to the pleasure that was shooting through your body. He moved his hand from your hair to your neck and squeezed a little. “I said smile.” His tone was stern and that was the last straw. The knot in your stomach snapped and you came, making sure to look into the camera and smile, per his request. Your moans were near pornographic as you shook from your orgasm, falling back onto the edge of the yacht. He pulled out of you and you couldn’t help notice, he still hadn’t cummed. You turned around and glanced down to his still-hard cock and then to his face.

“You gonna come over here and fix this or what?” He questioned, smirking while he spoke. “I guess it’s only fair… you have been so good to me today Johnny.” You turned, falling to your knees. Now eye level with his length. You moved your hands to it, gently stroking your boyfriends dick, trying to see what reactions and noises you could get to come out of his pretty face. You brought your mouth to his tip, doing short kitten licks to his slit. You moved your tongue all over his cock, licking and tenderly tracing every vein with your tongue. “Come on.. don’t punish me more than you already have..” He begged, looking down at you with those puppy dog eyes you just couldn’t resist. “Grab your phone Johnny, let’s see if that whore will understand who you belong to after this.” He was taken aback by your request but nonetheless complied. The moment he started recording you were ready to put on the performance of a lifetime.

Never taking your eyes off the camera, you stuffed his cock into your mouth. Johnny quietly whimpered at the feeling of you taking him in his mouth but before he could savour it, you pulled his dick out of your mouth with a ‘pop’. “Don’t try and quiet those moans Johnny, I need to make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.” He nodded and you eased your mouth back onto him. Johnny had never seen something more beautiful than you choking on his cock. The way your mouth worked had him sure he was in heaven. His breathing sped up and he grabbed your hair. “Fuck i’m so close, let me fuck this pretty face.” You nodded and he gripped your hair tighter. He was so rough, whimpering and crying out with pleasure while shoving his dick as far down your throat as he could. His thrusts started to become sloppy and before you knew it he was painting your throat white and releasing the hottest groans and praises. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and bent down to inspect his work. “You are so gorgeous, I can never get enough of seeing your little mouth filled with my cum.” He smiled, ending the video and throwing his phone to the side while you swallowed.

Safe to say that the internet was going wild for a few months after the paparazzi released those pictures… and safe to say that his stupid co-star didn’t do shit like that again.