#the light bulb because I don't even know what light bulb it uses :( and even then it might just give up entirely once the light bulb dies.

[faraway-sunshine]

We Interrupt This Blog To Show You Something Awesome

Omori has a Lego Ideas set! This awesomeness is brought to you by designer FoodIsScarce.

Under the cut, I'll be showing more images, explaining my thoughts, and give clarifications on how Lego Ideas works for this set. But if you want to skip that, link is here.

Lego Ideas Neighbor's Room and White Space Set Breakdown

To start off, this set has a whopping three components, all of which stand alone.

First, we have Neighbor's room!

The colors are honestly so nice in this mock-up. Lego has a fairly limited palette, but being bright and poppy works really well here.

Compared to the in-game room, it's pretty compact, but that makes sense so it doesn't dominate your shelves. Everything important is there, to outstanding detail. The leaves may ride up higher above the doorframe, but it doesn't break the immersion for me. It all feels like a piece of really nice fanart or even concept art.

The yellow cat is the centerpiece and I am very impressed with it. It isn't as stretched out as the original, though that's affected by the build size, but the shape of the paws, ears and head are spot-on and the face sticker really sells it.

Also, building the set sideways so it's smooth? Genius in my books. Sure, the minifigs won't stick, but all the smooth edges in this make the set stand out from Lego's lineup without seeming like a jarring oddity. Kind of like Omori's world compared to a bunch of other RPGs, really, so it's fitting.

I guess if I have a nitpick it'd be that the leaves are entirely different in vibe due to being all fluffy and rounded instead of the big sharp shapes in the original, but I don't think that's even really a bad thing. Just part of the Lego-ifying process. Also I groan at how I know I will place the cat's eyes wrong. Stickers are the bane of my existence. For Yellow Cat though, I would in theory persist.

Next, we have Mari's picnic blanket!

Gotta be honest, this caught me off guard, even as someone who was keeping track of this project for a while, but this is AWESOME. Colors are nailed, the existing basket and fruit pieces translate so well, and I just want to place all my fave figs on it immediately. I do hope that Mari's square could be subbed out with something with studs to keep her in place, as nothing else seems to be (maybe the basket has a 1 by 2 piece keeping it locked?).

I think it's an excellent choice even if it doesn't appear in either main room because you can plonk it by any other set or the huge pile of loose bricks you haven't gotten around to sorting yet and boom. You've just made a new corner of Headspace!

Last but certainly not least, White Space!

The computer and tissue box I think were really well done. Smooth place also tickles my fancy. I'm not as sold by the suspended light bulb; some white walls that maybe has a claw on the side would have helped sell the room more to me, I think. But it's solid.

And then you get to my favorite part in the room:

Original creator, you have my vote.

What about the minifigs?

This set still has you covered!

In this current iteration it includes six minifigs for your main characters as well as the cat and snake seen in earlier pictures. Everyone except Hero and Mari seem to be those shorter models, which always used to annoy me as a kid cause I couldn't bend the legs, but gets a pass here because remembering that height difference is nice.

The hair is a hot point of contest with the comments and Reddit posts. I'll explain more below, but Lego Ideas has rules about custom molds for new figures, so these were the closest the creator could get. And hey, I think Hero is spot on!

All the outfits and faces are custom prints, which are far easier than custom molds, and I think were done really well! Basil's top might be a bit bright, but otherwise the colors are perfect, and so is all the printing.

I also saw that Mari, Basil and Aubrey all had one extra face, which is rad. Not sure yet if Hero and Kel do too or if it's just the girls (I should assume Omori is just slate-faced as ever).

Just one more note: I love how spoiler-free this set is. You know everything in the first few moments of play. Our community is really bad with spoilers, I admit, so this is perfect for a shelf.

Here's some pics of them in action:

How does Lego Ideas even work? Is my vote worth it?

Short answer: Heck yeah!

Long answer:

Lego Ideas is a really popular program with a lot of new builds all the time, and people put a lot of work into both the models and promoting them just for the off-chance of it becoming a product.

I compiled some questions you might have based on this set specifically, but there's plenty of info yourself if you want to learn more.

How does a set get selected?

Lego Ideas has three intake periods a year for products that get over 10k signatures between the last period and that date. Each intake only has a select few that actually get to that mark; the record number in 2021 according to Wikipedia is 57 in one 2021 intake. It sounds like a lot, but in the site's 10-year run it's had over 135,000 ideas shared, not including a bunch that would have been struck down prior to going live due to breaking rules.

Each set gets 60 days to meet that goal on first launch, then an additional 365 once 100 people have signed on. Getting 1,000 supporters gives you an extra 6 months on top of that, and 5,000 (the halfway mark) another 6 months.

Meeting that 10k mark is non-negotiable for that specific set to receive the expert review through Ideas, though successful ideas that are lower may spark inspiration from their own teams.

Do I need to pledge money?

No! Lego Ideas is not a Kickstarter or crowdfund campaign. Those ask for money as they need a way to produce and distribute the product. Lego handles this on the creator's behalf.

All you need is to make a free Lego account and click the support button. You don't even have to enable email notifications on signup.

Where will I find the set then if it's made?

Anywhere else you find Lego! Even toyshops I go to have a small shelf for Ideas sets. If none of your local retailers have it, it'd be on online storefronts worldwide.

But Omori is a licensed product!

So are most of Lego Ideas' concepts that make it to becoming a set! Out of the 65 sets announced and confirmed for production (or who have already had their run!) just 29 are not tied to an IP.

So Omocat will be involved?

Yes. If the idea gets far enough, Lego would reach out to Omocat and any other copyright holders of Omori to discuss how to proceed. They will also get a say in any tweaks, and likely make a licensing fee off of Lego.

However, due to the Ideas streamline, the set likely won't be sold on Omocat's storefront (and if they are, it'd be because Omocat got a few sets to sell from them; they'll never be exclusive to Omocat's store).

Will the creator get paid?

If it makes it, yes! Lego Ideas people get a 1% cut. It's not much, but for all the work it gets to 10k I think it's earned.

But Omori isn't for kids!

Guess what: Neither are most Ideas! They're packed in black boxes and kept near the architecture and more advanced Technic sets targeted towards adults. Each set also has an age recommendation based both on set difficulty and the IP.

Is Omori even appropriate for Lego as a brand?

Omori is on the list of approved IP for Lego Ideas. This may be reviewed, but I think it will remain appropriate both because the set does not portray any of the concerning content in the game and because of the nature.

Lego says they won't make sets for franchises built around graphic violence, alcohol, or sex. Omori lacks all that. I doubt it would be yanked down based on that.

I don't care about Omori. Why should I support this?

First, why did you make it down here?

And second, look. I get it even as a fan. But if we can get an Omori set even to the review stage, that opens up the door for people to try with all other kinds of indie franchises. Undertale, Oneshot, Stardew Valley, Hollow Knight, whatever you think of!

Lego Ideas is a portal to Lego working with IP that isn't just owned by a mega corporation, and I think that is awesome.

I signed! What else can I do?

Spread the word! Reblog this post, tell your friends about it, repost (with links and credit) to other social media. Every little bit helps on the road to 10k, to catch Lego's attention, or even just to inspire someone else with a set idea they worry is too niche to share.

Cause this isn't just about Omori. It's about supporting the creativity of a dedicated fan who spent a long time working on something clearly inspired by a game held closely. And I am always going to support that.

Thank you for reading this far! If you're a regular, sorry for the break, lol. I will get back to regular posts soon. I just had an exam so am still a bit drained.

LINK IS HERE FOR A SECOND TIME: https://ideas.lego.com/projects/a73aaefc-9bc2-44f8-b106-63d66817fd1a/official_comments#content_nav_tabs

[kerosene-saint]

I just want to be a kid again this time with better coping skills, an autism diagnosis, and less pressure to be completely independent all the time

[massivementalitynut]

~In the dead of night~

Me: everything feels cosy in the late evening with my bedroom lamp :D

Bedroom Lamp:

Me :D... yeah I saw that and nope I am not sticking with that as my only light source when I'm the only human present *turns on closet light* This'll just have to do in the mean time ^-^;

[etheries1015]

We share the love language of biting. Now imagine TWST beatsfolk has that as an actual sign of courting. Like you're chilling with Leona, not dating or wooing him, and then you bite his cheek in affection. And all of Savanaclaw is shocked because among them, it's the same as i.e. proposing marriage. The utter chaos XD

OHH MY GOSSSHHH YOUR BRAIN >>> I LITERALLY LOVE THIS SO MUCH??? HAHAHA SODEFHSELKJD i'm gonna expand on that for a few characters...

Accidentally courting them

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader, not really proof read lol. Obvious Malleus and Lilia favoritism <3 I also decided that they ARE dating in this scenario, I think its cuter that way in my head heuheu

Featuring: Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Malleus, Lilia, ... and Rook HAHA.

TW: none! Just a bunch o' fluff of biting your non-human lover without realizing it was a sign of courtship <3

Leona

It was a typical day for Leona. You two were sitting in the lounge where most of the other students lingered, Leona becoming rather... possessive as of late. Instead of resting in his bedroom away from prying eyes as you had requested from your lover, he ignored all your feeble cries requesting privacy. Instead, he holds you in his lap without worrying what others are thinking. A form of showing others you were his, and his alone. You were conflicted in your feelings, staring at him. His eyes were closed, but he could feel your gaze burning into his head.

"How long are you-" Then it happened. You gave in. You gave his cheek a bit of a nibble. All of the sudden the chattering stopped, all eyes were on you, before they start patting Leonas back and giving him congrats while a few seemed to pull presents right out of their asses.

"Wha- what's going on?" Leona grumbled with a light blush before growling and pushing the face of someone who tried to hand him another gift.

"You all look like idiots! You know biting means something different to us. Don't be dumb." Okay, now you were extra confused. Seeing your utter ignorance, Leona sighed.

"Biting in our land is a sign of courtship, herbivore." ...Oh. You blush deeply and hide your face in his chest, Leona looking away flustered and ruffling your hair.

"Try again in a few years, and I just might bite you back."

Ruggie

You were walking down the halls with your boyfriend when suddenly you had the urge to just...bite him. an overwhelming sense of love and affection for the fact he had given you some of the bread he (probably legally) got ahold of. You smiled fondly at the bread and back at Ruggie before placing your mouth on the bulb of his shoulder, causing him to yelp in suprise and dropping his half of the bread.

"wha- huh?! What was that for?" He became flustered, bending over to pick up his bread and slowly move away from you with bright red cheeks. You furrowed your eyebrows and hugged yourself, almost embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I just...I dunno," Your cryptic and non specific response left him with his jaw open and eyes wide, spluttering out things like "We're still in school! I don't have the funds yet-" before a familiar fist came and knocked the back of Ruggies head. Leona stood there smiling in amusement and chuckling at you.

"I don't think they know what that means to us beastman, Ruggie." Even more confused then before, you asked for clarification.

"You just asked him to marry you with that bite of yours, herbivore." Now YOUR mouth was wide open, and Ruggie managed to get flee from the scene without much notice from you nor his senior.

Oh brother. You have a lot of communicating to do with that one.

Jack

You were sitting at the lunch table eating away at your food when you noticed...Jack's biceps. You marveled at the sight of his bulky arms- it's a wonder to you how he managed to become so strong and have the motivation to train all day. With a burst of admiration, instead of biting into your sandwich - you took a bite into his muscle. He yelped in suprise and just stared at you, face slowly turning red. Ace and Deuce laughed at his reaction, ready to ask you what was up before Jack took it upon himself to... well, flustered and rapidly spit-firing plans.

"W-we are still so young! Are you sure about this? I-i never knew our relationship was at this level!" He grabbed both of your hands and looked you in your (bewildered) eyes.

"If you're serious about this, I promise I will protect and love you for the rest of my life. But before we go ahead with the ceremony, I want you to meet my parents and get their blessings. Oh, and I need to get a stable job after we finish school first, too, so I can support you and our future. know we haven't talked about marriage before but-" You quickly cut him off in astonishment before crying out,

"MARRIAGE?! Jack, WHAT are you talking about?! I am absolutely not ready for marriage! What got into you?!"

...Queue Ruggie and Leona hysterically laughing at your utter confusion, reveling in the ignorance of it all for a few moments longer before explaining properly what you had just committed yourself unknowingly to.

Malleus

You were laying in the bed of Malleus Draconias's dorm, scrolling on your phone whilst his tail wrapped around your waist as he sat next to you reading a book. You sighed lightly and leaned your head back against the board of the mattress, turning slightly to look at your handsome fae lover. Your eyes then went down to his pale and perfect skin of his neck, the way it was free from all blemishes, smooth, and bright. Something about it made you want to taint it a light shade of red... He felt you shuffle slightly to adjust your body to be in just the right position where his neck was in full view. He glanced over to you feeling you wriggle free from his tails grasp, tilting his head seeing the look in your eyes crazed as you leaned over and just...chomped down on his collarbone.

You felt his tail twitch and his hands quickly throw the book he was reading aside to grasp your wrists, turning your body around and pinning you to the bed and carrassing your cheek with his tail.

"Biting..." He murmured, "Does this mean the same to humans as it does to Fae? You wish to be wed?" Your jaw dropped and cheeks took on a rosey hue, stuttering over yourself.

"W-wed?! I mean, I like to bite when I feel affectionate b-but marriage...I mean maybe one day b-but-"

"Biting in Fae culture is a sign of courtship and ownership. How brazen of you to mark me," he chuckled, "I shall take it you wish to own the next king of Briar Valley?" You could tell at this point Malleus was teasing you, something he picked up from the time you two have been dating.

Malleus could not help but return the favor by riddling your body with his own bite marks. Although he understood you perhaps did not have the intention of marrying him with your silly little form of affection, he knew in his mind with every bite that he was very serious about your future with him.

Lilia

Lilia already knew that biting in the human world did not mean marriage, yet was akin to something more of "cute aggression." So when you have the habit of biting him in the privacy of yours or his room, he knows you simply meant it as a form of affection, letting him know that you had an overwhelming sense of love for the old fae. He bit you back consistently on many occasions, it just seemed to be the perfect form of showing love for one another.

You didn't actually know it meant something much deeper, until you were in the diasomnia lounge and unable to control yourself as you grabbed Lilias hand and bit down gently on his wrist. You couldn't help it, he was being so entirely silly and loving towards you, that you couldn't help but show this public display of affection. Much to everyone else's dismay, however. Sebek stares at you with his mouth agape, sounds of disbelief escaping past his lips yet a sentence unable to form. Malleus as well seemed surprised at this.

"(y/n)," Malleus said, "You wish to marry Lilia?" You coughed at the sudden question and let out a feeble and awkward chuckle.

"I mean...I wouldn't mind one day, of course. We haven't really talked about it. Why the sudden question?"

"HOW DARE YOU," Sebek cried out after finally finding his words, "How dare you bite Lilia and be so insolent as to not move forward with your actions in dignity! YOU MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR PROPOSAL-" Lilia started snickering, cutting Sebek off with a wave of his hand.

"It's quite alright, Sebek. Biting means something much different to humans than Fae, I suppose this is the first you had seen us put on a show of affection, hence your confusion." He turned to you, who had furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips at Sebeks sudden outburst.

"Biting, my dear, is a form of courtship to us fae. It is a sign of ownership," He chuckled.

"Why didn't you tell me that?!" You exasperated, "I mean, it wouldn't have changed anything I have done, but I would have been more careful about it... especially if it means something more to you," Lilia gracefully explained he understood it meant something slightly different to humans, before gently grabbing your hand and raising it to his mouth.

"Well, now that you understand what it means," He put your ring finger into his mouth and took a bite at the base,

"Would you like to bite me once more, my dear?"

Bonus:

Rook

You bit his arm and he immediately was on one knee.

"Was that a proposal? You know mon cheri, biting one affectionately is often a declaration of courtship-" You hit the top of his head and walked away from your interesting boyfriend.

"You're not a beastman or a fae! I'm never biting you again!" Your face red and folding your arms, turning away (ah, his cute tsundere lover.)

Oh woe is Rook! He begs and begs you to bite him more, he wants to be covered in your marks. It means you were claiming him as your own, right? RIGHT??

~~~

This was so fun to write DFSEFDSFIHSLDKJF thank you for the brain rot heuheuheueheueh

Masterlist

[libraford]

Like... when I'm pointing out that a recipe image is AI, the purpose is not to shame them for posting AI, because even people who are familiar with the tells will sometimes fall for it.

I want you to have reasonable expectations about your food.

Because when I see this:

I remember this:

Which was a full decade prior to AI-based misinformation, and just how many people were pissed off that the Pinterest post misled them.

And even more-working in a craft store during the Pinterest heyday:

"We want to make this." Shows a picture of:

-a marimo moss ball terrarium in a light bulb.

-a resin-treated natural wooden shelf with glow in the dark resin in the cracks

-a really complex diorama made using museum grade resin and hand-painted figures by a miniatures artist

...to name a few.

"I'm sorry, but we do not carry (unfinished wood pieces, light reactive resin powders, live marimo moss balls, museum grade resin). Is there a tutorial attached with a materials list? No? I'm sorry, we don't have those. You can make something like this with what we have, but it won't turn out the same as in the photo. You want it exactly like the photo? I'm sorry, we can't special order these items, they're not featured on our list of vendors. I'm sorry, no, I don't know where to get them. Oh, you want me to walk you through the steps of making it since there's no tutorial? I can really only guess, but it looks like... oh, you want someone who knows for sure? I'm sorry, but no one here is terribly familiar with the process. You might see if you can reverse image search and find the source of the image. You say you want to speak to my manager? You say I'm being rude to you? You say I should be going out of my way to make you happy? You say you'll leave a 1 star review?..."

Etc.

If you ask a bartender to make you the 'celestial milkshake' and show them the photo, they are going to go through the same course that I just went through, but with mixology. They are going to explain that cotton candy dissolves when put in liquid, that edible glitter doesn't look like that, that the liquers listed in the recipe don't interact well, and that the image you have given them is essentially concept art by someone who has never even worn an apron.

Having reasonable expectations for your food is not by any means shaming you for falling for AI. It is saving you the embarrassment and them the frustration.

[aly4khq]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 - ✩✩✩

✩✩✩ - 𝓼𝔂𝓵𝓾𝓼

ꜱᴜᴍ: your little stalker crow overheard you talking about sex with him but it didn't go how you thought it would.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: edging, sex from behind, hair pulling, bondage, marking, pussy eating, crying, praise.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1k+, i think because i did the calculation and then forgot it all!!

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i can't believe that sylus has taken over my mind like this, but i will forever be a rafayel girlie 🤞🏾

"i promise you that it's never been hard to take dick, all you need is the strength, errr–technique!, the right man and the right puss, if you get me." you casually spoke to your friend as the two of you sat and ate your food in a restaurant, the atmosphere calming even thought the conversation was taking more of a deeper meaning — which all started with the question 'how do you take dick in such a small hole?'. the same question that you used to ask to your friends when you were a virgin, well, when you and sylus weren't together yet. but this conversation about sex in general only began when she had asked about how it was like dating the one and only Head of Onychinus, Mr Sylus himself. and probably how you survive being with a merciless, roughed-edged man.

"yeah but what if you aren't the problem?" she spoke like it was the most obvious question ever, your head tiring in response. urging her to continue, she complied, "what if you are all prepared and sexy and shit but the other one is..lacking horribly in that department. you do realise that we're talking about modern men here, not your love obsessed man you've gotten. i mean—" she rambled on, forgetting all about your food and her carbonara that sat untouched on the table near the window. the both of you enjoying your time and speaking to the other.

"yes but that's why you don't have sex on the same day you meet them you dumbass, you wait. if you want a little...pleasure or so, then i beg you just buy a massive dildo and firm it." she looked at you like there was the biggest disgusting deep secret that was suddenly displaced on your face, a deep frown as you sighed in response. "come on, boo. what do you want me to say to ease your worries?" your tone went from calming to worried, wanting to help your younger buddy with her poor scared self.

"um...this sounds so disgusting and weird but what was your first time like?" they bluntly asked, their eyes diverted from your figure to the table— the window— oh the table again. they were obviously nervous to begin with, not wanting to overstep boundaries but also just wanting some advice with someone they trust. "well..you know, my first time was with my current mannn—" "okay we get it, get to the point." you scoffed, kicking their ankle under the table as they hissed. their hand going to rub the poor slightly throbbing flesh that you currently assaulted. "pardon you? don't get bratty with me, missy."

"anyway, he was gentle with me. taking it slow and easy, but also testing my limits a little, trying to see how much i can really take but also trying to ease me into it-do you get what i'm saying?" they nodded, my hands rested under my chin as they listening intensely. you thought, a finger on your lip as you hummed. it was a comfortable silence until they spoke up, pretending to be annoyed. "do you guys rawdog each other so much you've forgotten? if he that obsessed?"

you let out a hearty chuckle, before trying to answer, only to be interrupted by them again. their scoffs of fake innocence but also curiosity filling the table. "what the best size for a dick?" as the silence grew, your finger went to your bottom lip that was jutting out, deep in thought. many many sounds going through your poor brain until you realised. your body slightly flinched, your hands dropping from your lips as your eyes widening. like a light bulb popping beside your head, the thought came into your mind. both of your eyes finally met, your playful gaze scaring everyone that sees.

"well, the best ones are ones that are thicker instead of longer, the longer it is the harder it is to take personally. i've never met someone with both though—" you were interrupted by your phone vibrating in your pocket, the familiar feeling instantly made you dig you hand in and check who was calling you at this time. oh, speaking of the devil, it was sylus. your finger pressed accept, before you put it on phone instead of speaker. you held the phone to your ear before pressing your ear and your shoulder together to continuing eating your food. your friend also continuing, eating her barely touched food.

"hello?—" "the best ones are thicker than longer huh?" you halted, your friend staring at you in confusion as you tried to come back to earth, the switches turning in your mind. after finally finding a way to speak, you let out a little nervous giggle, "well—um, i think it's true..?" his deep chuckle was enough to give you and idea of what's awaiting you. "come home. and quickly, sweetie." with the three buzz's, you realised that he was not gonna let you forget about this one. "...mephisto that silly silly bird..." you politely spoke to your friend, "hey sorry, sylus needs me at home, are you okay with me leaving now?" your friend was confused until a playful smile came onto their lips, "someone's gonna get dicked downnn." you slapped their shoulder roughly before calling a waiter to pack the food for you too.

once you both had split your ways and you were finally back in the comfort of his mansion, you walked through your bedroom door before instantly being retrained by the hands. a crimson and black misty string surrounding your wrists as a tough, firm arm came around your neck, holding your flesh gently. "thicker...is—" his grip tightened. "—better, but you've never met someone with both?" your own hands struggled against his evol, eyes shocked but it slowly changed to one's of playfulness. but he beat you to it, "why are you lying, kitten?" you let out a huff of brattiness, "well it's true, is it not? i'm not lying, basta—ARDD! sylus!" he flipped you over, shoving you onto the bed. your stomach on the edge of the mattress as you scoffed. "you!—" "i'll remind you of what it's like."

and thats how it started.

his hands pulled on the waistband of your skirt, the material was slowly ripped off of your body. the sounds of strings of fabric being pulled away from each other filling the room that was already stuffed with lust and anticipation. but that beautiful silky skirt cost you a good £10 in primark, "hey! that skirt cost me a good tener!" you complained, your head turning to stare at the drunk man behind you, his own glare was focused on your peachy butt admiring the shine from the moonlight before it shifted to your eyes. his glare alone makes your pussy clench, clench around absolutely nothing but air.

reluctantly, your head turned back around, resting the side of your head on the soft duvet below you as your arm stayed trapped behind your back. a deep sigh can from your mouth as you got comfortable, but not for long. you hissed, feeling the sharp sting of his fingernails digging into your skin. the amount of force being put into it was incredibly pleasurable. the pain nearly instantly turning into delight, shameless moan escaping your mouth. "uuhhh!...mhm..!" just then, his fingers ran over your skin that was dented with his marks, the feeling overwhelmingly ticklish. his fingers only giving you satisfactory and he has barely even undressed or touched you properly. you squirmed like crazy, twitching at every sensitive touch on your curves.

"ah! sylus!" you backed away, trying to escape the moment. his chuckles were annoyed, he was so annoying. his hands pushed you back onto the back by your thighs, his purlicue just lifting the gloves of your ass up to feel the softness of your skin. "jeez, take a picture it'll last longer—"

CLICK! you halted at the sound, it was normal for you to be photographed by him but what confused you was why the sound was on. "did you put the shutter sound on just for that?" you scoffed, trying to make him sound petty — which he is — before he latched his mouth onto your pussy just like that. "oh! wow- ah! there! right there..." he was ruthlessly sucking on your folds, your thighs clenching around his head tightly at the sensation. the feeling of his tongue sending shocks up your spine and straight to your pussy. but there was no point because he was already sucking your clit with precision and accuracy.

his tongue reaching far into your hole, swirling around making a mess with your folds. but he wasn't as gentle as he was with his hands, those fingers were just nicely caressing your thighs, running up and down your delicate skin with admiration. a few satisfied grunts coming from his mouth that was covering in your juices. "huuuh!— sy- right there! mhm!" your leg slowly rose from its position on the floor, you body backing up towards him as the feeling became overwhelming, his tongue always managed to make you squirm

his tongue reached deep into your hole, your body clenching around his own organ with sensitivity. "hahhh!" you could feel the tension in your tummy begin to rise, the feeling getting even harder to keep to yourself. yet you could barely even warn sylus. the coil snapped as your let yourself go on his tongue, delighted grunts leaving his mouth as he nodded. "that's some good fucking pussy, jeez sweets." his body lifted from his position of the floor to hover behind you.

the sounds of his belt clanking against the marble floor made you tense up, your thighs pressed together while your pussy clenched around nothing. you could just hear your man undressing, getting ready to take you nasty. but nothing could prepare you from the amount of restraints you were put in. his hands still kept a firm grasp on your already tied hands whilst his other hand went for your locks; pulling gently to hear your sounds. a deep sigh escaping your mouth as he slowly slid himself inside, making sure you feel every inch with precision. "come on," ",a little more." ",you can do way more than that baby." his sounds of praise weee enough for you to tell out his name. birds flapping away from the windowsill at the sound of your scream, sadly one of them being the poor crow that sylus possesses.

he gave you a good 1 minute to relax into his touch before he began moving...at a slow pace, his hands holding onto your wrists as he caressed the soft flesh of your arms and hands to give you some reassurance that you were doing good. "well done...well done baby." his pace only increased once he saw that you were starting to run away from the sheer force of his hips, even though he was going slow, his pelvis connected with the gloves of your ass with a harsh plap! and yes did he continue to torture you. your eyes producing tears as the pleasure and pain from his dick and his hand pulling of your hair, but you were soothed. "shh...shh...don't cry baby. just take it."

you began to squirm, your hips shaking as well as your back arcing and moving around from his body. a scoff echoed the room. "take it," his voice was harsh, the tone rushed yet also so precise with every single syllable. you moaned out loud with delight, feeling him so deep that your speech was nearly gone. his thrust went straight up to your lungs. "you said you've never—" thrust. "met someone—" thrust. "with a long and thick dick huh? huh?—" thrust.

"so take it, take both."

do not steal @aly4khq's work even tho they are trash!

date made: 8-10/9/24

i do not give permission to repost, claim as your own or copy elsewhere.

[donutz]

Hey!

So I have an idea for Sebs.. what if you did (assuming you do small fics or Headcannons) Sebs feeling really down for whatever reason (could be because of his past n how he got experimented on and stuff) and he could be having nightmares or stuff and g/n reader tries to comfort him??

Sebastian getting comforted headcanons

Sebastian's jumpy and outbursting behavior doesn't go uncomforted!

— Spooky Urbanshade nightmares😱😱 Also don't worry, I LOVE doing headcanons😛

Warnings: Nightmares; Outbursts; 'Bad' words☹️; Sebastian knows Reader, they are very acquainted with each other; Very big trust between Reader and Sebastian, like A LOT; This is like a mix of headcanons and a fic; Crying; Headcanons for Z-13 and Sebastian

Visiting Sebastian once again, you get greeted with silence. You stood up dusting off your knees.

“Uhh, you good”?

He snaps out of his thoughts, unnoticeably flinching. To other people it would be hard to notice, but you did. Your eyebrows rose at that.

 “Uhm yes— My name is Sebastian”.

“... Yea I know”.

Sebastian realizes that it was you! Not some other prisoner. Oops.

“O-Oh! It’s you”...

“Mhm”.

That encounter kind of put you on the edge. Being more aware of Sebastian, especially how he’s feeling. He was very jumpy. At times seeming even pissed that you came to see him.

Before the negative behavior, he cracked jokes every time he knew you were there. Sometimes even sending over flirty(sounding) comments.

He seems out of it.

The more times he visited, the more hints he gave you that something was going on. His stutters, him grabbing his clothing or hair, staring off into oblivion.

Maybe you should talk to him. Or get him to open up. Does he even trust you that much?

Talk to him.

TALK to him.

TALK TO HIM.

“Hey Sebastian”?

Again, snapping out of his daze, he sweeps away a part of his side bangs. His two upper hands cupping each other, sweating? His other hand gripped the bottom of his jacket.

“Uh— Yes”..?

.

.

.

“Are you okay”?

Sebastian’s right claw grips his left claw even harder. His right claw scratched the backside of his left, leaving beads of blood to slowly appear.

His body stiffs, biting his inner lip. Eyes widening. A light shiver.

Silence.

A scowl grows on his face, looking away from you.

“Yes I’m just fine”.

He looks down, noticing his bleeding left claw.

He blinks rapidly, physically taken aback by what he’d done to his hand. He coughs into his arm from shock. He didn’t even notice.

… Do you really affect him that much?

He’s used to feel hurt, pain. Not comfort.

He hasn’t felt that in a long time. Comfort. From a human.

Looking back at his hand, he shakes. Shaky gasps, a shaking body, and shocking thoughts.

Don’t shake. Not in front of a human.

Don’t—

Don’t do that.

Don’t say it.

“Actually I’m—” Sigh

…

“I’m not okay”.

Z-13

He’s very surprised and somewhat disappointed in himself that he could trust a human this much

It takes 5 minutes of sitting in silence for him to open up

Just a test… Yes just a test to see if you’ll stay

That you won’t leave.

…

When he starts to speak, it comes out shaky, as if he wants to cry, you’ll have to get him to REALLY open up if you want that

It’s hard to express your feelings, especially when you’re so traumatized

He wouldn’t initiate physical affection first, you’d have to

He doesn’t want to seem weak

Right?

Opening up, he talks about these nightmares, remembering the feeling of those experiments

The shots, not of anesthesia, of DNA.

He needed to be awake during it all.

He’s surprised he was even alive after.

The painful days of morphing, the extra eye, his bulb, it all hurt.

Okay okay I’ll try to tone it down.

Instead of crying(In front of you) he throws his head into his hands, his third arm resting on the connected piece of his tail and his torso

You can hear his little gasps, and eventually gently hold his claws, slowly separating them from his face

He’s still looking down

You look down too, seeing his tears laying on his scales.

Looking back at him, you reassure—

“You can cry in front of me Sebastian, it’s okay”.

Placing his claws on his tail, you open up your arms.

“You want a hug”?

He looks back up at you letting out a lightly audible gasp, quickly pulling you into a hug, his claws nearly the size of your torso

‘Oh wow’.

He crosses claws over, so his arms are right up against your back. With his head laying on your shoulder.

He didn’t even know he could cry anymore.

Or sweat.

… Maybe he’s still a human?

You hug him back of course, your arms going under his top ones, rubbing his back.

He wraps his tail around the both of you, pulling you closer, letting you feel his cold breath.

After a few minutes you slowly sit down, because of his weight and having to stand up.

Sebastian slowly lets go, catching you off guard.

“Oh you don’t have to let go! We can—”

“No it’s fine, I actually just don’t want a hug anymore”.

“Oh”

“And my back hurts so yeah”.

He continues to talk about the pain, trauma, with his hands rubbing against each other

His palms are sweaty, somehow

You notice the blood on the back of his hand, and act out while listening. You take a medkit you bought while nodding, saying that you’re hearing his words.

He pauses.

“You— You’re gonna—”

“Heal you? Yeah, I’m still listening though”.

He continues to speak, really hoping that you’re actually listening

By the end of ‘spilling out his feelings’, his hand is bandaged, twinning with his third arm

A weight is off his back and he feels relieved

He really appreciates your comforting words, even the ones that weren’t comfort and showing that you were listening

He thinks it’s a miracle that he could’ve ever met a human like you

You’re special in his eyes

He might tear up again, not full on cry, but just dripping tears down his face

You’ll probably both end up sleeping on top of each other, somehow your gear not detonating, maybe it’s because of that scrambler on his back

Sebastian Solace

You wake up in the middle of the night, seeing Sebastian right across you.

He’s sweating, a lot.

You raise an eyebrow, wondering how he’s so sweaty.

Sebastian wakes up abruptly from your light tap, using his arms to pick himself up, scaring the hell out of you.

“AH”!

You flinch, really hard. It’s silent until you break it.

“You good?” You laugh

After realizing that nothing is going on, he lets his face fall back into his pillow while his arms go limp.

“Yeah,” He groans

…

“No, not really”.

You manage to soften him up a bit, to where he’s sitting in your lap, taller or not he’s still sitting there(He's 5'10)

He rests his head on top of yours, sighing

“You wanna talk now”?

“... Yeah”.

He speaks his mind, talking about having these dreams of being experimented on

But in very vague detail, as if this has happened

Or going to happen.

“And it scares me.. W- What if it actually happens”?!

“If you got framed for murder then I would become your own personal lawyer”.

“I’M SERIOUS”!

“So am I. If it happens I will search for you until the end of time, Solace”.

He looks at you, backing up from you, adjusting himself so he could directly look at you

How did he get so lucky

He hugs you as you lightly rock him side to side

“... I’m not a baby y’know”.

“Yea but I would think you’d want to be babied, Sebastian”.

You felt him get physically hotter from that

After a good 5-10 minutes of rocking, you hear small snores, saying that he’s asleep

You also feel small wet spots on your shoulder, damn, this really affected him huh?

You both laid back down, moving onto your sides as he cuddles up into your chest

He’s never really done this before

On nights like this he feels pretty vulnerable, and would really appreciate being the small spoon

But will NOT tell anybody

Not like he could

Small circles being rubbed on his back, sweet words, a few kisses and you got him wrapped around your finger

He likes to listen to your heartbeat, it shows that you’re alive, and a person

He can be really soft

ONLY at home

Now his nightmares are like losing you or something

A nice shower the morning after would be nice

I’d like to think that Sebastian isn’t really 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, so he’s pretty chill and just hugging you from behind, his head on your shoulder

Of course, his lower half having some space from your bottom

“You want me to wash you too”? You joke

“... That wouldn’t be that bad actually." He 'jokes'.

He probably enjoys bath bombs, but doesn’t want to get in them

It might dye his weiner or something

He’d want to stay in bed the whole morning

By the way, Sebastian canonly has this big scar across his face, over his nose, just wanted to tell you

I hope I didn't make him seem like an uwu boi that needs protection☹️

[hoseoksluna]

TIME | knj

pairing: fiancé!namjoon x oc 

genre: smut

word count: 13.0k

summary: namjoon makes your dream come true in a much better way than you ever wanted.

pinterest board: divine | playlist: time | taglist: join

warnings: basic relationship fears, oc is heartbroken in the beginning, fight, minor violence, oc has daddy issues (like the writer), namjoon and oc smoke (like the writer as well <3), family sickness, punishment, spanking, choking, hair pulling, a mention of throat fucking and squirting, namjoon has an obsession with oc's boobies, dirty talk, use of a blindfold during intercourse, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms, raw sex, namjoon talks her through it, praise kink

note: i will cherish this work until the day i die. i will carry it in my heart and never, ever forget it. this might be my best piece and i don't think i'll ever write anything as good as this. i love namjoon with all my heart and i want to thank him for inspiring me to write this. if he weren't such an amazing person, such a dear person to me and if he never released cbtm, this work wouldn't be here and i wouldn't brim with so many warm emotions. i gotta tell you guys—while writing the smut, this was the first time i wasn't affected by it in a way that i normally am because i found so much beauty in their relationship. enjoy this, my loves. let me know what you think. i love you. <3

The orange light in the hotel room causes bile to rise in your throat. It exudes a zephyr of mockery, such profound air of scorn, and you feel it thumping upon its reflection on the bare skin of your arms. You want to pinch it—make it hurt somehow, cause it the same agony that’s poisoning your system through and through because in all truth, that’s all you’re left to do. 

The Eiffel tower out beyond your window, blanketed in a soft layer of snow, has begun to twinkle. The perception of how long you’ve waited for your fiancé to come back that even such a monumental structure, your dream, has descended to its sleep full of blinding light beckons gooseflesh to mar your skin and it doesn’t go away. Not when your sight blurs, unfocuses, and the stars that have latched themselves to the tower enlarge into bulbs with softened edges, a myriad of bokeh that seem to have a slither of pity for you, lessening their grandness as the falling snow thickens. Not when both of your waterlines become rivulets of tears that heat your cold cheeks, despite the burning bushes of fury that incinerate your lungs. 

Just one more hour and the twigs of flames will perforate the chambers of your heart and sweep it clean of any emotions, any feelings, any understanding for the man that took you to Paris and left you all alone in the hotel room he paid for. You thought he took you here to give you the experience of seeing something new as you’ve never been to Europe and you’ve shared with him on several occasions that it’s always been your dream to see the Eiffel tower. Especially at night when it glimmers with such pretty, pretty stars. But considering he brought you here under the pretense of doing business, you carry nothing but contempt for the strange iron structure. So much for dreaming, so much for putting trust in a man. 

There will always be the other woman. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the form of a female, of alcohol, of ignorance. In this case, the mistress is Namjoon’s company and you should’ve known you’ll have her haunting your back for the rest of the trajectory of your secret relationship with him, with Mr. President. 

You should’ve seen it coming the moment she created a realm for you to soften, privately, in and fall in love with him until your ears turned red, the petals of roses. A realm between an ordinary employee and her boss. Between the walls of unknowing people—the way he would lean in to hear you talk because in comparison to his large stature and broad proportions, made even more prominent by his short hair, you were a mere stone on the ground, an ametrine—split in half with a tendril of yellow—but a stone regardless, fearing the tip of his lacquered dress shoes stomping on you until you’re left crumbled in the dying grass, the jagged pieces of you consoled by the ruthless wind.

You were terribly afraid of him. Briefly, but ardently. A true personification of desire, whenever you had to look up into his eyes. Whenever a whiff of his oriental cologne tickled your nostrils. Whenever the allure of secrecy between you two heightened. All because he was a powerful man, on the cusp of saving you from the lowest of the dirt. Saving you and digging you back inside, left to your own decay. 

Left to. That’s the wisp of tendency in your relationship. The wisp of force that drove you to give your yes to him. The wisp of the engagement ring encased around the fourth finger on your left hand. Left to—because you’d been single for so long and your mother pined after grandchildren and Namjoon was there, a knight in shining armor, dressed in suit and tie underneath, at the very age and position to settle down. Left to—because the special attention he gave you grazed your fear of him, gently, and helped it blossom into a bush of hyacinths growing in your lungs.

It’s how you found out you were in a severe destitute of a fatherly figure in your life.

Because Namjoon paid your bills. Put food on your mother’s table. In the form of a generous paycheck, overtime pay—even though you always clocked out at five, and odd bonuses that rose in monetary value the more he spent time with you. You’ve told him to stop, asked for fairness among his employees, even though nobody liked you there and would do quite the opposite if they ever happened to be in your shoes. But Namjoon never agreed to your offer. No, he stroked your hair and told you to save that money for your mother. And because you never heard that come out of man’s mouth, you nodded, meekly. Listened. The fear of him stroking the violet petals of hyacinths in you because as of now, he owned you. Owned your life. Owned the comfort of your mother. 

All because you made the faux pas and took off your heels when you thought your presentation was done and nobody answered when you asked if anyone had any questions left. Except for that one employee who didn’t have, evidently, a sense of decency and suddenly remembered he had a groundbreaking question to ask you in regards to the matter of your presentation, when everyone else, including Namjoon, was gathering their possessions and rising to their feet. 

He had noticed your nylon-clad feet, your swollen little toes, the way you rolled the ball of your foot on the carpet to alleviate yourself of the pain. And he changed the decades-old policy of dress code the next day. Forbade all women to wear high heels. Flat shoes only—loafers, ballet shoes. Incorporated bonuses that appeared in their bank accounts that very day, demanding an instant payment. 

He paid for every woman’s shoes in his company, including you. 

You never had to go through the torment of wearing heels again, no matter how pretty they seemed to you.

And then it was easy—languid and smooth, the innocent eye contact from across the room, the constant attention, the brushing of hands when walking past each other. And then you ran into him everywhere. He was always alone, which caused you to suspect he was single, so you smiled a little more and found it the easiest thing in the world, conversing with him about everything and nothing. Put a lot more care into the clothes you wore and the daily choice of your perfumes. Not forcing yourself and not being in control of it at the same time, something in the very middle. Something so natural that allowed you to turn your brain off for a moment and let yourself be led by your instincts. 

Then, your mother got sick and you lost your smile. Spent all your free time with her, taking care of her and you never ran into Namjoon again. 

Which is why he began to call you into his office behind the pretense that he needs something from you. And perhaps he did. He needed to be a friend for you. And you needed it just the same. 

He helped you cope with the gravity of a burden regarding a sickly parent and you became his.

And you gave more of yourself to him with every fleeting touch, every secret invitation to his office in broad daylight when he had meetings to attend to but wanted to get to know you instead, get to know your dreams because he has the money and the power to make them come true. Tenderly, despite the potency, the violence of his instrument. And tenderly, he always treated you. Tenderly, he held you steady as you made it a regular thing between you and him to sit on his lap. Not straddling him, but sideways—like a little girl sitting on the lap of her father. Tenderly, he led you through new parts of your life with poetic advice and viewpoints, meeting you outside of work, intertwining his fingers with yours and reassuring you. And tenderly, he became the stable male figure you invariably needed and never knew you did. 

And tenderness is what you need right now. In this shadowed hotel room, with only your arms to wrap around your torso and a ring on your left fourth finger, a ghost of his presence, ever so lingering, but not quite here. And you clutch at your dress, scrape your fingernails along the side of your ribs, etching the words that he said to your slowly awakening form in the late afternoon before he left. 

“I won’t be long. I just have some business to attend to. I’ll be back in an hour.”

It has been more than an hour and you wonder if he’s going to miss the twinkling of the tower. It’s your first night here. You had dinner after you landed, napped, didn’t even walk around the poetry-woven city and Namjoon chose his work. You showered for him, wore the long black dress you saved up the little of your last two paychecks for and he’s not here to see it. 

You feel so betrayed. He found work in your spare time, the time saved only for you both, the time that should’ve been saved for the romance part of your relationship. All he knows is work and so do you—as the entirety of your hours spent together have been solely work-related. This vacation should have been anything but. 

You sigh, hand ready at the zipper at the back of your dress. Once he comes home, he’ll be tired. Too tired to take a walk and immerse himself in the European beauty, so you should save this dress for a better occasion, one which he’s present for. Whenever that is. If that ever comes, at all. 

The squeak of the zipper going down is interrupted when you hear the lock make a sing-song melody, a signal that someone is coming in. Your breath quivers. A twist of events you didn’t expect, but you don’t get your hopes up. You know your fiancé well enough not to expect him to be full of life and elation after a work meeting. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but you let it slide past every time, aware that if he didn’t work so hard, your mother wouldn’t have the comfort she has. And neither would you. 

That doesn’t mean you’ll let it slide past this time. Not when he reserved his special time for you, for you both. 

Namjoon emerges out of the soft-toned yellow hall with a hand behind his back. You rise from the bed, facing him. Notice his sagged, broad shoulders, the sweat that lines his forehead and the narrow thin line that his lips are pursed in. A petulant, gray aura swathes him, despite the vibrancy of the colors of the hotel room and when he comes in, it’s almost like he absorbs them. His brows quirk at the sight of you, nearly relieved to see you dressed and waiting for him, but that expression falters once he takes in the mirror of you. The same wrinkle on your forehead stamps itself onto his and the sag of his coat-clad shoulders deepens. He stops at the edge of the bed, in front of you. Remains silent. And when you give him a few more seconds to speak and he doesn’t, your fists clench at your sides, against the linen puffiness of your dress. 

“An hour, huh?” 

He sighs and lowers his gaze. But not onto the ground. No, he lowers it onto your dress, swallowing dryly at the accentuation of your waist and the bunched up fabric at the hips cascading down, clothing you in the prosaic night of Paris, not the poetic, not the lively. He missed it. 

“You look so beautiful in this dress,” Namjoon comments and you scoff. If that’s his way of apologizing for leaving you for almost four hours, you don’t really understand it. It merely adds fuel to the flames of the indignation underneath that fucking dress. 

“Do you know what time it is?” you bite, your fingers instinctively grabbing onto the fabric of your garment for some kind of stability as your blood boils. Abruptly, his eyes flick to the window and when you follow his gaze, you discover the tower dressed similarly as you. Shrouded, entirely, in the night, clouds drifting past in place of the twinkles. Your blood is scorching hot and even though you didn’t expect him to take you to it, your stomach still drops at the disappointment that you missed the thing you looked forward to for weeks, knowing it won’t be the same tomorrow or the day after that. Your eyes prick with tears and you hate them. Don’t want to cry. Don’t want to be a spoiled brat, in fact. Not when you grew up the way you did—dreamless, poor and independent. But you can’t stop the words from rushing out. “I can see you wearing that watch that costs more than the house I grew up in and I know your habit of checking the time often, so tell me. Why didn’t you text me? Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Why did you bring me here in the first place if you knew you had business?” 

Mouth ends rounding ever so slightly, at last he shows what he’s been hiding behind his back. A bouquet of fresh, violet chrysanthemums and baby’s breath of the same muted tones. A symbol of thoughtfulness and care. The oxymoron makes you seethe and you grit your teeth. 

“I ran around the city trying to find one flower shop that was still open. I bought the first flowers that reminded me of you.” He pushes them your way, trying to get you to take them and you do, the wrapper rustling as your hands touch and electricity zaps you. Damn it. “Purple, your favorite color.” 

The audacity this man has, walking over that one word of apology, avoiding it. He takes your anger to another level and the fact that it seems to be endless makes you even angrier. Enough to want to hit him with the flowers. 

And you do. 

The flowers hover in the air in slow motion before their petals scatter around his troubled shoulders and the ruffled bed, where you sat so restlessly. Namjoon raises his arms in defense and you don’t stop, not until he grabs your arms and stills you. 

He calls you by your name, his hold on you deathly, and he shakes you, just once, in effort to bring some sense into you. “Calm down.” 

The stems from the chrysanthemums lay crooked on the floor between your bare feet and his black dress shoes. Ruined, devastated. Just like your dream. Some snapped in half, never to be whole again. Just like your heart. 

“You think some flowers are gonna bring my dream back, huh?” you snap, raising your voice, quivering in his grasp. You push at his chest, trying to get out of his clutches, but to no avail. You remain firm and unmoving in his hold. He doesn’t even budge. And once again you feel like a stone—an amethyst this time. Bigger, stronger, yet it still pales in comparison to the mountain that Namjoon is. You give very little fuck about that, however. “You knew it was my dream to see the Eiffel Tower at night. You brought me here knowing that, so I’m asking you once again why. Why did you bring me here when you knew you weren’t gonna make that dream come true for me?” 

He sucks in a breath and it looks as though he’s hanging by the edge of his composure. A thick vein bulges on his forehead and he clenches his jaw, his mouth a small button on his face. Anger. A mirror of you. But it’s not directed towards you—not at all. 

Namjoon withdraws and steps away, taking off his coat and his jacket, slinging his outerwear onto the edge of the bed. And as you simmer in the middle of the tense silence, he casually rolls his sleeves upwards, focusing his gaze, momentarily, on the action before he bores it into yours. The other sleeve gets the same treatment meanwhile he keeps the boiling temperature of your fury at a fixed degree with that stare. You want to boil over and so does he, but he doesn’t let that happen. 

The tiniest wisp of lust curls in your bloodstream, steamed by the heat, creating something dangerous. Oh, he’s playing with fire and he shouldn’t. 

All forest fires end catastrophically. The ruined flowers are enough proof of that, and yet it’s just the beginning. 

Namjoon loosens his tie a little bit, tipping his chin, and you can’t help but to ogle the slender material, his long fingers as they hook over the knot and pull it down. They way he’s asserting his dominance—the way he’s making you wait, making you tremble all fucking over by the silence and the slowness of his motions, by his stance and the clenched jaw. You hate the way it’s working; hate, with all your crumbling, stony being the pressure of your craving to get on your knees. 

Your tremor causes your fallen strap to tickle your arm and it snaps you out of the indecent daze, head swiveling to it, hand fixing it right away. You tug your dress down so it doesn’t slip down again, your plunging sweetheart neckline exposing your full breasts. 

“Why don’t you ask me what the business was about?” Namjoon challenges and it causes your head to swivel back to him, facing him. He’s sunk his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants, anticipation and tension hanging heavily in the stuffed air. 

You raise your brows. Fuck if you care about it. “Do I look like I give a fuck? I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Namjoon drops his gaze onto the ground, the clench of his jaw tightening enough that a dimple appears on the side of his cheek. For some reason you can’t really explain it aches and you don’t want to look at him anymore. You edge around him, the soles of your feet stepping on the violet petals and when you’re side by side, he stops you with one hand. 

“You’re gonna want to hear this,” he murmurs, his hold on you softening once your movement is halted. 

You roll your eyes, untangling your arm from it. “Too bad I don’t.” 

Namjoon sighs, deeply. “I’m telling you this one last time. You’re gonna sit on this fucking bed like the nice girl I know you are and you’re gonna listen to me.” 

A pulse sneaks to your sensitive parts and you furrow your brows, not liking the words he chose, not liking the way they made you feel. A half of you is torn, though. A half of you forces your body to do as he says, liking it very much. Too fucking much. “You don’t get to talk to me like this. It’s unfair.” 

“Sit.” 

That half of you wins. That easily. 

You sit on the bed and cross your leg over the knee, obnoxiously dangling your shin back and forth. The hem of your dress flutters, gains momentum when Namjoon opens the balcony door, letting the winter air in. Then, he moves over to stand a foot away from you, the stems crunching beneath his feet, his hand fishing out his pack of cigarettes and pulling one out, popping it into his mouth. Yellow, almost brownish butt. Golden Marlboros. Typical. 

Your own parts in dismay. “You’re gonna set the fire alarm off.” 

“You’re gonna get rained on, then. Look pretty in that soaking dress with the petals and all.” He lights up his addiction and the flow of your fire changes its course. Burns differently now. Burns lustfully. “You think I didn’t tell them to turn it off when we arrived? You were too sleepy. Barely knew where we were.” 

Flying while drifting through dreamland does that to you. Why it is a surprise to you that Mr. President made such a demand is beyond you. What’s more, it annoys you. His power, his influence. While it once sparked fear, you’re glad it’s lukewarm to you now. 

Sucking deeply, he puffs out the smoke, its tendrils curling around his eyes that he narrows to protect them from the sting. Your fingers, instinctively, play with your engagement ring. You’ve always loved the way he smoked. Especially in his office. Especially the way it never smelled. His attention to detail, his thoughtfulness perpetually mesmerized you. You wonder where it’s gone at the cusp of the realization of your dream. 

“I fought tooth and nail to get a deal. To make a connection. For you.” 

You scowl at him, pull your wandering fingers away from your engagement ring. What the fuck does he mean by that? 

“For me?” 

“Yes, for you. For your mother.” 

You grip the edge of the mattress at the mention of your mother, left behind on her sick bed while you’re fussy about your mindless dream. A jolt of guilt runs down your body and your scowl smoothens. You don’t think the madness disappears from your eyes. Not entirely. 

“I risked having some very powerful people knowing about us because I wanted you to have a stable place here. There’s a five star hotel that has shares in Korea. I wanted to become their partner. Get you in there. Get you another source of income. Get you a house here. For your mother. For our children. Have you commute here whenever you’d like,” Namjoon breathes out, moving his busy hand with each word, the smoke clouding the air. He takes a drag, holding the cigarette. “Come to think of it, you’d get to see this.” He points behind himself at the Eiffel Tower with his thumb. “For a week straight if you’d like. Splurge on dresses, shoes and croissants and whatnot. Have not one care in the world. You make the call and we fly.” 

From Korea to Paris. Whenever you’d like. Namjoon is the CEO of a five star hotel he built with his own hands. You’re the marketing manager, but you oversee almost everything you find time for. From banquets to room beddings, only because you enjoy it. It’s the main reason why you’re so disliked. You’re favored. And if there’s conflict of interest, there’s only one person who wins in the eyes and the final say of the CEO.

Namjoon’s hidden thoughtfulness opens in the shadows of the room and you’re stupefied. 

He wanted to partner with another five star hotel in Paris. 

For you. For your mother. For your future. For your comfort. 

For your dream. 

For your children. 

Your mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. 

How would you possibly handle having your job times two? You already have enough on your plate. Have wished, multiple times, that there was more of you cloned, who could do each job that you have to do each day. Doing that twice would be difficult, agonizingly so, but knowing your own work ethic, you’d make it manageable. You’d make do. Not for yourself, per say—but for your mother and your future children. 

Your heart constricts. Constricts so tightly that you let out a pained breath, overcome by his plan for the future, by the actions he’s willing to do for it. By the very raw fact that he spent three hours trying to make that happen—make that come true for you. 

“Namjoon, I—”

“They said no, though. No matter how hard I pushed, no matter what I was willing to risk, to sacrifice. They said no. So I made a quick phone call and forbade them from ever entering our hotel.” 

Our hotel. 

You almost sob, touched by him, but a gust of the icy breath of winter seizes you and you visibly shudder. Namjoon takes a last drag of his addiction and, putting it out on the ashtray on the confined balcony, he closes its door. But the freshness grazes you still, grazes you with the allure of this too-good-to-be-true fantasy and while it feels nice momentarily—the futile, brand new dream—you settle on the contentment that it will never come true. 

And that’s okay. You were brought up having nothing. Having someone like Namjoon intertwined with your future doesn’t change it. You don’t need to have everything. It’s enough that you’re in Paris just for the prolonged weekend, even though you didn’t get to see the sparkling Eiffel Tower up close on your first night here. That was the only dream you ever had and you can die peacefully now. Knowing the reason behind his late arrival, it doesn’t disappoint you anymore that your dream was altered. As a matter of fact, you don’t consider it ruined any longer. Not when Namjoon tried his hardest to create a beautiful future for you and your closest. You regret being mad at him, regret hitting him with the flowers and you brim with the wish to gather them, fix them, and put the little what’s left of them in a vase. Cherish them like he cherishes you. Cherish him. 

Namjoon crouches at your feet, cradling your ankle. “Your mom would’ve had a house right next to ours. Our kids would visit her everyday and vice versa. The air would’ve done her good here. The change of scenery. It would’ve prolonged her life. She’d be happy.” 

You nod, believing him, your heart untouched by the weakening fire, tender, squeezing. A mist of liquid emotion pools at your eyes. “You spent three hours trying to make that become a reality.” 

It’s not a question, but rather an expression of your procession of his goodness. Of his selflessness. And all over again, you’re reminded of the way you grew close in your relation because of your poor mother, of the way you bonded. And in place of the fire, it’s love that blooms those hyacinths in your lungs back to life. 

Your mother would’ve loved Paris. Because you know how much she loved listening to you talk about your dream when she was healthy and you were a young schoolgirl, you’re certain she would’ve fallen in love with the stark difference that lines these history-wrought streets. 

Namjoon focuses his gaze on your bare foot, fondling his thumbs over your silky skin. Your declaration of his actions loosened the heft on his shoulders and he relaxes, leaning his temple against your knee, fleetingly. When he speaks, he looks up at you. A certain light, covered in pity, flickers in his eyes. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It just took that long and I had no idea. And when I checked the time once it was over, I googled when they turn off the lights. Knew I had some time to spare, so to fix my mistake for taking so long, I ran through these streets, trying to make it up to you. I thought I’d make it in time, but you let out your frustration on me, which is understandable. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to text you. I’m sorry.” 

The coolness of the growing flower buds in you fills you with such gentleness that it’s not relief that you feel upon hearing his explanation and apology. It’s love. A profound, sinking capacity of love for the man beneath you taking on the likeness of the stone that certain energies and events of life invariably minimalized you into. 

He’s the stone and you’re the mountain. 

And when you bolster his face in your hands, Namjoon releases a breath at the touch and you find that relief streaming in him, seeping color back into his cheeks. You’ll paint them redder. Feel obligated to do so. 

“I’m sorry for hitting you. You left me alone for so long and I had so many bad thoughts,” you say, internally cringing at your neediness and you would regret uttering your admission had he not rubbed your legs in such a reassuring manner that it revitalizes your body, guiding briskness into your veins. 

“I’m sorry that I missed it,” Namjoon says, subduedly, his hands warm like the fire that burned in you, giving you back your heat that you’re lacking. He kisses the top of your knee and your breath is but a vine of poison ivy inside your throat. Such tenderness, such healing gentleness, such pity that permeates your skin. He truly is regretful that he messed up and you want to weep. He doesn’t have to be, not anymore. “What kinda bad thoughts?” 

You feel your heart rotate on its axis and you stifle back your tears, taking a deep breath to be able to talk. “I thought you chose work over me. Thought your business had nothing to do with me. Thought you left me here all alone for selfish reasons.” 

Namjoon coos, a softened emotion screwing his face—eyes enlarging and a slight pout forming on his face. A leeway for your tears to spurt onto your cheeks, unabashedly, with nothing holding them back any longer. He cups your face, like you did, and he sweeps back that rivulet with his thumb. “I didn’t, baby. I didn’t. And I’m here. I’m here with you.” 

You nod and it’s all that you’re left to do because it’s the truth. He’s here. He’s come back. And he’s sorrowful that he let those thoughts plague your brain with such a small mistake. 

“Don’t go anywhere again,” you beg, hushedly, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry you worked so hard for nothing.” 

It’s the last straw for Namjoon because he straightens his form, guides you to stand up and he sets you down on his lap, pushing your legs onto the bed—holding you as if he were holding a child. 

And that’s precisely what you need at the moment. 

“It’s not over. Pick a place and we’ll go there. Start over. With you present this time. What are you dreaming of these days?” 

Your heart swells. Nothing has been flooding your dreamland as much as Paris was. Even that seemed unrealistic, let alone a much different place. It overcomes you and, peculiarly, stops you from crying. You feel like a spoiled girl getting what she wanted after she had a meltdown and, internally, you blame Namjoon for it. He spoils you. Exudes such overtones of fatherliness that makes a way for it to happen. Most naturally. 

“Paris has always been my dream. No other city,” you say and Namjoon clicks his tongue. A smile widens your mouth, liking the way he senses your custom of modesty, liking the way he dislikes it. You laugh, softly, through your nose. “I’ll think of something.” 

“That’s my nice girl.” 

Taken aback, you clutch the side of his neck. Namjoon is bathed in the orange light and it no longer causes bile to lodge in your esophagus. No, it sparks up something else. Something very rapid, spreading throughout your body. The energy shifts and it’s you who clicks their tongue. “What did I tell you about talking to me like that?” 

You move your hand to the middle of his throat, tightening your hold around his Adam’s apple, tipping his chin. Namjoon grins, hums, wraps his fingers around your wrist. 

“What did I tell you about choking me, hm?” 

A flashback flickers across your vision. One of the last time you were intimate in bed and he was rocking your shit in missionary, using your throat as a leverage. You mirrored him, as you usually do in these endeavors, and choked the air out of him, making him come prematurely. Namjoon scolded you until your ears turned red and refused to make you come. You had to bring yourself over that edge and you managed to squirt your love and your enjoyment of fucking with him all over his body. Namjoon made sure to feed you your elated essence, but he also made it very hard for you to swallow, telling you to hold it as he drilled your throat, making it trickle down the corners of your mouth. 

The memory effortlessly brings back the pulse in your sensitive parts and you begin to crave the repetition of that filthy rendezvous. Badly. 

And so you squeeze his throat. 

Namjoon squeaks your name. You laugh, ferally. 

That is until he pins you down. Hand on your throat this time, the other holding down both of your wrist, the petals sticking to the silk of his pants-clad knees on either side of you. You didn’t even catch the movement as he did it, his strength overbearing and so incomparable to yours. But you don’t feel like the amethyst. No, you feel like a mountain connected to another, to him. Two peaks staring at each other, grinning, your laughter unfaltering, even though it’s you who’s squeaking now. 

Elated, giddy, aroused, equal, your tears sunk deeply within your skin, giving life to your rhapsody, giving it the body it needs in order to come out. 

You love it when he’s like this. And you love that he’s come back to you. 

Of course you have the means to prolong it, to tease it out of him.

“I don’t really care when it turns me on this much,” you rasp, your smile glinting in the dimmed light, arching your back until your chest kisses his. Just once. “When it turns you on this much.” 

Truth, the epitome of pleasure. The corners of your mouth widen, all over again. 

You can’t help it. 

Namjoon cocks a brow, his mouth ends following the same directions, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. “Oh, so you don’t need to be reminded?” He mimics your intonation, angling his head.

You shake yours, eyes dipping to his clefts, teeth instinctively finding your bottom lip, biting down. You feel the heaviness of his stare and it urges you to bite down harder, the tension quickening your blood circulation. And it isn’t until you meet his adoring gaze that it stops, for a mere second, scattering tingles down every vein. And Namjoon resumes the flow by pressing a chaste kiss down onto your lips, lingering there. 

“I know you’re a nice girl and that you didn’t mean it, but I have to spank you for it, anyway. Do you understand?” He whispers against those pillows, each movement of his mouth brushing against yours, making you needy for more. 

You make a face. “But I did mean it. Meant it with everything in me.” 

Namjoon laughs, endearingly. “No, you didn’t, baby. Not when you know what I’m capable of doing to you. Or not doing to you.” 

You smirk, catching onto his game. He’ll disagree until you grow so frustrated that you burst, disobeying him to the point that he has to tame you. He wants to get you to the lowest point, because the lower you dig, the bigger treasure you find—the more you stimulate the brain, the chemistry, the bigger the pleasure. Namjoon is an intelligent man; knows what the fuck he’s doing and you’re so transfixed by it that you’ll let yourself be led into his little trap that he watches over. Just to please him because ultimately, you’ll be pleased beyond measure. 

You tip your chin and trace his lips with your own. “No, I did, because I love how whiny you get. Makes me wanna bruise my knees for you, take all of you down my throat until it hurts to speak.” 

Namjoon is so awestruck by your words that his mouth parts as he gawks down at you and he moans. There it is. That’s precisely what you wanted. 

“You know,” he starts, pausing to swallow. “I had different plans with you in terms of this. Good fucking plans. But you just ruined them.” 

The precipice of what that could be hangs over your clavicles and suddenly you brim with the need to know what it was. What his smart, business brain came up with. And not only that—you want it to happen, your curiosity piqued, blaming the choice of words he used, the work-tinged colors he splattered them with. 

“What plans?” 

He straightens, setting your hands free. “Take off your dress.” 

You’re taken aback. “Namjoon.” You stress his name. “What plans?” 

“No, I’m not telling you. You’re gonna take off this dress and you’re gonna take what I give you.” 

You frown. Your curiosity won’t let up. “Namjoon, please.” 

The pretty word curls his mouth. Perhaps, you’ve softened his stubbornness. You surely hope so, but to no avail. 

He gets on his feet and swivels you onto your stomach, fingers finding your zipper and dragging it down. Being manhandled like this causes butterflies to swarm not just in your tummy, but over your arms and legs as well, fluttering all over, making your head spin and again, you can’t help the smile blossoming. In the middle of winter, spring opens in you at the touch of his dominance. 

Spreading his hands over your back, sinking his warmth beneath the skin, he leans in, mouth at your ear. “What word do you use when you say please?” 

You know what he wants you to say, but, peculiarly, you’re in such a good mood that you crave to disobey. Just for the fun of it. Just for the pain of it. 

“Pretty please?” you chirp, pursing your lips to hide the slyness of your smile. Delighted, excited. 

Namjoon pulls your hair, causing your head to tip, harshly, pain shooting up your scalp. Your tongue runs over your bottom lip, moaning almost soundlessly, only to realize that he can see you. Your pleasure wasn’t private. Not at all. Never is when he’s involved. 

You flick your eyes up at him, meeting his darkened stare, and you flutter your lashes at him, playing the stupid girl when you’re well educated by him in reality. 

Maybe you do need to be reminded, after all. Again, for the fun of it. For the pain of it. 

To distract him from his failure. Help him forget. You know how it gets to him. Deem he deserves it; deem it’s a duty of your fiancée privileges. 

“Pretty please is an addition. Something to help me have a sliver of pity for you. You seem to have forgotten who I am to you.” 

Oh, he’s a myriad of things. 

Mountain. Stability. Dependability. A most grand picture of beauty. Of intelligence. The sun and the moon, his brain cells the planets in the universe. The second heart you’ve grown over the trajectory of your relationship. The pulse of your emotions, especially the one between your legs.

He’s everything in your life while you remain your own person.

And only Namjoon would have achieved something like that. 

“No, I haven’t. You’re my husband,” you say, allure dripping in your tone, wiggling your hips, causing the fabric of your dress to ripple over your bum. 

Namjoon coos, quite pleased with the title, and he pats your behind before he grabs you by your waist and pulls you to your feet—flush against his body and the rock solid situation in his pants. You sway your hips, the gasp that slips out of your mouth goes almost unnoticed by you as you’re entirely focused on his hardness. You look down to follow the movement of his hands like a cat. They drift upwards—from your ribs, over the swell of your breasts until his long fingers reach the straps of your dress and drag them down, exposing you, exposing your arousal evident on your stiffened nipples. You could blame the cool temperature hanging in the room for it, but both of you know that would be a lie. A fat lie that your husband doesn’t deserve, not when he’s so dominant, so strict and so fucking provocative, spreading tendrils of heated life in you with each subtle touch. 

Subtle? Oh, Namjoon gropes your tits, rolling your nubs between his slender fingers, softly moaning behind you. And then he pinches them, coaxing your squeaks out and you feel that familiar, wet warmth pooling in your core, mingling with the throbbing sensation that intoxicates you. Enough for you to clasp your hands over his and tighten his hold, squirming against him, loving—loving terribly the sparks of pleasure coursing down your figure. Loving the feeling of dampness against your panties that’s nothing but evidence of the way your body savors his special attention. 

“Husband, that’s right. Your fucking husband,” Namjoon murmurs, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, causing your head to knock back against his chest and make space for him, inviting him to continue—and he does. Places tiny little kisses down to your shoulder, where he licks the skin before he sucks it into his mouth. “But there’s something else you call me when I treat you this good. What is it? Think.” 

Those kisses and his command for the wheels in your mind to quicken alone make you give in, make you submit to his craving to call you by that filthy, rightful title. Even more so when he pinches your nipples again. You whine, feeling your neediness for more taking greater highs in your system, feeling your own body yearning to scream out that name. 

“Daddy,” you cry out, desperately, awfully. How well it fits him, how well he deserves to be called by something like that—how gratified you sense your body to be right now. No poetic string of verses could ever manage to do it justice. 

Namjoon hums, his pleasure deepening. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. I love it when you use that brain of yours.” 

You blush. A tableau unseen by Namjoon yet, for he busies himself with undressing you. Your garment gets plopped onto the mattress, your underwear along with it. A silky strip that hardly covers anything. You’re bare while he remains fully dressed and something about that turns you wild. The silkiness of his slacks, the cotton of his white shirt against your skin—such softness, such balminess, such caress for the undomesticated freedom that you profoundly feel within. You sigh at the sensation, your lingering curiosity bubbling in you, slowly rising to the tip of your tongue. 

“Will you tell me now? What you planned?” 

Namjoon chuckles, humorlessly. “You think you’ve earned it? No, baby.” He runs his hand down your ribs and your tummy, halting at your mound. His middle finger can nearly reach your swollenness and you quiver in response. “You’ve got spanks to take first. Maybe then I’ll tell you.” 

You whine, softly, and Namjoon grabs your chin and turns your head so you can look at him. A mad, mad smile adorns his shadowed, taut face and you realize there’s pent-up frustration still swirling in him. One you will do anything to help him steam off. 

Anything. 

Anything for your husband. 

And so, by your own whim, you lay down onto the bed, anticipating the pleasure of pain. Namjoon lets out a sound of approval and you sense the vibrations of his nearness as he props a knee on the bedding, flattening down a violet petal. He fixes your position, lifts your bum in the air, and he kisses your bare cheek with all the world’s affection, sucking the skin, nibbling on it before smoothing the pain with a swipe of his tongue. 

“You’re my nice girl, aren’t you?” Namjoon questions and you nod, but that’s not good enough of an answer for him. He spanks you, harshly, coaxing a hiss out of you before the pleasure draws in and you let out a breath, turning your head, so you can have a perfect view of him. Namjoon gives you another chance to fix your mistake. “Aren’t you?”

Licking your lips, you make it your focal point to be good for him. “I’m your nice girl.” 

Humming, he caresses your back to praise you. Spanks you with the same tenderness, rubbing the flesh to alleviate the faint sting. The love you carry for him grows with each brush of his calloused hand and you stifle back your needy sounds, your little whines and sobs of a small girl very seldom loved by an even smaller number of male figures in her life. 

Most strangely, it heightens the experience. 

“You’re my wife, aren’t you?” Namjoon purrs, his fingers sneaking to the place that yearns for him more than anywhere else, finding you bedewed, dripping as he rubs your folds—just touching you there without giving you any friction. 

The touch is so nice that you can’t help but mewl most happily. 

“Yes, I’m your wife, Daddy.” 

Namjoon moans, the pads of his fingers sneaking over to your clit and stroking it. You arch your back, your noises rising in volume—the wetness, the pleasure in tandem. Your body begins to shudder in reaction, mimicking his motions, the pressure coiling in the lowest of your tummy. 

“Good, good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re my good little wife, but you were bad, weren’t you? You were a bad little wife?” 

He quickens his speed, testing your focus and your mind spins again as the pressure deepens. From his words, from the very gravity of the title ‘wife’, from the very pleasure stemming from the principle of being bad, and you stutter a few times before you’re able to get out the full sentence in a perfect flow. 

“I was your bad little wife.” 

Namjoon growls, liking it just the same. “And what did you do?” 

He slows down, stalling your climax, keeping you halfway from the edge, right where he wants—the pressure of his touch light and gentle. Letting you work your brain. 

You smile up at him, from the clouds of shadows and petals you’re surrounded by. Namjoon deepens the eye contact, returning the smile. Your heart thuds in your chest. 

“I choked you.” 

Clefts of dimples—you, yourself, choke out a breath. Another one, too, when Namjoon spanks you hard, his fingers wet and sticky on your skin, the pain tingling all over your body, beckoning out more of your slick for him. 

“That’s right, you choked me, even though I punished you for it quite severely the last time,” he rasps and spanks you again, again and again. You hiss and flatten your lips to stifle it back, grasping the bed sheets to overcome that burn—and overcome your craving for more. 

You’re at a crossroad. You find yourself wanting to be bad in order to get spanked again, but at the same time you want to be good, so he tells you what he planned for you. Your fucked out brain can’t decide which side is better, but when Namjoon spanks you again—he reminds you that it doesn’t matter at all. You’re getting punished either way while the goal is to tell you. 

Such a good, intelligent husband. And you tell him. 

“You’re so good to me, baby,” you whisper, your knuckles white as you’re grasping the sheets with all your might. “I’m sorry for being bad. I’m sorry for choking you, but I love it when you spank me.” 

Namjoon chuckles, warmly, spanking your clit once in affection, drawing out your squeaks. 

Truth, the epitome of pleasure. All over again. 

Close to your ear now, he kisses your cheek, his body heat enveloping you in an embrace. “My naughty little wifey loves it when Daddy punishes her. Loves to do the bad things Daddy doesn’t like just so he spanks her. That’s it, isn’t it?” 

You moan out, puckering your lips against the sheets and Namjoon half-kisses your pout, humming against you. He lifts you up onto your knees with your torso upright and he cradles your face. Waits for your answer. 

You’re more than happy to douse yourself in that truth. 

“Yeah, I love it. I love being bad for you.” 

He descends one hand to your bum while the other wraps around your waist and pulls you flush to the hardness of his body. And as he expresses to you how much he liked your words with guttural moans, he spanks you. Again and again, your head tipped back, eyes wandering in the darkened maze of his, where you lose count of how many you’ve taken. 

“But you do realize that’s a big no-no, don’t you?” 

You nod. “I do, Daddy.” 

A hum. “Will you do it again?” 

You whisk your irises up, thinking about it while already knowing the answer in your heart. “Probably.” 

Namjoon laughs and kisses you, feverishly. Moves his mouth against yours, parts it, so he can slip his tongue inside. Plays a game of chase while both of your noises and his interlock and create a music that echoes around the hotel room. He adds a high-pitched tone into the song, yours, as he spanks you again, playfully this time, grabbing the flesh of your bum with both of his hands now, kneading it, drawing it closer until you feel his aroused length against your tummy. 

Moans, squeaks, skin slapping and lip smacking. A song of beauty that will resonate within your body, mind and soul for days to come. 

And another thing. 

“God, I love you so much,” Namjoon whispers, bringing his hands to your ribs until his thumbs brush across your nipples. 

That, too, will ring in your veins. 

You melt. Become nothing but liquid devotion in his hands. And as he begins to focus on your neck, you roll your eyes back and resound your love back to him. 

“I love you, Namjoon.” 

He sighs against your collarbone, mutedly. “You love me?” 

You sink your fingers into his short hair, kissing his temple. “I love you so fucking much.” 

When he emerges with puffy, reddened lips, you can see it on his face that he did it again. Made you say the words he wanted to hear. And so you say it again, again and again. Each time with more intensity, with more verve, embedding it into his lips, his cheeks, jawline, his chin and his neck. All skin you can reach until you stumble upon the cotton of his shirt, at which you frown. 

“Take this off. Now.” 

And he listens. Loosens his tie, places it upon the petals on the bedding. Begins to unbutton his shirt. All while staring you down. And all you can do is watch him in awe, licking your lips, hungry for him, hungry for the intelligent plan he’s keeping from you. 

Once he bends at the waist to get his arms out of the sleeves, you press on the matter. 

“Tell me,” you say, softly, despite the tension of your curiosity. “Tell me what you planned.” 

Namjoon tilts his head and light flickers across his eyes, fires of stars—the ones that twinkled on the Eiffel Tower before his arrival. You spent your entire life dreaming about seeing it when it stands right in front of you, half naked. Has been standing before your eyes for years. 

Your mouth parts at the tenderness of it all and emotion bubbles within you. 

Sizzles, ferociously, when Namjoon reveals his secret. 

“Speeding down the road to this hotel, I saw it before my eyes. What I was going to do to you,” he starts, unbuckling his belt and sliding it off the loops. Your heart thumps, violently, against your ribcage, longing to jump onto his big palms. He pauses his motions to concentrate on his words. “I was going to apologize. Tell you what happened. And then I was going to make it up to you. Undress you, keep only the shoes on you were going to wear.” He looks over to the side, where your black YSL heels have been waiting for hours to be worn. Before he even asks if those were the ones, you nod your head and Namjoon fetches them and puts them on your feet. “I was going to have these digging into my back while I ate you out. While I would transfer us to the park before the Eiffel Tower with my words.” Securing the straps, he straightens, knees on either side of yours, and grabs his tie, smoothing it out with his thumbs. “I was going to blindfold you. Make you imagine you were there with me. No one else but us. On a blanket. Describe to you in great detail what we were doing as I’d be balls deep in you. Here but there at the same time.” 

Your throat dries as you take in his words and there’s only a few words you’re capable of saying. Your eyes flick to the tie, then back up to his dark chocolate irises, wet with a glint of deep arousal, one that you feel pulsing in you just as well. You hook your arms on his hips and nod at the slender fabric in his grasp.

A man of the world’s intelligence. How attractive, how alluring. Your shadowed cloud swathes you tighter and you spill with the need to be fucked. Fucked with that smartness. That capability. All wrapped around that big cock of his. 

You need it. Won’t live if he doesn’t ruin you with it. 

“Do it,” you choke out, swallowing with great difficulty. “Please.” 

Fingers curling around his belt loops, it doesn’t go unnoticed the way his manhood twitches in the tight confines of his slacks and the sound you let out at the sight would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so endeared by it, caressing your face with his thumb, lifting it so you pay attention to what he wants to say to you. 

“Are you comfortable with me blindfolding you? We’ve never done that before.” 

Even though your trust wavered merely an hour ago, it happened so it would get strengthened at this very moment. You don’t detect any no’s echoing within you, any worries or fears, anything that would cause you to stand in the way of this endeavor unfolding. It excites you, the newness, the principle of placing not just your trust, but your control, your senses and your safety in his hands. Allowing him to proceed with his would solely mean that you deepen what you already practice in your sex life, take it to another level. And these things are of great importance to Namjoon. He never disappointed you—never failed, never missed. 

He takes care of you. Through and through. From the beginning to the end. Until you close your eyes, only to take it from the top the following morning. 

Your trust in terms of that could never waver. It’s impossible. It’s so strong, so held steadily that it would never come across your mind, even. 

And so you give him your consent. 

“Yes, I am. I’m excited to do this. I want this.” 

Namjoon strokes your hair, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “All right, my love, but remember that we can stop anytime. I’ll take it off as soon as you say the word. Tell me you understand.” 

And along with your consent, you give him a big smile. “I understand, baby.” 

He kisses you, stealing a thousand tiny kisses more in the same lip lock. “That’s a good girl. So smart. Are you thirsty?” 

You fold your hands on your lap and nod your head. The tie slung over his broad shoulder, Namjoon walks over to the mini bar, fishes out a bottle of ice cold water and opens it for you, tipping it to your mouth, encouraging you to drink.

The coldness streaming down your stomach only enlivens your arousal and it seems as though the matter is naked to the eye as Namjoon bites his lip at the sight of you, screwing the bottle shut and placing it on the bedside table. You tug at the tie, your eyes crinkling as your smile simply can’t leave your mouth alone and Namjoon hums out a laugh at your excitement. 

“Ready?” 

Your whole figure is fluttering, of course you’re ready—and you tell him. “Born ready.” 

It prolongs his expression of lighthearted endearment. “Good. Remember to stop me when it gets too much. Close your eyes.” Obeying, the softness of the silk grazes, fondly, your eyelids as pitch-blackness encompasses you. Namjoon ties the thick wisp at the back of your head, careful not to intermingle any strands of your hair into the knot, attentive enough not to pull it too tight and not too loose either, causing you to ache for him so badly that you almost want to scream. “How does it feel?” 

Uncanny. You hear his voice and, peculiarly, it’s louder in your ears, although he’s speaking in the same volume as he was before he blindfolded you. You sense something missing from you—and it’s a feeling that you detect in the pit of your stomach and at the ends of your abruptly numb fingertips. 

You clench those digits, but the sensation remains. It is only when you raise them and bump into the sturdiness of his chest that you perceive what it truly is. 

Groundedness is what you’re missing. 

The softness of his skin brings back a sense of realness back to you. When you drift your palms up to his shoulders and hold onto them, you feel real; you feel like a person that has limbs, that has someone right there with them to look out for them because aloneness is what comes with the darkness of the sight and that is absolutely terrifying. 

You cling to his neck, causing him to stumble into you, and you sigh in relief at the feeling of his weight. He goes to lift himself up, but you stop him—tightening your headlock, pressing the side of your face against his, eating that realness as you trace your lips against his cheek, run your hand across the back of his head. 

He’s here with you and he’s not going anywhere. With that stability, you can walk further in this rendezvous because you’re not alone at all, despite the fact it’s what your eyesight is telling you. 

“It feels really strange. I need you close. I need to feel you. To know I’m not by myself,” you whisper, sensing your chest to become lighter once the truth is out. Your naivety and excitement didn’t expect this to happen, but you’re comfortable with trying this out and feel where it takes you.

“Do you want to stop?” Namjoon asks and you can identify where he roots that question on your body. Right there upon your left collarbone, where his breath seems warmer than ever before and where he begins to scatter tiny kisses. 

That thrills you—the identification of where he is, the loudness of his voice, the depth of his touch and the unusually scorching body heat he radiates as all of your other senses are heightened and you want more of it. You crave to know what it would feel like to have his tongue on your sensitive parts like this. What it would feel like to have him drilling you. 

That alone makes you shiver with something beyond excitement. With something feral and undomesticated, again. 

Another thing for him to tame. 

Your body sings to him. To the stars. To the tower. And Namjoon can hear it, incorporating his tongue into his not so chaste kisses in response. 

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want you to keep going,” you say at last, caressing the wholeness of his back, reveling in the discovery of his muscles, his shoulder blades. It feels so new, so different. You quake all over. 

Namjoon pulls himself upwards, nudges his nose against yours and you smile. “Okay, baby. I’m right here.” He kisses both of your eyelids, the right one first before the left one. You feel at one with your heart as it palpitates; feel as though you were inside your body. “Fuck, your eyelashes are so long that I can see them curled around the tie. You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

You blush, the heat of your cheeks akin to a blanket pulled to your nose. Such coziness. You hum and try to find his lips, but he’s out of reach. You crane your neck until it hurts, giving up with a huff. 

“God, don’t do that to me. That was so cute,” Namjoon husks and moans when you pull him down and kiss him at last. 

It’s at this moment that you thank the God that he mentioned for writing into the Book of Life that Namjoon was to be late and miss your dream because this kiss does more than make up for it. This kiss creates new dreams that begin to swirl within you. Dreams of the Mediterranean sea, the sand and sun rays so hot that they bronze your skin. Dreams of sultry nights, black dresses and flats for all the roads you shall walk upon while following the starlight, hand in hand with Namjoon dressed in linen of the same color. 

Dreams of Asia, but not where you first opened your eyes in as a newborn. The western side of Asia, the one you’ve never seen and never dreamed of until now. 

Your heart enlarges and you overspill with so many emotions that they trickle out of your hidden tear ducts. Newness, possibilities—for both you and Namjoon, but mainly for him. For his happiness. 

He calls your name, fearfully, but you shake your head. “What’s wrong?” 

You feel his fingers sneaking over to the knot of the tie, but you stop him. “I know where we’re going next time.” 

His breath of relief becomes the new cloud you rest upon. “You scared me. Don’t cry, baby.” 

You fondle his wrist. “Namjoon, we’re going to Turkey.” 

Silence. Then, a kiss. “Is that where you want to go?” 

A nod. That’s where your soul will escape to once you lay down to sleep. “That’s the place I’m dreaming of.” 

A kiss on your neck. A hum. “Then, that’s where we’ll go.” A stripe of his tongue down to your collarbones—you feel your slick drip down onto the bedding. “Do you remember where we are right now?” 

An inhale of breath. “Paris.” 

Namjoon sucks the supple skin above your nipple. “That’s right. We’re at the park in front of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of summer. You’re sat on my lap like this.” He manhandles you to the position he describes and you gasp, not expecting it. “My back is facing it while you have a perfect view of the twinkling lights. Can you see them?” If your memory serves you well, he’s painting a picture of reality as well and you’re so touched by it that another, secret tear rolls down your cheek. 

“Yes, they’re shining so brightly. They’re so pretty, too. You’re making my dream come true. Thank you.” 

Wetness against your sternum. Namjoon must be crying as well and the realization makes you sob. Makes you find his lips again and kiss him. 

“I love you,” Namjoon croaks out and you break, holding onto him so tightly that you clench all of your muscles. 

“I love you, Namjoon.” 

A final kiss before the continuation of his depiction of the dream. 

“Nobody is around. They’ve all gone to sleep. It’s just us, the Tower and the moon. You’re so beautiful, so lost in the pleasure as I’m kissing you like this.” He shows you by resuming leaving kisses along your breasts. “And when I do this—” He licks over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. You whimper, flexing your eyelids at the sensation swarming in your core. “You make pretty sounds just like that, but I tell you to be quiet. We don’t wanna wake up those people and ruin the fun. And you’re so good that you listen, taking the pleasure so well.” 

He sets you down onto the bed, moves down to your tummy, placing the rest of his kisses there. 

“Then, I lay you down on the blanket. You’re naked for my eyes only and I spread your legs.” His hands follow his words, lifting your thighs and pinning them down. “I blow on your needy little pussy and you shiver so beautifully for me. I can see you shining for me, shining brighter than the lights and I give it to you.” 

There you feel it. The lick of his tongue on your clit and you shudder, moan so loudly that it reverberates down your body, the pleasure unlike any other you ever had the grace to experience. You roll your body into his mouth and Namjoon moans in tandem with you, even more so when your heel digs into his shoulder blade like he dreamed of.

“I lick your clit in circles and I feel you come alive on my tongue, so I pick up the pace.” 

You chase the movement as he does, reveling in it to the point that you curl your body, rising yourself to your elbows and grasping the nape of his neck, knocking your head back once he prods a finger into your heat. 

“I need more of it. I need to feel you around my fingers, so I stretch you out.” 

He adds another digit, fucking you diligently, and you whine out his name, squeezing his neck, your thumb pressing the spot above his Adam’s apple. 

“But my baby is doing something she knows is making my cock needy for her. She’s choking me, making me so fucking hard for her, so I pin her hands down.” 

He rips your hand from his neck and pushes it down onto the bedding, holding it in place with his forearm as he rounds an arm around your tummy, fingers spreading your folds apart from this angle, leaning his weight on it, freeing up space for his other hand to fuck you harder. 

You plop down onto the bedding, unable to resist him. And with your submission comes your orgasm, the rope uncoiling right at the place where the pulse on his wrist thumps. 

And your dreams explode across the blackness of your vision. 

“And you come like this. On my tongue. Around my fingers and I go fucking crazy for you, lick up everything you gave me. So fucking crazy that I turn you around and take you like this.” 

You’re glad for the way he worded this part because you don’t jump when he does swivel you and licks over the red marks over your bum. He prepared you. The coolness of the petals on your skin causes you to whimper and you move your hand in effort to grab one of them. Namjoon settles between the sides of your thighs and when he sees what you’ve found, he chuckles, taking it from you, turning you halfway and brushing it against your cheek. 

You gasp, liking the heightened softness, and you purr. Seeing your reaction, Namjoon drifts it down your neck, your collarbone until he reaches the peak of your breast. And when he circles that stiffened nub—an endeavor just between you, outside of the dream—your whimpers have so much tension and opulent seductiveness to them that you feel his bare manhood twitch against the line of your bum. 

It drives you to thrash your hand until you find him, too, and you wrap your hand around his thick manhood, pumping him as he stimulates your nipple like this, your position—halfway on your side, with your leg crossed, propped on the bedding, brings friction to your clit as your body moves where the pleasure wants it. 

Namjoon breathes hard, groaning gutturally, and you could almost come like this. 

“Fuck, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whine and it causes Namjoon to turn you fully onto your back and take that petal down to your wet clit. “Oh, my God.” 

Faint, yet so nice. You tremble, feeling the petal drifting over your folds, your lips, gathering your slick over your heat. And when Namjoon rubs circles on your clit with it, the membrane of the petal so fucking slippery now that it’s coated with your wetness, his title falls from your lips like the rain that keeps those flowers alive out there in Paris. 

“Keep fucking me with your wrist,” Namjoon rasps and you moan, loving to be ordered around, loving being told what to do. 

You fix your mistake of neglecting him while lost in the new delight, concentrating on his equally wet tip as you tighten your hold, pumping him swiftly, his foreskin closing around him in tandem with your movement coaxing his growls out that envelop you in firelight, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt. 

Even gripping him you perceive to be different and as that firelight flickers vastly across the night you see, splattering it with makeshift stars that Namjoon calls to creation with each of his deep sounds, your orgasm comes as an explosion that brings color to his art. 

Purples, yellows, reds and pinks. Stars that brim with colors. Such paintwork of beauty that Namjoon strums to life on your clit and your scream gets muffled by the sheets as he turns you back onto your tummy without withdrawing his hand. 

He begins to kiss your shoulder, knowing you need a minute before he can fill you up. 

“My pretty girl, my wife,” he moans against your skin, marking you there. “I’m gonna fuck you with that petal on your clit. With the rest of them clinging to your beautiful body like that. Gonna fuck you nice and hard against them.” You whimper your vulgarities, so out of it—so intoxicated by the picture, looking forward to it. “You came so well on my fingers. With the petal. Fuck, I’m gonna ruin you just for that. And for the way you made me forget where we were.” 

You laugh and your stomach flips, love hormones coursing in your veins like the strongest drug. And you laugh even harder when it dawns on you that you’ve also forgotten. 

“I don’t remember either,” you sputter between your giggles, contagious as Namjoon laughs as well, brushing your hair back to one side to kiss your cheek. 

“How are you feeling? Has it gotten too much, hm?” 

He takes the time to check up on you, instead of picking up where he left off and, fuck, you dissolve, becoming one with the petals—no edges to you, only liquid affection. 

You’ve gotten used to the darkness. No traces of fear or uneasiness can be found trickling in your system—as a matter of fact, you can’t wait to be fucked, can’t wait to find out how it’ll feel once he’s inside you. The way he’s talking to you, constantly touching you and making it known to you that he’s present with you doesn’t let the previous disturbing feeling to sidle up to you and you’re terribly, terribly grateful. 

“I feel great. I want you inside me, baby. I’m ready.” 

Namjoon growls, biting into the skin of your shoulder until you whimper, kissing the pain away. Rubs his petal-clad fingers on your clit, prolonging your noises. The pleasure begins to build up, the colors you’ve seen stacking back on top of each other and you sigh, nuzzling your face into the sheets, most comfortable. 

He cradles your jaw, though. Makes you look forward. Augments the dream, resuming. 

“You’re looking at the Tower and I’m holding you like this so your neck doesn’t cramp up. I’m inside you, just like you wanted.” 

Namjoon merges the reality into the retelling, creating something more expanse than this world can bear and you’re awestruck. He sinks himself into your wonder, knees on either side of you as you lay flat on your tummy, your bum lifted a little, heels dangling off of the bed. 

Your eyes flutter beneath the tie as his girth stretches you and the colors you see are adjacent to the picture he paints. They blossom into shapes, swirly edges that grow into flowers and cling to the Tower like the violet petals cling to your body. Namjoon pulls out and gives you a long stroke and more flowers bloom, hanging by the lights. You lose your breath, the vibrancy of the pleasure so heavenly that you lose track of time, day and space as well, floating in that dream that the reality you thought about ripped away from you once he bottoms out. 

You can’t even hear yourself. Can only hear him as your senses wrap around him. 

“I’m not choking you. I’m not giving you a taste of your own delicious poison; I’m just holding you like this, helping you see your dream alive in front of your eyes. I look at you and I can’t help it. You’re illuminated by those lights, yet shining brighter. Kissed by the moon so much that I get jealous. Can you see that fucker up above?” 

As if he drew the planet with his finger, it appears in your vision as soon as he pulls out again and fills you in all entirety in one swift, but hard motion. And it’s now that you hear yourself scream as your clit rubs against his fingers flat against it with that collision. 

“Fuck, Namjoon, I—I can’t take it. It’s too good.” 

“I didn’t ask you if you could take it. I asked you something else,” he husks, moving his mouth against your neck. You feel your eyes rolling back underneath your closed eyelids and you moan, his hips picking up the speed. “You can take it and you will. Tell me, baby. Can you imagine that moon in your vision?” 

It’s right there, beaming at you, but you can’t focus, not when you can feel his cock in your throat. He huffs against you, overcome just the same, resuming his circles on your clit and you’re dead. 

“You’re so deep, Daddy,” you utter in one breath. “So good, fuck.” 

Soaked flowers. Stars flickering more quicker. White dots joining in, along with hot flashes. You’re face to face with your orgasm. 

“Focus, baby,” Namjoon scolds, voice straining nearing you closer, falling in step with you the more you clench your walls against him. 

“Can’t. Gonna come.” 

“Come, then,” he encourages, drilling you harder into the mattress, your clit yet again rubbing against his flat fingers. “Let go and give it to me like the nice girl you are. Come for me, baby.” 

Fireworks shoot through that picture and you cling to it as you come around him. Namjoon praises you through it all, darkening those flowers that surround it and your orgasm convulses through you, lasting as long as the flying colors bursting through the night-tinged sky. And white gushes in as he loses himself in your climax, his own triggered and he stuffs you with it, fucking you through it until the bed makes such terrible sounds that he stills, letting you milk it out of him. 

Panting, Namjoon swivels you halfway around while still buried inside you. “I’m gonna take off the blindfold now. Keep your eyes closed, baby.” 

You listen and he flings it off, kissing you, ravagedly, whimpering into your mouth. Exhaustion seeps so deeply inside you that you can barely reciprocate the energy of the movement of his mouth and with one last peck, he lets you breathe. 

When you open your eyes, it’s not the light that stings your pupils, but the exhilarated, flushed and content sight of Namjoon, his chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You blink a few times to get used to the beauty, touching him all over, spreading your love for him everywhere you can. 

“That was so perfect,” you whisper, sleepily. “Thank you. Thank you for making my dream come true. For making it better than I ever dreamed of. I love you, Joonie.” 

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles—with bruised, puffy, reddened lips that make you weak. 

“I love you.” 

You lay like this for quite some time, stroking each other’s skin, enjoying the rest and the silence. Namjoon takes off your heels then, massaging your feet as if they were in pain and you smile down at him, fondly. 

“Like hell, I’d let you wear these to the park.” 

You laugh through your nose, your love for him blooming, and he carries you in the shower. 

You join him on the balcony later, sharing a cigarette with him, wearing matching, thick and warm hotel bathrobes to protect you from winter’s cold. You look up at the moon as you take a drag and send your thank you to God for the contended joy that clothes your heart. Namjoon pulls you in, kissing the top of your head. 

“So, Turkey next time?” he asks, inhaling your vanilla scent from your body wash that you brought along. 

You sigh and life overflows from you. “In the summer. No business, just vacation. Just us. And if business does find you there, it’ll find me, too. It’ll be different this time.” 

Namjoon presses his mouth against your forehead, sinks his words there. “I’d marry you right now if I could.” 

Tears prick at your waterline, your throat aching. “If I pray hard enough, she’ll get better by spring,” you say, voice wobbling, speaking of your poor mother. You couldn’t get married without her—it’s the sole reason why your wedding is left in the hands of fate. 

“We’ll bring her to Turkey, then. I’ll make sure to tell her to pack her hanbok and I’ll marry you there. What do you say?” 

Rivulets of tears stream down your face and you look up at him, catching the same liquid lining his eyes. You nod, your mouth rounding in a pout. 

“Perfect,” you whisper. 

Namjoon gives you the last kiss of the night, sealing that plan shut and you believe, with everything in you, that he will bring it into reality. 

You trust him. 

Forever. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[zegrasdrysdale]

matthew knies smut — losing ur v card to him

[ helping hand ] m. knies

paring : Matthew Knies x fem!reader

summary : Matthew helps his best friend out after she asks him to take her virginity

warning(s) : smut ! loss of virginity, virgin!reader, light dirty talk, slight hair pulling (blink and you'll miss it tbh) oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, protected sex, use of pet names during sex (pretty girl, baby, etc.), multiple orgasms

author’s note : felt like writing something cute so i decided to tackle this request and make it as cute as i could. this is my first time writing for kniesy so if it’s bad then pls tell me lol

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Being a 20-year-old virgin sucks. Every time she tries to hook up with a guy, she blurts out that she’s “never done this before” and it scares him away. Needless to say, she is getting very tired of being a virgin. She's loves sex, but she's never gone all the way with a guy.

Tonight was just another reminder that she's never been fucked. She thought that after her date, he'd take her back to his apartment and she'd finally lose her virginity. Then he said that his mom was going to be home soon just as things started getting heated, right after she had said that she's never gone all the way.

It's a tiring pattern.

She's frustrated, and frustration means stomping up to her longtime best friend's Toronto apartment a little before eleven. She pounds her fist on Matthew's door then waits. There are light footsteps behind the door before it's pulled open.

Matthew looks like he just woke up, and she feels bad. His Toronto hockey shirt is a little wrinkled and he's wearing sweats. His hair is a complete disaster. "Did I wake you?" she questions.

He yawns, but shakes his head no. "I was just closing my eyes," he tells her. "I thought you were out on a date or something. Why are you here?"

"You'll never guess what happened," she sighs as she walks past him into his apartment. "I did it again."

Matthew laughs and shuts the door behind her. "You need to stop," he comments. "You're never going to lose it if you keep telling guys that you haven't gone all the way. You're twenty."

"I know!" she groans as she plops down onto his couch. "It's like a get scared or something and it just comes out. I wish I could just get it over with and then it won't come out."

He sits beside her and she looks up at him. "Don't rush it," he tells her. "It's not all that anyway. Just wait until you find someone you trust and genuinely like."

A light bulb flicks on in her head. She sits up and turns her body to face Matthew. "Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Sleep with me so I'm not a virgin anymore," she finishes. He raises his eyebrows and looks like he's about to object. "I mean, I trust you with everything I have. You're my best friend. You're not bad looking. I've known you for years, Matthew. I'd be okay if you did this for me. It wouldn't change anything with us."

Matthew thinks about it. She knows by the way he sighs and runs his fingers through his messy hair. "You're sure about this?" he questions. "Because I don't want to do this then-"

She rolls his eyes in frustration and cups his jaw. She pulls him into a kiss, and it surprises her when she feels her heart beat out of her chest when her lips meet his. Even Matthew is thrown off by the kiss. He immediately pulls back. She drops her hands to her lap.

"I'm not going to regret it, Matt," she tells him as her eyes meet his. Have his eyes always been this pretty and blue? She's never been this close to see how blue they are. "I promise. It might bring us closer as friends if we do this. I'm not going to stop being your friend because you slept with me."

He still doesn't seem very convinced. "This is going to change us," he tells her. "No matter what. I just want both of us to be ready for that."

With a nod, her eyes flicker down to his lips for a second before returning to his eyes. "I know," she replies. "Just ... please. I'll never ask you for anything ever again if you do this for me."

Matthew searches her face for any signs that she doesn't want this. He won't find any. If she's going to lose her virginity to anyone, she wouldn't mind losing it to her best friend. She wants this.

He doesn't say "okay" or anything like that. All he does is grab her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "If this is what you really want then I'll do it," he says to her, voice slightly higher than a whisper.

"I really want this," she confirms. "Seriously."

His eyes drop to her lips before he leans in and gently presses his lips to hers, and her eyes flutter shut. Her heart beats out of her chest with how soft and gently he kisses her.

The kisses don't immediately turn heated and needy. Matthew makes sure of that. When they do though, she climbs onto his lap in the red minidress that she's wearing. She straddles his thighs and wraps her arms loosely around his neck. Matthew's hands drop to the bare skin on her thighs.

Her heels clatter to the carpeted floor beneath them with a thud. Her fingers find a home and curl in his locks. She tugs gently and a soft noise comes from Matthew. She smiles into the kiss that follows and tucks this piece of information away for later.

She traps his bottom lip between her teeth and pulls back. She watches it snap back into place. Matthew looks up at her and she sees that his eyes have darkened a bit. There's a dark fire between them and she can tell he's trying to hold himself back.

"Pretend it's not me," she tells him as her hands drag down his neck and chest until they come to a rest on his torso. She play with the hem of his t-shirt. "I can tell, Matt. You're holding back because it's me."

Matthew shakes his head. "I'm holding back because I want to do this right," he replies. "It's not because it's you. I want to make sure that it's perfect for you."

"Then don't hold back," she whispers to him as she attaches her lips to his jaw right under his ear. "It'll be perfect no matter what."

A shaky sigh passes Matthew's kiss-bruised lips. He kisses the swell of her ear and she keeps working at his jaw.

Before she realizes what's happening, Matthew slides his hands to the back of her thighs and stands up. She wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. "It's insane how easily you were able to just pick me up like that," she comments.

"I work out everyday," Matthew replies as he makes his way down the hallway to his bedroom. "Sometimes twice a day. I lay hits on grown men that weigh as much as I do or heavier for a living. I hope that I can lift someone up that is nearly a foot shorter than me and weighs less than what I bench."

She can't contain the giggle that rises in her throat as he crosses the threshold into his room. "That's kind of hot of you, Matt," she admits. "I mean, I don't know how you're single when you bench more than I weigh."

He kicks the door shut behind him and gently sets her down so she's flat on her feet. She sees the flush in his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. She smiles and gets on her tiptoes to instigate another kiss. Matthew has to lean down to kiss her because of the heigh difference between them. His hands rest on her cheeks and she rests against the door.

They stand there for what feels like an eternity. She's almost certain that the lace panties she has on under the dress are ruined. She hasn't be able to stop thinking about Matthew's fingers on her thighs while they were in the couch, not to mention the fact that he was able to pick her up with almost no effort.

Her fingers curl around the hem of his t-shirt and she pulls at it. "Off," she mumbles against his lips. "Matt, please. Off."

The kiss breaks and Matthew reaches down to pull the fabric over his head. Her eyes rake his body and it's very obvious that he works out every day. Her fingers trace his abs and she bites her bottom lip.

Okay, maybe he's more attractive than she's let herself admit. She's never really allowed herself to look at him like this. She's never let herself admire him like this.

Matthew hooks his fingers under the very thin straps that sit on her shoulders. She looks up at him and notices how focused he is on his actions. He pulls the straps off her shoulders and lets the dress fall so it pools at her ankles. She's in her strapless bra and matching panties. She notices Matthew's eyes drink her in.

She puts her hands on his chest and gently pushes him in the direction of his bed. She kicks the dress off so she can follow him. As soon as Matthew sits back on the bed, she crawls onto his lap. Her knees bracket his thighs. She leans in and ravishes his mouth with hers. One of his hands finds its way to her curls and he holds the back of her head so she can’t break the heated kiss.

Without realizing she does it, she rolls her hips against his. He hums and his other hand comes down on her bare waist.

A surge of confidence overcomes her and she reaches behind her. She unhooks her bra and lets the red lace fall between them. She tosses it somewhere at the same time Matthew breaks the kiss.

Her entire body shakes with nerves.

It’s just Matthew. They’ve been friends since his first year at Minnesota. Best friends since his sophomore year. She visited him earlier in the season and fell in love with Canada so she moved into an apartment down the street from him.

She can do this.

Matthew lifts her head up and says, “I’ve got you. Okay? I have you. Whatever you want.”

“I want you,” she tells him. “Please. I need you.”

He moves back on the bed and flips them over so he hovers over her. Her curls create a halo around her head. Matthew thumbs her swollen lips and trails it down over her chin, over her chest, between her breasts, and down her stomach until his fingers rest at the waistband of her panties. Goosebumps follow his fingers down her upper body.

She can feel the bulge in his pants so she bucks her hips up to grind her clothed core against the bulge. “Shit,” he gasps. “You can’t just do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll come before either of us are ready.”

She lets out a light laugh. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” she teases.

“Shut up,” he mumbles before shutting her up himself with a deep kiss. She smiles and hooks her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants.

She pushes his sweatpants down and over his ass. He helps her out and kicks them off.

When she tries to put her hand in his boxers, Matthew stops her. He breaks the kiss and shakes his head. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I’m going to make sure you feel good and make sure you’re comfortable, okay?” he says to her.

“Okay,” she replies, voice barely above a whisper.

With her permission, Matthew hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slowly pulls the thin fabric off her body. He tosses them to the floor and she lets her knees fall open.

Matthew attaches his lips to her jaw, then slowly trails his lips down her body. He makes a quick stop when he gets to her breasts. He gives each one a little attention and she lets out a soft noise. She bites her lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises.

He lies on his stomach and throws her legs over his broad shoulders. She watches as he presses soft kisses to her leg trailing from her inner knee and up her inner thigh. He stops right before he gets to her core.

“Already so wet for me,” he comments. She nods and grabs a pillow to rest her head on so she doesn’t get a crick in her neck.

That’s when Matthew slides a finger through her soaked folds. A whine passes her lips and she looks down at him with her eyes. He teases her entrance and she gasps, “I- Matthew. Don’t tease please. Do something.”

“Didn’t think you were a begger, pretty girl,” he replies. She shoots him a glare and he laughs.

She’s about to say something to him when he wraps his lips around her clit. “Oh my- fuck” is what comes out of her mouth instead. Matthew hums and sends vibrations through her entire body. He slowly pushes a finger into her and her back arches off the bed.

Matthew’s free hand slides up her body and cups one of her tits. She didn’t pick Matthew to be a boob guy, but today is full of surprises.

Soft pants pass her lips as Matthew keeps using his mouth and fingers to bring her closer to an orgasm. He adds a second finger and her hands fly to his hair. Her breathing has gotten extremely labored and soft noises consistently pass her lips.

He’s so careful with his movements, so precise. He knows what he’s doing, and she’s not at all surprised that he does. She didn’t realize just how much he knew. Despite never actually hooking up before, it’s like he knows her entire body and what she likes.

Once a third finger is inside of her, Matthew curls his fingers in a “come here” motion. She gasps and a knot forms in the pit of her stomach. “Matt,” she groans. “I- Matthew.”

“Let me hear you,” he tells her. “Wanna hear you when you come on my fingers. Can you do do that for me?”

She nods and hums. “Yeah,” she breathes out.

“Go ahead, pretty girl,” Matthew says. “Come for me. I can feel how close you are.”

His lips are back on her clit and she’s coming seconds later.

Her back arches off the mattress as her walls clench around his fingers. Her body turns into jelly as he fingers her through what’s probably the strongest orgasm she’s ever had. She swears she blacks out.

Her breathing is extremely labored as Matthew withdraws his fingers. She whimpers at the loss and watches him crawl up her body when her vision comes back. He smiles when he sees how out of it she probably looks.

Matthew peppers her cheek with soft kisses as she comes to.

“You okay?” he asks. “Can you do one more?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Want you inside me, Matt. Please. I need you.”

He captures her lips in a soft kiss and she groans when she tastes herself on his lips.

It’s a very quick kiss. Matthew reaches over into his bedside drawer and pulls out a tiny foil package. He puts it between his teeth as he pushes his boxers off his body. She bites her lip as Matthew’s dick pops out of the confines of the boxers.

She accidentally saw his dick one time before now, and it looked nothing like it does right now. “Jesus, Matt,” she gasps. “Is it gonna fit?”

Matthew laughs and slides the condom onto his dick. “I promise it’ll fit,” he tells her.

He hover over her between her legs. The tip of his dick lines up with her entrance and she shakes. Her heart races in her chest and she stares up at the pretty boy above her. “Slow,” she tells him. “Okay? I don’t know-”

“Tell me if you need me to stop or if it hurts,” he interrupts. “I’ll move at your pace, okay? I have you.”

She nods. “Go.”

Matthew slowly pushes into her. She gasps as the unfamiliar stretch and grasps onto his biceps. The deeper he goes, the more it hurts. She pushes through though and pain eventually turns into pleasure.

He moves so slow though that it’s almost painful. She wants him to ruin her but she wants to be able to walk in the morning. Whatever that will look like.

She reaches up and slides her hair into Matthew’s hair. His eyes lock with her as he bottoms out in her. Her lips are pressed in a line. “Okay?” he asks.

With a nod, she says, “I’m okay. Give me a second. You’re fucking big, Matt. Damn.”

He laughs. “That’s not my fault,” he replies. “Most women I hook up with like it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, asshole,” she retorts. “I said I needed a second.”

Matthew laughs again and she pulls him down into a kiss to shut him up. He licks into her mouth and she groans.

Feeling ready, she rolls her hips. One of Matthew’s hands rests on her waist and he meets her movements.

It’s slow, but it feels good. He slowly but deeply thrusts into her. She moans into Matthew’s mouth and he swallows every noise. Her hands slide from his hair to his back. She gently digs her nails into his skin.

He speeds his movements up a bit and she throws her head back against the pillows. “Fuck,” she gasps. “God. Matt.”

“Okay, baby?” he asks. “Good to keep going?”

She nods. “Like you mean it,” she pants. Matthew’s smile reaches his ears.

Matthew throws one of her legs over his shoulder and is able to move deeper into her at the new angle. She cries out his name and he attaches his lips to her neck. He’s covering her entire body at this point. It’s not only his dick that’s big. Matthew himself is a bigger guy.

He slows his movements but continues to bury his cock in her. The knot forms again in the pit of her stomach.

“Matt, I-”

“Me too,” he interrupts. “This is about you. I’m not gonna come until you come on my cock, pretty girl.”

She feels tears in her eyes as she tries to keep herself from coming. It feels too good and she doesn’t want it to end yet.

Especially since this is probably the first and last time she gets this from Matthew. She wants it to last.

Matthew slides a hand between them and as soon as his fingers find her clit again, she comes.

His name is on her lips as he fucks her through what is definitely the strongest orgasm of her life. Her entire body shudders as she comes. Her vision goes white for a hot second and she completely melts against the mattress beneath her. Her legs fall to the bed.

He comes into the condom before he pulls out of her. They’re both panting messes as he ties off the condom and throws it out. She very lazily crawls under the covers and Matthew joins her.

There’s a comfortable silence between them as they both recover from their highs. She finally gains feeling back in all her extremities and looks over at him.

“Thank you,” she weakly says.

“For?”

“Doing that for me. It was fun. I enjoyed it.”

Matthew sits up in bed and leans back against the headboard just as she went to curl up next to him. “I should’ve said something before we did that,” he admits to her.

She sits up and holds the blankets under her arms to keep herself covered. “What?”

He bites his kiss-bruised bottom lip for a second. “I have feelings for you,” he confesses. “Genuine feelings for you and I feel guilty for saying yes before telling you that.”

A day full of surprises.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same. There is a reason she asked him of all her friends to do this for her. She’s always known he was attractive, a genuine guy and an incredible hockey player.

She’s damn lucky that Matthew agreed to have sex with her.

Matthew looks terrified. She smiles and drops her head to his shoulder. “You should see the look on your face,” she laughs.

“I’m being serious,” he tells her.

“I know,” she replies. Her chin rests on his shoulder. “I like you too. Why do you think I asked you to do this and not someone else?”

He blinks. “I thought you were just tired of being a twenty year old virgin,” he flatly states.

“There was that but I wanted it to be you,” she admits. “I guess I was just shooting my shot.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Matthew laughs.

She crawls onto his lap and lays on him. “When do I get one of those cool jackets the wives and girlfriends have?”

“You want one?”

“I do,” she tells him as she looks up at him. “Is that okay? If I got one?”

Matthew smiles and nods. “I’ll get you one.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey! I love your work and got into it in the beginning of highschool :) I was wondering if you have time to write about two people (MLM) who have been friends for a few years but always had a little tension? Like a taller boy teases a shorter fiery boy trope. Then wall pinning happens lol. Think it would be interesting if the taller boy was the more dominant and possessive one even if he's the chiller more reserved one. I imagine they're both drunk too lmao.

"You know, one of these days," Aiden said, "I'm going to punch you in the face if you don't shut your mouth."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you have to be able to reach first?"

"I'm not that short!"

"I suppose I could get you a box," Jack mused, as they walked home.

"I don't need a box to reach your face!"

"Maybe a step ladder."

"I swear to god-"

"-You don't get vertigo, do you? It would be really embarrassing for you if you tried to punch me in the face and then immediately passed out because you weren't used to the altitude-"

Aiden shoved him, heat burning in his cheeks despite the chill of upcoming winter and the warming buzz of a couple beers. It just made Jack laugh softly in that aggravating gorgeous way of his, so Aiden shoved him again, harder, up against the wall.

He had wild notions of proving something - strength, perhaps, as he held Jack pinned up against the brick work - only to find himself caught off guard as he looked up Jack's expression. The lazy grin was there, sure, but something else too. His eyes simmering in the moonlight.

Jack's grin widened a notch. Teasing. Taunting, in a way he never seemed to do with anyone else.

"That's my chest, Aiden, that you have your hands on," he said in an oh so helpful tone of voice. "In the world of tall people who can actually reach the top shelf-"

Aiden kissed him.

It did shut Jack up, so there was that, and though he did admittedly have to go up on his toes he could definitely reach Jack's oh so cool stupid handsome face. Ha! His grip tightened on the front of Jack's shirt, trying to drag him down, closer, a soft sound escaping him as Jack kissed him back.

...Jack kissed him back. He was kissing Jack.

Aiden pulled back, panting, eyes wide.

Jack's head tilted, studying him. The simmering intent thing had entirely taken over the lazy grin.

Aiden swallowed, mouth abruptly dry. Scorched. A hundred small light bulbs pinged in his brain. Jack smiled, then.

Oh so easily, as if he'd merely been letting Aiden play at pinning him the whole time, Jack switched their positions. Aiden's breath caught. He was not that short, but he was rather aware of the way that Jack's body pressed flush against his own, bracketing him in, of the way he had to tilt his head back a fraction to hold Jack's gaze. Of how warm Jack was compared to the cool wall behind him.

"Interesting punching technique," Jack said. "Do you wanna try again?"

"Prick." Adrian craned up eagerly to kiss him again and...Jack rocked just out of reach. Teasing. Adrian glared at him, cheeks flushed further. He tugged at his wrists in Jack's hold, fully prepared to drag him down by force if necessary, but found no give.

Jack had him well and truly pinned.

Adrian's stomach swooped pleasantly.

Jack laughed again. Amused, fond, and just a little bit more velvet than before.

"You're so annoying," Adrian said.

"Mm. Is that the look on your face right now? Annoyed?"

"What would you call it?"

"Turned on."

The simple response made Aiden's brain blank. Mostly because it was true. Mostly because he wasn't supposed to just go and say that, in his oh so composed Jack voice, and make everything in Aiden squirm delicious and entirely too exposed.

The lazy grin returned. "I could come down a bit," Jack said. "If you asked nicely."

"I'm not that short!"

"Then kiss me."

Aiden managed to get their lips to brush that time, close enough for Jack to nip his mouth gently. It wasn't enough. It wasn't anywhere near enough.

"I hate you," Aiden huffed.

"I'm getting that."

"You really should shut up."

"If only someone was tall enough to kiss me, I would."

Aiden glared at him again. "Just you wait until we're in bed. Then you won't be vertically cheating!"

"Vertically cheating, huh?"

"It's what it's called when people are like you."

"I see. But when we're in bed together, as you suggest, you're totally not going to end up writhing beneath me?"

Well wasn't that a mental image.

"Please just bloody kiss me already!"

Jack leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead.

"Oh, come on." Aiden tried to sound grumpy, livid, instead of utterly delighted. He didn't think it worked.

"Ask nicely," Jack sing-songed.

"You want to kiss me too just as badly, I can see it on your face."

"Yes. But I can kiss you all I like." Jack proved the point by leaning down, pressing a succession of kisses to Aiden's temple, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He dodged with uncanny, teasing swiftness when Aiden tried to capture his mouth. "See."

"Please," Aiden said, after a beat, "kiss me."

And, oh so obligingly, Jack did.

They hurried the rest of the way home after that.

[marunene]

—· Castiel Head/canons!

(SFW/NSFW)

There are also some angels headcanons too! — Remembering that these are HEADCANONS and even if they don't make sense to you, they make sense to me./LH. Some (many) of them I only kept in a jar in my brain while I was reading fanfics, hehe...

English is not my first language, be patient with me.

SFW!

- Pansexual! I firmly believe that angels don't care about your sex or gender, for them it's practically the same thing besides your body.

- This also means that they don't care if you are a man or a woman, if you do something they don't like you will be beaten, probably die. I see Castiel from the first seasons doing this so— yeah.

- Autism spec. You can't convince me otherwise.

- For petnames, he doesn't use it much, but if he does sometime, he calls you honeybee or love. Probably "human" if you call him "angel".

- He LOVES physical contact, even if it's not apparent, he could cuddle with you for hours and still want more

- His wings are HUGE, dark and blue, when you touch them they feel like silk, they are so soft, completely from another world.

- And to complement, I like to think that they are quite sensitive to touch.

- If he were to choose a favorite color, it would be green because it reminds him of nature. But he also likes blue (sea and sky) and yellow (bees)

- His trenchcoat are his comfort object.

- HE HUGS YOU WITH HIS WINGS WHEN YOU CUDDLE OR ARE JUST SITTING NEXT TO EACH OTHER. Imagine him protecting you with them while you sleep <3

- Gets grumpy when drunk <3

- Legends say that Castiel once tried to make breakfast and Dean forbade him from touching his stove...

- He's almost always watching you, just... Looking at you. Sometimes it's a little creepy, but he loves you too much not to look.

- When you had your first kiss, all the light bulbs in the neighborhood just exploded and he looked at you with a surprised face-- (not because of the light bulbs)

- After seeing how good you are with children, sometimes he imagines what you would be like as a mother and what it would be like if you could have a normal life, without hunting, without dating an angel. He knows what could happen if you two had a child and can't even imagine what he would do knowing that he was the one who did this to you :3

- Physically, what he likes most about you are your eyes. And his favorite part of himself is his wings, even after the fall, it still reminds him of what he really is. Jimmy isn't exactly... Him. He's just a vessel. It wouldn't make much sense for him to choose some part of his body as his favorite.

- You collect his feathers when he's moulting (I love comparing angel wings to bird wings! Sorry...)

- besides tasting molecules, He can literally SEE them... Or at least some of them...

NSFW!

- PRAISE AND DEGRADATION KINK. It depends on the day, although at first if you degraded him he wouldn't understand why you would be doing that... But praise him and this angel will be on his knees for you.

- He's more into slow and sensual sex.

- He doesn't sweat at all, not in the intercourse or out of it. (This is canon actually)

- Something between 7/8 inches, specifically 18/19cm, a bit thick - (Misha messed with my head when said he has 9 inches, so hmm)

- He definitely doesn't shave, just let it grow and wouldn't mind if you didn't shave it too. He is an angel, he saw everything from the beginning, including Eve and Adam. There were no razors at that time.

- LOVES oral sex, give him a blowjob and he would be a pathetic whiny mess. However, he doesn't really like to GIVE bc of the taste of the molecules. (Human Cas would LOVE to taste you tho ;))

- As I said before, his wings are sensitive, he LOVES it when you stroke them when you 2 are having sex, even if it makes him a bit overwhelmed and quite Desesperate

- Usually a dom. He followed rules his whole life, let our little angel have a little control <3 But of course on his first time he would like you to tell him what to do, but over time he would become more confident and you are fucked.

- LET HIM USE HIS GRACE ON(in) YOU. Pin you against the bed, you can't even move properly as he fucks you w his grace, looking into your eyes with a little smirk on his face.

- As an angel, he has much more stamina than you, so you would only stop when you are tired. For him, you 2 could do this all night.

- MY BOY IS A VOYEUR! I'm sure he's watched you touch yourself and stuff when he were invisible, but never had the courage to jerk off to it tho

- He will look you in the eye almost all the time, he just can't help it.

- ALWAYS checking on you, asking if what he's doing is okay (especially the first few times you did this), he doesn't want to hurt you... :(

- Call him a good angel/boy when you're jerking him off and that you're proud of him when he finish, he'll fucking MELT.

- He'll get confused if you say “Oh my God”... Why are you moaning his father's name when he's the one fucking you? (HELP)

There are a lot of nsfw hcs I'm genuinely scared of myself, sorry 😭 I used practically all my headcanons in this post, there probably won't be a pt 2, be glad, mwah mwah mwah

Look at his Dom look HELPP

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Who Dares Summon Me: Human Vaggie & Charlie

Vaggie: (sitting in the living room of a piece of shit apartment and reading from a "demon summoning" book. the sound of gunfire and police sirens barely even registers to her ears anymore)

Vaggie: Okay, so I got the Pentagram, a goat (glances at two goat plushies she stole from a name brand toy store) Fuckers will live..... they make millions in a day.

Vaggie: Candles... (glances at the Bath & Body Works, cinnamon and vanilla scented candles)

Vaggie: And... blood.... uh.... (Looks at the bucket filled with water, corn syrup, red food coloring, and cocoa powder to help create a blood effect) Fuck... demons can tell the difference between real and fake blood, right? Dammit.

Vaggie: (cuts her finger with her pocket knife and lets] a few drops fall into the bucket) There. That should work. Now, let's see-

Lute: (comes out of her room half naked and throws a pair of panties at Vaggie) Yo, Vagina! Adam stole your underwear again as a prank, I guess. Here.

Vaggie: (gawks as she catches the garment and spikes it to the floor) Lute! What the fuck?! Can't you control your fucking boyfriend??? How did he even get into my room?! I keep it locked for that reason.

Lute: (grabs a beer out of the fridge, pops the cap off on the counter, starts chugging, and flips off Vaggie as she returns to her room for whatever round she and Adam are on)

Vaggie: Sick perverted sons of bitches... (turns back to the book) Read the forbidden script and make a pact. (Scoffs) Okay, edge lords. I'll give it a go.

Vaggie: (recites the script with some difficulty)

..........

Vaggie: (relaxes her back against the couch) Can't say I'm surprised. I literally bought this online for six-

-Fire tornado erupts from the Pentagram and burning red eyes stare down at Vaggie from the inferno-

Demon Charlie: WHO dares summon the powerful Princess of Hell- Oh, fuck!!! (Trips over the bucket and falls face first into Vaggie's lap, revealing that she is wearing a red dress with black thigh high stockings)

Vaggie: Jesus Fucking Christ!!!

Demon Charlie: (face still pressed against Vaggie's crotch) You have a very comfortable lap.

Vaggie: (grabs demon's horns and pulls her up so they're sitting in front of each other) You're actually a demon?

Demon Charlie: (blinks) Considering the fact that you're still holding my horns, I have this adorable little tail (waves her heart-shaped tail in hello), and I came straight up from Hell because of your summoning circle. Yup! (Sees the plushies and gasps) Oh! You even gave Razzle and Dazzle their own conduits! You're so sweet!

Vaggie: ...........Who?

Demon Charlie: Razzle and Dazzle! You know. My pets. It's written in chatper six, paragraph five, sentence three. (Snaps her fingers and the two goat plushies turn into two living goat demons with wings)

Vaggie: (scouring the book) What?!

Demon Charlie: (snuggling her boys) Also, I know you had to use a little of your own blood to make this work, which I promise to help heal that cut on your finger by the way, but Thank You So Much for just using fake blood! I always feel so bad when people actually use a bucket of real blood. I usually let my dad take those summonings.

Vaggie: (glances at the bucket rolling across the floor then back to the demon) Y-Youre dad?

Demon Charlie: Lucifer, the King of Hell. (Light bulb goes off) Oh! I never completed my introduction! I'm Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell and heir to the throne. Pleased to meet you!

Vaggie: Uh.... Vaggie.... I never would have expected the Princess of Hell to be so..... bubbly....

Demon Charlie: I get that a lot. Now! What can I do for you? How can I help? Do you need money? Power? A soul you'd like for me to devour?

Vaggie: N-No... nothing quite like that....

Demon Charlie: Oh, thank Satan! I hate eating souls. Most of them taste so bad!

Vaggie: Uh-huh.... Well.... I don't really have anything for you. I got bored and decided I'd try this out...

Demon Charlie: (disappointed) Really? But you sold me your virginity. Surely, there's something you want in exchange!

Vaggie: I'm sorry. WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?

Demon Charlie: Drop of virgin blood and (holds up Vaggies lavender panties) an article of clothing that covers your most intimate desire.

Vaggie: (silently screaming)

Demon Charlie: H-Hey! If it makes you feel any better, I'm still a virgin, too! (Under her breath) Not from lack of trying on other asshole's accunts, but still....

Vaggie: Ay, Dios mio!

Demon Charlie: Well, I can't take your payment until you come up with something you want, soooooooo! (Transforms into a human)

Charlie: (snuggles up to Vaggie's side) I'll just have to stay here with you until you come up with something!

Vaggie: (catatonic)

[ryo-apologist]

Camboy! Shigaraki

Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

CW: Smut, Minors DNI, I will block your ass. Exhibitionism, being filmed, spanking with a toy, nipple play, degradation.

AN: I tried to keep it pretty GN, if I missed something let me know. Because of this, I don't mention a hole specifically, so use your imaginations <3

~Darling XOXO

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who remains faceless the entire time he's on camera. He's the leader of an entire army, he can't have his entire being called into question because he likes the attention.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who started this whole thing because he saw far uglier men on porn sites raking in hundreds of thousands of yen and for what? He knows he's better looking than at least half of them, and who ever complains about extra money?

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who holds that ideology but really, he loves the attention. He's such an attention slut that you throw enough money at him on stream and he'll do anything.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who loves edging himself on stream because it's just a special kind of torture. Stroking up and down the shaft of his cock and watching it twitch with ever drag of his hand. Thumbing over the head just to collect the bulb of pre-cum already dripping out only to slather it in a slow circle and watch as the light sheens off of it. Reaching his other hand to squeeze his own balls because it feels so good and this is for him and him alone. Everyone watching is lucky that they get to experience such a thing.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who is originally adamant on not bringing you on until Dabi makes a comment about how much more viewers money two person streams bring in. While Dabi was talking about two women streams, Shigaraki is already taking this idea and running with it.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who teases the idea on stream for weeks just to garner his audience's opinions. He watches as the numbers start rolling in when he starts moaning about fucking you're tight little hole and leaving you a dripping mess for their pleasure.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who reads every single comment he gets, about how people are blowing their loads to just the thought of watching anyone get fucked by his cock, whether it's them or not. People volunteering themselves, even if he knows nobody will ever reach your level.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who's disgusted by the idea at first, but soon realizes what this mean. This isn't just a way to make money, or get all the attention he was deprived of as a child, no.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who realizes this is a way to stake a claim. This is a way to absolute ruin his little whore in all the ways he's ever dreamed of and to send a message to everyone who's debauched enough to lose their shit over him of all people.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who knows this will be a message that he's better than them in every single way. He has an army, he's the most wanted villain in Japan, he's dangerous and lethal, and yet he's still getting laid more than they are. That he has this perfect little cum sleeve waiting for him at the drop of a dime.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who grows so hard at the thought on stream he's nearly breaking his thirty minute edging streak at the thought of absolutely wrecking you on camera and leaving you to moan his name for everyone to hear. Because he's the only one who gets to talk to you like this. He's the only one who gets to touch you like that. He's the only one who gets to fuck you and leave your whole gaping for his cock and his cock alone, after all, he's worked so hard to carve out a spot in you for his dick alone. For him to fuck and sully and leave flooded with his cum.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who doesn't need much more convincing after that.

Your head hurts.

His fingers are threading so close to the roots of your hair that a small part of your brain is firing off a number of warning signs that he could kill you then and there. The red flags are numbed and buzzed out by the euphoria of simply having him there. You can barely find yourself caring about his hands when the delicious stretch of his cock is filling you all over again. When the sound of his balls clapping against your ass cheeks is ringing in your ears over and over again.

When your eyes are focused on the lens of the camera in front of you. The red light is haunting in the sense that you know exactly what's being broadcasting. An audience of thousands, maybe more, is watching you get your back blown out with heavy drops of cum already dripping down your thighs.

Your back is arched nice and pretty for Tomura, with his one hand pinning you by your head and the other is too busy holding your hips, the only thing saving your life being the arch of his own pinkies to keep them from touching your delicate flesh. Sweat is coating your skin in an uncomfortable layer, but you can't even find it in yourself to care.

There's a chime and the sound effect of coins falling, and you whine out as the vibrators taped to your nipples light up once again. They buzz happily against your sensitive nubs and your entire body scrunches as you keen and shudder. The hand in your hair pulls slightly in a warning.

"Naughty slut." He hisses, low and deep and it sends your entire nervous system into a tizzy. "Gonna cum? I didn't say you could do that."

"'m sorry-" You gasp out, fingers tightening their gasp on the sheets beneath you. "Not gonna cum." You swear thought you can feel that neither of you truly believe that.

Tomura grants you a sliver of relief and stops moving.

The hand on your hip leaves and you're almost tempted to look back, but that's against the rules. So you don't.

You do let out a yelp of shock, or maybe pain, as the stiff surface of his paddle rockets against your awaiting ass cheek. You groan and clench and you can hear Tomura let out his own noise as the paddle lowers to rest it's cool face on the burning flesh of your ass.

"That's my good cum sleeve."

There's another chime and the returning noise of coins falling. The vibrators you hadn't even noticed had turned off come to life again. The paddle swings and your entire body clenches as euphoria runs through your veins, quickly followed by the shame of disobedience which ruins your orgasm before it can even finish.

Right after you feel the rush of warmth as another load of cum fills you more than you thought possible.

Another chime has you crying out in agonized glee.

[nrdmssgs]

Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Soap, Alex, König)

Masterlist

Part 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz)

This is pure fluff. Platonic and romantic. Please, try to sleep enough, guys.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

Platonic

Let's just hope, every inch of your skin is securely covered with cloth. You've just asked why? Oh, you aren't prepared, are you, poor thing?

Too bad. Because Johnny can be infinitely proud of the fact that only next to him, you relax so much that you allow yourself to fall asleep on his lap. But he'll never turn down an opportunity to prank you.

Soap doesn't mind that he only has one arm free - you use the other as an extra pillow. He opens the marker with his teeth.

Following Johnny's gaze, Ghost hides his hands behind his back.

"Lieutenant, please! I need my references!" "I'm not taking part in this nonsense, MacTavish." "But she loves your sleeve! Why not let her wear the same one for a few days?" "A few days? Don't tell me, you're using a permanent one! And since when I have a dead rat as a part of my sleeve?" "It's not a rat, this is a skull. Ever heard of an artistic interpretation?"

Romantic

His hand embraces you the very next second, he notices, you're asleep.

Doesn't give a damn, if anyone sees you two like that. In fact, he would very much appreciate, if everyone seen, how safe and happy he makes you feel.

He will quietly murmur you lullabies that he heard as a child. If you ardently wake up and ask him, what are they about, he would apologize and confess that they are in Gaelic, and he barely speaks it.

"Oh, that's ok, don't be sorry. Could you, maybe, sing a bit more to me?" "Aye, bonnie. Now close your eyes."

Will bury his face in your hair and rub his cheek against the top of your head, while humming quietly, slowly losing himself in your heavenly scent.

Alex Keller

Platonic

Surprisingly calm about it. He will not wake you up or whisk you away from his shoulder. He won't even think about commenting on what happened when you wake up.

Alex knows perfectly well what it's like to carve out every free minute on deployment to have a little rest between missions.

He is grateful, that you were on the same team - he could not wish for a better partner than you. Therefore, he is ready to help you not only on the battlefield. If you are tired and want to take a nap, he will lend a shoulder.

If this happened in transport, Alex will cradle you so that you do not hit the back of your head against the wall at a sharp turn.

May once make you 'return the favor' passing out on your shoulder. He does not lean on you completely, plus he has the fluffiest, softest hair out there, so don't worry, it will feel nice.

Romantic

Have you ever seen a light bulb the size of a grown man turning on in a room? Because that's what Alex looks like when you don't answer his question because you accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder.

He dreamt to be your safe place, to make you feel protected, taken care of. And you've just convinced him, that he actually succeeded.

Can't help but smile, hugging you with all care and fondness, he is capable of.

If someone approaches him with a question, while you are still sleeping, he will put his finger to his lips, making it clear to this person, that now is not the best moment.

If you wake up and ask him, how long did you nap, Alex will always answer, 'oh, you've just closed your eyes a few minutes ago'. Even if you fell asleep more than an hour before.

Please, just let him stay like that with you for a little longer. These are the moments, he lives for: you in his hands, in peace, loved and loving.

König

Platonic

Oh no, this poor soul, he is completely lost. He doesn't feel, if his verbal interactions are graceful enough, and you've just accidentally initiated a prolonged touch.

His pulse is higher than Austrian mountains, as he tries to sit still and mimic the wall or couch under your head.

He hides his eyes when someone passes by you, tries to pretend that this is how it should be, thanks all the gods for not taking off his veil immediately after returning from the mission so no one sees the blush stretching from his cheeks to his neck.

"Horangi... Pssst, Horangi! W-what should I do?" "Ehm, enjoy a peaceful moment with fellow soldier? You guys look cute like that." "Wait, don't leave me here! This whole situation might be inappropriate... You must help me now! Do something!!" "You want me to wake her up?" "Yes! Wait, no! What if waking her up is actually inappropriate?"

König will sincerely want to apologize to you. He does not yet know what exactly, but he certainly did something wrong. He will suffer and spin in bed half the night, formulating a socially acceptable apology, and finally fall asleep, satisfied with the phrase he composed.

He'll come up to you in the morning, only to realize with horror that he forgot the exact wording of the apology. Therefore, he will honor you with a short nod, turn around and go in the opposite direction.

Romantic

König pretends he's asleep too. It is ok to not move, since he is asleep, yes? It is enough of an excuse to hold you in a tight embrace, since he's doing it unconsciously, is it?

It doesn't even matter, if everybody around knows what exactly is happening between you two - he still believes, he needs an excuse to touch you, even to be around you.

Due to his size, König can simply hide you in his arms. Can and will. You are after all his treasure.

He discreetly lifts his veil up just to take your hand and press a quick kiss against your knuckles. He enjoys the opportunity to touch you like that from time to time when others are not looking.

But if someone decides to interrupt this heaven - they better be prepared for the coldest, most menacing death glare. Because König won't let anyone disturb his Schatzis` moment of peace.

[wolken-himmel]

In which (Y/n) ends up in the infirmary because a child wandering around campus bit her.

It turns out that the feral boy is Floyd's and her child from the future.

Request by anon.

"(Y/n), we came as quickly as we could!"

A jolt ran through your body when the door to the infirmary was pushed open with an incredible force. Before you could even begin to recover from the awful noise the hinges produced, you found three figures surrounding your bed.

"What happened to you?" Deuce asked and pointed to your finger in worry. "Someone said you got bitten?"

Ace poked the band-aid that covered the tip of your pointer finger. "Bitten by a feral animal? By Grim?" he asked and began laughing, especially when the cat in question grumbled a few curses of protests.

Much to your amusement, Deuce shot the cat a stern look and wagged his finger in front of his disgruntled eyes. "Grim, what did we tell you?" the blue-haired boy scolded, narrowing his eyes. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you..."

"It wasn't me, I swear!" Grim threw his hands into the air while Ace and you merely laughed your souls out. Your amusement seemed to confuse Deuce, so much that the cat had to explain, "I don't bite people. I have class, you know..."

"Yeah, I was bitten—" you began slowly.

"But you're not bleeding out, are you?" Ace interrupted you and took precautionary step backwards. "And please tell me you didn't get rabies..."

By then, your left eye had begun twitching in frustration — oh, and your ears had begun hurting with all the excessive noise. Before the three could begin arguing amongst each other again, you had already raised your hands to shut them up. "Let me finish my sentences, you idiots!" They quieted down at once, all due to the angry glare you shot them. "No, I got bitten by a child... It was a boy, turquoise blue hair and very very sharp teeth. He couldn't have been older than seven..."

"How... did a child get on campus?" Ace asked with scrunched up eyebrows.

"I don't know..." you grumbled and sank into the soft infirmary bed again — it was much softer than the one back at Ramshackle. After a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and waved the three off. "Just ask Crowley or something."

"And where is the boy now?" Deuce piped up, his eyes flashing with concern. "What if he bites other people? He could seriously hurt someone—"

The red-head rolled his eyes. "It's just a child, you idiot..."

"No, trust me, Ace," you interjected seriously. A series of shivers ran down your back, and something akin to trauma darkened your eyes. "That boy is a menace to society."

"So what do we do now?" Grim asked, panicked.

His blue eyes flashing with utter determination, a bulb seemed to light up above Deuce's head. "We could put up some traps," he suggested while pacing up and down the empty infirmary. "You know, attach some thread to a branch and then prop up a cage. And then use candy as bait."

You clicked your tongue. "That's how you catch a stray cat, not a child..."

°

°

°

"Ugh, why do our professors always give us so much homework? I barely even have time to fulfil my daily squeeze quota anymore! Jade, my whole life is falling apart! What is the purpose of living if I can't have fun?"

"Oh Floyd... please tell me you're finished with the alchemy assignment for tomorrow."

The twins were walking side by side, traversing another courtyard to get to the Mirror Chamber for their shifts at the lounge. Yet, dread already pooled in the depths of Jade's stomach when he looked upon the moody frown on his brother's face. Floyd's mood swings and work didn't mix well at all — it was like throwing oil and water together.

"Nope," Floyd chimed innocently, "haven't even started yet with that stupid assignment."

"The deadline is tomorrow..." Jade furrowed his eyebrows in worry.

His concerned tone merely drew an annoyed scoff from Floyd's pursed lips. "I wasn't in the mood." A whine escaped his lips when he raised his long arms to stretch lazily. His lips twisted downwards into a pout when he suddenly complained, "I haven't seen (Y/n) all day! My little shrimpy would usually bribe me with hugs and what not to do my homework..."

Jade shook his head in disbelief. "By the Great Seven, Floyd..."

Before he could properly begin scolding his brother, a high-pitched voice reached their ears — someone was calling out to them, and the voice was drawing closer. "Daddy!" they managed to discern once the voice was close enough. And almost simultaneously, a young child threw himself into Floyd's arms while continously muttering 'Daddy' over and over again.

Reluctantly moving his arms around the boy to support him, Floyd furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and a tad bit of annoyance. "Huh? What do you want, little guppy?" The sharpness of his eyes softened up though as soon as he found the child's cheeks covered in dried tears. The boy continued wailing and clinging to the Octavinelle student. "Oh my, why are you crying?"

"I-I hurt Mommy earlier!" the boy confessed guiltily. "I bit her! I didn't mean to... I was just so excited to see her again! And I was so happy that I chomped down a little bit too much... It was meant as a love nibble..."

"And where is your mommy?" Jade asked hesitantly.

The boy's mood seemed to increase once he laid eyes upon the other twin. "Uncle Jade! You're here, too!" he exclaimed with a toothy smile.

Floyd and Jade shot each other surprised looks, astonished by the young boy's ease at telling them apart. Yet, with the way he addressed them, they both began to worry.

"I don't remember having a son, Jade..."

"Neither do I."

Before they could ask the child for answers, three figures came running towards them — two Heartslabyul students and a familiar cat monster. All of them were out of breath when they came to a halt in front of the twins.

"Floyd! Step away from that child at once!" Deuce exclaimed and extended his flat hand warningly. "He's dangerous..."

"This little guppy? No, he ain't dangerous at all." A bout of laughter escaped Floyd's lips when he began tickling the boy affectionately. "What's your name, guppy?" he cooed and cradled him gently.

"Nemo!" the boy chimed.

"See?" Floyd drawled. "So cute."

Grim shook his head hastily. "That boy bit (Y/n)!"

The remark caused Jade to tense at once. His limbs suddenly frozen, he only managed to slowly crane his neck at his brother, who was still busy playing with the mysterious boy. Now, on closer look, Jade managed to see the resemblance between the wild boy and the Ramshackle prefect. His disbelief still didn't lessen, somehow, when he carefully asked, "Wait... so (Y/n) is your mother, Nemo?"

The boy immediately piped up happily when that name reached his ears. "Mommy! Where is she?" His toothy smile showed off his razer-sharp teeth. "Is she alright?"

"Great," Ace grumbled under his breath, "so we bought the cage and candy for nothing..."

The revelation had Floyd perking up in utter delight. His bad mood from earlier had disappeared entirely, based on the way he was grinning widely. "Woah, so Shrimpy and I are gonna have little shrimpies together in the future?" Giggles escaped his lips while he threw the child into the air. "I love it! You're making my day, little guppy~"

"If that's the future, you should work hard for it..." Jade muttered mischievously. "Maybe this is a sign by the Great Seven to work on your assignment for tomorrow."

"Nemo, what do you know of alchemy?" Floyd asked, his laughter mixing with his son's giggles. "I'm sure you'll help your daddy work on his assignment, no?"

The question made Jade's smile waver. "Oh, he's hopeless..."

[the-butch3r]

could write on the male reader fucked Sebastian Solace after he made a deal when the male reader was short on data/documents on getting a medkit or flashlight

Free Fishsticks?!

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Male Reader Word Count: 2.4k Content: Porn ahead (MDNI), coerced sex kinda, intersex Sebastian, top reader, Sebastian is down bad as FUCK, i don't really know how this anatomy works or just sex in general but im trying my best (born to jork it forced to research) Summary: Stupidly attempting a run without picking up any data, you get desperate for a medkit. Sebastian offers a deal.

AO3 ver.

Your legs completely ached from the mimic door you just walked into, and your heart probably needed a bandaid for that attack you just had. It wasn’t your fault, you told yourself - the room was dark, courtesy of Froger, and you didn’t have a light source, so you quickly walked into the first door you saw. Painter appeared on the door node and called you a moron, which honestly you were for doing this run, but you flipped him off anyway as soon as you could stand. Yeah, fuck that guy. Both of them. Good People tried to claw at your leg as you fell on your back, and it hurt like a bitch. You were also attacked by a squiddle for using a lantern you picked up earlier, and that ran out (because you wouldn’t admit it, but you weren’t using that sparingly), so you had no light source and were on the literal verge of death. That lantern was actually the only object you picked up this entire run, as you were trying to do some sort of speedrun without searching for data. You had a couple handfuls, maybe 75 research points, but not much. This wasn’t exactly going well, obviously. You were able to dodge Angler a few times, a wall dweller, and Froger just now, but the blacksite was an unforgiving place, and you had sorely fucked up. Your first priority was a medkit. Luckily, the next room you stumbled into was marked ‘52’, which meant that soon you’d run into Sebastian. But you wouldn’t even be able to afford a medkit from him – they were more than double the amount of research you had collected, from what you could remember, and you doubt he liked you – or anyone, for that matter – enough to give you a free medkit. Limping your way into the next few rooms with no hassle, checking behind you cautiously, you walked into door 55. A vent pried itself open in front of you, Sebastian’s voice inviting you in. You took a deep breath, dropping down to your sore knees to crawl into the vent. You’d just get in, grab the keycard, and go. Simple. Darkness was initially the one to be the first you see, but as Sebastian’s light bulb flickered on, your eyes met his. A smile crept up on his face, which you always assumed was inauthentic. “Ah, had a feeling it’d be you. My favourite customer~” Sebastian greeted, his hands clasped together as he gazed down at you with his triad of unsettlingly bright blue eyes, keeping that toothy smile on his face. It almost looked genuine. You ducked your head away and immediately went for the keycard, hobbling on your better leg and then ducking straight into the vents. Sebastian’s voice stopped you midway. “You aren’t even gonna buy anything? Seriously?” His voice lilted, confusion being the undertone to his words. “I’ve got a medkit right here. Buy it.” You hung your head ashamedly, sighing to yourself. “I… don’t have enough data,” You responded, embarrassed. “Really? You didn’t collect any research?” His voice echoed back flatly. “That’s stupid.” Yeah, it sure was. You pulled yourself back inside the shop, sitting against the wall with your head in your hands, rubbing your temples. “Yeah, I know.” You snapped back passive aggressively. “Fuck, I’d do anything for a medkit right now…”You muttered to yourself. You definitely wouldn’t be doing a run like this again. The room went silent for a moment. Honestly, you were just taking a breather, but it seems another metaphorical light bulb grew on his head. “Well. Let me cut you a deal then,” He started, the smile on his face growing even bigger. Your head perked up. A deal, huh? “Like what?” “A medkit… On the house.” The way he said it sounded enticing, but it’s not like you would decline something like that anyway.

You raised your eyebrow, willing to see this through. “In exchange for?” He bit his lip. “Sleeping with me.” “What?” You blurted out, sounding a little more repulsed than you’d like to have. Your eyes widened and you immediately looked up at him in the eyes. His smug ass smile unwavering, he locked eye contact with you, raising a non existent eyebrow. “I don’t think I stuttered.” He stated, giving you a look that made your face heat up and butterflies swarm inside your stomach. 

“Listen, you can’t imagine how pent up I’ve been, alone down here for the past decade. A man has his needs, you know, and you might be one to sate them.” Before you knew it, he was leaning down to your level, smirking expectantly. “Well? It’s just like any other transaction. I doubt you haven’t thought about it before~” He teased, bringing a claw to your face, swooping it behind your ear and down your cheek. You know what? He was right. You agreed embarrassingly fast. You definitely had a thing for the fish guy, and you were gonna stop denying it now. “O-Okay. Yeah. I mean, yes, to the deal, I mean. Sure.” You cursed at yourself internally for stuttering, probably making yourself sound stupid. He chuckled at your eagerness, making you avert your eyes bashfully.

“Good.” He retreated backwards, clearing his throat as you stood up carefully. You both stared at each other for a moment, as if unsure where to go from here, but you were broken from your trance when Sebastian started to unbuckle the clips around his tail and remove the SCRAMBLER from his back. He looked back at you when he noticed you were still staring.

“...Well? Are you gonna just stand there?” He deadpanned, before you gestured to your leg. “I still need a medkit.”

“Oh.” He looked back at your leg, as if he almost forgot you were bleeding out in his shop. He unclipped one from his tail and handed it to you, you giving him a delicate thanks in return. Grateful for the safety of the SCRAMBLER, you shimmied off your diving suit and gear until you were fully naked. You opened up the medkit, relieved that you were finally able to take care of your wounds.

By the time you were done bandaging yourself, Sebastian was stripped of his equipment, awkwardly looking around for a position he could settle himself into. After a few moments of watching him flop around for a bit, he found himself comfortable leaning back against the wall with his tail looping around to support him, a mess of thick curls on the floor.

You stood in front of him, analyzing his alien body. It was littered with scars all over, most from what you assumed were the experiments, a small amount being from the blacksite lockdown, probably. He had gills both on the sides of his torso and his neck, his body a mixture of beautiful shades and patterns of blue. The longer you stared, the more entranced you became. He was honestly so beautiful, more divine than any human you’d ever seen.

“Come here,” He coaxed with a smile, patting his ‘lap’ with his third arm. You obeyed, climbing onto him and straddling his lap with the rest of his tail able to support you. Looking at his genitals, you were a bit shocked by what you saw, but not in a bad way at all. 3 holes – the top one being the most prominent, an opening with something pink and glistening wet just slightly peeking out, the middle one seeming to just be a slit, and the bottom one as what you presumed was his asshole. Interesting anatomy. You did read about his document and him being mixed with specifically female anglerfish DNA, so that must’ve been in the mix with this.

Wordlessly, Sebastian chased a hand down to his crotch, slipping two digits into his top hole and wiggling something out. You watched in bewilderment as he fingered out 2 tentacle-like cocks from his hole.

“There,” He huffed, his cheeks dusted an odd shade of dark blue. “Now we can have some fun.”

He smiled smugly in response to viewing your wide-eyed shock, finding it utterly adorable. “Go on. Indulge, my pet.” He urged, reaching for one of his dicks and stroking it gently, watching for your next move. He shuddered as he touched himself, as if he’d been waiting for this kind of release for a long time, sensitive to the touch. You couldn’t imagine how long it’s been since he’d done anything sexual, let alone with a partner. You figured that might be why he invited (forced) you to spend this with him. Probably.

You swallowed nervously. Spitting on your hand, you decided to make do with what you had, which wasn’t much. Stroking yourself until you could deem yourself slicked up, ready to position yourself against… his slit, you think?

“So, do I, uhm.. Just… In here?-” You sheepishly asked, Sebastian groaning in response, narrowing his eyes. “Just put it in there already.” He growled, motioning his hand wrapped around his cock faster. You raised one of your hands in fake surrender, assuming he might just be really pent up.

Slowly, you slid yourself into his sopping hole, greeted by tepid, tight wetness. Sebastian held in a soft groan as you eased yourself in, staring down at your bodies hungrily. You never thought fish pussy would feel this good, but it did. And you never thought you’d say something like that to yourself, and never will again.

As soon as you bottomed out, you waited a moment to see if he was comfortable with you moving yet or not. Seeing as he didn’t protest, you patiently waited for him to relax. You gingerly stretched your arm out to rest on his chest for more support, feeling the surprisingly soft skin under your palms. It didn’t feel human at all, and that’s secretly what you liked about it. Sebastian noticed your hand, and didn’t say anything about it, quietly leaning his head back as he pleasured himself.

“Move.” He spoke after a short minute, making you obey. Slowly grinding yourself into him, you released quiet sounds of pleasure, resting your other hand on his hip for a better angle. Sebastian tried his best to keep himself as silent as possible, strained groans and soft pants being the only noises coming out of his mouth. You could tell he was holding back. And you didn’t particularly like it.

Attempting to tease a sound out of him, you reached for his untouched dick, closing a hand around it. Man, it was big. Maybe about half the length of your arm. Stroking it gently, experimenting with it, it felt slimy under your fingers, as what you assumed was pre coated itself on your fingers. It was slightly thicker than human pre, for sure. Sebastian’s reaction was slightly delayed, opening his eyes and seeing your hand wrapped around his cock. He shivered from the realization, his light bulb subtly dimming and brightening. Was he doing that the whole time? It was kinda cute.

You decided to speed it up, giving up on sitting awkwardly and instead planting your feet on the ground beside and between his looping tail for more leverage. From here you could properly slap your hips against his hole, despite how uncomfortable it might’ve been, but you were fine with it for now. Plowing yourself into him, you glanced up at Sebastian, focusing on his face for a minute. His cheeks were flush with blue, his lips pulled back in a tight grimace as he tried his best to keep in sound. His eyes were half-lidded, gazing down at where your crotches met.

Listening to the way he wheezed out a few pathetic grunts, you were sick of it and wanted more. You tugged on his dick harder, just in time with your thrusts, dragging them out before ramming back in. It worked. Sebastian threw his head back and moaned, and fuck, you loved it.

“Ngh- Fuck!” He yelled out, his arm reaching to grab onto a table next to you. You smirked to yourself triumphantly.

“Gonna stop being so quiet now?” You coaxed, returning to a slow pace. “Shut up.” He growled back, narrowing his eyes at you. You let go of his dick in response, hearing him softly whine at the absence of your hand.

“Seriously, start making some noise or I’m not gonna fuck you as good as I want to.” You gazed up at him, making eye contact as you watched him consider his words for a few seconds. He finally sighed, leaning back and trying to relax. “Fine.”

As you continued on, you noticed he was still getting comfortable with the prospect of making noise like this, but he was a bit louder for you this time. You eased back into a faster pace, slamming your hips against his hole as he moaned out for you.

“Fuck, that’s good… Keep going~” He breathed out, taking you by surprise, but sexually motivating you entirely. You worked faster for him, listening as he whimpered for you, slightly bucking up his body to meet your hips. Soon enough, he seemed to reach his climax, his bulb flickering for a few seconds as his mind went blank, mouth opening to release an inaudible scream. You pumped your hips harder as you raced to your own release, biting your lip as drool dribbled out from between your lips.

You were faced with the conscience of pulling out for just a second before strong hands grabbed your hips, preventing you from doing so anyway. Hot, white semen flooded into his hole, muffled noises coming from your mouth. You both laid there together, panting heavily as you recovered.

“Fuck… That was-” You huffed out, interrupted by Sebastian manoeuvring you onto your back with ease, putting you on the cold, hard floor. Your eyes widened, taken by surprise when he climbed on top of you, cum still pooling from his hole.

“I never said we were done.” He grumbled, a grin on his face as he mounted you, welcoming your cock back inside. You hissed, still coming down from your refractory period. “Wait, w-what the fu-” Interrupted again by the sensation of him grinding his body into you, a pleasant moan escaping him.

Well, you’d definitely be doing a run like this again.