#the four chairs in the bathroom still fuck me up

[leviathanswingman]

details in the house of lamentation that piss me off

[sparklingblu]

Eroverse

Pt.1 - The Invitation

IVE Rei x Male Reader (ft. Karina)

"Harder, daddy. Harder!"

The sweet moans of the idol beneath you are music to your ears as you piston into her wet folds rapidly, a hand of yours gripping her throat and another kneading her large plentiful tits as she barely manages to stay on all fours on the bed. Her arched back is dripping with sweat and her breath is ragged. Nevertheless, she takes your pounding without complaint, like a good whore she is.

"You like it, huh? You cock hungry whore"

You ask over her mewls resonating around the room as you grip her throat even tighter, depriving her of oxygen.

"Yes...daddy...pound me"

Karina's voice comes out distorted and inaudible but it's impressive how she still manages to make a sound despite your hold on her vocal cords.

"Good girl"

You praise her and bring your palm over one of her asscheeks, which are jiggling with every one of your thrusts. The slap comes down harder than you expect, leaving a red handprint on that porcelain skin of hers. You repeat the motion again, this time on her other cheek, making it jiggle even more, marking it with your handprints as well. Maybe Karina squeals but it blends into her moans and the sound of her breath which is becoming even more shallow with how long you have been choking her.

You would have never thought you would have the chance to see Karina in real life , left alone fuck her. You have always drooled over the bounce of her huge tits and her curves as you jerk off to her fancams again and again. You would even get hard just from seeing that AI like face of her. However, these days are over as you claim her body as your own with your cock.

Karina's eyes begin to roll into the back of her head as she is cut off from the supply of her life force, oxygen, for too long. That doesn't make you decrease your pace or lessen the hold on her throat either. The only supply she needs to live right now is your cum.

As Karina's body becomes limp like a lifeless doll, you start to feel your high slowly approaching. That sensation in your stomach that travels down to your pelvis and ultimately to your shaft.

"Gonna cum, Karina, don't waste a drop"

You order as your flood gates finally open and Karina open her mouth to let out her final moan, but the sound that comes out is-

"Ring ring ring"

Your eyes flutter open as the alarm clock wakes you from your blissful dream.

"You are an idiot, Michael"

You mutter to yourself as you turn off the alarm. You? Fucking Karina? Yeah, sure, that can happen when pigs fly. You sit up in your bed, only to find yourself rock hard from that wet dream you have been having. That's a matter you should take care of later.

You slowly get off your bed and rub your eyes, the view of your messy room greeting you as usual. The tiny room is stuffed with every single one of your possessions. A shelf against the wall, taking up most of the room and a small wardrobe in the corner which is next to a table and a chair, piled with stationaries and stack of papers.

It's a dump, sure. But it can be considered a luxury for a writer like you. At least you have your own space. You have always dreamed of writing stories and hell, you even have a ten book series planned out in your mind. But in reality, you are barely scrapping by. Going from one publishing house to another to get that novel of yours released that have been sitting on the same table for years. You managed to survive with the money you get from your part time job and sometimes when luck is on your side, some of your articles and poems got featured in some magazines no one read.

"Stop whining" you remind yourself. "You just haven't found your true potential yet" An empty encouragement, yet it gets your mind off the bad stuff. You make your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth, staring at the wreckage in the mirror which is your reflection. Your eyes were ringed with dark circles and your head throbs with pain from all the shots you chugged down at the bar yesterday after running into some old friends.

You head to the shower and you are about to turn the water on when you see a bigger problem at hand than smelling like a rat dies in your hair. The boner was still there, stiff and hard as ever. That dream really takes a toll on you.

You grab the phone on the sink and scroll through the collection of hundred videos of female idols you have saved on your phone, choosing the best one to jerk off to. There's so much variety to choose from, ass? tits? face? You once heard someone say "Jerking off is not hard, finding the material to jerk off to is" It seems like the case now.

Finally, you land on the video of Rei from IVE. The busty japanese idol in a white top and a skirt. Her tits bouncing with every move she makes. Not the ideal choice but you will settle for it.

You are about to get your hands on your mamba that's ready to pounce when a notification comes up on your screen.

"Still jerking off to Idols? Why not fuck them instead?"

You are confused. What kind of notification is that? It is like someone is watching you right here, right now. Maybe someone is pulling a prank on you? That's impossible because no one knows about your guilty pleasure.

Reluctantly, you scroll down to see the source of the message. On the left side of the notification is the icon of an app, a dark heart shape and its name on top "Ero". You are pretty sure you have never installed such an app on your phone but curiosity gets the best of you. You click on the notification.

Immediately, your screen light up with a warm neon glow as the loading screen popped up, with the same dark heart shape and the name "Ero" in the centre of the screen. After a minute of waiting, you are about to give up and quit the app when the screen shifts. Now, it displays a text box at the bottom of the screen like in video games and the same black heart rotate slowly like a top above it.

The text in the textbox says,

"Welcome, chosen one. Continue to your first quest?"

Chosen one? What in the Harry Potter is happening here? And what quest? Is this some sort of game? And what does it have to do with you jerking yourself off to idols? Million questions swell in your head but of course your curiosity pushes you to click the 'yes' button under the text.

For a moment, the screen is black. Then it lights up with such a bright white light that you nearly got blinded. The light dims, leaving another text box in the middle of the screen.

"First Quest: Rei's Blowjob

Have Rei sucks you off and endure it for 30 minutes"

Your mind is one complete mess, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. This sound like some sort of porn games you play on your laptop. Main character being chosen and all. But this is very much real though you still doubt this is some kind of scam app that steals the information from your phone. Not like you have any data worth stealing though. Another reason to doubt it even more.

As your brain gets blowtorched with questions, your phone suddenly shuts off. Before your fingers can reach the screen to turn it back on, the whole bathroom goes dark. When you say dark, you are not talking "turn off the light at night" dark. Only darkness exists within your vision as if the whole room have been swallowed by the night. You are about to move forward and try to reach out desperately for something to hold onto when your whole body gets washed over by a sensation like getting dipped in icy water. Your body starts to give out, your knees turning to jelly.

"Am I gonna die?"

You think.

"Oh god, I'm gonna die"

The darkness is the last thing you see before you are greeted by it once again as your eyelids close shut.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The first thing on your mind when you regain consciousness is

"What the hell happened?"

You slowly open your eyes to see a chandelier on the ceiling above. Its yellow lights sting your eyes after seeing only the dark for so long. You slowly sit up, the fatigue in your body is gone, replaced by the lust earlier before you get dragged into this mess by an app. You are still clothless, your mamba springing up like a missel ready to launch.

You stand up, taking in your surrounding. You are in a vast room made entirely of mahogany. In the center of the room is a canopy bed with draping black curtains, opened to reveal the red bedsheets behind. On the console table in one corner rests a black vase holding a single red rose. Apart from it, the whole room is deprived of furniture, giving it a hollow incomplete feeling. The chandelier is the only light source but it is obviously not enough to illuminate the whole room as dark spots are scattered all around the room. If this is not creepy enough, the room has no doors.

Your first instinct is to try to escape but breaking out of a doorless room is easier said than done. Maybe you are dead and in heaven? Sure, if heaven is one dark ghastly room. But you doubt you will get in to heaven. You go back to the source of this problem. That stupid "Ero" app. And what did it say again? A quest, get a blowjob from Rei. But where is Rei?

"Here"

A voice utters from one corner of the room as if answering your thoughts. Your eyes adjust to the dark as a girl emerges from the gloomy spot, emerging from the shadows. It can't be, you think. But no doubt, standing before you is Rei, the japanese member of IVE, dressed in a black low cut sweater dress as if there isn't enough darkness in here and a loose belt wrapped around her waist like she has put it on in a rush. Her dreamy eyes beneath her hazel hair trace your body, studying you and you definitely don't want to be studied while you are butt naked. She folds her arms judgmentally, accentuating the shape of her huge tits under the fabric.

"Master, what takes you so long?"

She asks and you are speechless. Master? This have to be another wet dream. You should have response with some sort of snarky remark but all you can say is

"What?"

You want to bash your head with that vase on the table. A girl is calling you master and that's your first words to her. Stupid as ever.

"Master, I have been waiting for you. What takes you so long?"

This time your response is a bit better.

"Eh, I was busy..."

"I can't wait for that huge cock of yours, I need it so bad"

She whines, gazing at your exposed cock which is hard as ever. This gets you into your mood.

"Then why don't you come and taste it?"

You order, remembering your quest, blowjob. Maybe you can choose other alternatives too but this is a start.

"As you wish master"

Rei kneels, looking up at your cock as if it's something glamorous. The fingers of her left hand close around the base of your shaft, slowly stroking it and fuck, with how smooth her palm feels, you are not sure if you can hold out for 30 minutes for that stupid quest. Her movements are fluid, not too fast or too slow, taking her time just travelling her fingers along your shaft.

"Am I doing well master?"

She asks, looking up at you with her doll eyes.

"Yes, Rei but you have to be better than this"

Rei doesn't answer. Instead, she wraps the rest of her fingers above the space over the first ones and start stroking your cock faster. The friction sending jolts after jolts of pleasure through you body. Her fingers work like magic, with just the right grip and the right motion. Meanwhile, Rei's eyes never leave your cock, focused on it entirely.

"Like this, master?"

"Yes, Rei. Fuck, don't stop"

You groans as pleasure overwhelms you if every stroke of her fingers, bringing you closer and closer to your edge until you remember the time limit. You don't know what will happen if you fail, but you don't want to find out.

You grab Rei's wrist and stop her.

"Master needs you to use that pretty little mouth"

"Mhmm.....yes, master. I want to feel that hard cock stuffed in my throat"

Rei's filthy words leave her mouth no sooner than she impales it on your cock, stuffing your whole length down her throat. Usually, you expect some foreplay. A kiss there, a lick here. But Rei either doesn't know about or care about it as she engulfs your cock in one swift motion. A groan escapes your lips, the sudden warmth and the tightness indulging you with ecstasy. She holds you in her throat, her nose presses against your pelvis.

You have had blowjobs before but Rei's is on a whole different level. Her throat constricts around you, her neck bulging with the foreign object entering it. You are starting to think she's gonna hold you forever when she pulls back, a loud gag escaping her mouth as globes of saliva drop to the ground, the remnants connecting your tip and her lips in silky strings.

You expect her to take a breather but nevertheless she immediately went down on your cock again, taking it back into her warm cavern as she devours it like a hungry beast. Her plump lips sealed around your shaft as she bobs up and down with unyielding speed. Every single movement of hers seem calculated, designed to pleasure you in every way possible. The way her tongue traces the underside of your shaft, the way she moans around your cock, the intentional gagging sounds she makes ever so often. It's like a well organized orchestra with the instruments being her lips, tongue and her throat.

Saliva escapes from the corner of her lips with every bob, dripping down to her thighs and her cleavage, staining her black dress even blacker. You hold a tight grip on her hair, tying it in a lock in your grasp. Finally, she pulls back, leaving only the tip inside her mouth as her fingers envelope you shaft once again, stroking it so fast you think it's gonna start sparking. It might have as well as your body start heating up from her masterclass of a handjob, sweat beads hanging on your temples. You throw your head back, rejoicing in the bliss of Rei's tongue swirling around your head in harmony with her fingers that twist and turn all the way to her lips and back.

You have lost the sense of time, drowned by the euphoric feeling that doesn't seem to be stopping anytime. Has it been thirty minutes? You have no idea. But you are glad you hold out for this long. Time limit or not, you don't want this to end anytime soon.

However, everything have a limit and so do you. As Rei's hand leaves your shaft, only to be swallowed up and deepthroated once again, you start feeling that familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach, unravelling bits by bits. Your cock starts throbbing in the warmth of Rei's throat constricting and relaxing around the tip, as if giving it a massage.

Rei, who's either oblivious to it or doesn't care, suddenly release your pulsing pole from her mouth. She looks up at you and gives you a sly smile, like she knows how desperate you are for release.

"Is Master gonna cum?"

She asks with a smirk and god, you just wants to grab her hair and impale her on your cock again but you don't want to end things sloppily (ironic with how sloppy it already is) but you just nod.

"Cum down my throat master, fill up your slutty whore."

She says opening her mouth, waiting for your move and you instinctively grabs her hair in a makeshift messy ponytail and starts thrusting into her mouth like it's her pussy.

Everytime your cock hits the back of her throat, you get closer and closer to the finale of this rapturous session. Rei holds her gaze to yours, pleading with her eyes to you how badly she needs your cum, how badly she needs to be filled up from the brim.

"Rei....I'm cumming"

You announce as you conclude the act by burying your cock to the hilt into her welcoming throat, unloading spurts after spurts of cum all the way down into her stomach. It seems to go on forever, the flow of cum never ending until it eventually does.

You pulls out your now spent rod from her tight cavern. Rei's mouth was still open, saliva flowing like a waterfall and forming a puddle between the red mahogany floor between her knees, which are trembling nonstop.

"Thanks master"

She mutters, her voice hoarse from being deprived of oxygen.

"Good girl"

You mutter, grinning like a madman. You are pretty sure this definitely isn't a dream. And you just use an idol like a fleshlight. And your quest. Yeah, your quest. The reason you are here. Have you completed it?

As you are reflecting yourself, you are engulfed by darkness once again.

"Shit, not again"

You cursed under your breath. Anymore exposure to darkness today and you won't be able to see colors anymore.

"Worry not, chosen one"

A voice boomed all around you as if the darkness have built in speakers.

"You performed well, I expect more from you in the future"

You are about to protest when the same cold feeling earlier wash over you again and your mind goes blank.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(My first smut and the start of a series, I hope you enjoy it)

[azrielslittleslut]

The Frenzy (pt. 3)

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel and his new mate continue to explore their mating bond... with pancakes!

Warnings: smut, 18+, NSFW, p in v, wing play, scratching, pet names, dom!reader, kitchen sex, recreational use of whipped cream

part of this fic was inspired by this request!

part 1 I part 2

Word Count: 2k

a/n: i have an epilogue planned, but i am still open to suggestions for this fic! being in the mating frenzy with Az makes me feral.

Enjoy!

"I really need food," you say, leaning back against Azriel's bare chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you smile at the sight of the two of you in the bathroom mirror, the soft glow of the morning light softening all harsh edges.

After that time in the bathtub, he had claimed you two more times. The first time, he bent you over the side of the tub, pounding into you relentlessly. The second time had been with him standing, with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. You had held onto him until your vision had gone white with pleasure. Now, your body felt weaker than it ever had. You were getting a bad case of the shakes, and your need for food had finally overtaken your need to be filled by Azriel.

Filled by Azriel. Your thighs clench together at the thought. You can still feel him moving inside of you, the thick head of his cock hitting that sweet spot, over and over-

No, food first. Fucking later.

Azriel chuckles darkly, sensing where your mind has gone. Indeed, you can smell your arousal permeating the bathroom, mixing with the steam from the tub. "Hmm. It seems we've both worked up an appetite." He leans down and presses a kiss to the side of your neck. "I'm starving."

Before you let yourself push him onto the floor and climb on top of him, you grab a silk robe and throw it on. The cool material feels amazing against your heated skin, and you watch in silence as he slides his long legs into a pair of pajama pants. You rake your eyes over his body, paying special attention to the way his muscles flex, and you remember the way they felt under your fingers as he moved, thrusting into you.

Focus, you tell yourself.

"Let's get some food, love," you say, grabbing him by the hand to pull him out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the kitchen.

The kitchen was small but well-stocked. It had a stove, pantry, and refrigerator neatly organized for convenience. There was a small dining table in the center of the room, with four chairs sitting neatly around it. The magic of the cabin lit the fireplace, casting the room in a cozy glow.

"What would you like to eat?" Azriel asks as he makes his way to the pantry. He opens the door and begins rummaging through the various contents inside.

You lift yourself up, plopping down onto the counter next to the stove. "Pancakes. Oh, and bacon!"

Azriel laughs softly. "Good choice," he says and he quickly gets to work cooking.

You watch in content silence as he makes the food. To be honest, you weren't much of a cook. You had ruined dinner more times than you cared to admit. Thankfully, Az was an amazing cook, and he seemed to enjoy it.

As he finishes cooking, you decide to help him by pulling out some plates and glasses. You walk over to the refrigerator and ask, "What would you like to drink?"

He slides the pancakes and bacon onto the plates. "I'll take some water, angel."

You smile as you grab the pitcher. From the corner of your eye, you see a can of whipped cream. After all, pancakes and whipped cream are the best combination. You walk over to the cabinet to grab the syrup and utensils, placing them on the table as Azriel brings over the food.

The two of you eat in serene silence, but you cannot stop staring at the way his lips wrap around the fork as he lifts the food to his mouth. You feel wetness grow between your thighs as you watch his tongue dart out to lick some syrup from his fingers.

He catches you staring, and he smirks at you. "Like what you see?"

You lean back in the chair, bracing your hands on the table. Your skin is growing hot, and you rub your thighs together to find some relief. "You're doing that on purpose."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, but the twinkle in his hazel eyes tells you that he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You huff, grabbing the whipped cream to put more on your pancakes. Suddenly, an idea pops into your head, and you give him an innocent smile. You raise the can above your head, and you spray some of it into your mouth. You make a show of it, darting out your tongue as you lick it up.

You even let some of it fall out of the corner of your mouth, and you make eye contact with him as you lick it off.

Azriel's eyes darken, full of lust. "Stop that," he commands, his voice dripping with sex.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you respond, mimicking his words from earlier. You watch as his wings twitch, and another idea pops into your head. You rise from the chair, whipped cream in hand. You pad over to him on light feet, swishing your hips in the process. "Wanna play, mate?"

He grabs you by the hips, meaning to pull you into his lap. With a hand, you stop him. "But you said-" he says, his voice strained.

You chuckle, running a finger across his lips. "I want to play with you," you purr. It was time for your dominant mate to get a taste of his own medicine. "Tell me if it's too much."

He nods, his black hair falling across his brow. He leans back in the chair, the epitome of male arrogance. He spreads his legs out, and you notice the bulge standing out in his thin sleep pants. "Do your worst."

You lean down, trailing kisses along his neck and jaw. He grabs you by the waist again, trying to pull you closer. You click your tongue as you pull away. "No touching unless I tell you to. Understood?"

Frustration flashes across his face, but he nods. "I understand."

"Good boy." You watch his cock twitch at the praise. "Can I touch your wings?" Yes, you had grabbed his talons earlier, but you hadn't touched the sensitive part.

Yet...

"Yes, angel," he says, his voice rough. "All of me belongs to you."

Your chest tightens at the sweetness of his words, and it takes all of your self-control to stay focused. You pull the whipped cream from behind your back, and you watch in amusement as his eyes flicker. "What about this?"

He swallows. "Y-yes," he stammers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moves his right wing up to you as a silent offering.

You lean down, your hair dancing along the tender membrane. He sucks in a breath at the sensation. You place a hand on his shoulder as you spray some of the cream on his wing, watching as it slides down. He moans softly, but that's not enough.

You want him undone.

Without thinking, you dart out your tongue, licking up the sweetness. You moan softly at the taste, your eyes rolling back.

"F-fuck," he stammers, throwing his head back. Beads of sweat had begun to roll down his neck and chest. "More, please."

You spray more of the whipped cream onto his wing and continue your torture, licking along the various scars there. He starts to thrust his hips up, desperate for release. He was entirely at your mercy, and his pleasure was in your hands.

The thought unlocked something primal in you. You pull away from his wing, which causes him to cry out in protest. You quickly take a seat in his lap, moaning at the feeling of his hard cock against your bare pussy. You spray the cream onto his chest, covering his tattoos. You lick it all off, tracing your tongue along the black. At some spots, you bite him, digging your teeth into his skin.

He grips your hips hard, thrusting against you. "Baby, please. Stop teasing me." His voice is low and desperate, and you are at the end of your self control.

You pull him into a passionate kiss, biting his lower lip roughly. "Fuck me, Az," you whisper, dropping the can of whipped cream onto the floor.

His control snaps, and he lifts you up, meaning to carry you over to the couch in the living room. You reach out and run a hand along the inside of his wing. He moans, his knees buckling, and you giggle as the two of you crumble to the floor.

He manages to catch you in his strong arms before you hit, and he lays you gently onto the ground, stretching out over you. He pulls the tie loose that holds your robe closed, and you gasp as the cool air touches your skin. "So pretty," he mumbles as he runs his hand along your stomach, all the way down to your throbbing pussy.

He pushes two fingers in, not giving you time to adjust. Your back arches slightly, and you dig your nails into his shoulders. "I need you, Az," you pant, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Now."

He chuckles as he removes his fingers. He reaches down to free his leaking cock from his pants, not bothering to remove them all the way. "Needy little thing," he whispers into your ear as he pushes himself into you with a mighty thrust.

Your back arches off the floor and your toes curl as he sets a brutal pace, planting his toes on the ground as leverage. He throws your legs over his shoulders as he fucks you, and you gasp as he goes even deeper into you, hitting that spot deep inside.

You claw at his back and shoulders hard enough to draw blood. "Oh, fuck yes!" you scream, moving your hips up to meet each of his thrusts.

He moves a scarred hand up to wrap it around your throat. "You like it when I fuck you hard, yeah?" He squeezes just enough to cause you to wheeze as you moan. "My needy little mate is so hungry for my cock."

Something in his tone challenges you, and you smile up at him through lidded eyes. You raise your head slightly, meeting his lust-blown gaze. You reach a hand out, running your fingers across that spot on his wing that would cause his control to break.

Azriel releases your throat as he whimpers, whimpers, and collapses on top of you, his thrusts becoming erratic and wild. You feel his cock twitch inside you as thick ropes of hot cum coat your walls. He keeps fucking you as his wings twitch and his body locks up.

A string of "Oh fuck" and "Oh shit" and "Oh gods" leave his lips as he cums, and you hold him as he falls apart in pleasure.

Still, he keeps cumming.

You feel something wet drip onto your neck, and you gasp softly as you realize it's tears. "My love," you murmur, running your hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Are you okay?"

"I can't stop cumming," he moans, still thrusting into you. Indeed, you could feel his seed dripping out of you and falling onto the floor.

You smile up at the ceiling as you realize you have just given your mate the best orgasm of his life.

After a few more thrusts, he stops, and you run soothing hands along his back to calm him. His wings slump to the floor around you, as if he can't hold them up anymore. He buries his face in your neck as he says, "I've never finished before a woman before." His tone is sheepish.

He's embarrassed, you realize.

You kiss the side of his head, breathing in his lovely scent of night-chilled mist and cedar. "It's alright. You can make it up to me later."

In fact, he had a lifetime to make it up to you. You hold him close, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear as the sun continues to rise high in the sky.

Would the frenzy ever end?

tag list: @lilah-asteria @ivy-34 @pruvii @kdawgiedawg @anarchiii @andreperez11 @mahiiis-world @matt332011 @azriel-shadowsingerr

[strang3lov3]

Lather

(Inspired by our curly, long-haired Pedro with his broken wing) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🧴🧻💦🧼🚿🛀(4k)

Part one of a new mini series!!

Tags- shoulder injury, forced proximity, hair washing, handjobs, blowjobs, Joel finishes little too early, sexual tension, masturbation, pissed off joel, impish reader as per ushe. Joel starts out soft and gentle, this will not last long. Just you wait for part two, mwahahahahah!!

A/N- This new series is written for and inspired by my very dear friend @noxturnalpascal , please do not eat Pedro’s fucking hair. I’m begging you. And thank you @tightjeansjavi for the title name!!

Generously edited by my dear friend, the lovely @papipascalispunk

You’re at the dinner table, watching Joel awkwardly cut his chicken and potatoes with the side of his fork, held by his left hand. He brings the food to his mouth kind of slowly, deliberately, like he has to consciously think about where his fork will end up. He catches your watchful gaze and looks at you, “What?”, he scowls.

You shrug, “Nothing.”

“Quit lookin’ at me,” he huffs, “Creep.”

You’ve been living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie for quite some time now. Ellie’s got the garage and the downstairs bathroom to herself, you and Joel live in separate bedrooms upstairs. It works out. Kind of. The stairs are an issue. They’re old and steep, kind of slippery. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped and fell, and last week, that’s exactly what Joel did. Early one morning, he had misstepped and totally ate shit, landing hard on his right shoulder. You rushed to help him, but Joel shrugged you off, insisting he was fine. But you could hear in his voice he wasn’t, how he strained to speak. And in the following days, you noticed how his routine changed in the aftermath of his injury. He’s been favoring his right arm heavily, eating, cooking, opening doors, picking things up all with his left hand, rarely his right. 

Ellie gets up from the table to rinse her plate. When she passes you and Joel on her way back to the garage, she stops next to Joel and just stares at him, a look of confusion and disgust on her face. She reaches her hand forward, pushing her fingers slowly through his hair and watching the curls stand up straight. Joel freezes before turning to look at her, perplexed and irritated. “What’s the matter with you?”, he asks. 

“Gross,” Ellie giggles, still playing with his hair. He swats her hand away. 

“Yeah, shut up,” Joel grumbles, “You’ll have gray hair one day too. It ain’t that funny.”

“I’m not talking about the color. Your hair is disgusting, Joel. It’s like, sticking straight up. Are you hydrophobic or something?”

“Leave me alone,” Joel tells her, “Go do something. Go play in traffic.”

“You smell like you’re hydrophobic,” Ellie retorts as she continues towards her room. 

You turn your attention back to Joel, who looks insulted. Subtly, he turns his nose to his armpit to smell himself and then checks his reflection in the window, using his left hand to mess with his curls. He notices you staring at his reflection as well, “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”, he asks defensively as he messes with his hair a little more, flipping the mess to one side of his head, then to the other, rubbing the strands between his fingers. Joel sighs deeply then, gets up from his seat, and – using his left arm – he drags his chair across the kitchen and sets it in front of the kitchen sink. “I need help,” he confesses in a tone hardly audible, like he’s sheepish and uncomfortable. Disappointed, too. 

“What?”

“Washin’ my hair,” he speaks louder this time, “It’s hard with my uh…shoulder. I need your help.” 

“Took you long enough to as–”

“Knock it off,” he interrupts. It was probably around day four post-staircase incident that you noticed Joel’s hair taking on a more dirty appearance. You stare at his hair a lot lately now that he’s growing it out for winter. His hair curls in all sorts of directions, little cowlicks all over his head. The ringlets at the bottom of his neck are your favorite part. How gorgeous they look with the multitude of colors on his head. Deep, chocolatey brown with highlights of caramel and silvery gray streaks. With resources being fairly scarce even in Jackson, Joel doesn’t wash his hair every day, which is honestly fine for him. However, the days that he does wash his hair, he struggles to scrub his scalp properly with just his left hand, hence the dirty and greasy appearance. And really, it doesn’t look that bad. Probably feels worse for him, though, all that schmutz built up. Probably itchy and uncomfortable. 

You take your plate to the kitchen sink and give it a quick wash before drying it and putting it away. Joel sits in the chair he’s placed in front of the sink, and reaches behind himself for the dish soap, then kind of just puts it in your hand. You look at Joel, tilting your head in confusion. Sure, it's slim pickings for resources, but there’s a reason you’re close with the soapmaker here in Jackson. It’s the little things that keep you going; one of the little things being fruity scented shampoo that the soapmaker hooks you up with. 

You place the soap back on the kitchen counter and leave quickly to grab your shampoo, then come back to meet Joel at the sink. Joel looks at the bottle of shampoo in your hand, “What the hell is that?”, he asks. 

“My shampoo. It smells kinda like strawberries, see?”, you open the cap and squeeze the bottle to waft the scent towards him.

 Joel scrunches his nose, “It’s too girly.”

“You’re too girly,” you taunt, and Joel rolls his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m washing your hair, so I get to pick the shampoo. It’s like a spa night,” you chirp happily. 

“Nope, not a spa night,” he replies harshly, “Just wash my damn hair. No funny business.” When you stare down at him, unimpressed with his attitude, Joel backtracks, “Please,” he begs. 

“Spa night.”

“Fine,” Joel sighs in defeat and leans his head back into the sink, scooting down the chair. He looks deeply uncomfortable already, putting his weight on the left side of his body and raising his shoulder up and away from resting on the sink. Poor guy. You turn on the sink and begin to run the water over his scalp with the detachable faucet, but Joel yelps in pain. “Hot, s’ way too hot,” he says loudly, craning his neck away from the stream. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, quickly turning the faucet lever in the other direction. 

“Cold, cold, Christ—cold,” Joel hisses as he reaches behind himself to try to haphazardly adjust the lever himself, swatting his hand violently. He ends up hitting your hand instead, resulting in you dropping the faucet on his forehead. He yelps again and quickly sits up straight, water flinging across the room from his wet hair. “This isn’t gonna work,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Think we need to get this over with in the shower.”

“I think that’d work better,” you agree. 

So, you and Joel make your way upstairs, you’ve got your fruity shampoo in your hand. Joel’s wet hair drips down his neck and back as you follow him towards the bathroom where he turns on the shower, letting the water warm up. He shuts and locks the bathroom door before unbuttoning his flannel, again with his left hand only. Turning away from you, you watch Joel twitch and wince in pain as he tries to take off his undershirt. It kind of makes you sad, seeing him struggle like this. You wish he would have asked for help before now. “Joel?”, you tap his back. 

“Hm?”, Joel turns around and you reach his right arm. “Oh,” he says. Carefully, you do your best to painlessly help him out of his shirt, pulling his sleeve towards your body and keeping his arm as low as can be. You pull the rest of the shirt off of his body, catching a glimpse of his torso, his soft, pillowy belly. “Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“No problem.”

“I uh–,” Joel begins, turning away from you again and undoing his belt, “I’m gettin’ undressed and gettin’ in, okay?”

“Am I getting in there with you?”

“I’d reckon that’s probably easiest, yeah. And if ya don't wanna get your clothes wet, then you can take 'em off too,” Joel offers, “I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, so I'm keepin’ my eyes shut and facin’ the shower head the whole time so I don’t see anything I'm not ‘sposed to.”

“I appreciate that,” you reply. You’ve been through a lot with Joel, and truth be told, you’re both past the point of modesty, all that you’ve been through together. You have endless trust and respect for each other. Still though, you appreciate what he’s doing to keep you feeling safe and comfortable with him. A lot can be said about Joel, but he’s never been anything but respectful and considerate towards your safety and comfort. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll undress. Just give me a minute.”

“Not a problem,” Joel says. You face away from him as he takes off his belt, it lands with a clatter on the floor. Next his jeans and boxers, then each of his socks. You hear the sound of the shower curtain moving and his heavy footsteps in the bathtub. “M’done. Eyes stayin’ closed now.”

“Okay,” you say as you look at Joel through the shower curtain, unable to see much. You have no doubt he is, in fact, squeezing his eyes shut, but you smile to yourself when you notice where his arms lie. They’re resting across his body, his hands cupping his member securely. Oh, Joel. He’s a grump, but a gentleman nonetheless. 

After taking off your own clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor, you move the shower curtain aside and step inside of the tub. It’s a tight fit, despite being relatively spacious. There’s a built-in bench to the side of the shower where your soaps sit. Joel always complains you have too many lotions and potions taking up space, that they always fall on his toes when he bathes. Dramatic. 

 Immediately you’re in awe of Joel’s beauty. You can’t see his face, but you can see his back, freckled and scarred and striped with stretch marks here and there. Water trails down his neck and his spine. You can’t help but steal a peek of his ass, so firm and plump. He’s blessed, truly. 

“Doin’ okay?”, Joel interrupts your thoughts. 

“Oh– yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Gonna shampoo you now.”

“Get to it,” he tells you. 

You reach for your strawberry shampoo and squeeze a small amount into the palm of your hand, then reach up to lather it into Joel’s scalp. “I need you–”, using your hands to guide Joel to tilt his head back, “Yeah, like that. Thanks.”

“Mm,” he hums in response.  

You begin to wash Joel’s hair, building up a thick lather of bubbles. You pay special attention to the sides of his head, down towards his neck, scratching and massaging his scalp. It’s almost imperceptible, but you hear a slight groan, a soft exhale of relief as you scrub Joel’s head. Washing the hair near his neck, you toy with his curls, wrapping them around your fingers and watching them bounce and swing when you pull your hands away. You’re about to reach for more shampoo when you really see it– the bruise on his shoulder. It’s yellowing now, but there are still purple and blue splotches of his skin. “Fuck, Joel,” you mumble, tracing your fingers lightly over his bruise.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It was an accident. You know this, so you’ll spare Joel from your long-winded lecturing about taking care of himself. Instead, you just press a soft kiss to his bruise. 

“You– I um–”, Joel clears his throat, a little bashful now, “Need you to wash up by my hairline, f’ya wanna come up front here.”

“Yeah, of course,” you speak softly. You begin to scoot past Joel, but the tight fit of the two of you in the shower makes it difficult to move. You slip and reach for Joel’s arm. 

“Careful,” he warns you softly, “Here, I gotcha.” Joel, still keeping his eyes shut, holds your waist and helps guide you to stand in front of him. When you’re situated, he quickly protects his modesty once again.

You grab some more shampoo and reach for the front of his scalp. This time, you can admire more of him. His face, eyes scrunched tightly shut. Careful not to look at what he’s not supposed to. That little line between his eyebrows is more deep and prominent than usual. Water drips down the slope of his aquiline nose and his plump, rosy lips. Droplets cling to his wiry salt and pepper facial hair. He’s a work of fucking art. When Joel’s properly shampooed, you reach for the detachable shower head and start to rinse his hair, watching the strands fall on his forehead. 

You’re not sure exactly what happens, but in an instant, Joel is unexpectedly groaning and reaching for the shower head from your hand. You step back and watch him scramble to wipe his eyes and blink quickly. “Fuckin’, ahh,” he hisses, “Got soap in my eyes. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“S’okay, was an accident. Fuck,” Joel hands you the shower head and then wipes his eyes a few more times before he stops and stares at you before him, not even thinking about his rule. Fuck. He shuts his eyes quickly, but the damage is done. His mind is swimming with images of your body, the drops of water rolling down the curves of your breasts, your hips, thighs. His cock hardens almost instantly, and he hurries to cover himself again. “Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s not cause of you.”

“Okay, Joel,” you reply calmly. 

Joel groans. “No, it’s not like that, you– you’re– it’s…My shoulder’s been hurtin’, y’know how it’s been.” 

 “Mhm,” you hum, knowing where he’s going with this, “It’s okay.”

“Haven’t been able to take care of myself, uh…in that regard,” Joel clears his throat before continuing, “So I’m just a little wound up– oh–”

Joel’s interrupted when you step forward, reaching for his wrists to pull them away from his member. “I get it,” you whisper, “I can help with that too, if you’d like.”

“Jesus, fuck–”, Joel hisses as you touch his hips, his thighs, skating your fingers along his skin. He moans softly when your fingers lightly touch his heavy balls, the base of his cock, then trailing them up his shaft. “Quit– fuck – quit teasing me, hon. Not a smart idea.”

“I’m not teasing you, Joel.” 

Except Joel’s not listening. All he can think about is how fucking good it feels to be touched where he needs it most. He reaches for your hand, but doesn’t pull it away. Like he’s at battle with himself, doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do, not that he actually wants to. He wraps his fingers around yours, encouraging you to grip his cock tightly. But with his brow furrowed, he looks conflicted. “Don’t know what’s gotten into ya, but–”, he says shakily, “Hon– you gotta stop cause, fuck–”, he breathes, “Don’t think I have it in me– fuck – to walk away from you.”

“You don’t have to, Joel,” you coo quietly as you grip his cock tighter. You lean closer to Joel, wrapping one of your arms around his waist. Joel opens his eyes then, and you kiss his cheek, still stroking his cock. His thick head is nudging your hip as you work him, “Why don’t you let me help you with this?”

Joel nods, sighing in relief as he gives into you, gives into pleasure.  He’s been hard as a rock all week. Left hand just doesn’t do the trick, but yours, your hand does just fine. “Lord have mercy,” he gasps, “Thank you.” Rubbing your hand up and down his cock, you kiss his neck, then lower, his collarbones and his chest. Lower still, sinking to your knees as you kiss down that soft and pillowy tummy of his, trailing your tongue along that patch of hair that leads to his cock. You take his thick base in one hand and his ass in the other, then press sloppy kisses to his blushed tip, flicking your tongue over his soft skin. “Sweetheart,” he warns softly, “Doin’ too much for me.” 

“I don’t think so,” you tell him innocently before trailing your tongue along a prominent vein of his cock. 

“I disagree,” he mumbles quietly. Oh, Joel. Silly Joel. As if you’d satisfy him with just your hands. But this is as much for you as it is for Joel. You’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about him, kissing him and fucking him. He’s who you think about at night with your hand between your thighs. So no, taking him in your mouth is not too much. It’s what you both need. 

Joel hums sweetly as you guide him to your mouth, his thick head parting your lips. You toy with him, swirling, flicking your tongue, alternating between taking him deeply and more shallow in your mouth. He’s warm and thick, just like you imagined. His cock feels heavy in your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper, hollowing your cheeks to massage him. You love his smooth skin, how he squirms and his hips stutter when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. As he gains more confidence, he begins to draw in and out of your mouth slowly, an action encouraging to both you and himself. 

“Good god,” Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand still squeezing his ass cheek, the other now fondling his balls, cupping and squeezing them gently. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He reaches down, stroking your cheek with soft and warm eyes as you work him. His hand finds the back of your head, grunting as he inches you forward to take him deeper. 

 “Not lastin’ long the way you–”, he  chokes out, a stuttered string of profanities following as you feel his cock stiffen and twitch under your tongue, spurting hot ropes of his spend down your throat. It’s salty and warm and masculine, taking you by surprise. His orgasm surprises himself, too. You don’t mind, though. In fact, it’s flattering the way he’s come undone for you so quickly, so desperately. Poor Joel, so worked up and bent out of shape all week. Probably part of the reason he’s been so cranky.

He takes heaving breaths above you, his chest rising and falling steadily as he stares down at you in admiration. He’s got the kindest eyes. When you pull off of his cock, he offers his hand to you, helping you back to your feet. He thanks you again, then apologizes for finishing how he did. You assure him that you don’t mind a bit. “M’not gonna leave ya high and dry, you know,” he says, “You just give me a few days to get myself right and I’ll take good care of you. Return the favor and all that good stuff. Hm?”

Sure, Joel, you think, nodding to him. He nods back at you, feeling good and satisfied, already dreaming about getting you off in a few short days. How soft and wet your pussy will be, pulsing around his cock, all for him. He’ll make you come just as hard as he did, if not harder. He can see it now, he’ll have you falling to pieces under his tongue and his fingers. He just needs to fucking heal first. While Joel’s been favoring his right arm quite a bit, he still hasn’t been taking it as easy as he should have been. But he’s got a woman waiting on him now, and healing is his top priority. 

Joel smiles, you smile sweetly back at him as you wrap an arm around his waist for stability and set one of your feet on the ledge of the bathtub. His smile contorts into a confused frown as he watches you take your free hand and snake it between yours and Joel’s bodies, your fingers toying with your center. “Whatcha doin’?”, Joel asks. 

“Oh, you know,” you reply plainly. You sigh softly, tilting your head back as one of your fingers circles your hole. 

“No, no, no, no,” Joel protests, “No, thought you were gonna wait your turn.” 

“My turn’s right now,” you breathe, now dipping a finger into your entrance, curling it and swirling it around. “You’re not the only one with needs.”

“I know you got needs, hon, thought we just agreed I’d be the one to take care of ‘em,” he tries, “Right?”

“It’s alright,” you purr, “I got it.”

It’s almost cartoonish, how Joel’s expression turns from one of satisfaction and bliss to betrayal and astonishment. “I don’t like this,” he mutters, “It’s teasin’ me, you know.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper softly, your fingers now rubbing over your clit, “What don’t you like?”

“Uh, that,” he spits, “Don’t like hearin’ you moanin’ my name when I’m not the one touchin’ ya. Don’t like that at all.”

You pout, “Oh, you can touch me,” you offer as you take his left hand into your own, sliding it up your body. He thumbs the plump underside of your breast and glides his fingers over your nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch. 

“Oh, real nice. You’re playin’ dirty,” he accuses, “You’re nothin’ but trouble. Shoulda known.”

You don’t bother replying as you begin to trace steady circles into your clit, dipping your fingers at your entrance to collect more of your arousal. Your fingers slip and slide through your folds with such ease. 

Joel growls, squeezing your breast harshly one last time before his arm finds your waist and he pulls you flush against his body. With your head still tilted back as you whimper quietly, Joel takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, biting and nipping at your hot, dampened skin. It only fuels you. “Joel,” you cry, “Fuck, oh my god,” as that warm, sticky feeling deep in your gut is beginning to build.

Joel watches you, conflicted. How sweet his name sounds falling from your lips with your broken, honeyed moans, but Jesus, he needs to be the one touching you like that, not you. He should have known it’d turn out this way, that you’d revel in having this one-up on him. Your fucking audacity. I made you come so hard you saw stars, and I’m doing the same thing to myself. And you can’t do a single thing about it. Ha. Ha. 

Joel holds you tighter when your cries begin to get louder as you reach your peak, your knees beginning to buckle. You moan frantically, loudly, and Joel watches you knit your brows together and your mouth drops open as you begin to fall apart. Your fingers massage your clit faster, harder, feeling that tension in your gut snap and splinter as waves of pleasure overtake you, washing over your body. With your eyes shut, you feel it deep in your stomach, down the back of your thighs, riding out your orgasm on your own fingers as Joel holds you close to his body.

When you finally open your eyes, Joel’s glaring at you. He says nothing. Deep down, he knew you’d probably end up taking care of yourself tonight, but in front of him? You’ve got some fucking nerve. 

When your breathing slows, Joel lets you go. He stares at you, unimpressed, mouth slightly agape. You take the opportunity to slide two of your fingers past his lips, letting him taste your sweet arousal on his tongue. His brows furrow and his eyes flutter shut as he groans deeply, hungrily. “Seriously?”

You nod with a smile, then press a quick kiss on his lips before shimmying past him to reach for your towel. You dry off and step out of the tub, and when you look back at Joel, he wears a scowl. 

“You’re the fuckin’ devil.” 

Next

[coryosbaby]

Cry, Kill, Die

[ part one ]

Synopsis: In which Coriolanus Snow takes you for his own.

content warning . Dark themes— stalking, kidnapping, and Stockholm’s syndrome heavily mentioned // Extremely dubious consent, Murder and gore mentioned, misogynistic elements // housewife kink, blowjob, peacekeeper (ish?) ! Coryo, dom! Coryo, he’s literally a fucking nutcase in this

note: this is probably going to be the darkest shit I’ve ever wrote b4, but I’ve had this idea for a while now 😭 not meant to be taken as romanticization, more of js me talking out of my ass w the plot and slight smut included during bc i wanna fuck coryo so bad . So yeah .

It’s been days.

You know that much— know that the last day you saw sunlight was at least four days ago, when you had been happily strolling through the woods picking flowers. When you had heard a snap of leaves. When you saw him watching you. When he had taken you for his own.

You sit, pretty and dainty, regardless of your current imprisonment, in a brown arm chair in the corner of the room. Your original dress had been torn into shambles, but he had gotten you a new one. A pretty lace thing, a pink babydoll dress with tiny bows all over it. It definitely wasn’t something district, so the mysterious man that had taken you confused you even more.

Not that you hadn’t seen him before all of this— he was a peacekeeper. At least, he was pretending to be. You know this because he had grabbed you from a rundown bar to save you from the hands of a drunken pervert one night.

You had thanked him, kissed his cheek sweetly.

“Thank you, Sir!”

But his niceness was all a lie. An evil, despicable lie. And when you saw him the day he had taken you, you noticed the change in him. The look on his face. Something dark, something not quite human.

Something hungry.

You had fought. You fought hard, too— clawing at his wrists, as his hand covered your mouth and he had shushed you.

“Shut up. Shut up right now, or I’ll fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

And you had understood greatly, had went limp in arms from fear and something else that you didn’t want to mention out loud. He had taken you to a cabin, a run down but still beautiful cabin. He had thrown you into one of the bedrooms, locked the door, and left. Thankfully, there was a bathroom built into your prison and you could relieve yourself anytime you liked. It was stocked with toilet paper, a toothbrush, your favorite shampoos and soap. You were too scared to take a shower, though, in fear of him getting angry with you. So you didn’t. You slept— still sleep— naked. It’s the only way you can get comfortable because of the scratchy material of the dress. The sheets are fresh, blanket soft, and you sleep heavy. To pretend that you’re somewhere else— to pretend that he didn’t take you.

He came back that night with food and water, unlocked the bedroom door for you. He had stroked your hair as you ate the luxury cherry pie that was expensive in the districts, the thick pasty filling forming a lump in your throat. You had asked him where he got it, and he didn’t answer.

The days went like that. Him leaving, bringing you food and water the next day, training you to get used to him like a lost, traumatized puppy. You had begun to ask him more questions, and you had gotten his name. He had revealed it to you on the third day, as he pulled you into his lap and stroked your hair.

“Coryo.” He had murmured, oddly sweet. “Call me Coryo, sweet thing.”

And now, it brings you to the present moment: you hear the familiar click of the doorknob, the thud of heavy peacekeeper boots against thick, run down wood. His helmet is off, and his buzzed hair shows greatly. A handsome man he is, but you won’t admit that to yourself. He has a bag in his hand, made of brown paper. He sighs, as if exhausted. He sits down at the kitchen table, and you can see him from the doorway.

“Come here,” he mutters to you. “Come here now, bunny.”

You can’t help but flush at the name he had given you, though fear curls in your gut at his tone. Your feet nervously pad over to his chair. His big hand wraps around your waist, pushing you down onto his lap as he begins to rummage around in the bag.

It’s a container of warm tomato soup, your favorite. There are probably better dishes, better food, but in the districts it’s the best meal around. Before you can wonder how Coryo knows it’s your favorite, he pulls out a spoon and dips it into the red liquid. He holds it up to your lips, and although you want to reject his offerings the growling of your tummy wins you over.

You slowly put your lips to the utensil, your taste buds exploding as the soup is placed on your tongue. You let out a tiny moan. You can’t help it! The soup is just too good.

“Hungry, aren’t you?”

You can hear the amusement in his voice, as you grab the spoon from him and begin to paw at the cup. You gulp down a few spoonfuls.

“It’s..” you pause, feeling around in Coryo’s lap. Your eyes widen as you feel his cock poking against you, and you slowly set the soup and spoon down. “It’s really good, Coryo. T-Thank you.”

He breathes out a laugh. You squirm against him, and it’s all too much. You lift yourself off of his lap and move to the living room couch. He watches, his brow raised, and if you look close enough you can see the clenching of his jaw.

“Are you scared of me?”

It’s a tone you haven’t heard from him, the faux gentleness gone.

Your breath wavers, your eyes averting from his.

“It’s just that..” you start, cautious, as you see his expression darken. “You— you took me, Coryo. My family must be so worried, so worried about me—“

He holds a hand up, as if to silence you. Your mouth shuts, your heart thudding against your chest. Coryo lifts his body up from the chair, slow and threatening. He makes his way over to you, his boots thudding against the wood once again.

“Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you?”

You cower under him, your fingers gripping the couch cushions so hard that you fear they might break.

“I- I just—“

“You just what?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I come home, give you dinner, a roof over your head, a new dress.. and this is how you repay me?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. You can feel hot, salty tears beginning to well in your eyes. This man in front of you is crazy, unwell. He hardly knows you.

Right?

You do remember seeing him around, as you mentioned before. Always in district twelve because it’s where he was stationed, but—

He seemed to be everywhere. You remember, now; little glimpses of that familiar platinum blonde hair moving through the crowd, big arms holding a peacekeeper’s gun. At the bars you went to, at the crowded reapings that you (thankfully) never got picked in. Outside of your house, as you would peek out the curtained window, marching down the gravel road and making sure that no one avoided curfew. You remember the way his eyes would lock with yours almost every single time. He may have been stalking you for months.

“No,” you breathe out, as his body moves closer and closer to you. “No, that’s not what I meant at all! Coryo, I appreciate everything you’ve done. R-Really! But..”

“But what, you ungrateful brat?” He crouches, his eyes baring into yours like a predator stalking its prey. “Answer me!”

You jump, his sudden change in tone scaring you, and you let out a sob.

“I wanna go home!” You yell back at him, sniffling.

Coryo’s hand grasps your hair firmly, and he yanks your head back. You cry out, his grip making your scalp burn. His breath his hot against your ear.

“You are home now, little girl.”

Your feet kick and flail, as he presses his lips harshly to yours. It’s the first kiss, one of many to come, and you don’t kiss him back, can’t kiss him back, as his teeth clack against yours. He takes your bottom lip in between his sharp, pearly white teeth, and bites. You squeal, holding your mouth, watching Coryo’s icy blue eyes stare into your own as he pulls away. You can feel something wet dripping down your chin and taste warm, metallic blood.

“If you ever say anything about leaving me again… I’ll make sure to take you out to the hanging tree and string you up dead for everyone to see.“

—

He doesn’t leave, on this night. He takes off the top of his peacekeeper uniform and stays in his pants and white tee shirt. You sit, watching his big hands clean the hilt of his gun. Your fears increase as you watch him, wondering if he’ll use it on you by the end of the night, and it’s been quiet since the moment he kissed you and said those horrifying words.

Until he decides to break the silence.

“I hope you like the dress.”

Your mouth stays shut, and you repeatedly tie and untie one of the ribbons on the fabric.

“It’s one of a kind,” Coryo presses, setting his gun down onto the table. And then, in the most amused tone, in the most unsettling tone, “I’m not going to shoot you, darling.”

Your hand goes up to your mouth, taking note of the scab forming there, and you chew on your thumbnail. You hear the sound of rustling as coryo gets up from his spot. He crouches down in front of you again, his big palms splaying across your thighs. You can feel the tears welling up again, and you bring your hands up to your eyes as you let out a quiet sob.

Coryo sighs, bringing his much larger ones up to take hold of your fingers. He pulls them down, revealing your blubbering face to him.

“ I didn’t mean to hurt you earlier, angel. I didn’t—“ he stops, breathing heavily. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. God, I didn’t mean to make you cry…”

His lips go up to the back of your hand, kissing it softly. You look down, not staring into those predatory eyes again. You let him pepper kisses along your wrist and arm.

After a moment, when your tears have dried up, coryo sighs deeply. He stands, and begins to zip his uniform back up.

“I’m going out,” he says. “Okay? I’ll be back… thirty minutes, tops.” he grabs his gun, slips on his helmet. He turns to you right before his hand twists the doorknob. “Do you have any suggestions for dinner?”

It’s the first time he’s ever gave you a choice, and the first time he’s ever allowed you to stay in the living room. You bite your lip, thinking over your options. Of the many, many possibilities of food, of drinks, of comfort.

“Tomato soup, please.”

—

Coryo is true to his word. It doesn’t take him long to return back to the locked cabin, and when he appears through the doorway you take note of the key that he slips from his pocket and relocks the latch with. Your brows furrow, as you see the cup of tomato soup in one hand and a large bag in the other.

“I got you something.” He says, and your curiosity peaks.

He sits the materials down on the table, and you stare at the bag with wonder.

His hand reaches in, and he pulls out a fabric of embroidered silk. He reveals it to be a nightgown; a baby blue slip, with beading along the neckline and a flared hem of knee length. You fake a smile, though in your mind you are impressed. You’ve never been gifted sleepwear so luxurious before.

“It’s amazing, Coryo,” you compliment. “I love it. Thank you.”

You grab the nightgown from his hands, the material soft in your palms. You hold it up to your nose; laundry detergent and parfume. The smell of riches. The smell of the capital.

As you hold your gift, you wonder how privileged this man truly is.

—

“Well?” He urges, sitting down on the couch. His thighs spread, oddly tantalizing. “Try it on, darling. Let me see how beautiful you look in it.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and when he notices your hesitance he chuckles and covers his eyes up with his fingers.

“I won’t look,” he says. “I promise. See?”

You can see his eyes peeking through, but you don’t mention it. You know what he wants, anyway. And it isn’t like asking for privacy is going to change that. He will get what he wants sooner or later.

You feel exposed, hot, and violated all at once as you pull your discarded dress over your head. You’re quick to slip on the nightgown. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

It fits like a glove, and when Coryo removes his hands from his eyes he gets up from his seat. He admires examines you with awe written on his face.

“Oh, honey,” he coos. “You’re stunning. An absolute gem.”

You hate the way your cheeks flush from his words. You hate the way your thighs clench when his fingers brush against your chest as he circles you. You hate it all.

He strokes your cheek, leaning closer to your lips with each movement.

“Think I deserve a kiss for spoiling my girl, yeah?”

Hesitantly, you nod, letting him thumb your bottom lip before pressing his mouth to yours. This kiss is slow, deliberate, calculated. This kiss is sweet, if you didn’t know any better. You kiss him back this time, in fear of getting bit again. His hand curls into your hair, and he whispers.

“Maybe I deserve a little more?”

You’ve done this before with other men, but not like this. You let yourself slip down to your knees, anyway, and when you slip Coryo’s cock into your mouth he’s almost gentle.

Almost.

You hate it all.

[lovelookspretty]

not so bad

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

college!rafe cameron x reader au

warning(s): n/a. just a bitchy rafe whos generous n gets awkward as fuck when it comes to u

authors note: college!rafe is lowkey nicer to y/n since he can’t help his buried feelings !! but he’s still an ass. i wouldve casted drew as himself but drew is too sweet i cant even imagine him having like a female sworn enemy that he lowk has a crush on

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

the door swings open, revealing rafe himself. he’s silent as soon as he sees you. “lock the door,” he says as he turns around and starts to head further inside, leaving you at the entrance.

“lock the door,” you mock-mumble under your breath as you enter, closing and locking the door behind you like you’re told. you look around, realizing you’ve never actually seen rafe’s dorm before. his friends’ dorms maybe, but never his.

his dorm is surprisingly clean, with only empty to fully filled water bottles scattered around, but very few. both sides of the room are displayed with posters on its walls, you can fell which bed is his and it’s made with its sheets tucked tightly in the crevices with two large pillows at the head of it.

you watch as he walks over to his desk and sits in the chair, opening up his laptop to the online textbook provided for the class.

he peers over his shoulder to glance at you, “can you fucking—i don’t know—sit down somewhere? the furniture isn’t coated in poison, you know.”

you fight the urge to make a remark, and you just sigh and let it go. “kay!” you say, and carefully making your way over to sit on the edge of his bed, placing your bag by your side. you catch his eye when you reply so eagerly without a problem, but you ignore this.

“where’s your roommate?” you ask him, looking around. “just wanna make sure when i need to expect someone- also, typically i charge for tutoring, and if crawford is making me tutor you then i’m charging you double. hundred-fifty an hour.”

rafe looks pissed, shaking his head and opening his mouth like he’s about to argue before closing it again. finally, he sighs, leaning against the wall by the kitchen. “my roommate’s just . . . out . . . today. he’s running errands. whatever, can we just get this over with? i’ll pay you after.”

you grin, feeling even satisified that rafe has to use his own cash to pay for however long this will take. “have a girl coming over tonight?” you guess from the way he’s rushing you. you reach into your bag for your ipad, “this wouldn’t be happening if you’d just pay attention in class, you know.”

“i know," rafe mutters, still annoyed but trying not to show it. "i just don't get how humanities could be important in the real world," he says, running a hand through his hair before resting the side of his head against his spread index finger and thumb, looking at you. “or my world, i mean.”

“still trying to do real estate?” you puzzle, pulling up the notes you took during class for him to look at. “it’s like your dad’s job, right? the cameron department thing.”

“cameron development,” he corrects you, hissing through his teeth.

“whatever. just surprised you’re not pursing sex work from all the girls i see you pull into bathrooms at parties,” you mutter out the end of your sentence under your breath, in a way not wanting to bring up that you’ve even noticed that before . . . again . . . and again . . .

“yeah?” he seems amused. “sex could sell more homes than fuckin’ humanities ever could.”

“sex?” you repeat with raised brows. “damn near prostitution versus political science, sociology, journalism, anthropology,” you name off as you lean left and right in your seat, pretending to think and weigh out your options. “yeah, maybe passing your humanities class can be a good thing! pull up your notes, please?”

“i did," rafe grumbles, gesturing to his laptop.

“i said notes, not the textbook. i wanna see what you’ve even written down while in class,” you say.

he’s silent as he opens up his documents, and he pulls up his most recent document filed under notes. he hands his laptop over to you as he leans back in his seat. you look over his text.

furrowing your eyebrows, you say, “okay, so you . . . you wrote the title of his lesson yesterday. that’s good. but under that you didn’t even write down any notes, you just have someone’s phone number. are you that predictable?”

he chews on his dog tag necklace and shrugs, taking his laptop back. “she was new. just wanted to make a friend,” he insists, closing out the tab.

you hum. you don’t really believe him but it isn’t like you care enough to argue over that. you hand him your ipad to show him your notes. “we’ll start at the beginning of the unit,” you tell him as he takes it.

rafe lets out a breath from his nose as he matches your energy from before, “‘kay!” he skims over your writing, gnawing on his pencil quietly.

you almost catch yourself smiling that he does this, but you refrain.

the lesson seems to be going better than you thought, though there are some pissed glances here and there from both sides. it takes two hours to go over the unit with examples and practices. you’re already exhausted.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the lesson ends. rafe slumps back in his chair, relieved to be done with the humanities assignments that you made him do for now. he looks up at you, barely casting a smile your way. “thanks for the help,” he mumbles, awkwardly meeting your gaze.

“thanks for the money,” you say, half-reminding him that he needs to hold up his end of the deal as you stand from your seat.

as he stands, he bumps into your ipad on his desk. it collides with his opened water bottle he’d been drinking out of the past hour or so and both of you know what’s about to happen. you blurt out a noise and try to dodge the water coming your way but fail, getting his water on your legs and even more pouring at your crocs that invite even more liquid in. you can just feel your socks absorbing it now.

rafe grimaces as he stares down at your wet legs, and the least he does is reaches down to grab the bottle and the cap that flew off the desk. he closes it up and sets it on his desk as you take off your shoes and socks, holding them with barely your fingers.

“i have uh . . . towels, paper towels,” he says, and you just nod immediately, accepting whatever to dry yourself off.

when he comes back, you grab the paper towels and shove your soggy socks into his chest which he takes out of instinct before exclaiming and dropping them on the floor. you can’t help but look back and glare at him before patting your legs dry, and then tossing the paper towel into the nearby trash can that sat at one of the ends of his desk.

you can see rafe shrug as he picks up your socks and hovers over his trash can too. “might as well,” he murmurs.

“wh— are you serious?” you try to catch the socks, but then again, he’s too far and you have no business carrying some wet ass socks back to your dorm. your hands fall to your sides as you sigh.

it’s like he’s visibly contemplating (or debating with himself) before he walks over to his dresser and rummages through a drawer, finally pulling out a pair of socks. “here,” he says, tossing them to you, which you almost fail to catch from the sudden surprise. “they’re clean. swear.”

you give him a doubtful look. “i didn’t need your socks. i have plenty in my own drawer, thanks,” you say, placing the pair on his desk to reject them, and he stares at you.

he shakes his head and turns around. “so difficult,” he murmurs under his breath, and he quickly cleans up his drawer before closing it.

he grabs his wallet from on top of the dresser too, pulling out the wad of cash. you can tell from the look on his face that he’s not only doing this to count his money properly but also to subtly flex right in front of you. you roll your eyes and look away.

he counts out his three-hundred before handing it to you, scrunching up his nose as he stuffs his wallet into his pocket. you stare at the money, then take it while giving him a glare.

you quickly count it but bless, there’s two hundred dollar bills and then five twenty’s. perfect.

“okay, good luck on your exam,” you say and grab your bag, heading for the door like you’re in a hurry this time.

“wait,” rafe says, and you almost groan from annoyance. you just want to go back to your dorm. “here,” he mumbles to himself, and he steps over to the mini-fridge in the corner. he opens it up and grabs a water bottle, then tosses it to you.

“rafe,” you say, not really expecting all of these ‘gifts’ just for screaming at him for two hours about humanities. you toss it back to him, which he catches.

“just for the road,” he insists with a shake of his head. “since i spilled mine on you.”

you stare at him like he’s stupid. “dude, i live down the hallway.”

when you see his awkward reaction, you almost feel bad. actually you do. and it’s weird. usually you don’t notice this at all, but something about rafe feeling dumb about trying to thank you just makes you feel guilty for how you’ve treated him. fine.

you give him a look like you’re saying okay. that it’s okay to give you gifts and that you’re okay with receiving them. rafe doesn’t even cast a smile, he just nods. you squint your eyes at him before heading for his door again.

rafe meets you there and holds out the water bottle for you. you look up at him and take it. you almost smile, and it seems like he might too, but you both catch yourselves and quickly look away.

“ace your exam so you won’t have to hear from me like this again,” you say, half-joking to keep up their normal behavior.

“i’ll try, i’ll try,” he says simply, and stands at his door while you leave. you raise your eyebrows once before heading off to your dorm, taking your bag and your water bottle with you. you hear his door shut from behind you.

as you walk away, you can’t help but replay the moment in your head, the weird sense of camaraderie that just occurred. maybe, just maybe, rafe cameron isn’t the most horrible person on the planet. and it doesn’t help that he’s unfortunately attractive, which makes it slightly more difficult now to keep up the mutual hatred you have for each other.

from inside the dorm, rafe stands there for a moment, staring at the closed door. he shakes his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“not so bad,” he mutters to himself before turning back to his desk, ready to tackle his upcoming humanities exam thanks to you.

[obsessedelusional]

chocolate (smut)

paring ↬ Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary ↬ You’ve been with Eddie for over three years, it’s only natural that the two of you would get comfortable? But are you too comfortable? It’s been nearly a month since you two had sex. When you realize that it sends you into a panic, desperate to find that spark again. You purchase enhancing chocolate and a sexy outfit, as a a surprise. What happens when your plans fall through, causing a argument?

word count ↬ 2.4K

a/n: thank you for all the love on my last eddie one shot, inspired me to finish this.. which if I’m being entirely honest is from a request from well over a year ago and has been sitting unfinished since then.. anyways.. luveeee you

Feedback & Reblogs appreciated! Thank you ᜊ

Being three years into a relationship things can become stagnant but you always swore that would never happen to your relationship with Eddie. Yet here you two were on your way into the roommate phase. You two too comfortable cohabiting, like a couple of friends sharing a bedroom. A bedroom that hasn’t seen any action in weeks. Three weeks, four days to be exact.

A few day shy of a month is when it hit you like a ton of bricks. Sending you into a deep one sided spiral focused on your relationship with Eddie. No one’s to blame, both of your work schedules taking up so much time. Eddie worked Monday through Friday at the local mechanic shop. His weekends usually spent with his band. Between attending college and work, you we’re just as busy.

It was a rare occasion that your schedules aligned to have the same day off. So when a coworker asked to switch days off so they could have Tuesday off and you’d be off on Sunday, you happily agreed. Deciding in that moment you’d do something to reignite the relationship.

After some thought you decided to surprise Eddie with some sexy goodies. A quick trip to the local sex shop and less than a hundred dollars later, you have a bag full of supplies. You decided on a black lace lingerie set that didn’t leave much up to the imagination and aphrodisiac chocolate. Something you have never done with Eddie before. When you get home Eddie isn’t there so you hide your new things saving them for Sunday.

—

“You work today?” Eddie asks curiously, when he comes out of the bathroom to find you sat in the kitchen. Normally by now you were long gone, it’s almost noon and he’s just waking up.

“No someone wanted to switch so I have today off.” You explain, smile plastered across your face. It was Sunday afternoon and you were excited to execute your plans. Eddie moves closer towards you, examining the spread of breakfast you prepared for him.

“What’s all this for?” He asks reaching for a slice of bacon throwing it into his mouth.

“For you. Just wanted to do something special.” You respond, Eddie wraps his half naked body around you enveloping you in a tight hug.

“Thank you baby.” He says face digging into your shoulder, smelling your hair. He pulls away just far enough to brush it out of the way. Moving in again, kissing up your neck. You have so much pent up sexual frustration you’re ready to say fuck this food and your entire plan, ready to let Eddie take you right then and there.

Before you can take it to the next level, he pulls away completely. Grabbing a plate and serving himself the food you prepared. Eddie doesn’t notice the exaggerated eye roll you give just sits down at the table, filling his face.

“This is delicious,” he mumbles between chewing bringing a smile back to you. You join him with your own plate, sitting next to him. He does the silly little thing he’s always done, dragging your chair with you in it closer to him. He looks proud when your close enough to his liking, going back to the meal in front of him. You eat filled with contentment that after all these years he still does the tiny things still.

“Any plans for today?” You ask. Eddie looks up from a his plate like he’s thinking.

“Yeah the bands meeting at two to practice for a few hours.” He says, your face tells on you falling into a frown.

“I promise as soon as we’re done. You’ll have my full undivided attention all night, okay?” He does his best to reassure you but you can’t help but feel irritated and it’s apparent in your demeanor.

“Is there something else you wanted to do today?” He asks, confused by your sudden change in mood.

“I had a surprise for you but I’ll guess it’ll wait.”

“What was it?” He asks.

“It can wait... You can find out when ever you decide to come home.” You respond, the annoyance heavy in your tone.

“Whatever.” He laughs causing an unreasonable amount of anger to flood over you.

“Whatever? I just wanted to do something for us today.” You raise your voice standing up in the process, leaving Eddie sat alone at the table. He lets out an defeated groan, you ignore it. Heading straight to your bedroom. Suddenly the apartment feels too small wishing you could escape somewhere else. Crawling into bed, hiding under the covers letting the frustrated tears fall.

—

You’re not sure how much time has passed, you had fallen asleep after you and Eddie’s little tiff. The sound of someone entering the room is what stirs you, the feeling of Eddie climbing into bed next to you is what fully wakes you. He slips through the covers, finding you and cuddling with you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. You roll over to face him, he looks genuinely upset.

“I’m sorry too.” You sigh. Eddie goes to talk but you cut him short by speaking up.

“I just wanted to do something special for you because we’ve basically turned into roommates.”

“Baby that’s not true.”

“It is Eddie. We haven’t had sex in almost a month.”

“No it hasn’t been…” His voice trails off trying to remember the last time, drawing a blank.

“It’s no one’s fault, we’re both just busy. I was so excited to spend today with you, I should have told you beforehand not just expected you.” You say, holding back tears. Eddie has started lightly tracing the side of your face listening to you speak.

“The insecure part of me has been spiraling for the last week, thinking the worst. That maybe we haven’t done anything because you don’t want me anymore.” As you talk the tears slowly trickle out from your eyes, landing on your pillow. Eddie wipes away at your tears before responding, pulling you in closer in the process.

“That is far from the case, baby. I love you so much. I’ve been working so much and focusing on the band. I forgot to prioritize you.” He pulls you all the way, slipping an arm under you hugging you tightly. Placing a sweet kiss on your head.

—

After a much needed conversation that lasted a solid hour, Eddie and you were still laid in bed. Topic had moved on to something less heavy. Eddie was now sat up in bed, you resting your head in his lap while he plays with your hair. You had just found out that he skipped practice because he felt so shitty.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m glad I did. This was needed. Plus how will I ever get my surprise, huh?” You shake your head no feeling as if the moments been ruined.

“Come on just tell me what it was.” He begs, you push up from his lap to see his face. His big brown puppy eyes on full display, bottom lip pouting. He knew exactly how to get what he wanted. You groan before getting out of bed and heading straight to the drawer where you hid the goodies. In a swift motion you pull out the plastic bag, tossing it at Eddie. He catches it pulling out the items inside.

“This isn’t gonna fit me.” He jokes, holding the lingerie by a single strap. You roll your eyes before snatching it out of his hands. He continues digging through the bag finding the special chocolate.

“Chocolate?” He asks confused.

“It’s enhancing chocolate.” His face is still full of confusion.

“It’s suppose to stimulate blood flow, enhances performance.” You explain watching as Eddie reads over the box.

“What are we waiting for?” He asks, ripping open the package. Before you can protest he plops his half in his mouth, passing you the other half. You follow in his lead eating the chocolate.

“How long does it take?” Eddie asks, examining the box further.

“20 to 40 minutes? What the hell are we supposed to do until then?” He says throwing the box the side, looking up at you. Eyes going from the lingerie to your face, his grin growing.

“We can start with you putting that on.” Eddie suggests.

A few long minutes later, you come out of the bathroom dressed in your new lingerie. His eyes find you, muttering ‘fuck’. He stands up from the bed approaching you. Once he’s a few inches away from, his hands find your hips. Letting himself explore your body in this new outfit. Tracing the lacey undergarment with his hands.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He whispers, pulling you closer. He lifts your face before pressing his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You return the kiss, you fingers reaching behind his neck. Finding his hair and tangling them in the nape of his neck, tugging slightly. Just enough to elicit a small moan from his lips.

You two are twisted together, without breaking the kiss he begins to take a few steps back. You follow as he sits on the bed, climbing into his lap. Pushing him till he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. You’re eager, ready to take it farther kissing down his neck. Lowering your body, pressing delicate kisses along his torso as you go.

Eddie watches closely as you pull his bottoms off, lifting his hips and helping you to get him undressed. As soon as he’s fully nude, your making yourself comfortable inbetween his legs.

“How do I know it’s the chocolate and not what you’re doing that has my dick so hard?” He questions, making you roll your eyes laugh in softly.

“Shh..” You respond, taking his erection in your hand pumping it slowly.

When he doesn’t shut up trying to press the question again, you kiss his tip before licking the crown of his cock. That shuts him up, watching your lips part around him. Your head moving up and down. Eddie lets his moans out as his tip hits the back of your throat. His eyes nearly roll in the back of his head when your hand starts to play with his balls.

“F-fuck!” Eddie groans as he gently pushes your head lower, enjoying the sight of his cock dissaprering into your throat.

A mess of your saliva pools at the base of his cock. He holds you there for a few moments, tears forming at your eyes until he lets go. You quickly lift your head, a long web of drool hangs from your lips to his cock. You make eye contact wipe it away then use that hand to pump him again.

Before you can continue, he’s guiding you up his body. Kissing your swollen and slick lips. Your core rests on his wet cock, you don’t waste a moment grinding your hips. Both of you moan into the kiss at the friction. His cock slips through your folds, hitting your clit. It feels too good and he hasn’t even entered yet. You’ve been waiting too long for this, so you raise your hips. He takes the hint aligning himself with your hole. You sink down slowly, inch by inch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Eddie mutters, his hands gripping your hips. The feeling of being filled is overwhelming. The stretch is a bit paniful but in the best way possible. You look down at Eddie before moving your hips at a steady pace. Both of you moaning, his grip tightening leaving marks in their wake. Guiding your hips to move faster.

Your pace quickens, taking him deeply. Every inch of him plunging into your warmth. You’re too distracted by the sensation to notice him pulling you closer. Eddie hungrily kissing you, his tongue asking for permission by sliding against your lips. Your mouth opens, tongues meeting each other. Without any warning Eddie’s hips thrust into you. A moan breaks the kiss, as he continues to jerk himself into you. His movements matching yours. It stops for a moment only because Eddie is rolling over on top of you.

“Get on your knees, I want to fuck you from behind.” He demands and you gladly listen. Positioning yourself infront of him, your ass up and face down.

Eddie take his cock, pushing it in one quick thrust. Watching as he disappears into your hole. He’s pounding into you, giving you no time to adjust. Your whimpers grow louder as he fucks you at a brutal pace. The sensation of his balls hitting your clit adds to the pleasure.

You’re gripping the sheets, pushing back against his thrusts. Eddie grabs a fist of your hair, pulling it. Tears swell at your eyes, it hurts so good. As you bite your lip, he continues his pace. Fucking you so roughly. Your body begins to tremble as you get closer to your finish, letting Eddie know your close. That what he is doing is working.

You disolve into pleasure, your body becoming putty as he keeps pounding into you. A chocked sob leaves your mouth as you come undone. Your walls spasm bringing Eddie closer to his end. With a few more jerks of hips he’s coming, panting your walls with his seed. He releases your hair, kissing your shoulder tenderly. He pulls out, dropping onto his back. You lay down next to him. Your chests heaving as you both try to breathe.

“How long is it supposed to last?” Eddie asks so you reach for the box.

“Uh… effect could last up to three hours.” You read out loud.

“I feel like I could go again.” He admits, looking down at his erection.

“Yeah?” You ask eagerly.

“Mhmm we have to make up for lost time.” He says, facing you bringing his lips to your chest. Nibbling softly on your skin.

“But I think it’s only fair I taste you this time.” He whispers, kissing down your stomach and to your core.

[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes' #MONSTERSMASH2024 challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader CREATURE: GHOST + MAX PHILLIPS WORD COUNT: 4.3k CW: Smut (piv), voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism (he's invisible and reader doesn't know he's watching), Max is a bit of a creep okay he's doing his best here, protective!max, jealous!max, enough manager speak that I got tech startup flashbacks.

SUMMARY: After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

Of all the hell holes where one might waste eternity, Max is pretty sure his vacant duplex is the worst of them. Six rooms, two floors spined by a spiral staircase—all boring and hollow and dusty. Disgusting. How difficult would it have been to let him haunt the office? He could’ve leered over all those pathetic little office drones, driven them crazy forever. Fucked with their desk chairs, their hard drives, mixed up all their coffee mugs. Not that Max has mastered the art of affecting the material world yet, but he will.

Petty? Sure. But you can’t blame a guy for feeling a little owed after all management’s little reorganization. His relocation to the goddamn fucking afterlife—and to this prison of an apartment where there’s no one to subjugate or fuck, no less. 

What a waste of his potential. His talents.

Who knows how long he spends stuck alone in this place until someone shows up, but eventually people do. The real estate agent—Doreen and her little beehive hairdo, her eyebrows always penciled on too thin—and, over what Max estimates to be about three weeks, a parade of nobodies she tours around, preaching godless, truthless sermons of the duplex’s good bones and the good life they could have in these dreary fucking rooms. He’d be proud of her sales pitch if he weren’t so goddamn pissed.

He tries, he really does. Yells often, I’m right here, Dor-een, honey, right fucking here! And waves his arms in front of her face, but he can scream as loud as he likes; nobody hears a thing. 

For the first time in his many lives, people walk straight through him. 

There might be, possibly, some karma in that. 

Max doesn’t care for it.

It’s misery until the day Doreen brings him you.

Come on, Max whines, slouching lazily on your couch. Curled up with your bedsheets cloaked over your head, you rot on the cushions beside him, four hours deep in a Desperate Housewives marathon, oblivious to his company: your usual Sunday routine.

As usual you don’t hear him, don’t see him either. Sitting right beside you, making no dents in the pillows, his glossy dress shoes kicked up on the coffee table. Still he finds himself complaining, one hand gesticulating wildly at the screen, You’re killing me, baby. It’s obviously the fucking neighbor! Guy’s got a box of death under his pool!

Meanwhile you just sit there, enthralled as Eva Longoria struts about in her tiny skirts and tiny shoes. Max tells himself the only reason he stays in the room when you watch this garbage is for her and all the other pretty housewives or to leer at what bits of you peek out from your duvet each time you reach for your tea on the coffee table—a wrist, your elbow, and when you knock over the popcorn bowl and slip the sheets from your head, the lovely hollow of your perfect neck. Truth is, if you were to quiz him, he’d be able to cite the plot of the whole season beat for beat.

Not that he’s enjoying this, this—this garbage. Never.

No fucking way. He’s just perceptive. Has an excellent memory.

Plus this is the one way he gets to be close to you. Such a pretty little thing, taunting him without ever knowing it. That sweet mouth, those clever eyes. Showering with the bathroom door sometimes cracked like you know he’s here and dying to peek through the veil of your jasmine-laced steam. Chewing the ends of your pencils while you sketch out some masterpiece on looseleaf that you never get around to painting.

Sitting on your couch, at your dining table, at the foot of your bed while you brush out your hair after a long day—it’s the closest Max gets to feeling like being stuck here might not be hell, just purgatory: always a breath away from the thing he’d like to touch, but at least he’s not simmering in battery acid or being flogged. He’s had his share of blood-bag roommates—brief fascinations that drained so quickly—but you? You’ve lived in Max’s apartment for three months and he’s no less drunk on you than he was the day Doreen toured you around. Can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the longing, the forest fire that sears through his ice-box chest every time your eyes skim his face by accident, never lingering. 

What can he say? Max is a man, after all. Under all the blood and monster.

And you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever seen.

When the show cuts to commercial you mute the TV, immune to the serpent-tongued promises of liars like him. Lured by nothing, by nobody. Already slinking from your bedsheet cave, all bare legs and cute little ankles striding out of the room, leaving him with the ghost of you, the smell of your perfume kissed into the duvet.

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to sell himself to you. He’d charm you all the way to your perfect knees.

In a way, you and Max are the perfect couple. You’re free to do as you wish, and he’s free to watch you every second that you spend at home, miserable the moment you leave for work in those tight fucking pencil skirts. No better than a dog, he spends his vagrant hours of isolation alternating between puppy-eyed pouting and anxious pacing, tortured until your evening return. 

How did he ever live here alone? Alive or otherwise. He can’t remember now. There are too many rooms, too few sounds, too few breaths, too few footsteps. He misses you. Your bedhead and pajamas, your blanket nest in front of the TV, the cute way you answer the phone. 

Today, you don’t come home till eight fifteen—and Max has spent thirteen hours losing what’s left of his mind.

Baby, he sighs, rushing for the front room at the first turn of the lock, a grin stretched to dimples in his cheeks. Seems even if you can’t hear him, Max can’t help talking to you, perhaps childlike in his belief that someday you will. Where the hell have you—

His sentence hacks itself in half, drops to silence, because you’re blushing when you come in, eyes shyly downcast, one hand shaking the rain loose from your hair, tendrils clinging to your cheeks. “Here,” you say, and for a beat Max thinks you’re speaking to him. His mouth drops, stunned. 

Is this it? Can you finally see him?

“Come in, come in,” you say.

Then a man steps in behind you, shuts the door behind his hulking form, and if there were any blood to speak of in his veins, Max is certain it’d boil at the sight of him. Tall and empty-headed, dopey as a dog, stomping his blocky, muddy shoes all over your hallway. Yours and Max’s. Getting goddamn filth on your hall carpet. Given just a few material cells, Max’d have this guy dead before he makes it to the living room, wouldn’t even bother drinking him. This breed of dumbass isn’t worth the mess.

But he’s useless. Less than a gnat. Sentenced to watch you trail this motherfucker who wouldn’t know Tom Ford from his Brioni into your kitchen, jackets shedding and small talk traded—boring, boring, boring, but you laugh when the guy makes a shitty joke about the weather. 

This guy, this nobody, gets to make you laugh while Max never even gets a chance to try.

On second thought, maybe this is hell after all.

“S’a nice place,” the dumbass says, laying his knockoff blazer over the back of a barstool. Cheap stitching. Terrible, too-thin lapels.

You look about the room as if standing in it for the first time and for a moment your eyes pass right over Max, whose long-dead heart winces. Yelps. If you could see him, there’s no way you’d entertain this guy. This nameless little worker bee. Max would make you laugh properly, how you laugh when something funny happens on TV or when you get a letter in the mail from your brother. Sudden and twinkling, often ending in a snort. Adorable.

Shrugging, you turn into your fridge and say, “Yeah, I like it,” and exhume two slim cans of vodka seltzer to set on the kitchen island.

Thank you, Max says, his arms crossed over his chest.

The dumbass’ brows flicker up as he regards your offering. Idiot. What was he expecting from a girl like you, a PBR? These are delicious. Elegant. Calorie wise. Max understands. Max would drink that with a smile and a thank you. 

Or maybe he’d skip right to drinking you.

Sensing his hesitation, you crack your can and take a sip. “They’re not as bad as they look,” you say, a nervous chuckle bittering your lips as you watch your date open his can and bring it to his nose to sniff. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else.”

You can do so much better, baby, Max sighs. You’ve got better right here.

Against his will, the hours pass. The evening goes on. You and the dumbass only drink half a can each—him with a half-snarled lip and you with a self-conscious twinge—but somehow by nightfall he’s got you scooching your barstool closer to him, allowing his slimy hand to rest on your thigh. 

Max bristles. Seethes. Don’t do it, he pleads to you, unheard. He’s not gonna fuck you right, just look at him. Send this idiot home and watch TV with me. Do anything but this guy, baby, anything but him.

You bend in slow motion and it’s agonizing, the tilt of your head as you press your lips to his. The wet slurp of his mouth taking the second you meet. A terrible kiss, though you’re polite enough not to flinch. Breaking from the prod of his pink-slug tongue to offer your neck, his mouth immediately moving, and fuck baby, it’s like you’re trying to kill him all over again. Drive a stake straight through Max’s blackened heart by giving up what he longs to claim.

In an instant, anger births itself from the hollow of his chest. His hand shoots out in useless violence, swinging as if to strike a seltzer can from the countertop and knowing it won’t do a lick of good as ire devours him, igneous and fervid, searing hot as life in his icy hands.

The can jumps from the counter and clunks to the floor, its contents gluggluglug-ing across the tiles.

“The fuck?” Max hears the dumbass gasp as he leaps from his barstool, eyes bugged wide and child-like and weak. You freeze, lips pink and swollen, staring down at the emptying can. 

It’s a shame neither of you can see the way Max smiles. 

Now that’s what I’m talking about, he crows. Finally a little substance around here! 

This is good. No, it’s better than good. This is the rush after a promotion, after the deal that closes out the quarter over target. The look on every sad sack’s face knowing they lost and he won.

This is the bite that finally breaks skin.

Maddening, burgeoning, addictive.

He’s real again. A goddamn Beetlejuice for you, baby. He’s gonna scare this fucknut out of here and have you to himself. First was the can, next is you, and he’s gonna kiss you so much better than that. In celebration, Max kicks one foot to send the can soaring across the kitchen floor and watches his shoe pass right through it, aluminum undisturbed on the floor. No, he mutters, kicking again. No, fucking—come on, you worthless piece of shit—

Your nervous laugh is too far away to comfort him. Distant too is your voice saying, “My room’s this way,” and the shuffling of your footsteps as Max loses his shit on the seltzer can that now refuses to budge no matter the swell of his outrage. By the time he snaps from his incensed trance, your barstools are empty. He blinks, breathless with muscle memory—his lungs wheezing because they remember wheezing, not out of need.

Baby? he calls out.

But you reply. A murmur too lusty to be a giggle—Max’s body coils up at the sound, taut and needy, and carries him toward the sound. He forgets, briefly, who you’re with. Believes he’ll find you in your bedroom alone beneath the covers, hands fluttering as you bring yourself to the edge of release. How beautiful you’d be, gasping in pleasure. He might close his eyes and pretend it’s him drawing out your every breathy, needy sound.

You’ve left the bedroom door cracked, and though in death he’s no longer bound by silly things like permission, Max has since you moved in found himself in the habit of respecting closed doors. Walls are chalk outlines over which he’s free to step, but he doesn’t, not if you’ve closed the gate. He’s not a monster. Or not a total monster—whatever, semantics. Point is that he only spies on your showers if you’ve cracked the door. Indulges in the soft moments of you sleeping only when you’ve left him that sliver of room.

Like the room you’ve left him now: slender and tempting, this stripe of your bedroom wall. A Degas print in a copper frame, the wooden post at the foot of your bed. 

Your sweet voice cooing here, like this, and the creak of your mattress.

Something black and silty sinks in Max’s stomach when he steps inside. Not the rage from moments ago. Something darker, heavier. Jealousy. Half-sheeted by your duvet, the dumbass you’ve brought home rocks above you, his shirt gone, his beefcake arm blocking the view of your chest, and though you’re making all the right sounds it’s obvious this isn’t any good.

He’s not fucking you right.

Your hands clawing at his back are too stiff. Your yeses a beat too slow. As the idiot pants—thrusts choppy and graceless—Max watches your hand tap his shoulder blade as you breathe, “Flip over.”

“What?” bumbles the guy, his hips stalling. “Oh shit—fuck yeah. Okay.”

Another grunt, then he rolls off and Max gets a glimpse of you—your red bra lacy and see through, your nipples so pretty underneath. It just isn’t right, the awkwardness of this colossal douchebag as he settles on his back and you ruck back the covers to straddle him, not at all breathless, hardly even flushed, your hair all messy at the back from disappointing friction.

“Shit,” the guy gasps as you sink down on him, clamping those boorish hands onto your waist.

You don’t even whine, not even as you start to rock, though his breathing gallops beneath you. Guy looks two seconds from nutting while you look years away from anything even loosely resembling an orgasm—your rhythm changing often as you try and fail to find a pace that suits you. “Christ—oh my god, ” the guy groans.

Max sucks his front teeth, tongue soiled with venom.

“Touch me,” you sigh, bouncing now. The curtain of your hair shivering down your back. 

This guy fucks like he’s never touched a woman before. At your request his knuckles only pale, fingers pinching you tighter. That’s not what she means, Max growls. Touch her fucking clit, you pin-dicked imbecile. Can’t fucking please a woman, should be fucking ashamed—

His pointless ranting is cut short by a sudden moan as the guy lifts you off him in time to come all over his stomach, chest rapid in its heaving, upper lip snarled in pleasure he doesn’t have the goddamn decency to return to you. For a long moment you hover above him, waiting, but his head just slumps back against the pillow, satisfied. 

Done.

He’s actually done. Motherfucker.

When you crawl off him to sit back against your headboard—arms crossing over your stomach self-consciously—Max sees red. Sees fire. Sees the roiling magma at the center of the earth where someone oughta make this fucker take a nice hot bath. 

He’d do this right. He’d fuck you properly, have you coming apart at the seams, go down on you until you beg for his cock and edge himself for as long as it takes to have you screaming his name. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel him here, right now? Can’t you feel how bad he wants you? Can’t you imagine how much better he’d be? How good he’d make you feel?

Letting out an airy chuckle, the brute wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and pushes himself to his feet. Redresses with a goddamn smirk on his face—not one of cruelty, but it might as well be. He thinks this is a job well done. Time to go home. 

A peck to your lips, then he’s rattling on about calling you, seeing you again, maybe Thursday? Friday? While you just sit there, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you say, dazed and not quite thinking. “I’ll call you.”

Yeah, she’s not calling you, Max snarls, following the guy out of the room. Watching as the jackass plucks his jacket from the back of your barstool, steps over the mess of seltzer without a thought to clean it up for you, and waltzes right out the door. Not a care in the goddamn world. 

Though he hears you get up shortly after to use the bathroom, you don’t emerge from your bedroom and Max doesn’t disturb you. He spends that time in the kitchen, grabbing and grabbing and grabbing at the dish towel hung over the handle on the oven door, trying to pull it off. 

For at least an hour, his hand glides through the towel as if it’s water, not a flutter or sway in the fabric. Not even a brush, a compromise. It just hangs there, indignant. Mocking him. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead. Maybe it’s the Senior Sales Manager in him, the apex predator at the top of the food chain—but Max can do this all night. He’s not backing down, not letting a stupid fucking towel get the better of him. That lazy curtain of terrycloth will disintegrate before he waves the white flag. 

Beyond the picture frame windows that stare out into the barren, colorless street, the sun has shied to navy blue, letting out the round-mouthed moon, and you have not emerged from your bedroom for hours. He wants to check on you, ask if you’re okay. Frankly, baby, he’s getting a little worried. On the next sweep of his hand, the towel gives up the ghost; Max pulls it from the oven handle, marveling at the toothy fabric. He’s holding it, really holding it, all on his own. 

Thank fuck he’s not haunting the office. If any of those bull-brained fucks saw him now, as he kneels on your kitchen floor, he’d have to die all over again. Somehow. The technicals aren’t important—what’s important is that no one’s here to see him on his fucking knees, mopping up the spilled drink. Something like joy burbles in his chest when he reaches for the can and seizes it, placing it safely on your counter. The floor dry and shining again, clean. 

Max folds the towel carefully and returns it to the rack. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door croaks down the hall and you emerge. A huge t-shirt slumps from your frame; you’ve tied your hair up, put your glasses back on. Dressed down for the last dregs of night, rubbing the back of your hand in one eye, tired. 

You look so, so tired.

I’d rub your shoulders, baby, Max sighs quietly and though you won’t hear him, it still—after three whole months—doesn’t feel any less right to hope.

He steps out of your way as you round the corner into the kitchen with a yawn, hands clasped behind his back, cheek dimpled and eyes alight. Just like he wanted, just like he hoped, your eyes fall immediately to the floor where the can is missing, the spill wiped. Lashes flickering—the towel dark at the hem on its handle, the empty can on the counter. Your brows pinch low over your nose, curious. 

Pretty good for a dead guy, Max grins.

How sweet, that lifting flinch at your mouth’s sharp, pink corner. The soft hm you make in reply. It’s not much, but this strange, fluttery feeling in the dark cavity one might wrongly call his heart? It doesn’t feel half bad. 

Not bad at all.

He’s getting better at it. Not great, but the projections look good. Give him a little time, he’ll have this whole place dancing. Put on a big show, announce himself properly. 

In the meantime he practices when you’re not looking. Small stuff—he opens cupboards. Shuts them. Hits start on the dryer when you forget to press it yourself. Some days he wastes reaching for things and coming up empty, but now again his luck sparkles. Things move. Bend to his will. Isn’t long until he can hold it for a while—gathering the matter to run the vacuum around, or reorganize your pantry. A tidy house makes a tidy mind, baby. No good living in a dump. You’re so busy, always cracking around like a ping pong ball, and hell, it’s not like Max can leave this place, get a little air in his idle lungs.

He likes being useful to you. Likes that tiny smirk on your lips when you find something fixed or organized for you, even though you likely chalk it up to having forgotten that you did it yourself. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need the credit. Isn’t that strange? How often he smiles at you? How perfect he finds the taste of your name.

Winter has arrived like a secret—whispered about for weeks and then suddenly let loose on the world. You come home from work in the evenings with icing sugar hair. Usually unbothered, far as Max can tell, but today you stagger in flushed from the cold and dark in the eyes.

Shit, baby, Max says when he sees you. Bad day?

Sniffling, you drop your coat right there in the hall, let it puddle over your shoes, and stalk off on a mission, barreling into the kitchen. The fridge door rips open, casting blue-white light over your face, and you must feel a hell of a lot worse than you feel because you don’t even blink at the contents inside. All the shelves wiped clean, the bottles arranged with the labels facing out, those wilted, bad greens deposited in the compost. You just reach in for the half-drunk bottle of Riesling that to Max smelled mostly like juice and swipe off the lid.

You chug on your way to the couch, leaving the fridge door open behind you.

Max closes it when you’ve gone, the TV already switched on in the living room, the lilting strings of the Desperate Housewives theme song swimming through the air. When he turns the corner he finds you wrapped in the throw blanket he now knows the texture of—supple and velvet, weighted and warm—with the wine bottle nestled in your lap. 

A silver tear hangs on your cheek. 

Really bad day, whatever it was. 

He wants to ask. Wants to pull you into his arms and pet back your hair. Wants to lick that sadness from your skin. 

Maybe this isn’t the show he’s imagined. Not much of a reveal—but you look so small right now, alone on your couch. Wine splashing in its bottle as you bring it to your lips, not bothering to wipe that tear away. If Max had a heart that beat, it’d stutter as he watches you. Helpless isn’t something he cares to feel.

No time like the present. Max sighs, scrubs a hand down his face as he ticks his jaw to one side, and nods. Alright, baby, he relents. Hang on.

On his way to the bathroom he cracks all the knuckles on his left hand, rolls his neck, swings his shoulders. Stretches himself long and limber like he’s about to run—but this is it. Curtain’s coming up. Time to find out if one glimpse of him sends you sprinting for the hills. Though he casts no reflection, Max stands before the mirror hanging over the sink and straightens his tie, corrects his lapels. Old habits, but it never hurts to look good.

Hand waggling, then, over the tissue box on the counter. He slaps himself hard, sending a delicious ripple of pain across his cheek. Come on, he begs. Don’t play hard to get.

The box lifts.

Here he comes: tissue box in hand, stalking tall and proud down your hallway with his chin up, shoulders back. Gets the momentum rolling, doesn’t hesitate, just waltzes in.

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes round and brows rising. To you it must look like the tissues float through the air to your side. Max steps back with butterflies jittering in his bones. 

Don’t be scared, he pleads. It’s just me.

With your head cocked to one side you consider this, though you’ve not heard his voice. Probably for the best. Came out a little softer than he meant it to, a little needy, and that’s just not becoming of a man like him. He has a reputation to uphold, even now. 

After a long, bludgeoning pause you click your tongue, swiping one white tissue from the box to turn over in your hand. Deliberating. Then your face cracks, possessed by a slithering smirk. Your gaze flickering so close to him it’s almost as if you’ve looked him in the eye. 

Deep in his chest, Max feels a strange throb—his stirring heart—as you say out loud, 

“I knew someone was there.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals!

@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed 

@burntheedges @jolapeno @la-eterna-enamorada29 @iknowisoundcrazy @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal 

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @helenanell

@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours 

@noisynightmarepoetry @kyberblade @beezusvreeland @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack 

@pedrospatch @yopossum @toomanytookas @sawymredfox @galway-girlatwork

@ppascalrain @bbyanarchist @amanitacowboy @milla-frenchy @schnarfer

[incorrectbatfam]

Tim and stpeh’s top ten patrol fails

——— (10) ———

Tim and Steph: *chained together*

Two-Face: *monologues*

Tim: *picks the lock*

Steph, whispering: Free me first.

Tim: Why?

Steph: Just do it.

Tim: *frees her*

Steph: *sprints past Two-Face to the bathroom*

——— (9) ———

Steph: I'm closing in on the museum. Where are you?

Tim: ETA one minute.

Steph: Alright, I'm doing a quick perimeter check. Doesn't seem like there's much happening here.

Tim: Where are you? I don't see you. And this entire gallery looks deserted.

Steph: I've never heard anyone call a science museum a gallery.

Tim: Science? I'm at the modern art museum.

Steph: Red?

Tim: Yeah?

Steph: We're both at the wrong place, aren't we?

——— (8) ———

Tim and Steph: *tied to chairs*

Ivy: I gave the city ONE REASONABLE DEMAND and they—

Steph: *scoots her chair*

Ivy: —but all they cared about was—

Steph: *scoots her chair*

Ivy: So now I'm going to make them pay for—what are you doing?

Steph, biting an apple: ...

Tim: She gets snacky.

——— (7) ———

[on a stakeout]

Tim, stifling a yawn: What time is it?

Steph: Half past one. Still nothing on the drop site. If you need some shut eye you can tell me.

Tim: Nah, I'll just use my phone.

Steph: *peers over his shoulder*

Steph: You're reading an adopted by Batman AU?

Tim: ...I was hacked. Just right now.

——— (6) ———

Steph: I could use a little backup.

Tim, shooting his grapple: I'm on my way. How many are there?

Steph: Four, though I bet more are hiding.

Tim: In that case, we better get you out of there instead of wasting time.

Tim: *swings by*

Tim: Grab on.

Steph: *grabs his legs and pulls his pants down*

——— (5) ———

Tim: What should I call my next contingency plan?

Steph: Fuck if I know.

[later]

Barbara: Alright, Tim, let's review your plan for...

Barbara: *squints*

Barbara: Everybody leave. I want to talk to Tim alone.

——— (4) ———

Tim: I'm not so sure about my disguise.

Steph, dressed like the 1980s: It's an 80s-themed roller derby. No way you can mess that up.

Tim: *shows up dressed like the 1880s*

Steph: I stand corrected.

——— (3) ———

Steph: You need to put that computer down. Have a Batburger.

Tim: No. I've almost got it. And don't try to distract me 'cause I've seen everything.

Steph, whispering under her breath: You haven't seen Superboy.

Kon: You called?

Tim: Oh for crying out loud.

——— (2) ———

Tim: *driving the Batmobile*

Steph: Hey, what does this button do?

Tim: NO DON'T THAT—

Steph: *hits the button*

Tim: *gets ejected*

——— (1) ———

Steph: Another successful patrol, if I say so myself.

Tim: All in a night's work.

Bruce: Where's Damian?

Tim: Huh?

Bruce: You were supposed to watch him.

Steph: Pfft, we knew that. He's right... uh...

Tim: We're just gonna—

Tim and Steph: *hop in the car and speed away*

——— (Honorable mention) ———

Steph: No sign of Robin at the dog shelter either. Did you locate his tracker?

Tim: It's offline. Best case scenario he just disabled it, but...

Steph: Oh God, we are in so much trouble.

Tim: Any other ideas?

Steph: Nope. I'm gonna get a drink of water real quick.

Steph: *goes into a store*

Steph: *comes back out with Damian*

Steph: Guess who I found trying to buy a butterfly knife?

Tim: I'll update Batman.

Tim, on the phone: Hey B, guess what?

Damian: *snatches the phone*

Damian: They abandoned me in Crime Alley!

Bruce: Red Robin, Spoiler, you're cleaning the lockers when you get back.

Tim: No wait—

Damian: *hangs up*

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part nine

summary:

“You guys are totally in love with each other.”

You sneered, but your heart started beating a little faster at the chance of Rafe reciprocating your feelings. You tried not to let it show on your face though, as you rolled your eyes.

“What, he said that to you?”

OR; Topper offers you some unsolicited advice, Rafe and Kelce try to win your dad over, and you have another fight. Seriously, what is up?

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: actually very little rafe in this😭

word count: 2,1k

author's note: hi :) idk what to tell you😭 leave some love 🫶🏼 (I SAID LOVE) also pls see this post regarding future updates

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. nine: "leave the perfume on the shelf"

After sending Rafe out of the bathroom - not before making sure the coast was clear - you returned to the table, ignoring how Topper was side eyeing you.

It didn’t take long until they started serving the actual brunch and the four of you fell into easy conversation as you ate. Occasionally, Rafe would scoot some of his tomatoes over on your plate, and you rolled your eyes at him - he had a palate of five year old - but you didn’t say anything, piercing the tomatoes with your fork. By the time dessert was served, you were full.

“Yo that cake looks good, but I eat one more bite, I might actually explode,” Kelce groaned, sitting back in his chair. He had even gone so far to unbuckle his belt.

“That cake looks so fire, though.”

Topper careened his neck to look at the cake over on the cake stand, while Rafe sipped on his whiskey.

“Nobody is stopping you, Top,” he mused and you narrowed your eyes when you saw your father gather his friends, walking over in your direction.

“Head’s up.”

The four of you quickly straightened your backs and Kelce fixed his belt before the group of men arrived at your table.

“Boys. Sweet pea,” Your father said, kissing your head.

“Hi dad,” you said as the boys greeted your father.

“Are you enjoying yourselves?”

“Yes, it’s been really nice,” Topper said. “You’ve really outdone yourself with the planning.”

Your father laughed, shaking his head.

“I think that honor goes to my wife and my daughter,” your father said, placing his hand on your shoulder, inadvertently making Rafe take his arm off of the back of your chair. He only grimaced, putting his hand in his lap and you bit back a snort.

“Anyways, we were going for a quick round of cigars, get the digestion going, are you boys down to join?”

Your father looked in your round and you didn’t miss the fact that he had only asked your friends, and not you. Obviously, you weren’t joking to join anyways, but it’d be nice to be included every once in a while.

“I’d love to,” Rafe said, standing quickly.

“I’ll come too!” Kelce said, rounding the table, but you only pulled a face.

“Have fun increasing your chances of lung cancer,” you scoffed and Topper made an agreeing noise, throwing his arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah, me and precious will stay here. Smoke free zone.”

You only snorted out a laugh, throwing a dirty look at Topper and he only stared back at you with raised eyebrows.

“Kay,” Rafe said, glancing between the two of you before the group of men left.

An uncomfortable silence settled over you and Topper, and you tried to ignore him. Still, you could feel his eyes on you, so you slipped your phone out of your purse, checking instagram - anything to distract yourself. As you scrolled through the pictures, Topper leaned in closer, so close, you could feel his breath on your cheek.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually.”

“Topper, you’re so fucking annoying,” you huffed, dropping your phone on the table.

“How do you not realize that this isn’t going to end well!”

“Why not?” you asked, exasperated, even though you knew exactly why it wasn’t going to end well.

“You guys are totally in love with each other.”

You sneered, but your heart started beating a little faster at the chance of Rafe reciprocating your feelings. You tried not to let it show on your face though, as you rolled your eyes.

“What, he said that to you?”

“Of course he didn’t,” Topper scoffed. “The only person he talks about his feelings with is you. And he’s obviously not going to tell you that he loves you.”

“Topper.”

“This is gonna backfire so badly and you’ll stop talking to each other. Just stop having sex with him!”

“Topper, thanks for the unsolicited advice but I think I’m good,” you said, frowning at him.

“I’m just trying to help you!”

“By breathing down my neck and making me feel like shit?”

Topper sighed and you only crossed your arms over your chest. He leaned his head on your shoulder.

“I’m not trying to make you feel like shit, okay? I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I just really think you haven’t thought this through. You need to talk to him, before all of it blows up in your face, because that is inevitable.”

You let out a breath, blinking as you refused to look at Topper, knowing he was right, but also hating how he was bringing up the points you yourself had been worried about.

“I need some air,” you muttered, pushing yourself off of the counter, leaving Topper behind as he called after you, but you’ve had enough of his nosy ass. You walked to the far end of the backyard, where the country club met the water, far enough to not be seen by any one, but still close enough to be considered on country club grounds. Taking off your heels, you sat down by the docks, inhaling deeply, hoping to ease some of the anxiety that was sitting in your neck. From this far out, you could only hear the music and chatter of the brunch faintly, slowly, you could feel your shoulders ease.

Your peace was short lived.

“Ah Princess.”

Great. About the last person you had wanted to see right now.

“I’m not in the mood, JJ.”

“Oooh, trouble in paradise?” he asked, taking the freedom to plonk himself down on the dock next to you like you were friends. You lifted your head to look at him as he tried to loosen his collar, grimacing a bit.

“I don’t remember inviting you to sit with me.”

“Sorry, is this not a public space?” he asked, still struggling with his buttons.

“Jesus, are you incapable of unbuttoning things?” you muttered, fed up with his jerking and slapped his hands away, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Your fingers brushed over his skin, which felt hot to your touch, his breath fanning across your hand as he watched you with a gleam in his eyes.

“I’m usually better at taking clothes completely off, and not only halfway, ya know?”

You rolled your eyes at him, pulling your hands away when you were done.

“There, you heathen.”

JJ let out a breath, as freed his neck, as if he had been suffocating.

“Thanks Princess.”

Scoffing, you turned away from him, looking out to the water. What an idiot.

“Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

“Hey, you’ve done plenty for me, I would never be able to afford fixing up my bike if you hadn’t gotten me this job,” JJ protested. “And you know I’m grateful for that.”

“Grateful?” you echoed, giving him a look. “And how are you showing that exactly? By starting shit with my friends while half of Kildare is watching?”

JJ winced, but he gave you a wry grin.

“Okay, maybe I need to work on that. But Rafe is just too easy to rile up, I can’t pass up an opportunity like that Princess.”

“See if I ever do you any favors again,” you muttered and JJ’s eyes softened.

“Look, I’m sorry if you got caught in the crossfire, okay? That wasn’t my intention.”

JJ sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll lay off provoking Rafe in the near future when any grown ups are around, okay? For your sake,”

“Gee, you’re such a gentleman,” you mocked and he snorted. “No wonder every girl is fawning over you."

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” JJ said theatrically, throwing your own words back at you.

You rolled your eyes at him, begrudgingly and even though you knew he was still a dick, you bumped his shoulder with yours in silent thanks.

“Mr. Maybank, the tables won’t bus themselves.”

The two of you whirled around to see your mother stand at the end to the dock, her hands on her hips.

“On it, ma’am!” JJ said, getting to his feet. “Princess.”

He winked at you before walking in quick strides to the backyard. You envied him, because judging by your mother’s face, you had a lecture coming.

“Did you have to talk to him that way, mom?” You sighed, getting up and straightening your dress.

“We’re not paying him to sit around and ogle you.”

“Jesus,” you muttered. “We’re not even paying him. The country club is.”

“And who do you think is paying the country club for hosting the brunch?”

You rolled your eyes before you turned to your mom as she walked towards you, her eyes in slits.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the last minute request for JJ Maybank for the staff.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it, mom,” you replied, not a fan of where this conversation was going. “He needed the money and the country club needed some extra hands, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” Your mother frowned at you. “He embarrassed you, me and your father!”

“Mom, my friends and JJ had an.. Argument. It was over before anyone even noticed,” you argued.

Your mother only sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose before she glowered at you.

“Do you do this on purpose? Invite boys to fight over you to ruin my brunch?”

You raised your eyebrows at her, feeling a lump in your throat forming. Wow. Your mom never missed.

“Seriously, mom?. That’s a new low for you.”

Throwing your heels on the ground, you slipped your feet into it, before lifting your head to glare at your mother.

“If I’m such an embarrassment for you, maybe I should just leave.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic,” your mother exclaimed but you were already walking past her, throwing your hands up, knowing she wouldn’t follow you to avoid making a scene.

You more or less stomped past the country club and walked towards the main street, even though you had arrived with your parents and it was about a 20 minute walk back home, in heels maybe even 30 minutes.

Angry tears were brimming in your eyes, refusing to let them fall. Your mother always was like this, lashing out when she was upset before crawling back with an apology with empty gifts and a promise it wouldn’t happen again, just for it to repeat the next time you messed up in her eyes.

You weren’t walking long until a familiar sounding car pulled up next to you, the windows pulling him to reveal your best friends, each of them sporting a worried look on their faces.

The door opened from the inside and wordlessly, you climbed into the passenger seat, before Rafe pulled away from the curb. No one said anything, the car smelling faintly of cigars as you drove in silence.

“You can say something, I’m not gonna break,” you finally huffed and the tension broke, with Kelce reaching from the back to squeeze your shoulder gently.

“Sorry, precious.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“You were stomping away from the country club and your mother had that fake smile on when we came back from inside, doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together,” Rafe replied, glancing at you as he stopped at a red light.

“You okay?”

“It’s nothing new,” you answered. “Just my mom’s usual bullshit.

“Doesn’t make it okay,” Topper said and you only sighed, melting into your seat. The drive didn’t take long before you pulled up outside Rafe’s house, the four of you walking inside like it was second nature, taking a seat in the living room.

“Ugh I need a break from all this bullshit,” you said, rubbing the inner corner of your eye, careful not to smudge the mascara.

“Same,” Rafe sighed, throwing his arm over the back of the couch, pausing. “Ward, Rose and Wheeze are going to Spain on Friday.”

“Good for them?” Kelce said, confused and Rafe rolled his eyes.

“I’m saying that the house in the bahamas is free.”

You glance at him, frowning.

“Are you saying we should go to the Bahamas?”

Rafe shrugged with his shoulders. “Only a suggestion.”

“I could do with a vacation,” Topper said, tapping his knees excitedly and Kelce pulled his face in a grin.

“Bahamas doesn’t sound too shabby right now.”

All of three of them turned to you, each eyebrows raised higher than the other and you only looked at them with narrowed eyes, before sighing.

“Alright, let’s go to the Bahamas.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: what are your thoughts? :)

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

-------

Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 92.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

[warning: suggestive]

"just come here."

serim put her phone away aggressively, frustrated at not being able to stop her body from getting up from the chair and heading toward the restroom area without giving further explanation, grabbing the attention of the other people at the table, who knew exactly where the girl was going.

they knew that serim would go wherever karina asked her to.

she opened the door to the ladies' bathroom, making room for herself to enter. there was no one there, it was not crowded, there was only a girl at the opposite end of the entrance, with her back against the wall and her phone in her hands. her attention was on the screen of the device, but as soon as she heard someone walk in, she moved her eyes upward without raising her head completely, long strands of dark hair falling in front of her face.

the girl straightened as she recognized serim, now also resting the back of her head against the cold concrete she leaned against. a confident, preponderance smile spread over her lips.

"i knew you would come." she spoke, breaking the static silence within those four walls.

"of course i came." serim closed the door behind her abruptly. "you're in my company's public restroom taking provocative pictures of yourself to send to me during a party." she took quick steps to approach her, scolding her.

"do you really expect me to believe that you came to give me a lecture and not to rip my dress off and fuck me in one of those?" she pointed to the cubicles, the vain expression still on her face.

"are you aware of what might happen if we were caught in the act?" she found herself elated at the contrarian's stillness. "or even if you were seen in this state?" she extended her arm to point at her, exposing the girl. "fix your dress." serim ordered after noticing that the bottom of the garment was raised and uneven, revealing her thigh almost to the edge, possibly a result of those images she was taking earlier.

"namu." she stopped her with a composed yet flirtatious tone. "i don't believe you don't want to touch me." she let out a soft laugh.

"you're drunk." the older one declared.

"i'm obsessed with you." she rebutted. "come on, don't you want to find out what it's like to have sex at the risk of being discovered?" she held out her arms, waiting for her, but serim remained silent, serious, still. "or do you...?" karina propelled herself away from the wall quickly, walking towards the woman impatiently, staggering slightly due to the alcohol in her system, her attitude changing from haughty to indignant after realizing what the lack of words hid. "so you've already fucked other girls in public spaces before, but you're playing morally correct with me?" she grabbed the fabric of jang's clothes to pull her closer and force her to look at her. "are you incapable of keeping yourself in your pants?"

"ironic that you would say that when your first reaction to getting drunk is to beg me to have sex with you in a bathroom." she reciprocated karina's tug on her garment, standing just inches away from each other. "my coworkers are out there." she reminded.

"and you and i are in here." she slid her tact to serim's waist, holding her from both sides.

"jimin." she let out in a sigh, her eyes closed, trying not to lose herself in the touch.

"namu." her tone was low, imploring, claiming.

serim was already used to not knowing how to refuse jimin, or maybe she didn't want to, but she didn't dare to assume it. every time she gave in to her, a warm feeling flooded her chest, which could be so many emotions, but she always related to guilt.

the same guilt you feel when you go back to your ex, when you buy something stupid even though you know you will spend the money you had to make ends meet on it, or when you postpone your obligations until the last possible moment because you don't feel like doing it at that time. it was the guilt that came hand in hand with pleasure and desire.

there are times when human beings submit to delight and don't know how to anticipate reason to it, and this was another one of those moments when serim couldn't hold her conscious decisiveness over the need to kiss jimin. trapping her mouth with her in a power play, wrapping her arms around her body and running her hands up and down her back as they engaged in a wet, messy make-out session. pushing her and walking with her until she was leaning against the nearest wall, so clumsily and restlessly that, in the state she was in, if jimin hadn't been holding tight onto serim's shoulders and the back of her neck, she would have lost her balance.

serim lifted from both sides the girl's pink dress, which was already a mess anyway, leaving room for nothing beyond the girl's underwear to make her uncomfortable as she placed her knee between the blackhaired's legs and with it pressed her center, causing jimin to break the kiss for a moment to let out a deep sigh in reaction to the new contact, reconnecting their lips in desperation as she moved as best she could her waist over serim's leg trying to generate friction.

"i'm tired of you always getting your way." complained jang, though her agitated, longing voice was countered by her statement, her upper lip delicately resting on jimin's lower one, her mouth free to speak, but still not entirely detached from the girl.

"this is literally what you wish for me to do." she mentioned, feeling the skin on her neck moisten as she received serim's kisses upon it.

"so you're only doing this for me?" she pulled away a little, just enough to be able to speak, her breath still colliding against the younger girl's neck. "wasn't it you who asked me to come?" she suddenly lifted her leg that was already pressed against karina, slipping it even deeper, shooting a wave of sensations through the girl's body at the stronger, more direct touch she had just felt, facing the ceiling and closing her eyes, this time it was an explicit moan that broke from her throat.

"i do want it." she admitted, finding it hard to speak as she tried to keep her breathing in sync. "thank you for fulfilling my whims." she smiled indulgently, holding serim's cheeks and moving her until she could kiss her lips again.

"i'd do anything for you." she confessed, though it wasn't something that wasn't already known between them. "even if it's stupid things like this." with her palms on her waist she began to direct her to rock her hips on her knee. "or go against my reason."

"do you like me that much? that you physically can't turn me down?" her eyelids were drooping, leaving her eyes barely open just to look at her, for the reality was that they were closing on their own to focus all her senses on how good she was feeling, her fingers trying to cling and keep the opposite as close to her as they could, her lips struggling to stay entwined and just letting go so they could talk to each other in that careful, soft, eager tone.

"is because i love you."

silence. but silence of the tense kind, not the comfortable kind.

karina's eyes suddenly opened wide and all her movements stopped, her hips ceased going back and forth on serim, her hands not seeking to trap her between them anymore, her lips abruptly parted from hers, as she brought her head so far back she could almost feel the coldness of the wall against the nape. she stood static as if she had just been told that someone had run over hiro or she had been kicked out of her group. her pale porcelain skin seemed to have lost even more pigmentation, not even the pinkish hue that had accumulated on her cheekbones due to the arousal she was experiencing moments before had remained on her cheeks, the sobriety hitting her as if she had never ingested alcohol in the first place.

noticing the blackhaired's reaction, serim decided she should take some distance, detaching herself from the woman and taking a few steps back, still an arm's length away, but letting her breathe. she didn't know why she had said that, it was true, but she couldn't find a reason why to confess it. possibly she had no more tools to make that situation better, to fix it, to make it stop hurting. in desperate times, desperate measures. seeing the look of dread on jimin's face, she realized that she had run out of resources to make either of them start acting coherently and maturely.

"jokey joke." the older one tried to diffuse the tension by speaking in a high-pitched, awkward tone, raising her fingers simulating two guns and pointing them at the girl like someone who tries to look cool after saying something stupid.

"do you love me?" she ignored her.

"well, that's what i said, i guess." paralleling the horror shown by the younger girl's behavior, serim couldn't help the urge born in her to turn any unfortunate event into a funny one.

"do you love me?"

"jimin, you know me, i have a lot of love to give." she continued with her attempt to redirect the conversation.

"serim, do you love me?" she repeated, still in shock.

"yes, i do." she admitted, frustrated after failing to calm the mood.

"are you in love with me?" emphasized on the words 'in love,' walked up to serim, completely disoriented, facing her.

"yes, jimin, i love you!" she exclaimed, tired of hearing her say the same thing over and over again.

the dancer couldn't wake up from the trance she was in, everything felt surreal. of all the possible outcomes she calculated when she asked serim to go there, none of them ended with the woman confessing that her feelings were much deeper than a simple infatuation. it was as if her brain couldn't adapt to how quickly everything had escalated, how much her life had really changed since the moment the company called her to tell her that she would have to pretend to be the girlfriend of this person.

karina is a beautiful and captivating being, but realistically, how many times in a someone's life do they get a love confession told in the face?

jimin didn't know what to do, how she was supposed to react, the only thing she was sure of was that there was no way serim was going back home that night with a sane heart.

"that doesn't make sense." she shook her head to both sides, her eyes on the ground.

"what?" the first hints of disappointment were beginning to make their presence known in serim's chest.

"you can't be in love with me, namu." she furrowed her brows seriously, pretending to sound reasonable. "we barely know each other."

"jimin." she let out a dry, indignant laugh. "you live in my house, i've seen you every day for months, you've been fooling around with me for days." she began to list despairingly. "are you trying to invalidate how i feel about you?"

"you're confused." she tried to convince her, her voice soft, and she lifted her arms to wrap them around the oldest's neck. "when you spend some time away from me it will pass." she leaned forward intending to initiate a kiss.

"jimin, are you fucking bipolar?" she pushed her away without using force, just enough to keep her from reaching up to touch her mouth. "are you seriously denying my confession by telling me i just have to pull away from you while you try to kiss me?" the levels of exasperation she was reaching at that moment she had never experienced before.

"i'm drunk and i need you." the ravenhead must have been really intoxicated because she seemed sure that was a good excuse.

"are you admitting that you are using me to please you?" serim was not a person who cried often, but everything that was going on with karina was beyond her and tears began to form in her eyes.

"no, serim." she was so calm considering she had a person on the verge of crying in front of her. "i need you." she connected their eyes. "i really do, i treasure you." she admitted. "when i see you i can't resist the urge to touch you and kiss you." she cupped her face in her hands, caressing her cheeks. "when i lose control the first thing i look for is you." she took a breath trying to stay focused, feeling her throat beginning to ache, that she too was going to burst into tears. "but even for me it's going to happen too, it's going to pass."

"but, why would it have to pass?" she implored in anguish.

"because it has to." she sentenced coldly. "because you and i can't be together and that's the only certainty."

"no." she declined, not willing to listen to the same old speech. "the only certain thing is that we are not able to stay away from each other." she performed.

"namu." she tried to stop her words.

"jimin, do you love me?" she interrupted her, not wanting to look vulnerable, but with hope in her voice and eyes.

and karina kept silent. her pupils began to wander on serim, getting lost in her features. the older girl's skin was soft, delicate, a result of the care her work as an idol demanded of her, which she knew was even more exhaustive with serim whose diet consisted merely of cigarettes and very poorly organized meals at peculiar times of the day.

after remembering her bad habits she could not suppress the onset of the domestic fantasy of cooking for her and reminding her to eat at the required times, of being the person to give her a judging look and a reprimand when she lit one more cigarette than she was allowed, just as she couldn't help the nostalgia of not being that one, as if she had the chance and it had slipped through her fingers.

her eyes were small, but intense. whenever serim looked at her she felt exposed, observed. karina knew the oldest was like a big toddler in need of affection, but when she had no idea of that and saw her as just her senior in the industry, she thought of the heavy presence she had, distracted by how she drew the eyes of everyone in any room she entered with that star-like aura. serim's eyes were the eyes of someone who could command people's attention. and now that hazel color she liked to lose herself in was accompanied by the red of the sadness she herself had generated.

and those full, pompous lips, which at that moment were glistening from the remains of jimin's own saliva on them. of course serim was appealing to so many women, who wouldn't want to kiss those lips? even she had found a fascination in them, since the first time she had tasted them she had struggled to find anything else that would quench the desire to do it again.

karina could only look at her, part by part, as if trying to get to see her bones as well, and maybe even that would have seemed like a wonder to her. feeling her heart pounding in her chest at such a speed that it seemed like the seconds before it stopped completely, like when a light bulb explodes before going out forever. looking at serim she knew what she felt, she was aware, but she also realized that she couldn't let herself feel it.

"serim, i..." she began, the sensation of knowing you're letting someone down gripping her chest. "i have feelings for you." she explained, searching for the words, watching serim roll her eyes and begin to create distance as she heard what seemed to be more excuses. "but they're just sporadic things that will end eventually."

"sporadic things that will end eventually." she paraphrased, anger in the way she quoted her. "what a complicated way to say you don't love me." she turned on her heels, heading for the door.

"namu..."

"don't call me that." she stopped her, with her back to her. "and go back to the party after you fix your clothes." she left.

"there you go."

serim bent her knees to be closer to the height of karina's bed, standing sideways to it and close enough for the owner to slide off her back and land gently on the mattress.

because yes, jimin had broken serim's heart -again-, but still the older girl had to carry her on her back to her bedroom and up to her room since she could hardly stand up because of how drunk she was.

the ravenette, in her state bordering on unconsciousness, could still feel when her body made contact with the comfort of a bed and moved in search of the pillow to rest her head on, closing her eyes almost instantly when she found it. serim, as much as she felt a deep rage towards her at that moment, couldn't just throw her there and leave. she began to inspect the room for some sort of pajamas, but the only piece of clothing she could find was a t-shirt she recognized as her own on a stool where other things were also carelessly lying around, and she even remembered the time when jimin had asked her for it.

she took the garment and hung it on her shoulder and then approached the bed, put one knee on the edge to support the weight of her body as she leaned over the girl, slid one hand between her back and the blanket and pushed her up while she lifted her up pulling from the arm with the other, helping her to sit up and trying not to let go so she wouldn't fall again. she ran her fingers through her back to the side of her torso to find the zipper of the dress to pull it down with difficulty and once the fabric that wrapped around the younger's body was looser making it easier to slide it off, serim set about removing it, sliding down the straps that fastened it to her shoulders and then tugging it down.

"no." suddenly jimin regained lucidity, stopping serim's hands with her own.

"no?" the vocalist looked at yu in amusement as she swayed in place and stared lost to a point in the room, as if trying to make everything stop spinning. "are you going to sleep with the dress on?"

karina didn't move, at least not voluntarily, as she couldn't keep her body balance, she was only still upright because the woman was still holding her. "serim." she was able to articulate after a few long moments of silence.

"what happens?"

"serim." she repeated, trying to get an idea out, but finding it difficult because of the alcohol.

"what?"

"only serim can touch me." she finally mustered the strength to finish the sentence and turn her head, still looking down, but this time in the direction of the opposite, using the contact with her to push her, though it was pointless as she was so intoxicated she could barely generate any impact. "sorry, but this can't happen." her words were barely understandable as she had no ability to modulate and her lips formed a small pout.

"i swear you're bipolar." she shook her head, confused by the girl's statement, but being unable to contain a giggle because of the way she spoke.

"that's something serim would tell me."

"jimin, i am serim." she reminded when she noticed that she really wasn't able to recognize her.

the blackhaired raised her head with intentions of deciphering the identity of the other person, her eyes squinted in order to focus on her because, first, she had bad eyesight by nature, and, second, her state was making her see things double and blurry. after a few seconds she finally recognized those brown eyes that were looking at her incredulously and almost by instinct her senses were activated.

"my namu."

the woman squealed in such a high pitch and raising the volume of her voice to such an extent that the door opened behind them and serim turned quickly to see who had entered, already thinking of what explanation she would give in case one of the other members had woken up and found her late at night with a completely out of it and half undressed karina, but turning around she saw that it was only hiro who had been alerted by his owner. the puppy climbed up to the bed next to them and sat down, following very attentively the movements of both women while the younger one rushed over jang, running her hands through her hair, her cheeks, her neck, shoulders and any part that she could hold on to because her only intention was to give her comforting caresses while she started to spout explanations, without taking a breath, about the situation they were living. the same arguments and apologies about why they couldn't be together that serim had already heard a thousand times, so she decided to put all her effort into not listening to her.

serim, determined to change her clothes, lay her down and put her to sleep so she could go home and pretend that all that night hadn't happened, grabbed the top edge of her dress, pulled the fabric down until she finally managed to detach the rag from the young girl and, without karina having shut up for a single second, managed to put the shirt on her so she would be more comfortable to rest. she held her in her arms while guiding her back to lie down.

"namu, i do want you, and i'm sorry."

it was the tenth time she had said that same sentence within perhaps five minutes. her eyes were closed, but the words kept falling from her lips in a frenzy, intending to appease the seriousness and the pain serim was sure feeling.

jimin felt guilt too, only this was the guilt that comes by hand with a mistake, from the certainty that you are causing harm.

jang let go of the girl's body, removing her hold on her back, but karina sensed this and instinctively caught one of serim's hands with her own, to pull it to her mouth and begin kissing the woman's fingertips in the short, fleeting moments when she stopped justifying herself. the subtle and sensitive display of affection, the pout that still lingered on her face, her shirt decorating her figure and the eagerness she had to show her that, although she could not give in to her emotions, she did care for her, endeared serim, who, as annoyed as she was, and as much as she didn't want to hear any more about it, found herself absorbed in the dancer's gestures and demeanor. they were both so engrossed in each other's presence, for better or worse, that neither noticed that since he came in, hiro had been cautiously stepping towards them, until he was at the perfect distance to reach out his neck and bite down hard on serim's limb that was being worshipped by karina.

serim reacted to the feel of the animal's teeth digging into her skin and jerked her arm to pull her hand away from the dog's muzzle, standing up suddenly to make sure it was out of her reach in case he wanted to attack again.

"baby!" jimin exclaimed to serim after witnessing everything, making an effort to maintain clarity in case she had to help her, lifting herself up a bit and watching her with concern, grabbing hiro to hold him along with her so he wouldn't go towards the woman again.

"i'm fine." reassured jang as she looked at her skin for wounds, but it had only been a bite, hard, but nothing more than that.

but as she inspected herself she realized that hiro had targeted the same hand that he had the previous time, that time where it was her who had gotten drunk into a blackout and where she had to wear bandages for a few days. she still had the scar and maybe it would never go away. the whole scenario was so similar to what had been described to her. she turned her gaze to the pet, who was comfortably resting next to his master as if nothing had happened, on the bed.

hiro. bed. jimin. alcohol. bite.

it wasn't easy to explain how quickly the erased images of that night were being restored in her brain. it was as if someone was shouting it in her face. all very sudden.

how long had jimin been repressing her feelings?

"you really wanted me to believe that your dog attacked me because i touched his food." she pointed her finger accusingly at the woman, who was already falling asleep before serim spoke.

"what?" the girl was in no condition to deal with this at the moment.

"why did you hide from me that we kissed?" she asked indignantly.

"i do want to kiss you, yes, please." she only understood single words, her body was begging her to go to sleep already.

"that time we went to an event and you brought me drunk here, that hiro bit me and you had to heal me." she recapped patiently, trying to get the younger to assimilate each part. "why didn't you tell me that we kissed that night?"

"but..." she tried to keep her sense. "i did tell you." technically she wasn't lying.

"you told me it was a company order." she refuted.

"i had to manipulate the information for my own benefit." she said in a single, quick breath.

"you kissed me because you wanted to." realized.

"can we kiss?" jimin stretched her lips into a beak, waiting.

"how long have you wanted me?" she questioned, an empty feeling in her chest.

"well," she pulled herself slightly upright on the blanket, doing her best to remain coherent. "ning says that since the first recording of azza time." she admitted awkwardly as she spoke. "but the truth is, i think it was since that night."

"ning says?" she repeated, eyes lost, everything was getting more and more ridiculous.

"yizhuo knows how much i like you, obviously." she reasoned. "but she likes you too, what can i do about it? i'm her unnie, she's my world." she let herself drop again. "and to think that everything would have been easier if only i had admitted everything you made me feel that night."

serim couldn't find anything else to say. her breathing was labored to the point where her chest was noticeably rising and falling, and her eyes were once again crystallizing. she had avoided crying before, but she didn't think she could hold it back now. not that jimin was going to notice, the girl was getting lost in her dreams again and this time she wasn't going to do anything to wake her up, there was no point anymore, she had to let her sleep and get out of there. get out of there and finally stop running after someone who had so little perception of her emotions, someone who was saying in very clear terms that she wouldn't fight for her, and who, in fact, had months to do so, but never even tried.

as she faced the desk against one of the walls, she saw the plant that she had given to her some time ago, franky, decorating the table. she thought it was in ningning's possession, so it was unsettling to see it there. it was cared for, indeed, it looked like it had been watered recently, it looked pretty. that only caused the tears to come more easily. she spun on her heels, walked over to karina, leaned over her already sleeping body and placed a kiss on her forehead, keeping careful that hiro didn't get angry.

perhaps everything serim had to contribute to karina's life was already in that room, and there was nothing more for her to give.

serim left, closing the door carefully so as not to make any noise, she turned towards the hallway to walk through it towards the living room, but when she did, she found ningning watching her from the entrance of her room, aspect as if she had just woken up.

"ning." she spoke as she noticed the girl's presence. "please don't think anything strange, karina is very drunk, i just helped her get to bed" she informed nervously.

"semmie." the worried voice of the maknae was heard from the other side. "it's okay, don't worry, i know you weren't doing anything." even in the darkness, serim could make out that she was walking towards her. "are you crying?" she questioned, as she had noticed the trembling as she spoke.

serim wanted to rationalize herself, to help her understand what was going on, she wanted to talk to yizhuo, but it wouldn't come out of her. she was exhausted, mentally she no longer had the will to keep pretending to endure what she was going through with jimin or to keep trying to make the people around her think everything was normal. in the end, she properly burst into tears, not being able to beat the tears with glibness. ningning rushed over to wrap her arms around her and hold her as the older one broke down on her shoulder.

(!)

— taglist [CLOSED]: @yoontoonwhs @cwpiqwon @aliceiwk @xen248 @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @aeriuchinarga @multiliker @somedaydream @impossiblesharkcashrebel @yjiminswallet @nwjnsloona @yerimbrit @73vyn @dni-unavailable @yizhuobberi @sewiouslyz @yeetaberry127 @masuowo @yallatalla @aerithykly @chaenniefirst @minfolio @starrynini05 @hotluvlet @wmnrhot @mineige @lisaswifey @brocoliisscared @fae-the-wanderer

[lasciviouspoison]

omg! my boyfriend is a big sexy boxer!

oh em gee, happy kinktobaaaaaa!!!!!! lmfao, here’s a small gift from me :)

i got kinda carried away with this plot line, lol. tw: tojixchubby!reader, boxer!toji, implied black/poc!reader, implied age gap (reader in early 20s, toji late 20s/early 30s), afab reader, oral sex (f receiving), pussydrunk!toji, cockdrunk!reader, hints of self insert (sorry :/ ) and anything else i might’ve forgotten! love ya, mwah!

~~~

toji fushiguro was one of the best heavyweight boxers of the current day. he was agile, extremely strong, and never lacked in stamina. he was a staggering 6’3 and was over 250 pounds of pure muscle. littered in tattoos from head to toe, toji was a force to be reckoned with.

not to mention, he was hot as fuck. almost every hour on the hour, there was someone on the internet raving about how sexy he was. he had literally gotten invited to read dirty tweets not once, but twice because of the general influx of them.

however, no one other than those closest to toji knew about you.

you, the pretty journalist who he had seen at his first press release for the upcoming fight. he was taken aback by your casualness. while the majority your peers wore ugly suits and skirts, you were simply dressed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt. your curly hair was down, slightly touching your shoulder blades and he could see the tattoos you had up your arm and neck.

toji’s mouth watered at the sight of you. he couldn’t wait for the moment in which you raised your hand to ask him a question out of those pretty pouty lips.

after the release, he made it a point to ask his manager, shiu, to call you into the back for an “exclusive interview” with the most successful fighter on the block.

and by interview, i mean toji asked you for your number and you, albeit anxiously, agreed.

and four months later, he’s been stuck to you like glue. he’s taken you on so many dates, he always pops in to see you whenever he has the time after training, and he just recently popped the question, asking you to officially be his partner.

however, toji also does the best he can to not prematurely intertwine his life with yours.

you were still a college student, finally making your way to the end of your junior year. your life was slow and steady, yet exciting. you had a few great friends who supported you through everything, yet, they still knew nothing about your little rendezvous with toji.

meanwhile, everything was about to change at toji’s most recent weigh-in. after his opponent and himself stepped on the scale, the promoters decided it would be a good idea to bring the two back out and open the floor for questions.

of course you were in the crowd, not only to support your man, which felt amazing to finally say, but to watch and learn from your mentor. however, to everyone’s surprise, toji’s opponent had an announcement to make before the questions began.

he stood up and gave the crowd and smile before pointing directly at you, “everyone see that beautiful lady right there? i’m gonna beat the shit outta this man over here and take her home with me afterwards. ya like the sound of that sweetheart?”

toji’s eyes immediately found yours and once he seen them begin to gloss over, he couldn’t help but find himself running out of his chair, attempting to prematurely pummel his opponent. while both security teams tried to hold him back, you were being escorted out of the area and into the back rooms.

shortly after, your face was all over media outlets as they attempted to figure out who you were and your association to toji.

which brings us to now.

“baby please, talk to me. m’beggin here”. toji’s been standing outside of his master bathroom for a total of 20 minutes attempting to get you to at least calm down. you had been crying since the weigh-in, refusing to see him. the only reason you were here was because shiu redirected your driver back to toji’s home without your knowledge.

“go away! go get ready for your fight and leave me alone!” you could admit you sounded childish, but you didn’t care. it was one thing to be publicly embarrassed like that, but to now have the whole world know that you were somehow connected to toji was awful. you wanted to do that on your own terms, especially since the two of you are just barely reaching the “official” stage in your relationship.

toji grabbed the locked door knob and twisted, “yn please just come out and talk to me. lemme help you, baby, please.” while toji prided himself on never begging for anything, you were an exception to the rule.

suddenly the door swung open and he was met with your puffy red eyes and lips. despite knowing the weight of the situation, he couldn’t help but feel his dick twitch upon seeing how beautiful you looked after crying. he’d be sure to tell you that later.

“there’s nothing you can do. everyone’s gonna figure out i’m your girlfriend and my life is gonna be turned upside down”. you could feel your throat begin to constrict once again. all you wanted was to crawl into a hole and never come back up.

toji stroked your hair and brought you to his chest, “i can’t make that go away baby, and i’m sorry. but what i can do is try to make this as seamless as possible for you. things don’t have to change overnight, we can still go slow”.

he could feel you shake your head, “it’s not gonna work like that toji, you and i both know that. my fucking mom has already called me to ask about us and i don’t know what to tell her.”

toji cocked his head to the side and scrunched his brows, “tell her we’re together?”

you pushed him back and little and laughed, “oh my god toji, are you fucking dense? you’re missing the point.”

he wanted to kick himself for being so careless. obviously toji knew that the situation ran deeper than the two of you simply dating. but, he at least figured that you wouldn’t be scared to tell your mom.

alas, he was wrong.

toji took a deep breath, “don’t cuss at me when i haven’t cussed at you. i’m trying to help and you’re throwing a tantrum. the situation isn’t fair to either of us yn, and we both know it.”

you gave him one more good look before you took a step back into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face.

~~~

the fight was in 20 minutes and toji’s heart was pounding. his adrenaline was rushing throughout his body and all he could think of was your crying face and what that ugly fucker said to you earlier.

in every sense of the word, he was pissed.

he had left you back in the hands of your mentor, granting the two of you front row seats. although you could feel everyone’s eyes staring at the back of your head, you held your composure.

you could feel your mentor squeeze your hand, “i know it’s not my place, but don’t beat yourself up over what happened earlier yn, especially if you’re happy. if the two of you are together, just leave it at that. you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone, i promise.”

you reached over and gave her a hug, letting yourself finally feel the embrace of someone who cared about you. however, the sweet moment was interrupted when the announcer came out to introduce toji’s opponent.

you felt like a fish being gutted while watching him walk down the isle. his entourage behind him, making him look even weaker than he was. and the most disgusting part was him catching your eye after bouncing around the stage and winking.

toji swore he was gonna kill him. he was gonna rip his gloves off with his teeth and jam his thumbs into his eyes. taunting him was different, it was part of the sport. but making a show out of his lady was something that toji was gonna lay his ass out for.

everyone watched as the announcer made his way back into the middle of the ring and grabbed the microphone to speak once more, “ladies and gentleman! please give it up for your reigning heavyweight champion, toji fushiguro!”

the screams from the crowd jolted your body awake, firing your adrenaline on all cylinders. it was at this moment when you realized you were dating toji-fucking -fushiguro and you weren’t gonna let his scum of an opponent make you feel any less because of it.

when toji got to the ring, he removed his robe and only glared at his opponent. it was scarier than seeing him move around with the crowd because to the three of you, this was way more than a fight.

you don’t know what caused you to do it, but you walked up to the ring and called out his name. he started to squat down to speak to you, but instead watched you climbed inside to stand before him. he could see that you had your hands bawled up beside your hips and he laughed a little.

you looked at his opponent and back at him. finally, you slung your arm around him and pulled him in to where only he could hear you, “put his ass to sleep for me toji” and with a kiss to his cheek, you made your descent out of the ring.

suddenly toji was ablaze. in an instant, he transformed from his regular, stern self to the fighter, entertainer, and winner. everyone that could see him on the Jumbotron and television could see that whatever you had said to him was gonna determine the fate of this match.

~~~

2 rounds, 4 minutes and 29 seconds was all it took for toji to lay his opponent out flat. he didn’t need confirmation from the referee before he spit out his mouth guard and roared at the crowd. he could see you standing there in awe at him and it was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

eventually, toji was allowed to say his peace before existing the ring and of course, the world waited at the edge of their seats for the update on what was seen earlier.

toji couldn’t even think straight when it came time for him to talk. the only thing on his mind was you. ynynynyn was all that kept replaying in his mind before he said this, “i want the entire fucking world to know that she’s my girl. she’s been mine since i first seen her and i wouldn’t want it any other way. baby, i love you.”

by this point, you were backstage with his team watching his commentary on a flatscreen. all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him, but that would have to wait a little longer.

finally, toji walked into the back room, fully changed out of his fighting clothes, and all but stalked his way to you. he embraced you so tightly, you felt like he could snap you in half.

you pulled away from him and and pecked his cheek, “you love me toji?”.

he shook his head, “since the day i met you.”

and while tears were beginning to well in your eyes, toji was throwing you over his shoulder and heading towards his car. with the shouts of his team behind him, the only thing on his mind was getting you home and fucking you till you cried.

he sped home in dangerous silence, alternating from his hand gently squeezing your thigh to slightly rubbing this thumb up as high as you’d allow.

he didn’t even bother to park correctly before he flung his door open. toji sprinted to your side and lifted you out. you could hear his heavy breathing as he traveled through his penthouse lobby and into the elevator.

he body caged you in and his breath fanned your nose. “don’t mean to be rough. hope i’m not scarin ya” he chuckled out.

“no baby. you’re not scaring me at all.” he was, in fact, doing the opposite. you were so turned on, you hoped it wasn’t leaking through your jeans.

toji gripped your face and kissed you roughly. it was much different from the small kisses you shared, but neither of you cared. before separating for air, he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled, groaning at the sight of how innocent you looked.

after the long awaited ding of the elevator, toji grabbed your arm and pulled you towards his door.

he slung you inside and tossed you over his shoulder, once again, as he led you to the bedroom.

he gently set you down on the bed and removed his black hoodie, exposing his tattooed body. you could still see how hard he was breathing and touched his stomach to try and call him down. yet even from that innocent little touch, he was all the more hard at the sight of you.

he wordlessly took off your shoes and stood up to kiss you again. you could feel him unbuckle your jeans and your hands made their way to his pants. he moved one hand to yours and removed them from his sweats, causing you to pull back from his mouth.

the confusion lacing your face was so cute, but he needed to take his time with you. “this ain’t about me sweet girl, g’nna take my time with you and this pretty body. ‘kay?”

without giving you a chance to respond, he finally pulled your pants off in one go, and kneeled between your legs. he brought his knuckle up to your pretty pink panties and nudged at the wet spot. he licked his lips slightly and kissed your thigh.

“gonna let me eat this pretty pussy baby, yeah? wanna feel my tongue don’cha?” he was softly moving your panties to the side and groaned at the sight. your fat pussy was so pretty. cunt so puffy and wet for him, he had to get a taste.

“please toji, just touch me” you whined and toji didn’t need to hear anything else. he pulled your panties fully off and lapped at your clit like a kitten while his fingers made way to your entrance. he pushed his fingers in and you all but screamed, one hand gripping his hair while the other interlocked with his.

toji could die in your cunt and not complain. this was his own personal heaven and he swore to kill the next person who even tried to look at you funny. “yer pussy’s so sweet baby. could eat it all night if ya let me.”

he latched back onto your clit and sucked hard. his middle finger was hitting that spot you could never reach yourself and you felt euphoric. your thick thighs twitched on either side of his head, but toji didn’t care. his only focus was getting you to cum on his tongue.

he could hear your whimpers get louder and your cunt clench against his finger. he knew you were close and didn’t wanna waste anymore time.

“cum for me sweet girl. wanna taste it mama please.”

and you came, hard. your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you were gripping the covers so tightly you swore you’d put holes into it. toji was desperately trying to keep your legs open so he could continue to ravage your cunt, but he eventually opted to rubbing your precious clit while looking at your face.

he loved the sight of you coming down from your high. you looked exactly how you did after you finished crying and toji could feel his dick get impossibly harder in his pants.

he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip causing your tongue to jut out and lick. you tilted your head up a bit and sucked his thumb into your mouth, being sure to release it with a pop.

“want you to fuck me toji. please fuck me. wanna feel it in me”, you all but whined out.

he looked at you starry eyed and placed his hand on your tummy. “you wanna feel me right here baby? want me deep in your little cunny, ain’t that right” he smiled and slapped your ass.

before you could respond, toji reached for your shirt and lifted it above your head. he watched you unclasp your bra and toss it across the room. it was the first time toji had seen your beautiful, chubby body and he couldn’t be more ecstatic. you were so beautiful and he was so happy he could publically call you his.

he slipped his sweats and boxers down in one go. he reached towards his nightstand and pulled out a condom. after ripping it open with his teeth, he rolled it on and positioned himself toward your entrance.

you backed away a bit and he gripped your leg, “don’t run from me. lemme have it”.

you shook your head slightly and looked up at him wide eyed, “s’not gonna fit”.

he laughed a little and leaned down toward your neck, “i’ll make it fit, pretty”. and began to push the tip in.

he was big like you expected, but he did a considerable amount of prep to make this pleasurable for you and him.

he could feel you claw at his back and his teeth grit together. he wanted to push all the way in and fuck you stupid, but he knew he needed to go slow. it was your first time with him and he wanted to make it as special as it could be.

after fully sheathing himself in your cunt, he let out a quick “fuck” before looking into your eyes.

those beautiful e/c eyes he loved looking into so much. so teary and full of pleasure, “want me to move?”

you let out a small yes and toji rocked his hips slightly. he gripped onto the headboard above your head and sped up a little, not wanting to overwhelm you.

eventually, those small, soft strokes weren’t doing enough for you, causing you to get restless. you pushed your hips towards him and whined, “fuck me harder toji!” and that was all it took for him to fuck you like a mad man.

his hand left the headboard and pushed your thighs wider. the weight of toji on your body mixed with his heavy thrusts almost knocked the wind out of you. you were moaning and whimpering and toji loved the sight.

at some point, toji grabbed your leg and angled your anklet clad foot towards his head. he kissed your ankle before smiling down at you, which caused your pussy to gush around his cock.

he could feel your cunt start to pulsate again, all the while toji was reaching his limit too. he wanted you to cum with him, even if he had to withhold his orgasm a bit longer.

he started thumbing your clit while his body pushed your lifted leg further back, allowing him to hit a new spot within your gummy walls. you could feel the slight curve in his dick and it was driving you insane.

you looked up at him and he began to speak. “want you to cum with me baby. can you do that f’r me?”

you shook your head yes embarrassingly fast and toji rubbed your pussy just a tad bit faster.

you moaned and grabbed toji’s shoulders, “‘m gonna cum toji. i’m gonna cum. oh my god ‘m cummin- oh!” toji felt your release on his abdomen and with a loud groan, he released shortly after you.

he let you grind on his cock while you rode out your shared orgasm. he felt like he had died and went to heaven because of your pussy, and slowly but surely, he came down to witness you still twitching and shaking.

he rubbed your face gently and spoke softly, “c’mon baby. come back to me” he repeated his words until you finally let out a deep breath and weakly smiled.

he pulled out of you with a hiss and tied off the condom before disposing of it. he lifted you out of the bed and brought you to the bathroom before running you a nice warm bath. he filled the tub with bubbles and set you in gently before going to clean up the mess you two had made.

once toji came back, he washed you, lotioned you up and dressed you in a big shirt of his and boxers.

as he finally laid you down to sleep, you felt him kiss your forehead. while you knew things would never go back to the way they were, it didn’t matter because now the world knew that toji was, and always will be, yours.

[hwayangyeon]

NSFW gamer jake x gamer reader // you and jake play league together and argue a lot but somehow you end up on his lap // teasing, a lot touching, public bathroom sex (again) // 1.2k words

it's a little goofy // you don't have to know anything about league // not much about penetraton just a lot of touching // viego is a league character

"jesus, it's you again," you saw a familiar nickname in the lobby, "try not to lose for once?"

it's pretty reasonable for you two to end up on the same team since not so many people play at this hour. you recognize some of the players from previous matches, but only seeing this one makes you want to quit. can he ever get on the enemy team? or better, can he stop coming to this pc room?

it might be late, but after you finish your night shift, it's the perfect time for you to play. it's usually just the two of you and some kids watching porn in the back, hiding from their mothers. it's nice and quiet, well, when you don't flame each other.

"and why would you ban my champion?" the guy sitting across from you looked at you, tired. he's gotten used to you being the worst teammate he's ever had to deal with.

"so you don't suck at it. play something better."

"bitch."

"asshole."

it did not start well for your team. the support forgot to buy items, mid was afk for four minutes and you are losing your own lane. it's going to be really hard to turn it around, the enemy team is too far ahead.

"can you ever come top? the enemy jungler has ganked me eight times already, what the fuck have you been doing?" you looked over your screen.

"fuck off. i stole two dragons if you haven't noticed," his eyes focused on the game.

"i don't care about the dragons, everyone is fed. what's a dragon going to change? do something."

"don't feed then. stop whining and learn how to play, bitch."

he's too concentrated for a match going this bad. his brows furrowed, bottom lip fighting for its life between his sharp teeth. they'd probably look nice if he ever smiled. no wonder he has nothing to smile about in his life if he always plays this badly. oh shit, you're back in the game.

after successfully destroying towers and going as far as the enemy inhibitors, the game eventually ends with a red, humiliating text appearing on your screen. DEFEAT.

the room gets filled with all sorts of insults.

"please, delete your account," you take off your headset and stand up. enough for today. you don't like ending with a loss but knowing your luck you'd get placed with him again.

"shut up. i only lose whenever i play with you," he points his finger at you, "come, see my match history," he then signals for you to look at his screen, his eye wide, shocked from you having the audacity to flame him.

you walk around the desk and move in his direction, "yeah because you're not used to the high e–"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN YOU TWO FINALLY SHUT UP?" you hear the owner yell behind you, it scares the shit out of you making you trip over a chair and lose balance. jake grabs your hips and you end up on his lap. not that he cares if you fell on the ground, it was an instinct.

you want to stand up as soon as you sit, but the man continues and you're taken aback, "YOU KEEP YELLING AT EACH OTHER, EVEN THE GUYS WATCHING PORN AREN'T AS LOUD AS YOU. IF YOU DON'T SHUT YOUR MOUTHS I'M GONNA KICK YOU OUT."

you both stay silent because of the shock. you feel like two kids being scolded for making noise past curfew.

you want to stand up again but the man keeps going, "look, guys, i'm sorry for lashing out at you. it's just my wife, she's leaving me," his tone unexpectedly changes.

you're frozen, not fully acknowledging the position you're in. jake's left hand is still on your hip.

"like, i can't understand why would she do that to me," the man closes his eyes and sighs. jake's fingers slowly climb under the hem of your shirt. they're asking for permission and you're not denying it.

"we've been together for twenty years..." you feel his warm touch on your skin, it makes you straighten up a little.

"we were perfect together! do you guys get me?" he suddenly asks you and you both nod without thinking, jake's hand immediately stops as if you were caught cheating on a test.

"and she wants to take the kids too! ridiculous..." the man looks away from you as if he was looking for a solution to end his misery. jake resumes his movement. he squeezes your waist softly, his fingers sinking into your flesh.

"no, i can't allow her to do that... i'm their father," his thumb making its way lower, pressing on your back dimple, causing you to arch. shit, that's exactly where guys you hook up with put their hands when they're fucking you.

"they must live with me," his touch is so gentle, yet you're melting. it feels like he's sculpting your body as if you were made out of clay.

"have i signed a prenup? i can't have her take the house," his hand travels to your abdomen, pushing you back lightly so you lean back on his chest, relaxing your tensed-up body. he has so much control over you.

"i built it with my own hands!" you can feel him staring at your side profile, probably smirking seeing how worked up he got you. but you can't look at him, not with that red blush on your face.

"that bitch... i should've seen this coming. my mother was right about her," your head falls back to touch his, he gets a little carried away because of the sweet scent of your hair, it makes him lean against you. fuck, he smells good for a league player too.

"anyway," the man finally finishes his monologue, "YOU IN THE BACK, SHUT UP!" he completely ignores you and goes to yell at the kids for being noisy.

"you could've just said you were craving my attention," the guy behind you whispers into your ear.

———

"fuck," jake pins you onto the bathroom stall, your back is starting to hurt from you pushing each other at the walls, not being able to get enough of yourselves, "i'm close."

he grabs your ass and holds you up, his face buried in your neck, biting it because of how amazing his dick feels inside you. his release is almost there too.

your hands lost in his hair, trying to bring him even closer. some people say there is a fine line between love and hate, but it's even thinner between hate and lust.

"jake!" your moan announces your climax. oh it feels so good for him, having you scream his name after how you belittled his gaming skills.

he follows you right after and helps you stand on your own, but he doesn't pull out yet.

"i can go another round," his voice breathy, lips glistening with saliva he produced while kissing your neck. his hair completely messy, thanks to you.

"how can you be this good at fucking but suck so bad at viego, jake 123?"

after hotel.

[borathae]

Cozy | Yoongi x f.Reader

"In celebration of your anniversary, Yoongi surprises you with a cozy winter holiday in your own little mountain cabin. The days are spent enjoying the tranquility, the evenings are spent enjoying yummy cocoa and the nights are filled with love making. On your fourth night, you surprise Yoongi with a very special massage."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: the supernatural aspect of them is basically not present, so this is also for all the besties who don't like supernatural stuff, Yoongi being the ultimate boyfriend, she gets such princess treatment, casual nudity, cuddles and kisses, the next ones are for the smut part: the coziest love making, sub!Yoongi, service Dom!Reader, pillow prince!Yoongi, soft Dom!Reader, massage with a massage candle, can you call this waxplay?, use of lube, anal fingering, prostate massage, use of a prostate vibrator, she just wants to make him feel good, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), he has sensitive thighs, cock worship, body worship, kisses, praise, loving dirty talk, loveliest aftercare, this is so sweet and comforting, they're so in love holy fuck

Wordcount: 9.7k

a/n: being treated like a princess and treating my boy like a king in return? yes. this is the ultimate life and nobody can fucking stop me. enjoy besties, i love them so much that i want to cry 🤎 ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOONGIE I LOVE YOU <3

It will be your anniversary this Wednesday and Yoongi surprised you with a trip to the Austrian alps. He rented out a cabin high up a mountain, which was only accessible by a narrow one lane path. He told you to pack warm and take your favourite books and then took you in his jeep. 

You and he haven’t left the cabin yet except for your second day where you drove down to the local supermarket to buy groceries for the week. You will be here for six nights. Yoongi cooks for you. He already announced that he will. You also take a lot of walks and built a snowman in front of your cabin. The afternoons you spend doing your own things. You like to read, while Yoongi likes making music on his laptop. Every now and then, one or the other would look up for a moment to catch a glimpse of the other person. Come dinner time and you find yourselves cooking together whilst chatting about the most random of things. 

Tonight’s dinner was authentic Carbonara with local eggs and bacon. It tasted wonderfully. You went for two portions because you couldn’t get enough. Yoongi was so happy, watching you enjoy the meal and feeling full just watching you. 

The latter has been occupying the bathroom for the last thirty minutes, but seems to finally be done. You are reading on the couch when the bathroom door opens. The scent of his shampoo instantly fills the room. 

“The bathroom's still toasty if you wanna go now", Yoongi says as he leaves the room. He is wearing his sleep pants, but no shirt, rubbing his hair dry with his towel.

You follow him with your eyes, feeling your heart flutter. He is so perfect. His arms tense and flex as he dries his hair, his chest stretches in the position and his tummy looks so soft. Your eyes linger on it for longer. He isn’t sucking it in anymore. 

In the beginning of your relationship, Yoongi always sucked in his stomach when he was shirtless in front of you. Years passed and the once conscious act turned into something subconscious, something his body did on reflex. For a few months now, you began to notice that he stopped doing it more and more. It has been four days since you came here and not once have you seen him suck in his stomach. 

“What?” Yoongi asks as he sits down on a chair in front of the floor mirror, “why are you looking at me?” 

“It’s nothing. I don’t wanna say it yet”, you say and get up to use the bathroom as well.

“What do you mean?” he asks and you can watch how his stomach instinctively tenses up. 

“No, it’s nothing bad. You’re just so handsome. I was swooning over you again”, you assure him and give him a back hug. One kiss to his cheek. Another to his neck. The last on top his shoulder. 

Yoongi looks at you with half-lidded eyes. 

“I’m taking a shower now. Okay?” you ask as you give his shoulders a gentle massage. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“My handsome prince”, you say and snicker when this makes him lower his eyes bashfully.

You close the door, but don’t lock it. You are in the midst of stepping inside the shower when Yoongi knocks.

“Yes?” 

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

The door opens. Yoongi doesn’t look at you on purpose. 

“Sorry, I forgot my brush”, he says and fetches it from the counter. He waves it in the air, “found it.”

And with that, he leaves again, keeping his head lowered in respect. You snicker to yourself. He is such a sweetheart. You wouldn’t have minded if he looked at you, but he still made sure not to be disrespectful. It is the same with any kind of touch which could be interpreted sexually. He could kiss you, grope you, fuck you and ruin you without asking if he wanted to, but would he do so? Of course not. He only touches you when he knows you want it, just as he only looks when he knows you want it. He makes you feel so important and loved with it. You aren’t a piece of meat to objectify for him, a pretty thing to perform at all times. You are his most precious person, his favourite human and the treasure he will only worship if you allow him. Oh it feels so good to be with someone who allows you to be so disgustingly human. 

Which makes the fact that he started relaxing his stomach in your presence all the more precious. He is finally allowing himself to be so disgustingly human in your presence. 

You love this man so much.

Yoongi is wearing the full pyjama set once you leave the bathroom. His hair is dry and fluffy. His bangs hang into his face, making him appear so much younger.

He lifts his eyes and lowers them instantly when he realises that you were naked. 

“It’s okay to look, I don’t mind” you assure him and leave for the bedroom, “I forgot my pjs. Silly me.”

You return soon. You and he are matching. You had the idea and Yoongi instantly took the soft pyjamas you offered. Even your fluffy socks are matching.

“Did you brush your teeth yet?” he asks you.

“Not yet. Why?” 

“Do you want hot chocolate?” 

“Oh yes”, you gasp with sparkly eyes.

“Okay”, he says and gets up from the couch to hurry to the kitchen. 

You in the meantime get cozy on the couch, bundling up in a woollen blanket.

The cabin is made up of four rooms. The small entrance area where one can store their outside clothes and skiing equipment if needed. Then a sturdy door separates it from the living room and kitchen area, keeping the chill air out that way. 

At the other end of the living space, were two doors next to each other. One for the bathroom and the other for the bedroom. A metal wood burner in the corner closest to the bedroom door keeps the small cabin warm and in the corner closest to the entrance way door, a corner bench with a dining table and three chairs was located. Everything was made out of wood, the floors, the walls and most furniture. It looked traditional and cozy. 

The couch was very obviously from Ikea though. It didn’t feel out of place. 

You turn on the cozy sofa, resting your chin on the edge of the backrest so you could watch Yoongi make hot cocoa.

He makes it on the stove with fresh, local milk and actual chocolate. Apparently Austria has this very famous chocolatier, who also makes chocolate especially for hot cocoas. You and Yoongi picked out a few flavours from the store, which piqued your interests.

Yoongi walks to you with his hands balled into fists. He presents them to you.

“Do I gotta pick?” you ask.

He nods his head.

“What are the flavours?” 

“Banana milk chocolate or cinnamon nougat.”

“Ooh okay uhm”, you tap on his left hand. 

He turns it and opens it, revealing the small chocolate bar. It looks tiny in his big hand.

“Nice, cinnamon nougat”, you say.

“Mhm, good choice”, he says and turns to strut back to the stove. 

He stirs in the chocolate, humming to himself as he does. You keep watching him, kicking your feet giddily. When will the limit of your love for him be reached? You always think that your heart can’t take anymore, but then it grows and grows and grows and it never gets too much. 

Yoongi divides the cocoa into two mugs, giving you more than himself. He fills the pot with some water so it would be easier to clean later and then struts back to you.

You stretch out your hands so he can give it to you over the backrest.

“Careful, it’s really hot.”

“I know. Uh, ah.”

“I told you it's hot”, he whines and tugs the mug away from you again.

“I got it now”, you say and pull your shirt sleeves over your hands.

“Careful.”

“I got it. See? Just had to use my brain.”

He snorts and chuckles, rounding the couch so he could sit down next to you.

“Thank you so much for this. It’ll warm me up in no time.”

"Are you cold? I'll get more wood. And a second blanket”, Yoongi babbles and tries to get up. 

You, however, keep him down by laying your legs over his lap, “I’m cozy. Don’t worry.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Thank you.”

“Okay, yeah. Just tell me if you change your mind.” 

“I will, my love”, you speak softly as your eyes wander over his features adoringly. You are resting back, keeping the hot cocoa on your tummy for now so it could cool down a little. 

Yoongi is sitting up, fumbling with the edge of the mug by tracing it mindlessly. He glances at you and looks away. His cheeks gain colour. 

You notice and give his tummy a little nudge with your toes.

He glances again. You give him a smile. He barely retorts it because then he is looking away bashfully again.

He takes a breath in the distinct way he always does when he wants to talk. Nothing comes. He is hesitating. 

“What do you wanna say?” you ask him.

“How did you know that I wanted to say something?” he gasps, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Just the way you breathed.”

“Ah”, he flusters, “am I that predictable?”

“No, it’s just that we’re spending so much time with each other.”

“I guess, yeah.” 

“What did you wanna say?”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I won’t laugh, promise.”

“What did you mean by what you said earlier?”

“What did I say again?”

“That you didn’t wanna say it yet”, he says and touches the side of his neck in self soothing, “it made me feel insecure”, he adds in a whisper.

“It did? No Yoongi, I’m sorry”, you gasp and sit up to close in on him. Your legs are still thrown over his lap. The mug rests on your thighs for now, “I’m sorry that it made you feel this way. It was something totally positive, but I just didn’t wanna say it yet in order not to ruin it.” 

“What do you mean? I don’t know what to make of this.”

“Okay so, uhm, please don’t take it to heart, but I noticed that you stopped sucking in your tummy when you’re shirtless with me.”

“My tummy?” he touches it, “I’m sucking in my stomach?”

“Not anymore. You did so for the longest time and I understand why you did it, but since a few months ago, you stopped doing it and I guess I just looked at you because I thought that you were so beautiful this way.” 

“Oh. Uhm”, he lowers his head shyly, “okay. I didn’t know that I did that.”

“That’s okay. I understand, you have issues with your torso.” 

“Yeah”, he nods his head, “fuck sorry, I’m an idiot. I thought you were thinking something bad, that I looked weird or something.”

“No, my love. Not even for a millisecond.” 

He nods his head, sagging his shoulders in relief.

“Okay. Uhm, thank you. I needed to hear this.”

“Of course, my love. Thank you for communicating.” 

Yoongi glances at your lips, “can I give you a kiss?” he whispers.

“Yes, but careful the choco”, you allow him. 

Together you make it work without spilling anything, ending the loving kiss with a little stub of your noses. 

Yoongi leans back with his eyes racing over your face.

“Did I seriously suck in my stomach all the time?” 

You nod your head.

“I didn’t realise that I did it.”

“I figured. When my current life started out and being naked in front of someone else suddenly became a regular thing, I began sucking in my tummy too until you helped me gain a lot of self confidence. I think we’re all a little too mean to the part of our body which literally keeps all our important organs safe and cozy”, you say and rub your tummy gently. 

Yoongi chuckles, his eyes soften. You giggle, scrunching your nose.

“Does it look weird now that I’m not doing it?”

You shake your head, “it didn’t look weird as you did it and it doesn’t look weird now. You have the perfect tummy”, you say and give it a little rub.

Yoongi looks into his mug, trying not to smile but failing miserably. His cheeks are rosy.

“My cutie”, you say and kiss his cheek.

He turns his head, begging for a kiss with longing eyes and parted lips. You can’t deny him, not when he looks so pretty like this. You kiss him as best as the mugs allow you to. 

You only break the kiss once air gets sparse. 

“This was nice”, you whisper. 

“Yeah. Nice”, he breathes, studying your lips as if they were his favourite artwork. 

You kiss him unexpectedly, resulting in his lips to tremble and his breath to hitch in his throat. You don’t let it deepen as it was only supposed to be a quick kiss, sitting back and taking the first sip of the cocoa.

“Mhhm yummy”, you say and drink again.

Yoongi tries his’ as well, nodding his head in agreement.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s good. Really sweet though.”

“Yes, but that’s the best part. The sweet really makes it so yummy.” 

“Yeah”, he agrees and licks his lips after taking a sip, “do you still wanna watch a movie?” 

“Sure, I’d still be down. You?” 

“I guess, yeah.”

“So no”, you chuckle.

“No, sorry.”

“That’s okay, we could do something else. Oooh, do you wanna try the game?”

The cabin offers a Wii (mounted to the dresser because people can be assholes) with some multiplayer party games installed. You have been talking about trying Mario Party ever since you realised that it was on there. 

“Yeah we could do that. I’ll suck really bad though”, he says. 

“That’s okay. I’m not the best either”, you say and get off the couch to turn on the Wii, “should we compete against each other?” 

“Can’t we be a team? Is that possible?” he pouts, “I don’t wanna compete against you”, he murmurs sadly. 

“Fine, we’ll be a team. Okay, idea. One round we’re a team and another we’re competing? Just for fun?”

“Yeah, okay. I like this idea.”

The game is so much fun. You and Yoongi make up the perfect team. There is not a moment where one of you raises their voice or snaps at the other. The only times you and he get a little louder was during your victory cheers and especially thrilling moments during the mini games where you squealed and squeaked in excitement. It was shared squealing however and based on the thrill of the game.  

The second round was just as fun. Your cocoas have long been finished and you are cuddling under the blanket. You have your head on Yoongi’s chest while he is resting against the pillows. You can feel his voice whenever he speaks and you always get gently shaken around whenever he is caught by the thrill of a mini game. 

Yoongi ends up winning and despite his initial distaste against competing, he is very smug about it. 

“What can I say, I’m natural”, he says, putting the control down, “waaah, I’m a genius”, he sighs and drops his head into the pillows, smirking like the cocky little shit he currently is.

“Wah, look at you gloating”, you tease, nudging his chin.

“I’m not. I’m just saying. I’m a total natural.”

You shimmy up his body until your chests are touching and you have him under you. Your elbows rest in the pillows, his big hands rest themselves on your lower back. He is looking up at you with a smirk, yet fond eyes.

“You’re cocky”, you say, combing your fingers through his hair mindlessly.

“You’re just salty that you lost.”

“Wow”, you laugh, “and here I was thinking that you didn’t wanna compete against me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Mh-hm sure”, you joke.

Yoongi chuckles deeply. His face is glowing in adoration. You brush his bangs out of his face, giving his forehead a little massage as you do it. Over and over. It feels so nice to Yoongi. He feels in paradise right now. Your weight is on him, the blanket traps your shared body heats and your heart is beating so calmly against his chest. Your touch is also so gentle and filled with love and Yoongi thinks that you look especially pretty right now. 

He is in heaven. 

You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder. You can nuzzle your nose against his neck like this and Yoongi can hug you so, so tightly. He does it instantly, rubbing your back up and down and in little circles. 

“This is so cozy”, you whisper.

“Yeah, it’s cozy”, he agrees with his eyes closed. 

“Can we stay like this for a while?” 

“Yeah. Please.”

And so it happens that you cuddle for heaven knows how many minutes. It is so wonderful to both of you. To be so close, to share warmth, to hug and snuggle and adore. It is truly the best ending of an already amazing evening. You don’t talk a lot during the cuddles and that’s perfect. There is no better kind of comfort than truly enjoying the cuddles without any kind of distractions. 

You are soon starting to get sleepy however. Well, Yoongi more than you. And so you agree on leaving the couch for bed cuddles instead. You brush your teeth next to each other and while you leave for the bedroom first, Yoongi stays back to use the loo. 

You are sitting on the bed when he comes in. A candle is burning on the bedside table. Yoongi joins you on bed, lying down on his side while you keep seated. He looks up at you with a toothless, cute smile and reaches out to hold your hand. He is tracing your knuckles as he does. 

You retort the smile, shimmying into a more intimate position by taking a second pillow and using it to support your left arm. You are also on your side, giving Yoongi an opportunity to hide away in your chest. He takes it instantly, stubbing you with his nose as content, little purrs leave him. 

You close your arms around him, burying your right hand deep in his hair. You play with it, massaging his scalp and his exposed ear whenever you get the chance. His purrs grow in volume each time you pay attention to his ear, and from what you can tell, he rubs his feet together under the blanket whenever it happens. 

“Are you comfy?” you ask him in a soft voice.

“Yeah”, he whispers, nodding his head. He slides his hand under your shirt, rubbing your waist slowly. His palm feels incredibly soft against your skin, he warms you so well.

“Me too, my love”, you say and peck his ear. You follow it up with a little rub of his earlobe. Yoongi purrs and wiggles his toes. If someone would ever ask him the definition of perfect moment, he would say it is this one. To know that no one else is around and that he can truly let all his guards down is so incredibly relaxing to Yoongi. He likes life at the estate, he likes living together with his forever family, but sometimes he still feels a little too nervous to let go because of the possibility of someone walking in on you and him. So this holiday has been a dream for him. It’s just you and him and that means he can be the cuddly, snuggly boyfriend he so longs to be.

“Boongie?” you whisper into the silence.

“Mhm”, he hums, sounding sleepy.

“I have an idea.”

“Mhm.”

“What if I used the candle to give you a massage?” 

‘“Mhm? What?” he breathes.

“It’s a massage candle and I could use the wax to massage your back. You know? Rub your shoulders, trace your spine, get that tension out your lower back”, you say, scratching his back in demonstration. 

Yoongi shivers at the touch, rubbing his feet together. 

“Would you like that? I just think that it could be romantic.”

“Yeah”, he whispers.

“Yeah?”

He nods his head.

“Oh Yoongi”, you hug him against you, “I’m so happy. Wow, I’m gonna make you feel so good and cozy”, you say and break the hug to get the candle instead. 

Yoongi takes off his shirt in the meantime, lying down on his tummy. He lifts his arms above his head, hugging the pillow this way and squishing his cheek against it. He is watching you with half-lidded eyes, anticipating the massage with a fluttering tummy. You could do anything to him right now. Anything, as long as it means that he can stay in this cozy dream forever. 

“Oh? You’re already shirtless. Wow”, you say and crawl to him. The candle you have already blown out, holding it safely in your hand, “are you excited?”

He nods his head.

“Me too. I like massages.”

He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say more.

“Actually, I like pampering you in general. Have you noticed?”

Yoongi thinks of all the countless, wonderful times you pampered him. All the baths you made him, all the times you washed his hair and soaped his body, all the massages and “super duper special king spa treatments” you give him, all the flower bouquets you make him and all the small little rubs and touches you give him throughout the day. Yoongi thinks of every time he felt adored and pampered by you and he feels his entire body tingle in reaction.

“Yeah”, he answers you, arching his back into your touch because you placed your hand on his back.

“I really like doing it”, you confess and sit down on the back of his thighs.

Yoongi hopes that you never stop doing it. He feels so unworthy of it sometimes until he remembers that you wouldn’t like it if you knew that he is putting himself down. Then he starts feeling grateful for it.

“Are you comfy like this? Am I too heavy?”

“You’re never too heavy. You’re perfect”, he lulls his words, having his eyes closed.

“Thank you, this is so sweet of you to say.”

You rub your right hand up and down his back, tracing the way his spine swirls with your fingertips.

“Are you ready? It will be really warm.”

“Yeah, ready.”

“Okay, here it comes”, you say and tilt the candle.

Yoongi reacts in a full body squirm and his thighs tensing under you. You trace his spine, painting a waxy line from between his shoulder blades down to his tailbone.

“How is the temperature?”

“Nice”, he sighs.

You place the candle aside and begin spreading the massage oil with the flat of your palms.

“Oh it feels so nice. Really warm. It’s like a warm oil pour”, you say as you work carefully to cover every inch of his back with the oil.

“Mhm”, he hums, nodding his head slowly.

“Oh my love”, you gush, “my love, your skin is so soft. You’re so perfect, my love.”

Yoongi flusters. He stays silent because he is shy and doesn’t know how to react to your compliments, but he hopes that you never stop with them. He loves being adored. He loves it so much. Staying alone and sheltered was never better than having someone like you in his life. He loves being loved and he loves loving in return.

Now that the oil is evenly distributed, you begin with the massage. You start off with his shoulders, using your thumbs to locate the tenser spots and using them as well to break them down in circular motions.

“You barely have knots, my love”, you tell him, massaging along his shoulder blades.

“Is ‘cause you always massage me”, he mumbles with his lips naturally pouted by the position he finds himself in.

“Yeah, that’s true. I do massage you a lot”, you say, “but then, you massage me a lot too.”

“Mhm. Is nice.”

“Very nice.”

“All of it is nice.” 

“Yeah? Am I doing well?”

He nods his head and shivers as you run your fingertips along his skin. 

“All of it’s nice”, he repeats, “I like this trip so much.”

“Me too, Boongie. I like it so much. You really picked out the perfect place.” 

“Thank you. I wanted it to be perfect. You’re my love.”

You feel your heart swell in your chest. You run your eyes over his features with butterflies dancing in your tummy. He is such a loving person. He always says that he is cold and unfamiliar with romance, but he is so full of love. He is warm and sweet and loves without being aware that he does. You lean down and kiss the shell of his ear.

“You’re my love too”, you whisper.

“Mhm”, he hums happily and smiles slightly, “I like the cocoa every night.” 

“Yeah, me too and all the yummy food you make.”

“Yeah, thank you. I try to be good.”

“You are the best. I’m so spoiled with you”, you kiss his ear again, “and lucky”, you add, giggling sweetly as you squeeze him gently. 

“No, I’m lucky”, he corrects you and shifts as you trace his spine, “I like it there.” 

“Yeah? There?” 

You trace his spine by massaging along each side of it. He has little dimples at his lower back. You include them in circular motions before going up again. You repeat it over and over. Down to his dimples and up to his shoulders.

“There is nice.” 

“Then I’ll keep doing that”, you say and fall silent together with him.

You and he share in the silence for a while. The only thing audible is the faint sound of your hands gliding over his oiled-up back. The sound is just as relaxing as the massage. For both of you. And while Yoongi enjoys the touch, you find great relaxation at the sight. You love how his skin and muscles shift and move under your fingertips. It is both fascinating and deeply relaxing. He looks so soft and squishable. You love it.

“Can you do my legs too?” Yoongi breaks the silence in a whisper.

“Your legs?” you whisper as well.

“Nevermind, it’s fucking stupid.” 

“No, it’s not. Of course I can do your legs. You just gotta help me with your pants, I got oily hands.”

“Yeah, okay. Cover my butt with something.” 

“Okay I will.” 

Yoongi shimmies out of his pants, kicking off the last few inches. You place one corner of the blanket over his butt, giving him a little pat.

“There we go. All modest.” 

“Don’t touch my butt.” 

“I’m not touching your butt, doofus”, you chuckle, “stay still, I’m getting more oil.”

“I’m serious, don’t touch my butt.”

“As a matter of fact, I will, Yoongi. I will only touch your butt from now on", you tease him sarcastically. 

“Whatever", he murmurs, closing his eyes again because you are moving to his legs.

You snicker, “doofus. By how you keep talking about it, Imma think you secretly want me to touch your butt.”

“No, I don’t. You’re wrong.”

“Okay okay if you say so”, you say with a fond chuckle on your lips. You begin spreading the oil on the back of his calves, “are your legs in pain?”

“Yeah, they’re sore from walking.”

“I’m surprised that you can get sore.”

“Yeah well….it’s bad.”

“Aaah I see. It is so bad and not just a scheme to get me to massage you longer.” 

“Yeah, it’s bad.” 

You snicker, “you’re cute”, you say and begin feeling up his calves, “and genuinely tense. Wow, does this hurt?” 

“A little. It’s okay.” 

“Sorry, I gotta loosen you up.”

“It’s okay”, he assures you, “we gotta take a break from walks tomorrow.”

“What? Noo, I was so excited for the walk. Can’t we do it again?” 

“Fine, okay. We’ll take a walk tomorrow.”

“Yay, thank you Boongie.” 

“Mhm”, he hums. A second of silence then he chuckles.

“Tickles?” 

“No, I’m just laughing at myself.”

“Why?”

“You give me one whine and I’m already saying yes. Fuck, I’m so weak for you”, he says and laughs.

“Yeah, true”, you snicker, “maybe I’m just a really good convincerer.” 

“That’s not even a word”, he cackles.

“Yeah it is. Just like skincarer is. And massagerer.” 

He snorts, shaking his head. He covers his eyes with his own hand, laughing with his shoulders.

You laugh with him, wiggling your shoulders happily. You love making him laugh. This is your greatest joy in life. 

“You’re so silly”, he says and sighs loudly, “god. Convincerer”, he murmurs and snickers to himself. 

“You must admit, it got a ring to it.”

“I guess, yeah.” 

You snicker and lower your eyes back to his legs. You guide your hands up his calves until you have his thighs under your palms. You continue the path, applying pressure to get out some of the tension. You stop at the edge of the blanket corner and drag your hands back down his legs again. All the way to his ankles. Back up with the goal of going down at the end. 

“Is this doing something for you?” you ask.

“Yeah.” 

“Good.”

You want to keep doing this motion for a bit because it really helps loosening everything up. Yoongi falls silent and so you share it with him. The wonderful thing about being with each other is that you can both talk and be quiet and it’s equally nice to do. Massages are the perfect time for both and it seems that Yoongi is in the mood for silence right now. 

What you don’t know however is that Yoongi has very sensitive thighs (you know that) and that your innocent touches suddenly start to feel very exciting to him. They feel nice and tingly on his calves and the back of his thighs, but feel almost electric on the inside of them. 

You rub your hands up his thighs, guiding your thumb along his inner thighs this way. Yoongi follows the touch, feeling flutters in his stomach.

He wants to get back in control. He doesn’t want to ruin this sweet moment by being horny. He isn’t like this. Not him.

Your thumbs draw circles on his upper most thighs. Yoongi shivers and bites down on his own lower lip.

But it’s so hard to stay calm. Oh it is so hard. 

Down again. Your attention is on his calves for now, while Yoongi wishes for it to be on his thighs instead. You draw relaxing lines for a little while and then you finally take on your journey up his thighs.

Nice and relaxing on the back of them, but electric on the inside. Yoongi opens his legs just a little. 

“Is that nice?” you ask him and stay lingering on his inner thighs.

Yoongi had hoped you would. That is why he spread his legs like a needy boy in the first place. 

“Nice”, he sighs, twisting a bundle of the pillow as his senses blur. He can feel every second of your touch. 

It is so obviously innocent. So full of love and adoration and the desire to relax. Yoongi feels so guilty for making it into something so exciting, but he can’t help himself. He’s got such sensitive thighs and your fingers carry special magic in them. One touch was enough to enchant him and now he is paying the consequences. On top of that, he is feeling so cozy and good tonight. This is a happy kind of horny. 

Your fingers slide under the hem of the sheets, brushing against the swell of his buttocks. Yoongi tenses up, not in discomfort but desire. He is on fire. This is making him so needy. 

“Oops, sorry. Too far”, you gasp, retreating your touch instantly.

Yoongi lifts his butt, aching for your touch.

“Please.”

Your stomach tingles. You feel intensely overwhelmed for just a second. He looked so needy. 

“I’m sorry?” you ask him, gawking at him with widened eyes and your hands resting on the back of his thighs.

“Mh-hm fuck”, he gets out and squirms. He lifts his hips again, tensing his thighs.

Your heart flutters. He is needy. This isn’t just a silly trick of your mind. Your innocent touches made him needy. You genuinely didn’t plan on doing this to him, so this is speeding up your pulse insanely.

“What’s the matter?” you ask him, rubbing his inner thighs to soothe him. This touch is not of innocent nature. This is meant to make him needier.

“Horny”, he whispers and lifts his butt again.

“Wow, this just made me so excited. You just opened the floodgates”, you say and chuckle, “are you serious?”

He nods his head and squirms, opening his legs further.

“Touch me. Please”, he begs quietly.

“Your bum?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t you specifically tell me not to touch your butt?”

“I was dumb. Wanna be touched. Please.” 

“Fuck, you’re hot. Wow Boongie, I didn’t plan for this evening to go that way, but I’m so excited”, you say and giggle. You claim the space above him for a moment, leaning down to bite his ear gently.

Yoongi sighs, tilting his head to give you better access. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You?” 

“Mh-hm yeah. What do you want me to do?” you ask him.

“Just do anything.”

“Not enough, I need you to use your words.”

Yoongi whines in embarrassment, shaking his head. You close your fingers around the back of his neck and squeeze in warning. He mewls quietly.

“Finger me”, he chokes out, following it up with a shy, “fuck, please.” 

“That’s better”, you praise and caress his neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, my love”, you whisper, basking in his breathy sighs. He looks so pretty making them with his lips parted and his eyes closed. You kiss his ear, “now stay. I’m getting the lube.”

Being organised is awesome because it only takes you a few seconds to get what you need. Lube and a little surprise for later. You’ll make sure to include it once Yoongi is blissed out. 

You climb on top of him and rub his back. Yoongi moves into the touch, relaxing under it. He is so excited. Being touched and pampered made him feel so needy tonight. Ninety percent of your massage nights don’t end in sex. They are truly just relaxing bonding moments to you and him, so tonight is an exception. An exception you are more than willing to take advantage of. You love when Yoongi gets the kind of needy where he begs for your touch. Those occasions are rare and precious. And leave you way too needy for more.

You draw circles on his lower back, using the opportunity to pull off the blanket. Yoongi arches his back the moment he is exposed, presenting his bubble butt to your eyes. 

“So pretty”, you say and grab his buttocks to knead them. He’s got so much to offer. For someone who is naturally petite, he has the most voluptuous butt ever. You love it and how it feels between your fingers.

Yoongi purrs, feeling his head begin to blur. You are exposing his hole every now and then, making him need it to be touched and explored. The air feels so cold on his skin, all he wants is your warm touch and the stretch of your fingers filling his hole.

Except that the first experience you give him is that of your insanely warm and wet tongue grinding against his hole.

“Ah”, Yoongi moans loudly, tensing his thighs. He wants to cum. That’s how fucking good the surprise feels. He is suddenly so fucking excited and turned on and giddy that he could genuinely burst.

“Mhm, mhm, mhm”, you let out as pull back with a sigh, “mhm so good”, you lick his hole, “so good, mhm”, you bury your face between his buttocks and grind the flat of your tongue against his hole by nodding your head.  

Yoongi didn’t plan on being loud, but here he is. Being loud. And it is solely because you decided to start it off by using your mouth on him. Him. The man with the biggest oral fixation ever. The man who absolutely loses every functioning brain cell the second your mouth is on any kind of pleasure spot. Yoongi didn’t plan on being loud, but it’s fucking impossible when you are giving him his favourite thing.

You break away again with a slurp. It is just for gathering your saliva because seconds later, you are spitting on his hole. You pick it up with your pointer and middle finger, spreading it on his hole in upwards and downwards motions. 

Yoongi reaches behind himself and spreads his own ass, dimpling his buttocks this way.

“That’s my good boy, spread yourself for me”, you talk to him sweetly, gazing at his exposed hole with love drunk eyes. He is so pretty.

Yoongi obeys gladly, feeling hazy. You made him wet, which makes the air feel so much colder on his skin. Never before did he crave your warm touch more than right now.

He mewls softly, arching his back. 

“You’re so pretty”, you say and place your hands over his’. You lower your tongue back to his begging hole and lap at it in quick, short licks. He flinches each time you do, clenching under your tongue needily. 

“Fuck…”

This is driving him insane. It feels so good. Your tongue is so wet and warm. Your hands over his’ feel so adoring and safe.

Yoongi buries his face in the pillow and groans. He drags out the sound until he has to breathe in, doing so in gasps and wiggles of his hips. 

“You’re cute”, you say, lifting your mouth from his hole. You make up for the loss of contact by rubbing his wet rim, playing with his balls with your other hand. He has the softest skin. You love feeling it up and giving it a good massage. 

“Good. Good what you’re doing”, he gets out, parting himself wider. He sticks his butt out just a little, presenting his hole almost proudly. 

Oh what a contrast to his once shy nature. He talked about covered butts and you staying away from it and now look at him. He is arching his back and parting himself willingly. 

“Keep it like that, love”, you order him, lifting your hands for just a few moments so you could reach for a spare pillow. You place it under him, guiding hid hips down gently. 

Yoongi loves when you guide him, rolling his hips into the pillow as if he was making love to it. 

“So needy”, you giggle and reach to your side for the lube.

“Yeah”, he agrees.

“Mhm, I love it. Spread yourself again, my love.”

He obeys instantly, waiting for your touch with bated breath. 

You open the lube bottle and tilt it over his hole, letting some of the lube trickle down. 

He doesn't react to it, but that is because he is Yoongi and he sometimes likes to stay quiet during sex. He also doesn’t react when you touch his rim to spread the lube, but you don’t mind these days. 

It was a little different at first. Of course it was. Having him be quiet even during something normally as vocal as sex was surprising at first, but with time and learning each other’s intimacy languages, you really started to enjoy his quiet moments. Because as long as Yoongi is quiet, it means he is so lost in the pleasure that he forgets to make sounds. 

“You’ve got the prettiest hole”, you praise because you love filling the silence with words of adoration. He deserves them. 

“Mhm.” 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah, ready”, he says and lifts his hips a little. 

“I’ll start with one.”

“Do it.” 

You rub the pad of your finger up and down his hole a few times before finally pushing in.

Yoongi loses all kinds of tension in his body instantly, sinking into the pillow as if you just pushed the turn off button to his muscle functions. He releases an audible sigh, following it up with a small “mhm”. 

“Slipped right in. You’re so soft, my love”, you purr, moving your finger in and out carefully, “hurts? You’re so tight.” 

“No. Good. So good.” 

“That’s good to hear. Tell me if it’s uncomfy.”

“Is good, keep going please.” 

There is something deeply meditative about fingering Yoongi. Which is something highly unusual to say about such a sexy act, but it really relaxes you tonight. You aren’t going fast or rough, chasing the pleasure like a madwoman craving her high. No. Tonight, you are going slow and gentle, making it all about the journey rather than the destination. 

You are taking time to really savour it and worship him in the process. While your dominant hand is busy with loosening his hole gently, your other hand is busy caressing his back and sides. You rub your palm up and down, trace his spine and give the softer spot a little squeeze. All while your finger gives him the feeling of being full he so dearly craved. 

Yoongi feels in paradise. He likes when you are rough and you force the pleasure to the surface. But there is something insanely healing about being eased into it. You take time, take it slow, keep it gentle. Yoongi feels so cherished and safe when you give it to him slowly. 

And how much more intensely it builds up. The warmth goes so much deeper and feels so much hotter than if you did it fast.

It has been quiet for some time already until Yoongi breaks it with a whisper of your name. He sounds so out of breath and hazy.

"Yes, my love?" 

“Can you use a second finger?” 

“Of course”, you say and slip out to put more lube. You give his rim a little rub and slide back inside. Two fingers at a time, you go slow to prevent pain. The pain never comes, only warm tingles so, so deep inside him.

He groans, clenching around you needily. 

“So tight again”, you speak softly, pumping your digits in and out of him. You curl them each time they pass his prostate, sending electricity all through his body.

“Mhhm”, his voice shook as he made the sound. 

“More lube?” 

He shakes his head, “feels so good.” 

Your stomach tingles. He is so sexy when he talks like this. 

“Mhm”, you hum and lean down to kiss your way up along his back until you have his ear under your lips. You keep the rhythm of your fingers going, nibbling on his ear slowly. 

Yoongi sighs, chasing your kisses with shivers running down his back. They go straight to his prostate, allowing your fingers to feel so much better than they already. Which means a lot because he is genuinely so far gone in paradise. 

“You feel so good”, he sighs and follows it up with a deep, happy moan.

“Mhm, my good boy”, you praise him and sit back up so you could really concentrate on fingering him. 

The tranquillity returns. Slow and gentle, you fuck open his pretty hole. You watch every shift and change, take in how it hugs your digits and moves around them and caress his back as you do it. Truly, you could do this for hours. Tranquillity might have returned, but Yoongi is a lot noisier than he was before. 

He gasps and sighs. He lets out little moans and deep groans. He even purrs and whispers your name every now and then. You kiss his back or ear with every sound he makes, feeling so entirely high on this moment that you have to moan with him every now and then.

You are sitting, gazing at his loose hole when Yoongi speaks again. Or begs for that matter.

“Faster.”

“Faster. Like this?” you ask and speed up by curling your fingers against his prostate repeatedly. 

“Ye-yes. Holy fuck, urgh god”, he groans and lifts his hips off the pillow to press back on your fingers.

“Shit, is this doing it for you?” 

“Yeah, yah, y-yeahah.” 

“This is so hot. So fucking hot, oh god.” 

“___, please don’t stop aaah.” 

“I won’t, my love. Fuck, this is so hot”, you moan, switching between looking at his flushed hole and his scrunched face. 

It is buried halfway in the sheets, glowing in bliss. Strands of his hair are sticking to his forehead, his brows are furrowed tightly. His cheeks are so pink, his lips are as well. 

“You’re so handsome, it’s insane”, you croak and look at his butt.

He can’t stop fucking back onto your fingers in squirmy arches of his back. It must feel so good. You are hitting the right spot. The truly, perfect right spot. 

“I wanna make you feel so good, Yoongi love. Shit, wanna make you shake”, you confess and speed up, adding movement to the curls. You use your wrist for it. 

Yoongi’s moans grow in volume and in quantity. If he isn’t moaning, he is gasping and breathing out the neediest curses. 

“Holy fuck, it feels so good. What the fuck are you doing?” he chokes out as he tries and fails to get on his knees. His legs are shaking too much to hold his weight. He is destined to drop back into the pillow and use what little strength his hips offer to fuck back onto your fingers.

“What are you doing to me? Oh god”, he keens, shaking under you.

“Is it that good?” 

“Yeeeees”, he groans and grabs the sheets above his head to twist them desperately, “fuck ___, fuck holy fuck.”

“I’m going insane, you are so sexy”, you moan, staring at him with blown out pupils. His ass is so noisy all of a sudden. So wet and greedy. You need to give it to him harder and make the noises grow. 

And oh how they grow. He sounds so wet, matching the volume with loud moans and needy variations of the word “yes” and your name. Truly, two words are enough to drive you mad. 

“You’re taking me so well”, you try to praise him, but quite frankly you can barely get the words out. He is stealing your sanity by being such a handsome, perfect man for you.

“A-ah ah aha ha”, Yoongi moans loudly, arching his back repeatedly as you abuse his prostate in the most amazing ways. He is close. His stomach is so tight, his legs so weak and the fire between them is reaching unbearable levels. You worked him up and now the crescendo is close. Yoongi swears he might need to scream soon.

“Mhhm Yoongi, that’s it. That’s my kitten.”

He is so restless, so squirmy and shaky. It is turning you on like crazy. Your fingers are starting to get tired, but you don’t slow down. You want to give him the fingerfuck of the century. He deserves to feel amazing.

“I have to cum”, he moans, shaking like crazy, “ah ah”, he squeaks breathily, getting on his knees to fuck back. His legs tremble uncontrollably, but he preservers, arching his back oh so prettily. 

“You’re so sexy. You’re so fucking pretty.”

“I have to, to cu-cum. ___ ah”,

“I’m not slowing down baby, cum on my fingers. Go on, show me.”

Yoongi yelps up in pleasure, breaking apart on your skilled fingers. He is clenching and pulsating around you, burying his face in the mattress so he wouldn’t scream. His fingers are twisting the sheets, his body twitches repeatedly. He isn’t leaking from his cock, which means he is currently experiencing the best kind of orgasm ever. A prostate orgasm. So intense and deep inside and insanely addictive, that one is never enough. 

Yoongi drops into the sheets once the shaking finally subsides. He huffs out air repeatedly, writhing weakly. He is tensing around your fingers, fucking the pillow as he keeps chasing the warmth. Of course one isn’t enough. 

“More”, he begs, “more please.” 

“You’re driving me insane”, you croak, “god, my fingers are gonna cramp. Give me a second, yeah?” you say and pull out.

“Please back. More please, don’t stop. Back”, he begs desperately.

“I am. Feel it”, you say and drag the tip of the prostate vibrator over his hole, “do you know what this is?” 

“Yeah”, Yoongi exhales, feeling drowsy in excitement.

“Do you want it?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Here it comes”, you say and push it in easily. 

Yoongi purrs, pushing back onto it. Once it sits snug inside him, you turn it on with a press of the button, switching to his favourite setting instantly. You don’t want to make him wait, not when he is so beautifully lost in bliss. Tonight is about him and giving him as much pleasure as possible.

Yoongi turns into jelly instantly, melting into the pillow. He releases small moans and purrs, enjoying the intense vibrations with parted lips and closed eyes. His prostate is throbbing. No words will ever be able to describe how good the toy feels after such an intense high.

“Feels good?”

He nods his head vigorously. His cheeks are flushed, his pink lips so wet from his drool. 

“That’s good to hear”, you say and lay down beside him, running your hand up and down his back. You prop yourself up on your elbow and lean down to kiss whatever parts of his face are exposed.

Yoongi chases you with needy purrs and quick gasps. He spills tears, whimpering so heartbreakingly that you get worried.

You shoot up, cupping his cheek.

“What’s the matter? Does it hurt?”

Yoongi peels his eyes open, looking at you in devotion. He spills a few tears.

“I love you”, he chokes out.

“I love you too”, you whisper, “oh Yoongi, you are so full of love.” 

He whimpers and touches your hand. You hold it instantly, enjoying how he is squeezing you weakly.

“Am I yours?” he asks.

“You’re mine. So entirely mine”, you whisper, brushing his hair out of his sweaty forehead.

Yoongi rolls his eyes back and closes them, growing slack in blissed relief. He is yours. Entirely yours. This feels so good to hear.

He furrows his brows and moans. The reassurance makes the toy feel insanely good all of a sudden. Better than it already did. 

“Touch my cock, please”, he hears himself beg even though his brain currently can’t process anything other than the addicting pleasure deep inside him. 

“Of course, my love. My beautiful love”, you say and give his forehead a kiss for good measures before you shimmy down between his legs again. 

His cock lies perfectly so you can take it between your fingers and jerk it. You pick up some lube as well, spreading it all over his cock and balls.

The vibrator still purrs and pulsates inside him as you begin your cock massage. You go slow for now, paying attention to his balls as well. They are so big and hard already. You know he is going to cum so fucking messily once it’s time.

“Oh god”, Yoongi croaks and twists the sheets, curling his toes as well. His hips chase your hand, trembling weakly because the pleasure is making him so feeble. 

“Now I can feel you all up”, you say and run your hands all over his cock, “you’ve got the prettiest cock. Such a pretty cock.” 

“I can’t do this for long.”

“It’s okay. Tonight’s about you, my prince. Let go whenever you need to.”

Yoongi melts even deeper into the sheets. Yes, that’s possible. You are ruining him to the very core and it feels so good that Yoongi loves every fucking second of being so entirely weak. Your hand is moving exactly how he needs it to. There is pressure around his cock, your warmth is seeping deep into him and your skin is so incredibly soft. You touch him with love. Yoongi can feel it. This isn’t just a touch meant to make him climax, this is a touch placed with love and adoration and because he is important to you. 

Yoongi fears that he might black out once he has to orgasm. You have him so weak. 

“I have to- ah.” 

“It’s okay, my prince. Let go. Just let go”, you encourage him with your sparkling eyes glued to his cock. It is so pink and flushed, glistening prettily because you make him so, so wet. 

“___”, Yoongi moans your name, which makes the orgasm which follows even more intense. Your name means everything to him. Having it be the last thing he can form before his orgasm utterly ruins him, makes him feel actually fucking high. 

Guttural moans follow after your name, his body shakes so much. 

“That’s it. Give me everything. That’s my prince, you’re such a good boy. Give me everything”, you talk him through it, feeling dizzy at the view. He is shooting so much cum and doing it so aggressively at that, that it is covering all of your hands and most of the sheets between his legs.

“God baby, I’m milking you dry. You’re such a good prince, my love. Such a good pretty prince.”

“___ please don’t- ah! stop!”

“I’m not stopping, my love. I want everything of you, you’re such a good boy like this”, you speak softly while your hand pumps his throbbing cock quickly. You apply pressure whenever you reach his tip, squeezing ever single droplet of cum out of him this way.

“___ please, ___”, Yoongi moans into the sheets, shaking harder with every repetition of your name.

He won’t be able to go again after this one, you can already sense it. You are completely destroying him to his very core and he loves it. You love it too. You really, really fucking do.

“Good boy, that’s my good boy. Give me everything”, you moan, allowing him to truly release everything with just a squeeze of your fingers around his tip and a gentle fondle of his balls, “fuck look at you, that’s my prince, squirt for me. Fuuck.”

Yoongi is screaming. At least what he considers screaming. Fuck, it feels so much better than good. This is healing. He didn’t even know how much tension he had inside until you finally squeezed it out of him.

Yoongi doesn’t know how long his orgasm takes, but he knows that once it starts to die down, everything begins to hurt fast. He feels so drained and ruined and his nerves beg for a break.

“Stop”, he croaks weakly, tensing up in discomfort.

“Enough?”

He nods his head, fleeing your hand.

“Good boy, I’m already stopping”, you say and drop his cock to turn off the toy. You go to pull it out, but Yoongi stops it. 

“Leave it, please.” 

“Okay, I will”, you and bend down to kiss along his spine, “god Yoongi, you’re such a good boy. And you’re so handsome and pretty and beautiful. My love, my beautiful love”, you whisper as you worship his back with kisses and touches.

Yoongi melts into a puddle of safe relaxation. There is no better way to recover than being adored by you. You do it so honestly. He always feels so much because of it. 

Once you reach his face, you lie down on your side again, propping yourself up on your elbow. You run your fingers over his face and through his hair, tracing his ear as well. You want him to feel how much you adore him and that he can feel safe with you.

Yoongi enjoys your touches with closed eyes and soft purrs. He feels safe and adored. You are doing such a good job in showing it.

Like this, you and he share moments of tranquillity again where no words need to be exchanged because being with each other is already enough to understand everything. 

The tranquillity gets broken by Yoongi fluttering his eyes open. You smile at him instantly. 

“Thank you”, he whispers. 

“That was a hell of a massage wasn’t it?” 

He chuckles tiredly, nodding his head. If it was humanly possible, his pupils would be little hearts right now. But it isn’t possible and so he gazes at you as if you were his fucking everything (which you are).

“Mhm”, you peck his cheek, “I had so much fun. I love when you’re so relaxed and clearly enjoying it. I love your moans, my love.”

“I loved it a lot”, he says and closes his eyes again, “you’re perfect.”

“No, you are perfect, my love. Gosh, I could eat you”, you say and bite his cheek.

Yoongi chuckles as much as he whines, leaning into it.

“Heh”, you let out, “now lie still, I’m cleaning you up. You made such a mess”, you say as you sit up to start cleaning.

“It felt so good. I couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t apologise, my love. I told you, I’m obsessed with you when you’re being like this.”

“Mhm.”

“The sheets are gonna be so cold and wet tonight though. Oh god, I think we need to pay for deep cleaning.” 

“Afterwards. You’re gonna get them messy too.”

“Oh? Ohoho Yoongi, what do you mean?” you coo playfully as you squeeze his buttocks softly.

“You know what I mean.”

“Mhm, I do. I’m really excited for it.” 

“Mhm.”

“Wanna keep the toy still inside?” you ask as you run your hands up and down his messy inner thighs.

“Maybe a bit longer. Sorry, it’s so nice.” 

“Don’t apologise. You can keep it in for as long as you want to”, you say and lean down to bite his left buttocks.

Yoongi complains loudly, but soon breaks into happy giggles with you. The giggles will continue all throughout the cleaning where you and he can’t seem to stop joking around and will only slowly die down once you and he are cuddling because for some reason, Yoongi can’t stop making funny noises and cracking you up with them.

[0oolookitsme]

Daddy of Three

Type - A One Shot again!

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n

Word Count - 2.2k

Warnings - None that I can find! (other than the fact that this is pure smut ofc)

A/n - Lowkey hate the title (you will too when you find out the context) but I just hope you enjoy this hahah <3

Kinks - Daddy kink, Face Fucking, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Please rb to share!

Y/n was chopping up the vegetables she'd need for the meal she was going to cook tomorrow morning for Harry and Karan's lunch. Her eyes remained on her iPad's screen, on which she could see the page Carla was presenting in the meeting.

Clicking on the little mic icon by her knuckle, she unmuted herself. "Marla, don't you think that we should use red and yellow undertones? It's going to be a violent and a sad scene, I think it would work better," she said, not exactly agreeing with her idea of using green undertones.

"I agree," a few people wrote in the chat.

"But ma'am, we probably wouldn't have as much screen time for that scene. Plus, we have a scene inside the hotel's bathroom after that, which they tell us would give off green hues," Marla said, sliding photos till the bathroom set was on the screen.

Y/n hummed, laughing at how she'd absolutely forgotten about that. "Then I'd say that we do put green undertones but less. We need the switch between the scenes to be slightly puzzling – nothing like 'what the hell are they doing in the bathroom now' though," she said, making the other woman laugh and other people text the laughing emojis.

They agreed on trying the directory for the same the next day, and planned out a few more things before bidding goodbyes. Right at that time, Harry and Karan also got up from the couch as the show they were watching just ended.

"Are you done?" Harry asked her, walking behind Karan who seemed to be growing taller and taller everyday. It still mesmerized her, the resemblance between the two – same green eyes, same curly hair, same nose. Only his mouth matched with hers, other than that, he was a ditto copy of Harry.

"Yes," Y/n groaned while getting up, stretching the moment she was on her feet while taking a big yawn. "Not really, just a bit tired from all the screen time," she said when Harry asked her if she was feeling sleepy.

"Serve the dinner, will you? I just quickly need to wind my stuff up." She looked at Harry with pleading and slightly guilty eyes, kissing the corner of her mouth once he mumbled an 'of course.'

"Don't take too much time, though!" He yelled as she hurried up the stairs.

Karan climbed up in his chair on his own with a bit of struggle. He'd finally grown tall enough to be able to sit on the main dinner table, but still he needed a taller chair to sit on.

"Look at you going, already a big boy," Harry grinned at the little one, who was about to turn four this year. A breathy chuckle escaped his mouth when the boy's ears turned pink, he was born a shy persona but that never deterred him from speaking up when he wanted to.

Y/n watched from atop as Harry talked to Karan about the show they were just watching. It had shown some wild animals tonight, from what she could hear. She couldn't help but swoon a little bit on the inside as Karan climbed down the chair with a bit of grunting and helped Harry serve the table.

"Bring me a glass, please," Harry asked the kid just because he was eager to help. "Thank you," he appreciated him once the glass was on the table.

"Y/n –" Harry was about to call for her when he saw her watching him from the doorframe of their room. "C'mon, what are you waiting for?" He laughed, feeling a tad bit of shyness creep up on him when he realized that she'd been watching him.

They've known each other since childhood yet she still manages to turn his ears pink by just her gaze – it was yet another trait that Karan got from Harry.

"Could watch you be a baby daddy all day long. Just makes me feel so hot," she whispered in his ears, grinning when he slapped her bum sneakily.

"Did you tell daddy about the puzzle we solved today?" Y/n asked Karan and melted on the inside when his eyes lit up and he sat upright, suddenly excited and eager to tell Harry all about it.

And Karan's energized talking about the animals was how they spent their time eating dinner. Talking about Karan's puzzle, Harry's practice routine for the next day and Y/n's plans for visiting the set for a run-through were some add-ons in the talk here and there. Once they'd finished, Y/n took Karan up to his room to read him one of his nightly-stories, and lull him to sleep – it was Harry's turn to do the dishes tonight.

The toddler was extra tired today. He'd had football practice for a small upcoming match in his school, solved a lot of math problems and a whole puzzle in one day. So, it only took about four paragraphs of the story in the calming voice of his mother for him to pass out.

Y/n climbed down the stairs as silently as she could and pressed a feather-light kiss on Harry's neck, who didn't get scared in the slightest – probably because he heard her jam her toe in the leg of the dining table.

Harry hummed to acknowledge her presence, loading the last plate into the dishwasher. She stood back patiently, and once he was done, Harry turned around and leaned his bottom on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Then, y/n leaned in to press a chaste kiss onto his lips.

"Mm, someone's feeling needy," he smirked when she pulled back, pulling her in again by her waist when she nodded. "What do you need, love?" Harry asked her, pecking her lips again with a soft smile on his mouth.

"Need to taste you, daddy – been so long," she mumbled, slowly and slowly relaxing into his body.

He continued tracing the outline of her lips, "Is that so?" He asked again, and when she nodded he released her lower lip from under the weight of his thumb, watching it rise back to its place.

"Then we'll put that mouth of yours to a good use," he rasped, reaching for her mouth again as he slid one of his hands on the back of her head, pulling her hair back to give him space to litter her neck in kisses.

When her mouth met his skin, she left open-mouthed kisses on it and bit on a few spots before Harry started pushing her down on her knees. Once she was down, she pulled down his sweats on his command and watched as his cock stood up, already hard. She spit on her palm, lubricating his length as she stroked him.

"Hands behind your back," Harry told her, and started lowering her head on his length when she took him in his mouth. "Fuck," he breathed, watching her as he pushed her lower and lower on him slowly.

He cherished the feeling of her warm mouth on him, and when she reached his base, he let out a groan as the feeling of his tip touching the very back of her throat.

Y/n could taste his salty pre-cum that had started to leak from his slit. It would've been more convenient for her if she could've placed her hands on his thighs, but somehow, this position was only making her panties wetter.

When Harry asked her if she was ready to go, she quickly showed him a thumbs up before holding her wrist behind her back again.

Slowly and slowly, Harry started bringing her head back and forth by his grip on her hair. Her lips wrapped around him felt every vien as he brought her head up till his reddened tip. She managed to take a lick at his slit before he brought her down again, faster this time.

Now, her head was bobbing faster on his cock and with the way her saliva was starting to dribble down her chin, she could feel him pulsing in mouth as she hollowed out her cheeks when she hit the base.

She gagged a bit when Harry pushed in till the back of throat. And then, he quickened the pace.

He held her head in one place as she tried to swallow some of his arosual fucked into her mouth, the sounds of her gagging filling the kitchen. "Fuck- you're doing so well, darling," Harry moaned above her, creating a pace again – his eyes unable to move from the sight of strings of her saliva and his arousal moving with each bob of her head.

He fucked her mouth with a fast pace, his tips dragging along her tongue before hitting the back of her throat with each thrust. "Jesus- fuck," he choked, his hold on her head getting tighter as he began ruthlessly fucking into her mouth.

"Breath from your nose, baby," Harry told her, continuing to thrust his cock deep down her throat by now. She started gurgling on her own saliva and his precum, her arms starting to ache as tears leaked out of her eyes and she clenched around nothing, her pussy feeling like it were ready to be pounded.

"Oh lord," he grunted, slowing down his pace just when Y/n thought he was close to releasing down her throat, he brushed his hand through her hair.

Gradually, Harry pulled out of her mouth and just when she was beginning to think that something had gone wrong, Harry helped her get up on her legs.

She stumbled a bit, her legs a bit numb, and knees hurting because of the hard floor. She freed her arms then as well, holding onto his biceps as she balanced herself.

"Fuck you're such a wreck," Harry breathed, wiping away at her damp skin – not able to tell the difference between her tears and her sweat. "And because of me too," he chuckled, brushing her hair back as she caught up with her breath.

"C'mon, wanted to come down your throat, but I need something else more than that right now," Harry said as he picked her up bridal style in his arms, the veins in his biceps popping out.

"What is it?"

"Need to feel your pussy, darling."

When Harry dropped her on their bed, she immediately got up on her elbows, her knees touching but feet wide apart. "Fill me up, daddy? Want another baby," she whispered, looking at him through her lashes.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry groaned, climbing up on the bed while stroking himself. "Fucking hell – 'course I will," he told her as he sat back on his calves in front of her. "Gonna make me daddy of three, aren't you -- since you clear need one at all times, as well?" Harry teased her.

"Open your legs for me, wanna see ya." Y/n did as Harry told her and he swiped his middle finger through her folds, realizing that she was already soaking wet, ready to take him.

"Gonna give you all my babies, darling. Gonna fill you up to the brim and get you pregnant again," he rasped, lining himself against her hole, wetting his tip. "Fuckin' missed watching your belly swell up with a baby – my baby, " he said while watching himself disappear inside her pussy.

Beginning to thrust into her, Harry's hand came to knead one of her boobs. "Need to see you breastfeed a little one again – see those leaking nipples," he choked out, so turned on that he already felt close to climaxing.

"Gonna come for daddy, love?" Harry cooed at her, feeling her thighs begin to shake around his hips already. "Give it to y' husband."

Y/n lied there under him, shaking and moaning as the knot in her belly moved lower and lower. "Gonna cum- fuck –" she coughed, shaking harder as her skin felt like it was on fire when Harry started rubbing her clit.

"Come for Daddy, darling. Doing so good," Harry praised her, increasing his pace as he felt his own balls tighten. As he thumbed tighter and faster circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves, he felt her walls clenching around him.

"So good for me, so fuckin' good around me – fucking made for me," Harry grunted, feeling like he was going to combust.

"Co-coming daddy – O-Oh I'm cuming fuck-" Y/n stuttered, her back arching as Harry fucked into her pussy mercilessly. She could feel him pulsing inside her, and once he hit her g-spot again, she felt like she had been electricuted as she came on his cock.

Her cum went everywhere as Harry continued fucking into her, the bed creaking under his pace. "So good for daddy, look how much you came," he chuckled breathlessly, looking down where she had soaked him and the mattress, white strings of her cum sticking to his base.

Y/n intionally cleanched around him again, lying fucked out of her mind and breathless.

"Good girl- that's a good fucking girl," Harry cursed before he shot ropes of his cum deep in her pussy. Ramming into her pussy until she had milked him dry, he finally stopped when some of his cum started spilling out of her.

"Gonna fill you up again, make sure I put a baby in you," Harry told her as he wiped sweat off his forehead – grinning down at her when she hooked her arms under her knees, giving him full access to her pussy.

"Daddy's gonna give it to you good, sweet girl," Harry said gleefully, laughing when Y/n managed to swat at his chest.