#this is so beautiful i was nearly moved to tears

[rik0shii]

gdragon with a bubbly!reader who's always so entertaining and energetic. reader is a solo artist from YG company along with bigbang and 2NE1. when the company held a YG family concert, we could see gdragon basically just playing around with reader and fans take notice of this, some even makes an edit of them from the concert.

YG’S WEIRDOS

At the YG Family Concert, G-Dragon couldn’t stop teasing you, from playful banter to dragging you into an unexpected dance break. Fans quickly took notice, and by the next day, viral clips had everyone convinced—he definitely had a soft spot for you.

hiii tysm for requesting❤️❤️❤️ i hope you like this!reposts and comments are appreciated!

The YG Family Concert was always a highlight of the year, bringing together all the artists in one massive, unforgettable event. As expected, you were your usual high-energy, chaotic self, always moving, always hyping up the crowd, and making sure everyone was having fun.

It didn’t take long for fans to notice that G-Dragon seemed especially entertained by you.

From the very beginning, he gravitated toward you, whether it was standing beside you during introductions or laughing at your antics from across the stage. It wasn’t unusual for Jiyong to be playful, but tonight, it felt like he had made it his personal mission to mess with you.

When it was your turn to introduce yourself, you stepped forward with an exaggerated bow, extending your arms dramatically. “Good evening, everyone! I am Y/N, the greatest performer to ever exist—”

Jiyong let out a loud laugh beside you, shaking his head as he took the mic. “I didn’t realize we were doing theatrical introductions tonight.”

Without missing a beat, you turned to him. “Oh? You wanna do one too? Go ahead, make it dramatic.”

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked and gave an overly elegant bow. “G-Dragon. Fashion icon. Genius. Your favorite artist’s favorite artist.”

You clapped, pretending to wipe away a tear. “Beautiful. That was inspiring.”

The playful exchange earned laughter from the crowd, and it was only the beginning.

Later in the night, during BIGBANG’s performance, you were standing at the side of the stage, dancing along like a proper hype person. Jiyong caught sight of you from the middle of the stage, and before you could react, he ran over and grabbed your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Y/N, dance break!” he announced into his mic, giving you absolutely no time to prepare.

The beat dropped, and instinct took over. You committed fully, breaking into the most absurd dance moves imaginable—over-the-top body waves, uncoordinated moonwalks, and random high kicks that made no sense while 2NE1’s CL and Daesung cheered you on.The audience erupted with laughter, and Jiyong was laughing so hard he nearly missed his next line.

When the music finally moved on, you doubled over, catching your breath. He nudged your shoulder, grinning. “I didn’t think you’d actually go for it.”

You crossed your arms and raised your eyebrow dramatically. “Embarrassing myself is my superpower.”

By the next morning, the internet was flooded with clips of your interactions.

One video of Jiyong laughing at your dance break had already hit over two million views. Another edit compiled every moment the two of you shared on stage—him nudging you, laughing at your antics, and literally dragging you into the spotlight. The title? “GD can’t hide his soft spot for Y/N.”

Even your fellow YG artists had started teasing.

“Jiyong, why do you always mess with Y/N?” Taeyang asked during an interview the next day.

Jiyong shrugged, barely holding back a smile. “They’re just… hard to ignore.”

Your phone buzzed not long after.

Jiyong: We’re going viral, troublemaker.

You: I take full responsibility. You’re welcome.

Jiyong: You’re gonna pay for this.

You: Oh? What are you gonna do? Challenge me to another dance battle?

Jiyong: …Don’t tempt me.

If this concert was anything to go by, the next one was going to be even more chaotic.

[pbaz7]

was going through an insane crash out yesterday and the tenn game was just the cherry on top. really needing this rn lmao.

“Go back to sleep, pretty.”

tearing up alr

“You’re lucky you look like your mama, you know that?”

if their kid does end up looking like azzi that little girl is about to be spoiled beyond anyone's wildest dreams

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re more important,” she sighed, giving her tiny hand a gentle squeeze.

🥹

“She thinks I don’t know it, but she’s been running my life since I was fifteen.”

azzi had her on a leash for nearly a decade atp

“I swear, she could tell me to do anything, and I’d do it. No hesitation,” Paige admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “And now you? I just know you’re gonna be the same way. I’m gonna be in trouble with you two. Probably broke.”

at least she's aware!

“And you? You’re the best thing we ever did…”

ever better than getting that 2025 natty?! (let me stay delusional)

Azzi’s heart melted.

how could it not

Azzi watched in disbelief before shaking her head. “Oh, this is ridiculous. She’s already got a favorite.”

p tends to have that effect on people unfortunately (fortunately)

Aliana was sound asleep, bundled up in her little UConn onesie, oblivious to the fact that she was about to make her first official appearance in Gampel Pavilion.

uconn fan since BIRTH quite literally

Azzi sighed, shaking her head as a small smile pulled at her lips. “I still can’t believe we call him Grandpa now.”

oh em gee this is adorable. geno pls get ur act together and stop making game losing calls and maybe this can happen irl!

“Oh. My. God,” she gasped, eyes wide with shock and excitement.

still extra and dramatic all these years later

her fingers already moving to undo the straps.

can't even call you out for the double entendre bc this is genuinely so adorable

Ice shook her head, laughing. “Oh, you already on that parent logic, huh?”

girl math parent logic

just Paige and Azzi, tucked into each other like they were back in college, stealing moments in between practices.

just thinking about them being so cute and annoying during practice and lit tearing up. I can't have it be over guys😭

Paige tightened her hold, letting out a small hum of satisfaction. “I missed this,” she admitted. “Just… holding you.”

longing for simpler times right with p and az... oh how I miss Hopkins p

“You’re my wife. Meaning you’re irreplaceable, Bueckers.”

literally can't imagine either of them with anyone else

When they pulled away, she whispered, “God, you’re beautiful.”

azzi almost looks like ai she's so perfect. like sometimes I wonder if she's real

Paige smirked. “I do know. But please tell me more.”

she's just the same

“Yeah, but when she doesn’t want to sleep unless she’s on your chest?

this trait seems to be hereditary then...

Paige pulled out the tiny noise-canceling headphones and carefully adjusted them over Aliana’s little head.

just thinking of kate martin holding her nephew with those stupid little headphones over his head

The moment people noticed the baby in Paige’s arms, the volume somehow got even louder.

cuz they know that little girl bout to be playing for them in like 17 years

After a moment, Paige sighed and carefully, almost reluctantly, shifted Aliana into Azzi’s arms.

this is so dad watching the Super Bowl core

Paige smirked. “Guess she likes messing with you already. Knew she’d be just like me.”

azzi got TWO of these hoes to deal with. someone give her an award for patience

“I get it, baby. Auntie Nika is a lot sometimes.”

would NEVER in a million years trust nika with my kid... but love that for p and az!

but they’re practically vibrating waiting to meet you.”

me core I fear

“She was always putting me first. It didn’t matter how much pressure she was under, how exhausted she was from practice—she always made sure I felt loved.”

azzi stop talking before I start sobbing

You and me? We’re the luckiest girls in the world.”

and a tear rolled down my cheek🥹

Paige leans in and presses a quick but lingering kiss to her lips, not caring in the slightest about the people around them.

just one of these is all I want! it doesn't even have to be on the lips guys just a cute little kiss on the forehead at the draft or smth

“I mean, can you blame me? I bagged the most beautiful woman in the world and we have the cutest baby ever. I think I’ve earned the right to be a little cocky.”

I mean she does have a point...

Paige and Azzi both chuckle at the comment. Paige leans in slightly toward Azzi, murmuring, “They’re already trying to recruit her.”

knowing who her parents are you can't blame em

“Move over, CD. Let me see my granddaughter.”

gramps is so sassy lmao

a familiar but unexpected face appeared beside them.

wait im scared

“You and Azzi still going strong, huh?”

who is this ugly hoe..

As soon as the woman was out of earshot, Azzi turned to Paige. “I thought we were done with your groupies at this stage.”

nah that's just what comes with marrying Paige bueckers

Now, Azzi was straddling Paige’s lap, her arms draped lazily over Paige’s shoulders as they kissed.

OH?!

“Doesn’t change anything,” she said, her voice low but firm. “You know I can’t do it.”

yeah im on team Paige here I would efintley not have sex in front of my kid lmao... no matter how young they are

Azzi let out a laugh just before Paige kissed her again, pulling her under the warmth of the water, their laughter fading into something softer.

can't even be mad I was robbed cuz this is adorable

ugh I love pazzi as parents so much

truly still in shambles about yesterday

dare I say I knew we were gonna lose from before the game even started...

anyway author, as usual, I love you

-🍉

tearing up alr

everybody said this 😭

ever better than getting that 2025 natty?! (let me stay delusional)

exactly you see the vision..yup..yup

oh em gee this is adorable. geno pls get ur act together and stop making game losing calls and maybe this can happen irl!

please luigi i need you to get it together

azzi almost looks like ai she's so perfect. like sometimes I wonder if she's real

this is so real

would NEVER in a million years trust nika with my kid... but love that for p and az!

i wouldn’t trust any of them with a child

and a tear rolled down my cheek

sorry 😬

just one of these is all I want! it doesn't even have to be on the lips guys just a cute little kiss on the forehead at the draft or smth

man gimme something please

also i’m letting that game drift from my memory permanently ✨

[chrollospsychologist]

Tanjiro

This man worships the ground you walk on. No, literally, he would drop to his knees and wipe the dirt off your shoes with his haori.

He loves hugging you—he says your warmth feels like home. He’s always rubbing your arms, back, or belly absentmindedly while talking.

If anyone so much as thinks about making a comment on your body, Tanjiro will sense it before they even speak and shut that down IMMEDIATELY. His tone is still polite, but his eyes? Unforgiving.

“I don’t know why you thought that was an appropriate thing to say. Maybe rethink that before you say anything else, hm?”

Loves carrying you. You think he’s joking when he offers, but he’s not. Easily lifts you like you weigh nothing, and he’s so proud about it. “See? Told you I could do it!”

Learns how to take care of your hair like it’s breathing technique training. He watches intently when you do your wash day routine, making mental notes. The first time he helps, he moves so gently, treating your scalp like sacred ground.

“Tell me if I’m doing this wrong,” he whispers, massaging the oil in. You swear you almost fall asleep.

Scalp massages that make you MELT.

Thinks your cooking is god-tier. You made him jollof rice once, and he nearly cried. “This is better than Udon,” he says as he stuffs his mouth til his cheeks are protruding outwards, with the most serious expression. You laugh, but he’s deadass. You catch him trying to recreate it in secret, mumbling about “honoring tradition.”

Values your strength over everything. You tell him stories about growing up—how you had to work twice as hard, push past stereotypes, and stand tall no matter what. He listens.

“You’ve had to be strong for so long,” he says one night, voice soft. “You can rest with me.”

Zenitsu

He screamed when he first saw you. Not out of fear—just pure, unfiltered admiration. “HOW CAN SOMEONE BE SO BEAUTIFUL?!?!”

This man is CLINGY. He will attach himself to you at any given moment, draped across your lap, hugging your waist, or just resting his head against your chest. He calls it his “safe place.” :eyeroll

He loves buying you gifts, especially jewelry that compliments your skin tone. “Gold/copper looks so good on you, babe!”

Compliments you at least ten times a day. “You’re so soft. You're the best girl ever. You’re literally the love of my life.”

If someone says anything negative about your body, Zenitsu goes FULL THUNDERCLAP AND FLASH on them. They won’t even have time to regret their words.

Will cry over how beautiful you are. Not an exaggeration. If you dress up for a date, he might actually tear up. “I don’t deserve you… you’re divine…”

Overdramatic but in the best way. You wear a sundress one day, and he faints. You twist your hair up? “You’re a queen.” You walk into a room? “Oh, we’re so blessed.” Sometimes it’s silly, but when he says, “You deserve to be adored every second of the day,” you know he means it.

Goes through phases with your hair. First, he’s scared to touch it. Then, he’s obsessed. Tries to “help” braid it once but gets frustrated within five minutes. “How do you do this every week? Your fingers must be blessed by the gods!” Ends up just watching YouTube tutorials and taking notes so he can at least detangle it right.

Buys you clothes he knows will hug your curves just right. He’s your personal stylist, making sure every outfit makes you feel confident. “You’re literally a goddess. We have to showcase that.”

Loves playing with your hands. He’ll trace his fingers over your knuckles, kiss your palms, and interlock fingers just to feel close to you. “Your hands are so soft… just like the rest of you~”

Inosuke

At first, he didn’t understand why you were insecure about your body. “You’re strong, right? You’re soft, but you’re still strong. That’s all that matters.”

He thinks your thighs are the best pillows. Falls asleep with his head on them all the time.

Brrrraaaagggs about you to random people. “My woman? The most beautiful woman in the world! No one else compares!!!”

Accidentally matches your energy. You side-eye a stranger? He side-eyes them harder. You start talking with your hands? Now he’s really talking with his hands. “Why you acting like me?” “You act like this, so now I act like this.”

He doesn’t let ANYONE disrespect you. The moment someone even looks at you wrong, he’s ready to fight.

Inosuke is surprisingly gentle with you. He’s loud and brash with others, but when it comes to you? His touch is careful, his voice softer. You’re his queen, and he treats you like it.

Loves resting his hands on your belly. Not in a teasing way—he just likes the warmth. Sometimes he pats it and hums in approval. “Comfy…”

Yuji

This boy is your biggest fan. He hypes you up more than you hype yourself up. “Look at my girl! Just LOOK AT HER. She’s GORGEOUS.” Hands flailing and errthang.

Has no spice tolerance but tries SO HARD. You give him a plate of pepper soup, and he’s struggling, but he refuses to tap out. “I love it,” he chokes out, sweating. You hand him water. “Admit defeat.” “NEVER.”

He’s always touching you—holding or fiddling with your hand, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. Physical affection is his love language.

Loves going out with you, could be anywhere, he cherishes every moment. He loves going shopping with you.

When you’re cuddling, he loves tracing little patterns on your arms and thighs, pressing soft kisses to your skin every few minutes.

Yuji is a lot more attentive than what people give him credit for.

Thinks your family’s side-eyes are the funniest thing ever. You don’t even have to speak sometimes; your expression says it all. He starts doing it too. “That’s not how we do it,” he whispers at a restaurant when he sees unseasoned food. You’ve corrupted him.

Takes random pictures of you all the time. Even if you think you look bad, he insists otherwise. “Nope. You’re breathtaking. End of discussion.”

Chrollo

Chrollo finds beauty in all things, but with you? He’s utterly captivated. Every curve, every dip, every inch of your skin is a masterpiece to him.

He always talks about you like you’re a rare, exquisite art piece. “She moves with the grace of a queen, and her presence alone demands reverence.”

He loves reading poetry to you while tracing slow circles on your skin. “Every poet wishes they could capture your essence in words, but they all fall short.”

Writes poetry about you. You’ll wake up to handwritten notes describing your beauty in the most devastatingly romantic ways.

Buys silk scarves for your hair like they’re artifacts. You mention needing a new scarf? The next day, he gifts you one that’s imported. “I researched the best fabric for your curls,” he says like it’s a thesis.

Buys you the most luxurious clothes and accessories. He has a particular weakness for seeing you in silk and velvet. “It compliments your figure beautifully.”

You’re the only one who can humble him. Others fear him, but you? “If you don’t sit down somewhere,” you say, and he actually does. When he gets dramatic, you just give him a look. “My apologies,” he says immediately.

If anyone dares to insult you, they simply disappear. No one knows what happened. No one asks.

Okarun

This boy is absolutely down bad for you. The first time he saw you, he nearly malfunctioned.

He blushes EVERY time you touch him, no matter how small the gesture. “W-why are you so soft…?!”

You catch him staring at you all the time, completely mesmerized. If you call him out on it, he gets all flustered. “I-I wasn’t staring! …Okay, maybe a little.”

He is your personal hype man. “You’re so cool. So pretty. So amazing. How did I get so lucky?!”

Gets overwhelmed when you wear something form-fitting. He short-circuits. Stares. Mouth open. Blushes so hard he might pass out. “U-Uh… wow.”

Loves cuddling into your chest. It’s his safe space. If he’s stressed, he’ll just bury his face there and mumble, “Five more minutes, please…”

Calls you the strongest person he knows. Not just physically—he admires your mind, your resilience.

Has a phase where he just loves your accent, slang, and language. You call him “boo,” and he’s grinning for days. You switch between English and your parents’ language? He’s trying to learn. “What does that mean? Say it again.”

Thinks protective styles are sorcery. You get braids done, and he’s baffled. “How long did that take?!” You let him touch them, and he treats them like royalty. “This is so cool…”

Loves watching you dance. At a party, you hit a move, and he’s just staring. You pull him in, and he’s awkward at first, but he tries. “Am I doing it right?” “...Bless your heart.”

[gaytobymeres]

Sandstone and sky: Edinburgh in September

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

Watching you

Hwang In-ho x female!reader.

Summary: In-ho sees you and his brain chemistry changes. A/N: in reader’s pov he’s referred as Young il. Sorry if it’s confusing. Warnings: Obsessive and possessive behaviour, masturbation, stalking, perverted opinions, murder, blood, kissing, mentions of arousal, mentally and physically vulnerable characters, dubious consent, non-con touching, manipulation, sadism, dacryphilia

W/c: 3,5k

It was strange that he kept his eyes on you more than anyone in the games. The moment he saw your shaking figure among the crowd of people in the green suits, he felt his breath get stuck in his throat. You were looking around with eyes that were full of fear, hands wrapped around yourself and holding back tears as others started an argument in the middle. You listened as someone complained about his shoes being so expensive, and someone asking for his phone, an old lady argue with her son and guards answering the players’s questions with patience.

He kept his eyes on you as the first game started. He saw your eyes widen when someone was shot right in front of you, and he watched you as you realise the seriousness of the game you accepted to take part in. Gi-hun was interesting to him, yes. He was searching for them, for him have been for years now. And he was brave enough to come back to the games just to find who was behind them. He respected his determination. Yet there was something about you that he could not name. Something captivating. Something that shifted things in him, made his skin sting in ecstasy as you nearly moved when the doll turned around. You looked around with those innocent eyes and blood of someone flowing down your cheek, he felt his trouser tighten. A small, tingly sensation took over his loins and made him frown in confusion. He had never taken a liking to a someone, let alone a little, fragile thing like you.

When he found the video of you playing ddajki with the recruiter, he felt himself get harder and harder as he watched you spill tears in pain every single time you received a hard slap on your cheek. The camera captured the noises you made as your body was falling backwards with every single slap. The recruiter hit you hard and In-ho wandered if you would sound the same when he pounded you hard on his bed. He took his mask off and palmed himself trough his trouser as he kept replaying the video over and over again. When he was finished spilling his seed into his palm, he wished that was your mouth wrapped around his tip instead.

When the first game finished and your number and picture still shone bright on the floor, you voted for ‘X’ and expected everyone to vote same as you. Yet you were so wrong when the last player 001 and all others voted ‘O’, causing all of you to stay in this hellhole. You felt tears fill your eyes as some people were cheering with victory in front of you. You sat down on one of the beds at the front and hugged your legs with disappointment. As you were thinking what was going to happen next, you felt someone sit next to you.

“I’m sorry, I thought staying was the best option.” Said the man who was looking at you, watching your tears flow down your flushed cheeks. You looked at his number and saw 001 in bright white font. He was the person who voted last and made the decision. You sighed and shook your head.

“It is not only you, sir. Half of us wanted to stay.” You said as you pointed at the people who had the ‘O’ banners on their right side. He did not look at the direction you were pointing at, he kept his eyes on. You were so pretty when you cried. He wandered how beautiful you would look when you were overstimulated with his fingers in you. He felt his cock twicth when you looked at him again. Your lips were plump, and the tip of your nose was red. He wandered how your tears would taste like.

“We have a winner here. I thought we could use this for our advantage.” He explained as he pointed at Gi-hun who looked very troubled not so far away from you. Your eyes were on the last winner when you felt the man beside you stand up and take few steps towards the player 456. Yet he stopped mid way and looked back at you, as if he was waiting for you to follow him. And for some reason you wiped your tears away and followed him like a lost puppy as he walked towards the previous winner of the games who was already accompanied by few guys who kept asking him questions.

And the small group was formed with two of you joining them. You did not know much about others, did not trust them meanwhile player 001 was confident and comfortable talking to them. When he sat down next to Gi-hun, his eyes pointed at the small space next to his feet, so you sat down there. Being close to him brought you a sense of safety. He was the first person who approached you in this mess of a place with kindness. You did not know him, didn’t know his name or why he was here. Yet there was a look in his eyes that made you want to stick beside him.

When everyone went to sleep, In-ho looked at your resting form. You were wrapped in the thin blanket and was curled up into a ball. He looked at your curves that were visible from the tracksuit, his mouth watered. You were so frightened and powerless. You needed someone to protect you in the games. Someone who would look after you, make sure you make it alive. He knew what humans were capable of doing in a place like this. People were going to go mad and hurt one another viciously. Would he be able to just stand and watch if you got hurt?

Your soft whimpers and cries brought him back to reality. When you woke up from your few hours of sleep drenched in sweat and tears flowing down your cheeks, he crawled to you, in the darkness of the hall. He reached out to you, from the metal bars of the beds, and held your shoulder. You squirmed in fear and was about to scream until a large hand covered your mouth.

“It’s me.” He whispered to your ear as his whole body was pressed against your back, other arm wrapped around your shoulders. He was towering over you, as you felt sweat drops make their way to your neck from your temple.

He let go of your mouth, but his touch did not leave your body when he moved to sit next to you. He was close, his breath hitting your face and neck when he looked at you with observing eyes that did not give any feelings away. His touch made your heart beat fast and quicken your breaths, yet you did not want him to stop holding you.

“Bad dream?” He whispered, his voice is low yet deep enough to make your insides shake. You nodded when tears filled your eyes again. The images of dead bodies all over the playground haunted you since the moment you came back from the game as winners. You didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, but you felt like he would not mind seeing you cry.

He nodded along with you, almost like a grown up talking to a little kid and mirror her moves to befriend her. When he saw your bottom lip tremble and eyes full of fear scan the hall of people sleeping, he felt his loins burn in need. The face you made when you were scared and felt alone was enough to make him cum in his underwear without any touch.

Without hesitation he brought your body closer to his own and his arms embraced your shaking form with mercy. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and wrapped your smaller arms around his waist. He was warm. Very warm that you felt your fingertips burn over his body. When you breathed in and out in the crook of his neck, all In-ho wanted to do was throw your body back into the bed, rip those clothes off of you and ravage you in front of dozens of people without any care. The though of fucking you, turning you into mass in front of them, giving them a show as he claimed you, sent shivers down his spine.

“I’m so scared,” you whispered, your crying voice reaching his ear as he tried to hold back a smile at your situation. You were so helpless that you were crying in the arms of the man who was the reason why you were still here. He was a stranger, who had the potential to do anything. Yet here you were, quivering against his chest and making his member throb in need.

“I’m here.” He said. And you had no chance but trusting him.

———————

The next game you were automatically given the Gong-gi game as the only female in the group. Yet your hands were shaking when it was your turns to play after player 390 completed his part successfully. When you missed two times, you were so sure you were going to die and worse, be the reason for everyone’s death in your group.

He watched you panick, drop the pebbles and fail to catch them midair. Everyone around you was getting inpatient and scared naturally. Even tho he loved the way you were struggling and feeding into his twisted desire, he could not let you die. He held your waist and stopped the trembling of your body. You looked at him under your lashes that were wet with your tears and went back to work once he gave you a reassuring smile. With that you managed to catch all the pebbles in your palm and passed the round.

It was then, you felt something was off, when it was his turn to play his own game. The top kept slipping from his hands or landed wrong on the floor that was covered in the blood of eliminated players. You wanted to step back yet could not because of the ties when he started to scream in anger and slap himself. There was a crazy, off-putting look in his eyes. It was less uncomfortable when he was looking at you, yet it was still there. His eyes made your skin crawl and stomach twist in sickness. You did feel safe around him. But not like you would feel safe with a family member, a friend, or a lover. It felt like he was a wolf who claimed a lamb, kept her on his chest and waited for right moment to eat her.

When your group managed to survive and go back to the hall, he kept to you close. His hand was on your back, leading you to your bed. When it was mealtime, he gave half of his food to you, telling you to not to worry about him when you tried to reject him. He watched you until you finished all your food. After all of you exchanged names, he watched you talk to player 388 about his time in marine and watch you laugh when he was talking excitedly, telling everyone how prideful he was about his military service. He watched your tears dry up as you listened to the conversation that was flowing in the group. Your smile made his stomach twist and his jaw clench.

Your hopes once again were shattered when people voted for “O” more than “X” and decided to continue playing the games. Young-il wiped your tears away and convinced you to get some sleep for the night. You could only relax and fall asleep when he sat next to you on your bed and caressed your head as he decided to stay awake. He looked extraordinarily strong to you. He did not need to sleep, gave his food to others, calm people down when everyone was scared, raged and pass the games like it was nothing. Most importantly, he held you close no matter what. Did not mind you cry and fail and fall. Maybe it was a sense of guilt he felt, for making you stay in the first round of voting, you thought.

——————

Next morning he held your hand when everyone was taken to the new game. It was mingle. Your group had decided to stay together. You were grateful that they had take you in and did not leave you alone. You all took your place on the platform and started to spin as the song was playing. You felt his hand get tighter around yours, reminding you that he was here with you.

10

You ran as fast as you can and took deep breaths when all 10 of you finally managed to get into a room. The sound of lock made you jump slightly. You saw Young il’s eyes on Gi-hun as he pulled you under his arm. The images of him looking at Gi-hun since the moment you met him lingered on your mind until the woman who claimed to be a shaman started to speak loudly in the middle of the room. As you waited for gunshots to stop and doors to open, you could not help but wonder the reason behind Young il’s weird behaviour about Gi-hun. He seemed to get along with him. Seemed to respect his ideas and experiences about this place. They seemed to understand one another, somehow. Yet that unexplainable look in 001 eyes was making you shift uncomfortably in your place.

Until last round, you had no chance but sticking beside Young il. As you entered rooms and people kept dying outside, you became more paranoid. And when it came to the last round, Jeong-bae asked how many people it was going to be this time. Without hesitation Young-il answered.

“2.” And it was it. When the song stopped and the platform stopped spinning, Young il held your hand tighter than before, and started to run to closest room. As you were trying to catch up with his pace, someone bumped into you, causing you to lose your balance and stumble midway. Young il turned around immediately and wrapped his arms around your waist. He lifted you like a piece of feather and made his way to the yellow door that was already opened by a guy. Young il pushed you into the room and threw the other guy away from the door. When you scanned the room, your eyes were met with pair of foreign eyes.

“Out.” Young il said sharply to the other man in the room.

“We were here first.” The man said, his voice cracking as he was shaking in fear. Person behind the door tried to open it. You pushed your back against the door and held it with all of your strength. There was not much time left, and you were afraid that all of you were going die in this room.

Young il grabbed the man and locked his arms around his head. As they scooped to the floor, his arms got tighter around the player 343’s neck. You were still holding the door and preventing the other player to get in. For a second Young il’s intense gaze met with yours and you couldn’t look away.

He looked into your eyes, showing no emotion or weakness as the man he was choking started to turn purple. Your breath got stuck in your throat, your knees were shaking, and your palms were getting sweaty with the scene taking place in front of you. As there were few seconds left for the countdown, Young il twisted the man’s neck. The sound of bone cracking filled the room along with the sound of door locking behind you. He kept his eyes on you, as he tossed the dead body of the side.

The lifeless body of player 343 laid on the ground and the gunshots filled your ear. The screams of people scratched your brain, and you finally managed to close your eyes. He had killed someone in front of you, broke his neck with one swift motion and he had no emotion on his face as he did it. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it was going to fail at some point. Then the images of him came to your mind. When he knocked down player 124 and 230 as he looked down at them with those emotionless eyes, when he carelessly slapped himself in the second game, when he looked at Gi-hun as if he wanted to strangle him when he thought no one was looking, when he pushed everyone out of his way to get both of you to safety during the mingle game and now when he killed someone.

“Open your eyes.” He breathed out, his breath hitting your face. Suddenly you felt his warmth surrounding you and him towering over your head. You slowly opened your eyes and there he was. Looking down at you, his eyebrows lifted up and with a mocking look in his eyes. His face was close to yours. Yet it did not feel comforting and safe like it did a night ago, when he was comforting you after a nightmare.

“What did you do?” Your voice was shaky and sounded terrified as you tried to look at the dead body that was in the corner of the room. He did not let you look away with his fingers finding your chin and holding it tight. He held you with those hands that just took the life of someone. You felt chills going down your spine.

“I made sure that we survived.” He whispered without breaking eye contact with you. You could hear soldiers cleaning up the mess outside of the rooms.

“You killed him.” You tried to shake his touch away, yet he didn’t let you. Instead, he got closer, until you were trapped between him and the door. His hot breath made your skin tingle, and his touch made you wanna cry.

“Yes.” He said, and his lips touched your cheek that was wetted by your tears. His lips planted a soft kiss onto your skin. The kiss made you feel dizzy and your knees weak.

“For you.” He continued. His words made you freeze in your spot. His lips traced over your skin like a ghost and reached the corner of your lips. “Only for you” He kissed the side of your mouth, softly, gently, with mercy. You wanted to rip his hands off of you, and run away. The floor beneath your feet was slippery with the blood of eliminated players. If you slipped and fell, would he let you go?

“All for you.” His lips found your chin, then your nose, then your other cheek. He did not rush or hold you harsh enough to hurt. Yet knowing that he had just killed someone with those hands made you wanna throw up.

Your tears dropped to his lips, and he licked his lips as if he was dying over thirst. And when he made eye contact with you again, it was the first time you saw a clear human emotion in his eyes. An emotion he did not try to hide or was afraid to show; yearning. You did not know if it was for you or winning. In both cases, it terrified you to your very being.

“Stop!” You said as sobs filled your mouth and he pressed his forehead against yours hard. You felt him shake his head, his arms wrapping around your fragile, little body compared to his strong form.

“I will give you everything you want, you need.” He said and pressed his lips against yours. Without waiting, his tongue made his way into your mouth, forcing your lips to open up for him. You felt the dizzy feeling take over your head. Your ears were ringing, your mind was foggy as he kissed you harsh, deep. There was no power left in your body, so you just let yourself to his arms.

His teeth crushed against yours and he was biting every corner of your lips until he drew blood. The irony taste filled your senses, made you jump. You did not know if it was you bleeding or him. But there was blood everywhere. Covering your tongue, your lips and staining your chin as your shared spit escaped from the corner of your lips. You felt your body burn all over. Your back was arching like a cat to get any closer to him, and there was a soreness between your legs that made your clit throb. You felt shame fill you and guilt making you wanna cry out. Instead, you kept kissing him, devouring him, eating him as much as you could.

You whined and pushed your head towards him when he parted your kiss with the sound of lock. The door was opened. The third game was finished. There was still a dead man in the room. Your mouth was covered in blood, making you look like you just feasted on someone. And his eyes were on you, watching you.

[khioneee]

TAPPING OUT

synopsis. caleb graduates from the academy, but when you unexpectedly tap him out, a tradition where loved ones step forward to formally release a pilot from their duty, he realizes no achievement compares to having you by his side. (based on this.) word count. 1.1k an. loved doing this for codghost so i might as well do it for this man. lets pretend they have the tradition in their universe. okay? okay.

caleb stood in the crowd, his posture rigid and form still with precision despite the celebration around him. cheers echoed through the room, but they sounded distant, muffled. he watched as pilots, one by one, were tapped out by their loved ones. parents embracing their children, lovers reuniting in tearful hugs.

his chest tightened as his eyes scanned the room. he was waiting for gran, the one person he knew would come. gran had always shown up, had always been his anchor. he learnt not to expect anything more, not to hope for anyone else.

but then, like a shift in the universe, caleb felt you before he saw you.

when you stepped into the room, it was as if the entire world faded away. time slowed, the noise dimmed, and the lights seemed to soften, catching on the edges of your features. you looked beautiful, achingly so. heartbreakingly out of reach. you weren’t supposed to be here, not after the fight, not after the cruel words you’d both thrown at each other before he left.

you moved toward him with purpose, cutting through the room like you were meant to be there all along.

caleb couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t think.

his hands trembled at his sides as he watched you close the distance between you. he could act all stoic, but his heart didn’t feel stoic enough to make him calm.

when you stopped in front of him, there were tears already brimming in your eyes. his carefully constructed control, unshakable during training, steadfast through every grueling challenge, began to crumble.

caleb had faced impossible physical challenges, the grueling expectations of training, and the endless psychological evaluations that pushed him to the edge. but none of those had broken him nearly like you did. you, standing here, looking at him like that.

you were his undoing.

you should be his first sign. the first sign that there was something wrong with him. because you were his obsession. the one he was slowly losing control over.

caleb was not allowed to fall in love with you.

he trembled as your fingers brushed against his, tapping him out of his frozen misery. the soft touch was meant to symbolize recognition, acknowledgment. but to caleb, it was so much more.

you were here. you were real.

there was no second-guessing, no hesitation. before he could stop himself, his arms were around you, pulling you into him with a force that left him breathless. a strangled sigh escaped his lips and found its home in the crook of your neck, right where your heart beats: friends, friends, friends.

he held you like a man drowning, and you were the only thing keeping him afloat. he felt the soft shake of your shoulders, the warmth of your tears against his neck, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

‘i didn’t think you’d come,’ he whispered, his voice low and raw, breaking under the weight of his emotions. you pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. there was something in his gaze, but before you could respond, he spoke again, quieter this time, like a vow. ‘i’ll never let you go.’

the words made you shiver. they were so soft you almost didn’t catch them.

‘you can try,’ you joked, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to lighten the mood. a nervous laugh escaped as you gently pushed against his chest, pretending to escape his embrace. ‘you love me, i get it.’

but caleb didn’t loosen his hold. instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. there was a quiet laugh, quiet and unsteady, before he murmured, ‘you have no idea, pipsqueak.’

his voice was filled with something raw, something deeper than you could fully understand. it wasn’t just love. it was obsession, devotion, a yearning that had no end.

you smelled like honey. like the same thing you’d been smelling your entire life that made you feel like home in a way that hotels and dorm beds could never manage.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, shining pin they’d given him for finishing aerospace academy. it gleamed in the light, a symbol of everything he’d fought to achieve. without a word, he placed it carefully in your palm.

your fingers brushed his as you took it, and the touch sent sparks up his arm. with careful, deliberate precision, you pinned it to his chest. caleb didn’t move, his gaze fixed on you, watching every motion, every soft touch of your fingers against his uniform.

‘they should give you a medal instead for doing so well,’ you teased softly, smiling up at him.

once the pin was secure, you smoothed down his uniform, your fingers lingering against the fabric. it was such a small gesture, but it felt so intimate that caleb’s breath hitched.

he tried his best not to be frantic, but it was almost impossible when he was overloaded with want, want, want, and with the feeling that this might not happen again, with the fear that if caleb thought about it too hard, he’d stop himself before he did too much.

he couldn’t stop himself any longer. leaning down, he kissed your cheek, his lips lingering on your skin. he didn’t move away immediately, letting the moment stretch as he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of you.

he felt like a criminal on the run, but it was too good to withdraw from. so, he overdosed on unrequited love.

when he finally pulled back, there was a soft, almost shy smile on his lips. his voice was low, but full of meaning. ‘i already have my reward.’

you looked up at him, your cheeks warm, his cap still sitting crooked on your head. for a moment, neither of you spoke, and the weight of everything unsaid lingered between you.

and caleb, looking at you, standing there with your fingers still on his uniform, knew it was the absolute truth. you didn’t realize it, but you were the center of his universe. his greatest test, his deepest weakness, and the one thing he could never, ever let go of.

i’m a fool, he decided. damned in the bits of exhaustion at pulling and pushing at whatever’s left of trying.

the noise of the crowd finally broke through the haze, the sound of laughter and celebration pulling you both back to the present. caleb stepped back slightly, watching as you adjusted his cap, your smile soft but hesitant.

you didn’t have to know the struggle he’d endured to get here, the battles he’d fought within himself.

you were his obsession. his reason for everything. and he was losing control, but he didn’t care. because having you here, now, was all that mattered.

[forlix]

𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy. He moves to pour himself a shot.

“What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Agreed. Case closed.”

There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

“Well, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.

That is, aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus as he pores over his production homework. You can hear music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He startles as if coming out of a trance, then begins to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers, but only after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. You brush a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly that you barely remember what you wanted to ask him.

“Always,” you say. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you hum.

“Says you,” he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.

Your lips find each other’s again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity. Some time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to whisper for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing; you’re hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 

“It’s you,” you breathe. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”

Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear.

Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes—but happiness looks better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[xetlynn]

Arcane Imagines- Vander

It’s Quiet

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUTTTT IF THERE WAS EVER SMUT

[arcane] [main page] [pt. 2]

Prompt: it’s grown so quiet since the kids have grown… (not requested, did this at my own free will. Also happy universe WITH VI because I can do that.)

Containing: thigh riding, multiple orgasms, fem!receiving oral, male!receiving oral, hike position, voyeurism, exhibitionism, praise, slight degradation.

“And that’s the last drunk of the evening.” You wipe your hands together after slamming down your rag on one of the tables you had just finished cleaning, going over to the door to turn the open sign to closed. Vander chuckles, cheering as he washes the last few glasses. You go behind the counter to join him in wiping everything down since it gets pretty sticky especially behind the bar. 

“Gosh it’s been so busy these last few days.” You huff, putting your body into the scrubbing. Feeling all the sweat that drenched your back, neck and face. You felt disgusting to say the least. “Mm yeah but think about that early retirement.” He jokes causing you to laugh in response. “So true!” You perk up, glancing behind you, his eyes already locking with yours. 

He places his glass down and scrummages over to you. His hands snaked around your waist. “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses the back of your head. You would normally lean into his touch but the sweat that enveloped all over you. You swiftly move away from him by turning around and taking his arms off of you. “I feel gross, babe.” You shake your head at his intentions.

“How come? You look ravishing.” His eyes darken along with his voice that laced with lust. “I’m so sweaty.” You whine, walking out from the bar to sit on one of the stools. “I feel like I just got dragged through mud.” You muster out, finally getting to sit down for the first time in 12 hours that day. 

“You’d still be the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on covered in dirt head to toe.” He leans over the bar as you scoff, rolling your eyes at his cheesy choice of words. “It’s the truth.” He puts his hands up in defense. You sigh. “I would like a shower first.” You mumble. 

He observes you as your eyes wander around the building seeing if there was anything else for you to do before the both of you chose to go home. “It’s so quiet in here.” You suddenly mention the lack of noise. “Well it’s just the two of us in here.” He shrugs his shoulders. You give him a dirty look. “I mean the fact that there’s no little Powder running around here with Ekko. No Mylo antagonizing his siblings. Claggor just being along for the ride. Violet attempting to show Mylo how to flirt.” You explain with sadness traced in your tone of voice. 

“Hmph,” He snorted out a laugh remembering the children as young teenagers. “They were something.” He shakes his head. “I miss them living with us.” You pout, he groans at your words knowing what is going to be next. The both of you took the children in young. Felicia has Vi and Powder quite young. Being only 18 with little Violet and 23 with Powder. 

Vander’s the same age as Felicia as you were two years younger than the both of them. You didn’t meet them until after Violet was two years old. Now Vi is 23 and Powder is 18. You are now 39 and Vander is 41. 

“I’m just saying! I don’t have much time!” You exclaim, grasping at his hand, practically begging for a child. “Zaun is good, better than it ever has been. Let’s dooo ittttt.” You bounce your legs for extra effect in pleads. “Love, you’ve never wanted children of your own. Why now?” He raises his brows, now fully enclasping your hand with both of his. 

Your stomach flutters at the size difference between the both of you. You could never get over it, not even with the nearly 20 years of being with one another. “I just,” you frown before continuing. “With the children being older and like I mentioned it being quiet… I want someone to depend on me again. Those sweet little eyes as they ask me to help them.” Your face grows sour, tears stinging at the brim of your eyes. “This could be my last chance to have that. And you’ve never wondered what our baby would look like?” You ask him with puppy-dog eyes. “I miss the old times. Not just with the kids.” You mutter. 

“Of course I have, but if that’s how you feel, love… I’m sorry to tell you but I just can’t give you that. A baby with the way we work. And if you need someone to depend on you, I’ll be that for you. I’ll ask for more help, meaning like little things at home that I know you miss doing.” He massages your hand, kissing at it a few times. You purse out your lips, knowing he was right. 

“Are you okay?” He tilts his head, a few strands of hair falling in his face. You nod your head, not verbally responding though. He lets go of your hand and joins you on the stools. “I’m sorry you’re upset, my love. I never want to see your lips fall downwards.” He pulls you onto his lap and you look into his eyes. 

“I’ll be okay, I guess I’ll just have to be patient until we are blessed with grandchildren.” Your head falls against his chest, wrapping your arms around his large torso. “Hopefully that’s not anytime soon.” Vander smacks your thigh and you snicker. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, you always loved how protective he was over your guys’ family. You feel your arousal thicken in your gut. Feeling needier. 

You have to remind yourself that you need to take a shower first. That’s what you told yourself. Even though your husband definitely does not care about you being sweaty. You care. 

“We could always… pretend like I’m going to give you children.” He whispers in your ear, your body tensing up. It’s like he felt your pussy flutter for him even though you both wore thick clothing and it wasn’t possible. “Mmm, that’s an idea.” You watch his thick, large hand sliding up and down the outside of your thigh. “Gonna let me do it right here, right now? Just like the old days?” He questions, he was breathing heavily down your neck causing the hairs there to stand up at the feeling. 

“Remember how we’d pretend there were people still. Go behind that counter and I’d fuck you from behind as you ‘took someone’s order.’ huh?” He knows all the right buttons to push when it comes to you. He knew what you couldn’t resist. He knew how to get you riled up like no one else. 

Your face was flushed as he reminded you of those moments you had before you even took the children in. That was such a long time ago you were surprised he remembered. “How ‘bout we try that out again?” He nibbles at the tip of your ear causing you to whine. 

“Van- shower first. I told you.” You rub yourself against him, spite of what you were saying. “You were just saying how you miss old times… Let me help you relive a few things.” His fingers now dipping in between your legs. The seam of the jeans you wore were sitting in the right place too. It was too much. 

“Please~” You moan, gripping onto his forearm that held your form. “Please what?” He asks.

“I-I need you.” You moved yourself so you were now sitting on one of his thighs. Looking right into his grey orbs. “What about that shower though?” He teases you, watching you ride against him. Only to pleasure yourself. How selfish. “Fuck the shower.” You grab him by the back of his neck, forcing him into a deep kiss. 

He laughs into the kiss, amused by how turned on you got just by his words. He knew you too well. 

You go to stop your hips so you could get up but he stops you. “Uh-uh, ride my leg until you cum, love.” He holds your hips down. You give him a pout. “Do it or I'll have the night end right here and we can just go to that shower and right to bed.” It was an empty threat. You knew that but listened to him nonetheless. Your pelvis planting down on him. You roll back and forth on him. 

“Fuck, love. You’re so gorgeous.” He coos, getting your hair out of your face. You pant as you focus on reaching your high, hearing his words only drenching your already soaked cunt. Going right through those jeans of yours and onto his black slacks. 

Your hands were grabbing onto the top of his thigh, close to his cock that twitched as it was trapped underneath his now tight pants. Just begging to be free. “I- hah!” You grunted, squeezing your thighs against his. “What is it? What do you have to say?” He inquires with a hint of mocking you. 

“Mmngg, I want to kiss you!” You breathe out, eyes squeezed shut due to how determined you were to release on your husband's enormous muscled thigh. 

“What’s the magic word?” His hand goes to your neck, pressing lightly. “Mean, ‘s mean,” you whimper. “Not the answer.” He tsks, bouncing his knee a little bit to throw you off. You cry out, hands flailing to his shirt. Clutching it tightly in between your fingers. 

“Please let me kiss you, please! I just want to kiss my husband.” You sob, opening your eyes for him to see how much you needed it. He thinks for a moment but decides to give you what you want. 

The hold on your neck only gets tighter as his lips embrace yours. He bites at your lip producing a gasp out of you so he can roughly stick his tongue in your mouth. His tongue battling against yours. You didn’t even try as he had already invaded your muzzle, exploring it like it was his home. 

As you feel yourself get closer you weigh down further onto him, your hips at a lively, unyielding pace. You pull away as your attention needs to go back to your own core. His hand on your throat now gripping, helping you even more. The tension in your chest and head growing. “Fuck.” It was almost inaudible exiting past your lips. 

“Mhm, you can do it. My wife is so persistent. Such a hell-bent little thing.” He purrs in your ear. “Hah! Mmm.” You groan out, holding his wrist that clutched at your pretty open neck. 

And then that explosion of fireworks in your tummy at last comes. Your hole creaming, joining your arousal juices. Only wetting yours and your husbands pants 

His hand breaks free from your airway, allowing you to breathe once more. You pant heavily against him. “Shit.” Your legs shake underneath you. “You have fun there?” He pokes at you, you glare up at him. “Shut up.” You spit, weakly standing up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Vander raises a brow, grabbing your waist, stopping you from crouching down. “I-I’m going to give you a blow job?” You said in more of a inquisitive tone, confused on how it’s not obvious. “I never said I was done with you.” He stands up from the stool, lifting you up with ease. You yelp from the sudden move. 

He places you on the counter. “I’d like dinner first.” Even being on a tall bar counter he was still wavering over you. “Where people drink?!” You utter out, reminding him what people do on this very countertop. “I’ll clean it up. No one will ever know.” He rolls his eyes. 

Before you could even argue with him his hands are back on you. You subconsciously lift your hips up helping him undress you. “Never get over the sight of this cute girl.” He compliments your pussy. Your thighs squish together, hiding yourself only to be pried back open. 

Your hands were behind you to keep yourself fully propped up. “This position isn’t really comfortable, Vannie.” You mewl, the top of your tailbone was slightly hurting. “I’ll have to make this fast then won’t I?” He asks, not even looking up at your face as he sits back down. Sliding your butt as close to the edge of the counter as possible. 

He adjusted the chair so he was at face level with that pretty little pussy. 

His face diving in but not doing anything so he can take in your scent. Feeling like a feral animal. You would’ve been embarrassed by this if he hadn’t done it almost every day for the past 20 years. You rest your legs over his shoulders, ankles crossed over one another, trapping his head at your core. 

“Stop teasing, Vander.” You sternly tell him, glaring down at him since he decided he was going to take his time. His dilated pupils lift upwards, mouth hovering over your clit. “Is that any way to talk to your dear partner who only wants to take care of you?” He asks, his facial hair tickling you down there. 

You lay your back down on the cold wood. Ignoring him. 

He snickers, now kitten licking at your clit. Toying with it until he hears the squelch after a few more. His tongue swirls around the nub, kissing it every now and then. His strategy was purely for his own enjoyment. Your moans filled the building, echoing and bouncing off the walls. 

“Imagine we didn’t lock the door.” He comments. “Imagine someone walks in thinking we’re open. And you’re getting eaten out right in front of them.” His mouth reattaching to your cunny. 

Ambushing every nerve with pleasure. 

“Fuck! I ho-pe someone doesss!” Your hands go down to his hair, pulling out the bun. “Yeah, you’d like the attention.” He mumbles into you, the vibration shooting through you. 

“Mhm… mhm!” Your chest jolts upwards as his tongue swipes over your sensitive spot. “I n-need your fiiingers!” You wail, playing with his hair so you have something to pull on. Not having anything else around you. 

Your head was upside down off the other side of the counter. “Need ‘em where, love?” He irritatingly asks you. “I-inside! Inside!’ You squeal out, toes scrunching and your calves stretching out at the same time.

His right hand joins his mouth, entering a single digit into that drenching, achy hole. 

His cock screaming to be let free now. His pre-cum drooling onto his boxers. 

You clench around the single but large finger. He enters another before pumping them in and out. Curling every so often to hit that perfect spot inside. Your moans and whines keeping him going. His jaw was certainly going to be locked after this. 

He says random compliments you can’t even understand against your pussy. You didn’t even care enough to hear anyways. Feeling his mouth along with his fingers abusing you. 

“I- how? Fuck!” You scratch as his scalp, bringing one of your hands to your shirt, ripping the buttons off to open it.  You had a few others. 

You own hand kneads at your breasts. “C’mon, make me cum, make me cum!” You pant, chest heaving rapidly. “Almost there?” He watches you grope yourself. He leers gleefully. “Fuck yes!” You nod your head only to let it fall back down off the counter. 

His fingers fucking your skillfully, your cunt splashing liquid on him along with the floor. 

“Close ‘s close!” You grit through your teeth, rolling your hips on his face, bringing him closer to you with the back of your calf. Shoving his head onto you. 

“O-ooohh… mmmm….” It hits you softer than the first time surprisingly, but your cunny still spurts into Vander’s mouth. Your thighs shake against his head, your feet dropping tiredly. “That was so good, love. So proud of you.” He kisses your soft skin, lifting your thighs off of him letting your legs fall on either side of him. 

You breathe heavily, now feeling all the blood that rushed to your head from it being upside down. You sit yourself up, using your husband's shoulders to keep you from slipping forward. He undoes his belt, unbuttoning his pants to take his cock out. Still keeping his clothes up though. 

“C’mere.” He huffs out a laugh, standing up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. His hands are squeezing at the plush skin of your ass. 

He takes you to the inside of the bar, his cockhead poked at your entrance with each step. “Tired girl?” He hums out a question. You shake your head, disagreeing. “No, want more.” You rasp out. Humping your hips downwards against his dick. 

“Need you to help me first, prove how much you want me to fuck you.” He ambushes your neck with his licked lips. “I’ll do anything.” You whisper. 

“Good, here comes the guy who brings our stock.” Vander smirks, your eyes widen and you drop to the ground, hiding under the counter even though he already couldn’t see you by being down there. Vander steps as close as possible to you, his chest against the wood. 

His cock was free game to you. “Heyy Mick!” Vander cheerfully grins, not feeling you touch him just yet. He also knew that your pants and little panties were laid out on the ground, available for Mick to see. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mick comes into the bar with a dollie of alcohol boxes. “Where’s the wife?” He asks, coming over to the counter. “Oh, she’s a little bit under… the weather tonight.” Vander lies. 

Your heart was raising at the fact that there was now another person in the bar after you had just came twice. Your view trapped in darkness besides the little bit of light that snuck past your husband's legs. His dick still sprung out for you to play with. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing, another realization that your pants were where you two once were moments ago. You silently prayed that Mick didn’t notice it. Your husband’s and your guys’ stocker’s conversation was tuned out. You couldn't focus on anything that was happening. 

Besides the fact that you were going to now get revenge on the person in front of you. Your hands go around his thick member. Dry rubbing him at first. You hear his hiss and you smile mischievously. Your thumb swiping across the slit covered in Vander’s own goo. 

Your hands let him go, as Vander talks his shoulders dropped disappointed only momentarily before your mouth replaces where your hands once were. He bites his lip trying not to show his expressions. 

Your muzzle takes him in all the way, nose almost touching his pelvic zone. You let him go before you gag, sucking on his tip. Your hand massages the base of his cock. 

You hear his voice falter just a tiny bit. “Where do you want them tonight, boss?” Mick asks, talking about the boxes of glass bottles filled with booze. “Just on the counter, Claggor and Mylo are opening in the morning. Gonna have them stock up.” Vander chuckles. Doing his best not to let his voice waver in the slightest. You tried your damnedest too. 

“Arighty.” Mick lifts the boxes up, continuing to talk to the owner of the bar, not knowing he was getting his dick sucked so good his knees were about to give out. 

Your other hand began to fondle his balls, now all three stimulates attacking him at once. Vander lets out a low grunt that luckily wasn’t heard from either of the people in the building. 

“I gotta get going, now. Good seeing ya! Hope to see [Name] next week!” Mick kicks out his dollie, rolling it out as Vander waves him goodbye. 

And as that door shuts, his mouth opens, letting out all the noises he couldn’t before. “Fuck, I almost had to shout at him to leave.” Vander groans, taking a fist full of your hair to fuck himself into your mouth. You moved your hand out of the way, grabbing onto his thigh for support. 

“Shit, such a doll for me.” He drags your mouth down his member before pulling you away by your hair. He steps back. “Stand up.” He motions. You crawl out from your spot, standing up before him. 

“Turn around.” He spins his pointer finger. 

He watches your ass jiggle with each step, his hands roughly bend you over. Your hands hitting the floor. “Need this.” He puffs out, shoving his dick inside your hole without warning. 

“So perfect for me, after all these years. It’s like the first time all over again.” He ruts into you forcefully. Your fingernails claw at the ground as he fucks into you at an unfathomable pace. 

“Take it like the fucking champ you are.” He smacks your ass causing you to scream out a moan. “Fucking you stupid, ain’t I?” He laughs, holding your hips. Each time you try to lift your torso up he rams into you, watching you fall back down each time. It was amusing. He enjoyed it every single time. 

“I asked you a question.” He slaps your ass again. 

“Y-yes! ‘Stupid, ‘s ‘stupid!” You cry out, your head shaking side to side as tears brim your eyelids. “Gonna cum again!” You shrill. 

“Yeah you are.” He pants, finally helping you up by bending down to grab you by your neck. Your back up against his stomach. “Who’s making you cum for the third time?” He asks, your ass bouncing back on his black slacks. There were white splatters all over his pants from tonight. “Y-you a-re!” You seeth, sucking in your own drool. 

“What’s my name?” He tightens his grip on your throat, you gasp out for air. Not able to answer as fast as he wants you to. His cock pistoning in and out of you. 

“What’d I ask?” His other hand holds your lower stomach, the pressure now pressing on his cock through your tummy. “I- u-um! V-vander!” You choke out. “That’s right, doll.” He lets go of your neck but still keeping you close as he continues to fuck you. 

“Gonna fuck my seed into you, maybe there’s a chance you’ll get that baby.” He snorts out a laugh, thrusting into you. Your eyes roll back into your head. “Cummingggnghah!!” You shriek, your hands behind you, gripping onto his shirt. 

“H-huh- same.” He breathes heavily, getting a little slower and sloppier. His tip oozing out inside of you. Your walls spasm around him leading a domino effect, Vander fully plunged inside of you as he lets his semen shoot inside you. Your jaw slacks open at the feeling.

You wiggle yourself against him, trying to get as much of him as possible. He pushes the both of you forward, you lean over the wooden counter. A box hiding your face from the door. 

“Holy shit…” You quietly whined, your legs were shaking and very weak. Barely keeping yourself standing. His slips out of you, letting the mixture of yours and his cum drop to the ground from your cunny. 

“You took me so well. So good every time.” He praises you, rubbing your back. 

Afterwards he takes you to your shower, water already running. You sat on the floor waiting for him in the hot water as he cleaned up your guys’ mess the two of you made.

[loveanddeepdick]

gummy bear

❤︎₊ ⊹ childhood bff!yuta okkotsu x f!reader || gummy bear is ur nickname that he gave u as a kid (also, this is yuta when he comes back from africa.. heart eyes)

warnings: both yuta and reader are in their early 20’s, piv sex, creampie, yuta is a virgin but there’s no corruption kink, childhood bffs to strangers to lovers, men turning into putty, lowkey sub yuta, he’s just down bad for you, freaky ass perv yuta but he fries his very best to be respectful to you, reader is implied to have slightly bigger than average boobs but honestly interpret however you’d like, porn with some plot, not revised lol just horny as always

summary: it’s been a while since you’ve seen your childhood best friend, yuta. you haven’t seen him since he left high school to be a sorcerer and although you guys tried staying in touch in high school, you haven’t heard a single peep from him after he left for africa. you understood him, mutually agreeing that you two were simply growing up and exploring new. however, when yuta comes back a new man, you can’t help but feel new feelings growing

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

you’d recently moved into a new apartment close to your new boring, but nicely paying, corporate job. on a random tuesday afternoon at the grocery store, you bump into a familiar face you hadn’t seen in years, almost not even recognizing him.

“oh shit- i’m so sorry-,” you stumble backwards as you run into what seemed like a human lamp post when you look up to meet a familiar pair of black eyes, accompanied with eye bags. “.. yuta? is that you?”, you almost laugh at the situation, not believing your eyes. he had much longer hair now, deeper eye bags, but still had the same anxious eyes.

“ow.. fuck, hey gummy bear, haven’t seen you in a while,” yuta looks down almost embarassed from his absence. the nickname rolls off his tongue so easily, like it was naturally your name and it makes u slightly blush.

when you and yuta met as kids, he initially introduced himself only because he wanted one of your gummy bears since it was also his favorite snack. he didn’t even learn your name until weeks after you guys were friends, only calling you gummy bear and the nickname sort of just stuck with him. the story always made you let out a dulcet sigh, cherishing the innocent memory.

“it’s not your fault, yuta!” you giggle, “i haven’t been really reaching out either.. i guess we’re both busy. how about we uh, catch up?” you suggest.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

it had been a week since you and yuta had been reunited. and you slowly started to notice how attractive he’d grown to be. both you and yuta were sitting on the sole couch inside your nearly empty apartment, unpacked boxes littered everywhere as you procrastinated on putting everything together. enjoying each others presence as you both told stories about things that happened in your lives, you felt a sense of nostalgia washing over you, as if this was what you were missing for so long. you draped your legs over his lap as he lightly ran his hand over them like you guys would always do in high school. would this be something that only best friends did? probably not…

“oh my gosh, yu!”, you gasped, almost wiping a tear away, “you went through all of that? on your own?”. he stayed humble of course, shyly brushing it off as if it was no biggy.

he couldn’t help but trail his eyes over to your tight shirt, encasing the tits that he had not noticed back in high school. he swallowed hard, darting his eyes back to your face. the face that had only grown more gorgeous as you moved into adulthood. have you always been so beautiful?

“c’mon, yu, let’s watch a movie, like old times?”, you laugh. he nervously nodded before you took your laptop, propping it on the coffee table since you haven’t installed your TV yet. “sorry for the setup.. erm, well, i mean the lack thereoff”.

“nah, it’s f-fine, gummy bear”, he almost audibly gulped as he thanked god that you couldn’t see him taking in the sight of your ass pointing at him as you bent over to put on a movie. were you doing this on purpose? yuta had never been the perverted type. hell, he’d never even been the romantic type. you were basically the only girl— well, human girl—he’d been close to in his life. he averted his eyes as you turn back around. almost crying out loud as you cuddled into his lap, wrapping a blanket around both of you. like old times, right?

you enjoyed how tall yuta had grown (as well as the rest of him), resting your head in the crook of his neck as your back settled into his chest. “i hope this is comfortable, yu.. we haven’t done this in a while”, you mumble, wiggling to get yourself comfortable as he bites his tongue, praying he didn’t get a boner.

yuta instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your hair, subtly smelling it as he appreciated how your scent never changed. “m’okay, gummy bear”.

you smiled faltered a bit, having a small realization and shifting slightly off of his lap and onto his thigh instead, facing him. “oh god, i really hope you don’t have a girlfriend. we probably shouldn’t be doing this if you do!”, you frantically panicked. yuta responded with a curt shake of his head, his body acting before his mind to pull you back onto his lap.

you sighed in relief, wiggling back to your comfortable spot with more of a bounce than you should’ve. “oh that’s a relief, yu. i really missed you”, you mumbled, leaning back against his as your ass pressed against his groin, your hand subtly grazing his thigh. fuck, if he didn’t have a boner before he definitely had one now.

he slightly shifted you by your waist with his big, lanky hands, praying to god that you didn’t feel his boner. you did.

your eyes widened as you realized that he was getting turned on by whatever you’d been doing. yuta had never been inappropriate with you or even any other girl! your relationship was strictly platonic.. well until now. you wanted him to make up for lost time, for the years he’d been missing from your life. you were on a mission to make him snap.

“mmm, yuta, stop moving me..” you whined, “i was comfortable in my other spot”. you bounced back, landing right on his bulge as he bit back a whine. “yu, what’s in your pocket? i feel it against my butt..! you should probably take it out before i squish it or something”, you tease , rubbing your ass so his cock would slide riiight in between your asscheeks.

when yuta looked down at the sight, he nearly came in his pants. his raging boner was in between your asscheeks which were held in the confines of your sweatpants, his hands gripping at your waist as you slightly rubbed against him. the blanket was covering you from the rest of the room, albeit empty, but it felt like he was a high schooler in their house trying to hide being fucking freaky from their family.

“g-gummy bear, please-“ he was cut off by your hands moving up to cup your tits through your top, yuta almost, almost, gave them a squeeze but he held it in. you had no idea how much of a pervert he had become from seeing you again, pent up from years of no release and being a damn virgin his whole life.

“what, yu? don’t wanna cuddle with your best friend?” you inquire, feigning innocent. he then felt your nipples pebbling up underneath his palm. he hadn’t noticed earlier since it’d been slightly warm but fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra. he threw his head back, feeling like he was a fucking lion clawing inside an enclosure. and you were damn determined to let him out.

you grabbed his hand again, manipulating the pads of his fingers to rub against your nipples through your painfully thin shirt. “never fucked anyone while you were away, yu?”, you whispered as you felt him shake his head behind you.

“thought so. i mean, you can have all the practice you want with me.. right?”. before you could continue he yanked you up, manhandling you so you were pinned down on the couch.

“stop being a tease, gummy bear.. y’know i missed you so much, shit.. and you have the gall to grind on my boner? knowing i’m a damn virgin?” he huffed, his face inches from yours, “please, please, gummy bear. tell me you want this. tell me. if we do this we’ll never be just friends again. please, baby”, he whined.

you grabbed his face with both hands, crashing your lips into his. it felt like a century of pent up feelings had come breaking out like water from a dam. he humped you as if he was a fucking dog, moaning into the kiss. you flip over again, going on top of him as he admired how fucking sexy you looked, hair disheveled, lips slightly swollen, and your lip combo smudged. you scoot down slightly to tug against his pants, eyes widening as his erect, throbbing, cock springing out and slapping against his stomach with a slight pap.

you looked so damn hot and hungry, almost happily touching his cock, but before you could lean down to put your mouth on it, he grabbed your wrist.

“no, no, gummy bear, please, i want it first in your pussy, baby, please”. he sounded so good begging you took off your sweatpants faster than fucking barry allen. he threw his head back with a groan at the sight of your pussy, if he could, he would jump for joy right now but he was too focused on you.

“next time, you’re sitting on my fucking face, gummy bear”, he groaned. next time. you rubbed your pussy on his cock which laid flat against his stomach, his tip leaking precum on his toned abs.

“please, baby, don’t tease me. put it in..” he whined, his hand traveling down to rub at your clit and the other gripping your hip. with a small smile, you lean back, lining up his tip to your entrance, moaning as it caught onto your clit as you rubbed his cock over your hole.

“stop- fuckin teasing.” he grunted as his hips thrusted up, his cock entering your soaking wet pussy as you yelped. he was big. you had some experience with guys in college but no one ever could even reach his caliber of dick. you dropped down completely on his dick, feeling his balls against your ass and his public hair tickling your clit. you didn’t even care that he wasn’t trimmed and neither did he. fuck, he wouldn’t even care if you had a whole forest, i mean, he’s a sorcerer, he’s supposed to explore territory that’s unseen, right?

“fuck yes, yu! you’re so fucking big!” you yelp, beginning to move as you began to grind on his cock. slightly bouncing on it. yutas’s eyes trailed from your fucked out face to your pert tits, allll the way down to your pussy that had enveloped his dick. you almost wished you put some furniture out because all you could hear was the echos of your moans, yuta’s heaving breathing and whining, the squeaking of the couch, and the wet squelch of your pussy. you were definitely getting a noise complaint filed against you.

he thrusted up again and you let out an obscene whine, squeezing his dick which made him let out a loud, strangled moan. you peered down, noticing that he was starting to fucking cry from how good your pussy was.

“y-yu.. are you- ohh fuck, okay?” you bring your hand down to wipe his tears, peppering kisses on his face.

“s-such a good fucking- f.. FUCK.. pussy..” he groaned out, not even believing that his level of pleasure was possible. you were taken aback by his dirty words, but sighed in relief before he started to continuously thrust up, hitting your cervix over and over again.

yuta’s eyes wandered back to your tits, noticing that they’d began to slip out of your skimpy top. with one hard thrust, he almost came on the spot when they bounced out of their confines, nipples erect as your tits jiggled perfectly.

“g-gummy bear you’re so.. shit- perfect!” he shoved his face in between your tits as you let out a strangled moan from the extra pleasure. “perfect fucking tits. made just for me. fuck, thank you for waiting for me.. for not dating some fucking loser… all for me, yeah? right, gummy?” he lost himself in between your boobs.

“all for you, yuta baby, all for you!”.

“fuck- FUCK- gummy bear, cum with me, i can feel your pussy clenching, please baby, please cum with me”

he gave your tit one more sick before the coil in your stomach snapped, making you squirt for the first time in your life.

“fuck yes, gummy bear, squirt all over me, make a mess, baby yes, where do you want me?”

“i-inside please..” you were nearly crying as well from the overstimulation.

“don’t say that baby- fuck- you drive me crazy, gummy bear, i’m gonna cum in you, fuck yeah,” he groaned before thrusting up harshly one last time, his thrusts calming to slow, shallow humping. he pulled out, admiring how well your pussy took him as you whimpered from the new empty feeling. you huffed, thinking he was satisfied.

“you didn’t think i was done, right, gummy bear?”, he smiled, his almost eerie eyes peering up at you as he pulled you up, making you plop right on top of his face.

“‘gotta keep my promise. my best friend was waiting for me at home all these years, after all”

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 12 - cockwarming dick grayson x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cockwarming, praise/degradation

"Ah, ah, ah. No moving, baby. That was the deal, remember?" your boyfriend coos from behind you.

Your velvety walls flutter around him, all your other muscles going taut with frustration. Tilting your head back, a whimper echoes from you.

Right now, he was really living up to his name.

"Pleaseeeee, Dick," you whine. A pout forms on your lips even though he wouldn't be able to see it from this angle.

"No," he laughs and pats your ass, "You said this would be enough for you. That you didn't need strenuous activity to feel good."

He was laying in bed, as the doctor (Alfred) had ordered. A pile of plush pillows pile behind him, keeping his bruised face elevated. More cuts and scrapes littered his chest and abs and mark up those beautiful muscles with remnants of the pain he'd endured. You sat on his lap facing away from him, his cock buried inside you.

Last week, he had a pretty rough night. On patrol, some guys got the jump on him, had some weapons he'd never encountered or something like that. It was hard to understand the story with the way he'd mumbled it out when he came home barely conscious. The state he was in scared the life out of you. You called Alfred in tears, sobbing into the phone about how you thought Dick was gonna die on the floor of your kitchen.

As it turned out, he was fine. Totally fine by now, which was why you felt comfortable rubbing up on him and snaking your hand down south to the waistband of his loose sweatpants. It had been over a week since Alfred told him to get some rest, and he had no real injuries. He just loved to tease you, so he insisted sex was still beyond the limitations of his current physical capabilities.

He made you BEG to even sit here with him inside you. You hoped that would convince him to take it easy on you for the rest of this, but clearly, you'd overestimated your boyfriend's compassion.

"Why? You don't even have to move," you plead.

You don't have to see his face to know the gleam of amusement his eyes hold and the smirk that spreads over his lips.

"Sure, sure. Cause you never get tired halfway through being on top and start whining for me to take over," he mocks, "I know that'd be the next thing you ask for."

"I won't," you defend, "Please just let me move... I need it."

You look over your shoulder now and catch sight of the stupid look you'd envisioned in your head. Those pretty blue eyes gaze up at you, his ego clear in each cerulean fleck. His hands below knead the soft muscles of your ass. They dig into the flesh and rub at your thighs too. The touches send tingles straight to the pit of your belly, more arousal leaking from you in response.

"I don't know... It's bad enough you're not letting me rest properly, but now this? Seems like you're asking for a lot," he goads.

Anguish plumes in your chest. You nearly topple forward and smoosh your face into the blankets, the urge to kick and pound your fists on the bed insurmountable. Instead, your hands clasp around his meaty thighs. You squeeze as if that could give you the will to remain motionless. If you moved before he gave you permission, you weren't sure you'd see another orgasm this year.

"Dick, come on," you beg, head hanging, "Why do you hate me?"

That gets a hearty laugh out of him. His palms smooth up your sides to hold your waist.

"Don't try to guilt trip me, babe. You're not very good at it," he says. The pads of his fingertips massage your curves in tiny strokes. "You can wait a little longer."

"You've already made me wait so long. It hurts," you plead. If guilt wouldn't work, maybe sympathy will.

"Oh, does it? I think that's just your pride, sweetheart. You're acting so pathetic for me right now," he teases.

You didn't know what to try next. More broken cries tumble from your lips. In truth, waiting didn't hurt, but it was growing uncomfortable. The slick between your legs was sticky, and you wanted to get away from it by bouncing up and down. His length had been sitting inside you for so long it felt like a word you'd said too many times. The only way to forget about it would be to fuck yourself silly on top of him.

But he stays true to his word. He makes you wait. You sit on top of him for you don't even know how long. Occasionally, he shifts his hips, acting as if he just needs to get comfortable; the motion strikes one of your pleasure spots every time though.

You bite your lip, trying to not lose it. If this continued at this rate, you'd be in tears soon, which you really wanted to avoid as they would only make him more merciless.

Regardless of your wishes though, you can feel them starting to bloom in your eyes. Frustration burns like fire in your lungs. You turn your head to look at him again, wanting to try one more time to reason before you fully break down.

That plan goes out the window though when you see this man on his phone. He lounges there, scrolling through whatever without a care in the world.

"Dick!" you cry, a couple tears spilling over your water line.

His eyes flit up to your face just as your arm swings back to swat him. He catches your wrist, amusement pulling at his lips.

"Swinging at me when I'm wounded?" he mocks.

He softens the smallest bit when he sees the tears, bringing his hand up to swipe them away with his thumb. You sniffle at the gesture. Your lip wobbles with the desire to unleash more humiliating noises.

"What're the tears for, pretty girl? You really wanna move that bad?" he croons, dragging the bow of his index finger down your jawline.

You nod, eyes casting down in shame.

Knowing laughter bubbles up from his lips. His finger tilts your chin upwards, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Let me hear you ask nicely one more time," he says.

You almost crumble on top of him right then, but you can't lose it when you're so close. With a deep inhale, you suck it up and bat your eyes a few times.

"Please?"

He grins at you and taps your hip. "Turn around for me and then go ahead."

Eager as can be, you clamber around and situate yourself so that you're facing him. Your legs quiver. It felt unusual to move after being full and seated for a while. When you're settled, plush thighs pressed against his sculpted sides, you plant your hands on his chest.

You don't waste time before rising up and sinking back down. A strangled moan falls from your lips at the relief. Some of the tension that had webbed up in the pit of your belly begins to loosen as you bounce.

His hands land on your hips, guiding your movements into a steady rhythm. You can tell he's enjoying it too from how he sighs and the way his jaw clenches.

"That's it. Worth the wait?" he asks.

"Mhm," you whimper.

Your ass smacks against his pelvis over and over. The sound of skin on skin fills the bedroom along with your combined grunting and moaning. You roll your hips, getting him as deep as possible. Your spine arches in tandem with your head falling back.

He takes advantage of the view you're giving him, one of his hands rising to grope at your breast. His fingers cradle the mound as the rest of you continues rutting on top of him. He flicks your nipple with his thumb, tearing more mewls from your lips with the bursts of sensation.

"Look at you, going dumb already. You're that needy for me?" he mocks, giving your stiffened bud a little pinch.

You yelp and nod, not bothering to defend yourself.

Your noises increase in volume as you continue to ride. Breathing likens into panting while shudders overcome your body. All of you convulses with each jump of your hips. It's getting harder to keep the pace, but you don't want to admit that. You don't want to prove him right.

It doesn't matter if you want that though because he can tell. He can see your motions getting jerkier. He feels the way your walls tighten around him with abandon.

To try and help you a little, he digs his heels into the mattress and thrusts up. Happy moans echo from you, your lips widening into a smile. He can't help but match the expression. This was his favorite sight in the world, his pretty girl blissed out. Nothing on your mind but him.

Without waiting for you to say the word, he boosts you up and flips you onto your back on the mattress. He springs to his feet beside the bed. Pulling you by your hips, your pelvises meet at the edge, and he takes over thrusting.

His fingers press into your inner thighs as he maintains his grip. He plows into you faster than you had been going on top. Leaning forward, he bends you in half. Your thighs press against your chest. His body heat oozes all over you.

This position lets him slide deeper inside you than before. Each rock of his hips nudges his tip against a spot that makes you cry out. You would be seeing stars if not for the fact that your eyes are rolling back.

"So fucking greedy," he croons, "Always wanting more than you can take."

You whine in protest, hips weakly squirming under the weight of him. Blinking yourself back into focus, you try to conjure words to argue that you could take it. That he's the one who flipped you over.

But all you can muster is a pouty "You're so mean to me."

He laughs in your face before smacking a kiss on your quivering frown. "You love it. Being nice doesn't ever get you so wet," he mocks.

You can't help the way your cunt clenches around him at that, sucking him in further. He hisses in response and presses down on your legs harder. He's as far in you as can be now. Every thrust fills you up just how you like.

"Mhm, there you go. Nice and tight for me, baby," he teases. One of his arms wraps around your leg to thumb at your clit. You squeal at the fiery sensation and writhe against the blankets so much you may get friction burn.

He chuckles and continues speaking. "I'm only mean cause I have to be. If I let you have it your way, I don't think you'd ever get anything done. You're such a little slut. You want my cock all. the. time," he says, punctuating the last three words with particularly brutal thrusts.

Crying out, you nod. You just agree with what he's saying, not really taking in a word of it. As long as he didn't stop, you were content.

He continues slamming himself against you. The bed creaks from his rapid pace.

Your mouth hangs open at this point. Unfiltered sounds come out while he grits his teeth above you. His thumb keeps swirling over your sensitive little bundle of nerves all the while, dragging you closer to the edge.

"Dick!" you wail.

The hand on your clit leaves and clamps over your mouth instead. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his breaths fanning over your face.

"If you get us a noise complaint, you're gonna get used to just sitting on my cock," he says, "I won't go easy on you next time. You can cry all you want to, and it won't change a thing."

Your eyes flutter with lust. He could be so annoying, but fuck, you loved it. You knew Dick wasn't one for idle threats either. He'd have you sit on his lap all full and fidgety for hours if he wanted.

The image is all you need to spur you to the finish line. Your hips buck up against his, shaking violently as they seek out more pleasure.

He feels the way you tighten and release, massaging his shaft and beckoning him to do the same. A few thrusts later he gives in to the temptation. He drains himself inside you. Rope after rope of hot, sticky cum floods into your cunt. His head drops against your neck, silky black locks damp with sweat against your skin.

Both of you finish out with a few more lazy movements. In the afterglow of your passion, he lingers on top of you for a few more moments. His body remains dead weight, melted against your own.

When he finally finds the will to move, he kisses a trail from your shoulder up to your lips. The tender exchange makes the feel of him pulling out more bearable. Maybe he was right, maybe you are a little greedy. You'd just had him for all that time, but you still didn't want it to be over.

Either way, he flops down next to you. The teasing is gone from his eyes for now. His pupils hold a genuine look of adoration similar to the feeling in your chest. It's only a brief eclipse though because his mocking returns as he leans in to nip at your cheek.

"I think you cured me, babe. I'm feeling much better now," he says with his usual cocky smile.

[kurooh]

SUMMERTIME SEX.

☆ includes: aged up! bakugō katsuki, todoroki shōtō, kaminari denki, takami keigo.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, fem! reader, fluff + smut, not proofread..

☆ note: thank you to pinterest’s summertime bucket lists. happy summer! even if you hate it (: also experimenting with a new layout

KATSUKI.

— though he usually doesn’t care about what you wear and finds you gorgeous in everything, there’s something about seeing you wear sundresses or skirts that genuinely makes him go insane.

— “the red is fuckin’ beautiful on you, baby.” katsuki’s rough hand rests on your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress up ever so slightly. he’s driving to the your favorite restaurant, reservations already booked and awaiting for you in a half hour.

— suddenly, not far from the restaurant, he pulls over into a semi empty parking lot and exhales hard, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “okay, get in the damn back seat.”

— “why, katsu?” you ask innocently, adjusting your skirt so that it hikes up further, the lacy edge of your slutty panties peeking out at him.

— of course, he stares, his face warm. crimson eyes meet yours and he demands, “get in the backseat right now.” as you unbuckle and start to climb into the backseat, you wiggle your ass ever so slightly and he slaps it hard, drawing a surprised moan from you.

— immediately he’s in the backseat with you, all over you; his lips desperately slam into yours, his hands groping you all over. despite how badly he wants to see you naked, he doesn’t make any moves to pull your clothes off and instead twists his fingers into the fabric of your skirt in frustration.

— dazed from his kisses and on fire from his touch, your body falls back onto the seats and your legs spread for him, still in your skirt. he tugs your clothed pussy towards him, nearly tearing off your lace panties as he yanks them to the side. “careful, kat.”

— katsuki ignores your warning and eats you out rather roughly and quickly, sucking on your clit just right. he groans when you cum all over his tongue, his cock growing tight in his pants; he draws you into a sex flavored kiss and allows you to taste yourself on his lips.

— now, he yanks off his pants and boxers, leans back on the seats. he grips his cock at the base, “be a good girl and fuckin’ sit on it.” you reach to take your dress off and he shakes his head immediately.

— panties to the side and slicked up, you slowly push down onto his cock, gasping when the head nudges right against your sweet spot. katsuki groans desperately when you roll your hips onto him slowly, smacking your ass hard, another way of telling you not to be a tease.

— “okay, okay,” you relent, suddenly bouncing on him fast and hard. your red skirt rises and falls steadily, and he’s so fucking breathless. it’s uncharacteristic for katsuki’s eyes to roll back as much as they are now, for his mouth to be entirely dominated by sounds rather than words.

— “you like it, kat?” you smile at him, and it quickly dissolves into an expression of absolute pleasure. “i—fuck! you know i do, don’t stop,” his cock throbs inside of you, almost pulsing as he shakes beneath you.

— he cums with a shout, hissing as you ride him through it steadily, fending off your own in order to stay in charge like this. when you do eventually get close, he flips you over and fucks you through it, yanking your skirt to ground himself.

SHŌTŌ.

— the two of you were at a bonfire with friends and assistants of the agency, when you snuck away with shoto after one too many beers. now, behind a barnacle covered rock, you’re on your knees in front of him.

— “sho..” your moan is muffled on his large cock, which is pressed tightly between your lips and deeply at the back of your throat. he’s been stressed at the agency lately, coming home and having dinner with you and going to sleep, leaving no time for sex.

— of course, you were frustrated by this, hoping that the cause for his stress would finally blow over and he’d be back taking you in the hallway again. you’d seen his stress dissipate over the course of the 3 hour bonfire at the beach, over some beer. together, you drank and drank until he was grabbing at you and leading you behind some rocks on the shoreline.

— shoto hushes you, cupping the back of your head firmly and bucking his hips into your mouth. “oh god, i m-missed this so much, you have no idea,” he gasps, slurring some of his words. “i’ve missed you so much, my love.”

— your fingers slip past your swimsuit and rub sloppy patterns against your clit, trying to keep up with the pace of his thrusts into your mouth.

— you choke when he spears his cock into your throat a little too deeply; “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—fuck!—your throat feels amazing, i’ve needed you so badly.”

— his balls smack against your chin and shoto continues to groan, the alcohol and horniness making him surprisingly talkative as he fucks your mouth. “it’s just, the people at that a-agency!” his cock stays hard, despite the fact that he’s thinking of his coworkers.

— out of the corner of you eye, you watch the waves crash on the sand, and after a particularly large one, the pace of his hips grows erratic. “ah—shit, i’m gonna fill up your mouth!”

DENKI.

— you and your boyfriend had been enjoying a picnic in the middle of a grassy field, far away from anyone in all directions. you shared fruit together, cuddled, watched clouds, but then things got a little sweeter.

— “denki!” you giggle with him as he lays you down on the picnic blanket, shifting his body so that he’s on top of you. his lips mesh with yours, and you taste the sweetness of the watermelon you’d shared with him earlier. your hand tangles in his soft golden hair, tugging gently, but just enough to draw a whine from his lips. denki’s hips grind against yours with a sloppy desperation, the lovely picnic and its food forgotten.

— he pulls his lips away, peppers kisses all over your cheeks, then starts to trail some down your neck. denki takes in your smell, the sounds you make, the feeling of your hips twisting beneath him; he nips at the soft skin, then sucks at it lovingly. “i want some more sugar,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your hot skin.

— “denki, we just finished a whole watermelon.” “mmm, i’m not talking about fruit.” unable to hold it back, you let out a laugh, and he finds himself laughing with you.

— “may i?” he pulls away, and moves towards your pelvic area. his eyes sparkle with joy, and his fingers rub quick circles into your thighs. “of course.” your breath hitches when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your thighs. he flips your skirt up, then makes himself comfortable on his stomach, facing you. your thighs fall open easily, and his eyes are on yours as he moves to give your clit a kiss.

— denki’s large hands rest on your ass cheeks, his fingers digging into your skin as he swipes his tongue against you. he savors your taste, whining slightly as he dips his tongue inside you. all you can do is moan and shame as he fucks your pussy with his tongue; it feels so good, and yet so teasing.

— “babe, stop teasing me.” you jerk your hips towards him, spreading your thighs wider.

— “but it’s fun,” he disagrees, now licking your clit slowly. he stops playing his little games with you when your fingers twist in his soft hair, yanking his face right into your pussy.

— now, he’s fingering you roughly, and sucking at your clit as though it’s a lollipop. denki holds your thighs open when they shake, threatening to close on him as your orgasm mounts, the pressure inside of you becoming stronger by the second.

— “denki, i-i’m gonna cum, please please don’t stop..” he doesn’t stop, licking your clit hard as you cum and fingering your puffy pussy even after you do; he likes to hear you cry about how sensitive you are.

KEIGO.

— when there’s a blackout in the early evening due to a thunderstorm, the temperature in the house quickly rises to 85° f / 29 c. you and your boyfriend sit on the floor, covered in a thick sheen of sweat. you’re both eating melting popsicles and worrying about how you’ll sleep without the ac on. you are the first to rise to your feet, dropping your thin shorts and shirt on the floor. his wings flutter when he unabashedly looks over every inch of your body, and your cheeks warm at the obvious desire visibly thickening in his shorts.

— “kei, let’s take a cold shower together.” you groan in distaste as you sweep your fingers over your perspiring forehead. he stands, strips off his clothes, and pulls you into his arms bridal style.

— “where to, dove?” he nuzzles his nose against yours, then gives you a sweet kiss. giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck, “the shower!”

— when you arrive to the bathroom together, you’re barely out of his arms before his lips are on yours, eager hands impatiently pulling at boxers and panties. keigo moans as you lightly palm his hardened cock, fingers sliding from the base to the tip.

— “you’re perfect,” he mumbles against your cheek as he practically claws off your bra with one hand, the other tugging your body impossibly closer. thunder rumbles outside of your apartment, the room darkening as it starts to rain and storm outside.

— “oh, we probably shouldn’t be doing this,” you giggle, remembering the dangers associated with showering during storms. “fuck that,” is his swift answer, and he pulls open the glass door and turns on the faucet.

— as you stand closely beneath the misty spray, a warmth presses against your backside; you gasp when he angles his cock to slip between your thighs, his hot tip bumping against your slick folds.

— his wings shift behind him when you turn to look into his eyes. he kisses you, “bend over for me, okay?” you plant your hands against the shower wall and angle your ass towards him, arching your back just right. his wings flutter, and he moans at the sight of you, wet and ready for him. with one hand, he reaches behind him and shoves down his rising wings before he finally presses into you.

— just feeling your tight heat on his tip already has him gasping out, his eyes rolling back and his face crumbling as he pushes all the way inside. “o-oh, angel,” he moans, then laughs nervously, gripping your hips and thrusting into you steadily, “god, i’m already gonna cum.”

— he does end up filling you up rather quickly, but he doesn’t dare to pull out. keigo fucks your creamy pussy with tears in his eyes, shuddering as he forces himself through his refractory period and cums again. this time, he’s rubbing your clit, desperate to cum at the same time.

[luveline]

Can you write where the reader walks into James room and he's crying and its the first time shes seen him cry so she comforts him pls xx

thank you for your request! fem, 1.2k

James’ house is a sanctuary to everyone he’s ever met. There are scratches on the wall by the door where Sirius has thrown it open, long deep welts of ruin under a drunken hand, two best friends laughing to the bedroom where they share a bed. You’re used to Sirius by now, an extension of James you love and make room for, but waking up to the heir of the most noble family in London sleeping off a hangover with his face buried in your boyfriend's shoulder still surprises you. His snores never change. 

Then there’s Remus, the sweetheart, tracking dirt into the living room because he so often forgets he’s wearing shoes, distracted by a book or a thought he shares in half smiles knowing James will listen. 

You’re everywhere. In photos like the rest of them, in your coat on the hook, your clean washing on the stairs, your shoes in the bedroom cupboard. There’s a red smudge of your lipstick on the wall at the top of the stairs where James wiped your bottom lip and then used the wall to hang over you, kissing. He keeps meaning to paint over it, you know. He says the same thing every time you bring it up, a laughing, “I’ll get to it, you thing!” 

You’re used to smiles and sounds here. You aren’t acquainted with this. Sniffles from the bedroom, long, stringing gulps of air and the answering sob. It makes your chest flip. James hasn’t cried in front of you in a year of dating and two years of knowing him. James doesn’t even get pissed off unless it’s for somebody else. Something awful must’ve happened. You rush to find out what. 

In the bedroom, James is just sitting there falling apart. Just, sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking like an awful jagged up and down, like he’s hurting; the shock of it is in every inch of movement. James is beautiful in everything, skin and hands and dark, dark hair, but he’s hurting now as he drags fingers wet with tears through frizzing curls. He must have heard you coming up but he can’t stop, lifting his chin, an apology twisted in his mouth that he doesn’t say aloud. 

“Lovely, what happened?” you ask, sure you’re gonna fall through the floor. “What happened? What–”

You aren’t giving him time to answer. You need to know. 

“No, it’s alright–”

“It’s not alright,” you say, standing in front of him with stiff arms. “What happened, James?” 

“It’s okay.” He cries a little, sniffs, looking up at you with swimming eyes. “It’s alright, I’m just– it’s just– well, it’s just everything, I suppose, but it’s…” He looks down, his mouth twisting again in an apology you don’t want to take. He shakes himself. 

“James, what’s everything?” 

“Silly stuff.” James takes your hand. Telling, that a boy who’s spent his entire life looking after the people he loves would attempt to comfort you with tears still hot on his cheeks. 

You look down at his long fingers. 

James plays piano. He learned your favourite song for you before he’d ever asked you out, and when he’d played it for you, he’d played so beautifully you felt sick for days, felt sick every time you thought of him, but in the moment he’d laughed at your teary eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. Lovely girl, he’d said, laughing, I won’t play it again if you’re gonna cry like that.

You figure he must want comfort as he gives it, wrapping your arms around him to steer him toward a soft kiss, his hair like strands of satin under your lips. “Nothing that upsets you like this could ever be silly.” 

He pushes you away. Not without love, but pushing away regardless. He stands in the space you leave and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. It’s nearly like he’s dancing. Just the way his arms move. But then he drops them and turns away from you, your heart plummeting to your stomach. 

“James.” 

“It’s not like that. I was hoping I’d be done before you got home. Should we go out for dinner or something?” 

“James–”

“What?” he asks, smiling, at odds with his sad eyes. “Love, it’s really fine, I’m fine.” Love. You let out a long breath, chest a cold ache slowly warmed by his gaze. There’s care for you in every eyelash, but it still shocks you when he hugs you. “It’s okay. Sorry I scared you.” 

James. “Fucking hell, Jamie, I’m not scared, I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you.”

He chokes on breath. “I’m fine,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, a crack running straight through his words. “Sorry,” he says, sickly, kissing the top of your head as you’d kissed his. 

Clearly he’s not going to let you be the one domineering the situation, but that’s okay. He can kiss your head and hold you on the edge of too tight. You slip a hand under the edge of his T-shirt to stroke his back, until your hand is numb to it, and he’s sagging against you heavily. 

“You’re really not fine, I can see that much.” 

He’s quiet, but you can tell there’s something he wants to say. 

“But that’s okay,” you say, hand clasping his back . You pat a steady rhythm there as he sighs. “It really is. I don’t know why you think you have to be finished crying before I get home, but that’s not true. You can cry. You can cry buckets. Please don’t pretend you’re not upset because of me, I’d feel so bad.”

Something hot and wet touches your forehead. “M’sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You pull back to pat his cheek. 

James stares at you. Tears well in usually warm eyes and get caught in the wet hedge of his lashes. You try to wipe them away before they can fall —you don’t wanna see your sweetheart crying. 

“Don’t frown,” he says softly. 

“I’m trying not to. Here, let me,” —you wipe his cheeks with your sleeve, voice a muttering thing as his skin pinks beneath your touch— “just get that there for you. Your eyes are red, Jamie, I hope you haven’t been upset for too long.” 

“No, uh. No, not too long.” 

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to know.” 

James’ face presses to your neck in seconds. He pauses, and then he sobs. That’s more like it. You stand there in the bedroom until your legs are stiff, and then you only move to lay him down in bed to be your little spoon. “It's not fine,” you say, your arm around him, the other playing in the swirl of his parting, “but it will be. You’re really too handsome for all these tears.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

He sounds sweet when he’s trying to make you laugh. You reach over him to kiss his hot cheek.  

[pepperyduck]

growing old with kento nanami

word count: 2.8k

warnings: post-shibuya arc, descriptions of: surgery, recovery processes, depression, insomnia, trauma, therapy, coping mechanisms; pregnancy, marriage, crying. (18+ mdni!)

notes: this WILL have a part 2 and maybe 3! it will be very long so i'm splitting it up. even though the warnings seem kind of sad i promise it's a happy story :)

part 2 | masterlist

“marry me.”

proposing to you was nanami’s first conscious thought after being in a coma for 5 days after shibuya. you were reading a book, peacefully keeping him company in his hospital room, not even noticing he was awake. your eyes fluttered up from your book, back down, and then up again.

“marry me, please,” he repeated. you stayed silent for a moment, eyes widening and mouth dropping. he wasn’t supposed to wake up.

“kento, oh my god,” you yelped, dropping your book and rushing to the hospital bed to look at him. his eyes were open, only slightly, and the weakest smile he could bear rested on his lips. you gently settled your hands on each side of his face, barely hovering over the charred skin. he looked so tired, and yet, he was asking you to marry him.

kento groaned when you hugged him, but you couldn’t stop yourself, you squeezed him gently and with care. a weak hand rested on your back, in between your shoulder blades. he was too weak to repeat his question again. but the only thing on his mind was if you would be his wife.

“yes, yes, i’ll marry you,” you cried into his chest, wetting the fabric of the hospital clothing.

neither you nor nanami himself understood why he proposed to you in that moment. after waking up, his journey to recovery began with slow but steady progress. it took several months of intense rehabilitation and support from both sorcerers and doctors for him to regain his mobility. with their help, he was able to walk and move with a surprising degree of agility, nearly returning to how he was before shibuya. he also had a few cosmetic surgeries, in an attempt to minimize the scarring from all he had been through. within a few months, he was able to see his skin smooth out and hair grow from the side of his head. he wouldn’t look the same, ever; but you didn’t care. you loved kento, as he did you, the fact you were able to celebrate his recovery made you feel like the luckiest woman on the earth.

the loss of his previous strength and abilities weighed heavily on him, casting a shadow over his spirits. yet, amidst the struggles, he found solace in small victories and the support of those around him, your support meaning the most to him. although kento was deeply troubled by the realization that he could no longer pursue his life as a sorcerer, he came to accept it as the best possible outcome given the circumstances. this acceptance marked a pivotal shift in his perspective, allowing him to focus on rebuilding his life in new ways. before he turned in his resignation, he had made sure to recommend ino for a promotion. it was his last wish as a sorcerer.

after the almost year-long recovery process, kento surprised you with a beautiful ring, one of the ones you had talked about before he went on his trip. he proposed again, in the place you first met, this time without weak hands and barely audible words. he was able to find a job, one not nearly as draining as his job from before he returned to jujutsu – and began making plans for your wedding. the planning process didn’t take long, he wanted the wedding to make you happy.

your and kento’s wedding was outright beautiful. it was a stunning venue on a beach, hundreds of guests attended, friends and family alike. kento shed a few tears when he saw you walking down the aisle, clad in the most gorgeous attire he’d ever seen you wear, as his bride. his voice shook as he said his vows – vows that he wrote, almost a good 1,000 words – and he made you a million promises. promises he wouldn’t dare to break, promises to grow old together and live the life you both deserve.

at the reception, you told kento you had a surprise for him, and ran off to go get something from one of your bridesmaids. he was confused at first, because he didn’t need any more surprises, he was the happiest he’d ever been. a newlywed, married to you. but when you came back to the table, two small pieces of paper in your hands, he didn’t think it would be possible to be more joyous.

“we’re going to malaysia, for our honeymoon, kento,” you excitedly told him, showing off the two plane tickets scheduled in a week.

nanami was speechless, a huge smile with teeth plastered across his face, and he gave you the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone.

when the two of you traveled to malaysia, kento was at peace. he had never seen a place so charming and breathtaking, he remained entranced by the culture and landscapes. the two of you spent your time hiking in nature, watching waterfalls and having lovely picnics wherever felt right. kento was so ecstatic, a smile constant on his face as he watched his surroundings with never-ending wonder. he thanked you a million times over.

you had never seen him be so alive. he promised you that one day, he was going to build a house, right on the beach, just for the two of you.

once you were back at your shared apartment, the reality of the past year and a half hit kento like a train. so much time had been spent recovering, constantly in and out of the hospital, planning for your wedding and improving both of your lives, he never had a chance to reflect on the genuine trauma he went through.

you didn’t notice for a while, but kento grew depressed, and restless at the same time. he began to spend his nights awake, insomnia brewing like piping hot tea, staying conscious until the early hours of the morning, doing any exercise or meditation to calm himself down and go to sleep. yet the visuals replayed over, and over, and over. the blood, the curses, the flames, the death. it hadn’t bothered him before, he thought, but he just never gave himself the time to soak it all in. and the depression – the depression was an all-new low for him. when kento wasn’t working, he was at his house, in the bed, while you were working or off running errands. you only noticed his new behavior when you woke up in an empty bed at 4 a.m. one night, 3 months after your honeymoon.

“mm…kento?” you called, footsteps heavily plopping down the hallway towards the bright lights of your kitchen. when you entered the room, you saw kento sprawled out on the floor, knees bent, with sweat rolling down his forehead. stepping over towards him, you kneeled down to look at him, and his head rolled to the side to look at you, too.

kento’s eyes looked so tired, the eyebags you hadn’t seen in years were full-fledged, his eyelids were droopy and exhausted. just by the emotion his eyes conveyed, you could see he was silently suffering, and he had been that way for a while.

“kento, what’s wrong?” you asked, bringing a hand to the side of his face to rub a thumb over his sweat-glistened cheek.

“i don’t…know,” he replied, defeat in his voice, “i can’t sleep. i haven’t slept. i don’t know.”

your husband always had a plan. he always knew everything; he always took care of the unknown and intimidating parts of life. for kento nanami to say “i don’t know” meant something was wrong, seriously wrong.

“sit up,” you softly demanded, gently pulling his shoulders off the floor. you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and kento mirrored your actions, slumping when he finally sat up. “kento, honey,” you began, taking his hand in yours and resting it on his knee, “what’s going on?”

he was never one to talk about feelings, to talk about emotions felt deep down, because he wasn’t sure how to convey anything that would make him vulnerable. but as he sat in front of you, chest slightly heaving, such a burnt-out expression on his face, you knew there was something he wasn’t saying, but that something needed to be said.

“i can’t…” kento muttered, stopping himself for a second, “i can’t stop thinking.” he finally admitted, causing you to furrow your eyebrows with concern.

“about what, honey?” you sweetly asked, thumb caressing the back of his hand, tenderly rubbing back and forth.

“everything.” he stated, eyes flashing away from you to look at the floor next to him. you knew what he meant, though, but you had never seen him so pained from his work, especially from something that happened so long ago.

“tell me, baby,” you soothed him. you grabbed his other hand, causing him to look back at you pitifully. kento stayed silent for numerous moments, unsure as to what you could handle. but you were his wife, someone he was supposed to be able to confide in.

“so many people…died…” he mumbled, “i almost died. i saw what it looked like, i faced death.” his words began to come out quicker, “i’ve never seen that many people die, not even in shinjuku, and there was so much blood, and gojo almost, he almost-,” kento’s voice began to get shaky and uneven, a crack in his words as tears stung his eyes. “gojo almost died, too, and…i almost died, i saw it,” he repeated, “and yuuji – looked so upset, and takuma got hurt,” he clenched his eyes shut, words still coming out as a single string.

you moved closer, shifting onto your knees and wrapping kento in a comforting embrace. he clung to you immediately, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if trying to anchor himself in reality. his body shook with the intensity of his sobs, each breath coming in ragged gasps. the rawness of his anguish was palpable; his cries were filled with a pain that seemed almost too immense to bear. the image of the carnage replayed in his mind, a relentless cycle that he couldn’t escape. kento’s tears soaked through your shirt, repeating with his incoherent murmurs of horror. his face, once so composed, now twisted in an expression of deep, unrelenting despair.

kento wailed into your chest for hours that night, unable to stop his shuttering and repetition of the same phrases. he only calmed down when the sun began to rise, slowly illuminating the insides of your home. once kento parted his head from your chest, he looked you in the eyes, asking for help without saying a word. you wiped away his tears and grabbed the sides of his face, promising him you will get him anything he needs. kento fell asleep around 7 a.m. that morning, with the help of you running your fingers through his hair, shushing him and telling him it will all be okay.

he believed you. kento nanami put all his faith in you, his wife, to help him fix his problem he hadn’t an idea on how to mend. and so, you did everything in your power to help him. you spent countless hours on research, finding therapists that specialized in helping people like him, and you came across different mechanisms to help him cope. most of all, you continued your duties as a supportive wife, constantly telling him to get up and go to the supermarket, or out to the library. little by little, these smaller things combined together to work out, and kento began to get better. it was a breath of fresh air, as well as a weight lifted off both your and his shoulders, when he began to smile again, and shifted his view of life to a more positive outlook. he was alive, he began to feel alive again.

kento nanami was finally beginning to live the life he desired and deserved, all with you by his side.

a couple of weeks after kento’s 30th birthday, you came rushing into his office, tears of joy — and anxiety — pricked in your eyes. soon as his eyes landed on your seemingly upset expression, he was concerned.

“what’s wrong, dear?” he asked, pushing his chair away from the desk to stand up. you quickly closed the door behind you, leaning against it, and you dug around in your purse to pull out a small plastic baggie. when you tossed them to kento, it only took him a few seconds to realize what you were there to tell him.

“…you’re pregnant?” kento beamed, rushing over to you to wrap his arms around your waist. he quickly lifted you up in the air, grip so tight as if he never wanted to let go, your feet kicked happily.

kento always wanted to have kids, but being a sorcerer, he always thought it was too dangerous. you had some conversations about it after shibuya, and the both of you agreed that if it happened, it happened. and your children would have the best life possible, of course; but the glimmer of hope you had for having kids slowly burnt out over time with both of you increasing in age. in that moment, though, kento had so much hope and pure happiness, just at the thought of growing a little family with you.

the first few months of your pregnancy were hectic. between doctor’s appointments, mixed with morning sickness and fatigue, you thought it would never end. although you were happy to start a family, negative emotions easily overcame you, and kento noticed. he tried his best to be there for you, but his work schedule conflicted with your lives, and he soon realized he needed a change in his life. he needed to change your life and his, because he would be damned if he was going to return to the same boring life as he had before.

using his savings and bonus money from his job, he bought you a house. a real house, with acres of land and space for your family to grow, so much bigger than the previous apartment you shared with him. a house that he owned, a house that would contain all the joy for your future. he made sure it was grand, with a huge kitchen, and multiple bedrooms – not caring if only two of them were filled, or if all of them housed someone. before kento showed you the house, he set up a nursery.

“where are we going?” you inquired for about the 50th time that day. you had been in the car for hours, and all kento would say in return is, “you’ll find out.” nonetheless, you were excited, kento had always given you the best surprises, but you had never driven so far with him.

“we’re here.” kento stated, pulling into an empty concrete driveway big enough to fit 6 cars.

“where are we? did satoru move?” you asked, the huge display of a home proving to be a bit intimidating for you. kento didn’t reply this time, he only scurried out of the car to come and open your door, helping you get out with a kind hand.

you didn’t even understand what was going on until you walked up the front steps, and a few keys jingled in kento’s hands until he found the right one to unlock the door. the door to your new home.

“wait...wait. kento,” you said, standing still as your husband strode inside, “what is this?” the familiar tears of joy rushed to your eyes, and you just stood there with a shocked expression plastered on your face.

“this is our new home, honey,” kento chimed, reaching a hand out again to welcome you inside. you took his hand, albeit a little hesitantly, and stepped inside your house.

“oh, kento,” you blubbered, throwing your arms around his neck, tears beginning to trickle down your face.

you and kento explored the house for hours, marveling at all the space and beauty he bought for you. you thanked him a million times over, crying at each new space you discovered in the house, you felt sheer gratefulness for your husband and all he did for you. and kento, well, he did all of it to thank you, to thank you for never losing hope in him, and to thank you for the joy you’d made him experience. he was so undeniably in love with you, just as he had always been, and he promised himself he was going to do everything in his power to live the life he deserved with you. he was going to live up to every word he made in his vows, every promise he made with you, each and every word he had spoken to you was going to show in your lives.

even from the moment he met you, he knew he was going to spend his life with you.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @starlightanyaaa @lagataprrr @hazzelle-kento

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon’s heart was racing, a sheen layer of sweat covering his body as he slowly made his way up his driveway.

Your car was there as it always was when he came home but instead of bringing Simon peace, it made him more nervous than he’d ever been.

He found himself pausing at the door, his trembling hand hovering over the handle as he steadied his breathing. He knew when he opened that door, his entire life would change.

When he left for deployment, you were 7 months pregnant. Now here he was, nearly three months later, about to meet his child for the very first time.

He regretted more than anything, not being there for you when you needed him most. While you were giving birth, he was half a world away, and he felt so incredibly guilty for it. He knew you were strong, he knew you could handle yourself, but that didn’t ease the self loathing thoughts that swirled in his brain.

Closing his eyes, he took one final deep breath before sliding off his mask and entering the house.

“Sweetheart, I’m home.” He called out, setting his belongings on the floor. He slowly made his way into the living area, his hands still shaking from before.

“Hey, handsome.” You greeted, a warm smile on your face as you turned and stood from your spot on the couch. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Simon felt his breath leave his lungs as he took in the sight before him. There, nestled in the love of his life’s arms, was a baby girl. HIS baby girl.

“Simon, this is Y/D/N.” You spoke, your tone gentle. You walked up to him slowly, and leaned in a way that Simon could get a better look at his child.

His brain went numb as he took in every little feature of his daughter, a whirlwind of emotions hitting him at once. “She’s…she’s..she’s beautiful, Y/N.”

You felt tears pooling in your eyes as you watched your husband be rendered speechless. The way he was looking at his little girl had your heart soaring. There was nothing but unyielding admiration, and awe in his eyes. “Do you want to hold her?”

Simon’s breath hitched in his throat as he nodded curtly. He watched as you walked up to him, gently placing the infant in his arms. As he held her, the entire world around him seemed to slow, and the only thing in the world was just him and his little girl.

He held his daughter as if she were made of glass, not daring to move a muscle as he admired her. He began to notice small bits of himself in her, the dark brown of her eyes, the soft curve of her small nose. Never did Simon think anything that came from HIM would ever be so….perfect.

Simon had never felt a love like this before. As his daughter smiled up at him, Simon made a silent vow that he would do absolutely anything in his power to keep that smile on her face for as long as he lived.

“Thank you.” Simon whispered, smiling down at the newborn. Her small hand wrapped around his pinky, causing Simon’s eyes to pool with tears. She was so, so small compared to him.

“For what?” You asked, as Simon pulled you closely into his side.

“For giving me the family I never knew I wanted.”

[entitled-fangirl]

A brilliant melody.

Cregan Stark x quiet!reader

Summary: Cregan marries a woman who never speaks. When she finally does, he feels his heart melt three times over.

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), talk of abuse, tears

A/n: I've been wanting some kind of cool transitions for my writing. Like instead of the "...", some people have really cool art there. Does anyone know how to do that? I hope that makes sense 😬

Masterlist

..................................................

She was quiet. 

Being surrounded by the loud men of the north made her a quiet girl.

Cregan wasn't sure what to do with her. 

…

"You're a meek thing, aren't you?" Cregan asked as the two walked the courtyard of Winterfell.

In one day, they'd be wed. Bonded for life.

She only nodded.

She only ever really nodded or shook her head. 

He hummed as they continued walking. 

Her father had told Cregan of this days before, as if it was a defect that could put a halt to their betrothal plans. Cregan made sure to assure her father that it was not.

After all, she could speak. She just chose not to.

"Winterfell is beautiful in the winter," he began to ramble. "When the snow falls, it covers all of this in its brilliant white. Do you enjoy the snow?"

She considered his question and gave a small nod.

He grinned, "That's my northern girl. Luckily, Winterfell is warm." He noticed the light shiver in her frame. "Perhaps we should go back indoors. Don't want my future bride to freeze before I can place my house cloak upon her shoulders?"

…

True to his word, Cregan managed to place his cloak over her shoulders the very next day. It was a wondrous ceremony filled with many from across the North. 

Everyone gawked at the beauty of the new Lady of Winterfell.

But when one-by-one they moved to speak to her, Cregan was quick to deny them.

The two enjoyed the feast after. Seated at a high table, Cregan often leaned over to whisper things to her.

"You look radiant. Like the sun itself."

"I do believe the other lords may be envious that I have captured the most gorgeous woman of Westeros."

"I do wish you'd eat more. You've hardly touched the plate."

It was a strange sight, seeing such a burly brute of a man whisper sweetly to his wife.

"Is something bothering you?"

She shook her head.

Cregan sighed. "I've only known you for a few days, but I do believe I recognize the shaking of one's hands to associate with nerves."

It was true. Her hands shook violently.

"Is it the bedding ceremony?"

She shrugged.

His brows raised and he leaned closer, "You can be honest with me. I… I want you to be honest with me."

The woman looked down at her hands in thought. Finally, she looked back up at him and nodded.

"Aye. I see." Cregan leaned away and rested his elbows on the table, his head in his hands as he rubbed at his forehead. "Then I'll call it off."

He didn't miss the way her brows pulled together.

"The ceremony, lovely. I'll call it off." 

…

Not long after, Cregan stood and held his hand out to her. "May I dance with you, dear wife?"

She grabbed his hand with enthusiasm. It seemed she didn't need words, for expressions were enough.

He smiled at her as he lead her to the dance floor. 

Cregan was a lousy dancer. Being a northern lord meant there were many more important matters than learning how to properly dance. So, it was put aside. 

He knew the steps in truth, and he could lead just fine, his steps were just too harsh, his movements too calculated. 

It was just not how he expressed himself.

She, though, was marvelous.

It was as if each step was not one of a practiced art. It was as if it was how she naturally moved. 

Cregan was in so much awe that he nearly forgot to continue the lead. 

She didn't need words to express herself. Her movements were enough.

He felt as if he was finally seeing her. 

And she was beautiful.

The song ended, to Cregan's surprise as he snapped from his thoughts, and the guests clapped for their Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

…

Honoring his word, Cregan forbade the ceremony. No other living creature would be a witness to their consummation but the two of them.

After laying her upon the rich furs upon their bed, he was careful to properly prepare her to take him. 

Now, he forced himself to do so slowly, his hips slowly pushed to meet hers as he entered her.

She hissed lightly at the pain, and he swore he heard a small noise come from her throat instinctually.

He began to wonder what her voice sounded like.

Once seated in her fully, he paused to give her a moment to breathe. Her breath was quickened and her hands gripped his biceps as she tried to regain herself.

Cregan placed a light kiss to her lips, basking in the newness of her lips against his, as well as the eagerness she gave back as they did so.

Her hands slid up to cup his cheeks, suddenly gaining confidence.

"Have you adjusted, pretty girl?"

He shifted his hips, not thinking much as he waited for her response.

The sweetest breathy moan left her lips.

Cregan's eyes widened, and he had to stop himself from letting his lust take over then and there.

He tucked his face into her neck, laying heavy kisses along the way. "Easy now. Just tap me to stop."

And with that, he began to move his hips.

Not much came from her lips. She was used to not using her voice, that it almost seemed as if it was more work to use it then stay silent. It was hard for Cregan to tell her feelings, so he often had to tilt his head back up to gauge her reaction by her expressions alone.

He didn't realize how much he spoke in general until he was around her. How someone could happily be so silent, he wasn't sure.

But if the scratching against his back was any measure, he'd say he was pleasing her well.

"You're taking me so pretty."

She practically preened at his praise, her breath catching or escaping each time.

At one point, he pressed his hips firmly to hers, reaching deeper than he had before.

His face found its way to her neck again, her hands pulling at his hair.

But he paused, catching his breath and trying to instill a reaction from her.

Her hands recaptured his hair and pulled again. When he still didn't move, she tried to shift her hips to gain more friction. He was enjoying every second, despite the mere torture it was to not chase his own high.

He pressed a sloppy kiss to her neck, "Patience."

Her motions should have been enough of a reaction for him, but he wanted more. He'd do anything to hear her voice more. 

One of his hands moved down to her clit, pressing his thumb down and circling the bundle of nerves. 

A small whine came from her throat.

He felt warmth spread across his body, "Needy, aren't you?"

Her hand made a last-ditch effort to pull at his hair. He could hear her barely contained breath in his ear and a small voice.

"…Cregan… please…"

Cregan almost finished then.

Her voice was so soft. So sweet. Hoarse from its lack of use and so breathy. 

It was beautiful.

But guilt overshadowed all of that. He shouldn't have pushed her to the point of speaking. 

His hand trailed up her body to the bed, preparing himself again. "I won't deny you any longer. I'll give you what you want, sweet girl."

…

She began to speak to him after that. 

The times were few and far between, but nonetheless, he never took a single word for granted. 

Because she only spoke to him. 

 She never spoke her mind in full, so Cregan took it upon himself to do it for her. 

In meetings, she'd pull at his sleeve, prompting him to instinctually bend his head down towards her to properly hear her soft voice amongst the others. That was how she contributed to meetings: to tell her thoughts to the only one there she trusted. Over time, the men in the meetings caught on, and would pause to hear what the Lady had to say. It was a game of telephone, barely hearing a peep from the woman as she spoke to Cregan, and he voiced it aloud in his own manner. 

When they walked through the busy streets of the city, he kept his hand wrapped around hers, promising to give his attention to her when she squeezed it tightly.

Outside of their chambers, their form of communication was touch, often tapping one another gently. 

Inside, however, soft exchanges were common. She would only speak calculated thoughts, not one to ramble, but she would talk of her day, her newest book, or questions of things she always wondered about the man. 

In turn, he'd respond in the same manner, quieting himself naturally to match her tone as the two gazed into the flames of the fire that warmed the room.

"I wish you'd dance more."

Her head snapped up to him with furrowed brows.

"You're a beautiful dancer. I only wish I could see it more." He leaned against the back of the sofa. "Who taught you?"

"My mother," she spoke softly. "She was wonderful."

He smiled when he noticed the reminiscent look in her eyes at the thought of her mother. He pushed a strand of her hair from her face. "Tell me about her."

She leaned into his touch. "Father mocked me when I wouldn't speak. Said it was shameful. But mother always told me that feelings are expressed by actions rather than words."

"How so?" He absentmindedly asked.

"Men often say that they love their wives, but their actions are rather the opposite."

He hummed as he considered it. "Have I ever made you feel that way?"

"No."

It was the quickest response he'd heard from her. It only fueled his need to know as much as he could. To know her fully.

"Have you always been so quiet?"

As if a switch had been flipped, everything about her quieted.

Her breathing. Her voice. Her expressions. Her thoughts.

Silent. 

Whatever had happened had to have been traumatic to instill such a reaction from her.

"Forgive me. That was too forward, even for me to ask-"

"-I don't wish to talk about it today."

He felt relieved that his question hadn't dissolved her trust in him completely. 

"Well," he pulled her to him. "When you are ready to speak, I shall listen."

…

The next day, Cregan meticulously planned. And his efforts had paid off. 

She walked into the meeting room at the same time she did every week, to see it lacking its usual members. 

The table was pushed off to the side, and Cregan stood in its place as he donned a bright smile at the sight of her. 

Against the back wall, a few musicians stood with their instruments. 

Confusion spread through her and a wave of anxiety as well, prompting her to only stare at him blankly.

He was quick to correct it, stepping forward towards her. "I've excused the council today. I… I wanted to see you dance again."

Once her mind warmed up to the idea, a bright smile came across her face, accepting the hand that he extended to her. 

"I must admit, my love," Cregan said as he stepped in time with the music. "I am not a gentle man. But I am trying. For you."

She nodded, not daring to speak her overwhelming thoughts at the moment. 

…

After, they sat at the large dining table, the emptiness of it mattering not to the two lovers who sat together at one end.

"My uncle," she stated, breaking the silence.

His head tilted up to meet her gaze, "Hmm?"

Her cheeks turned a slight pink, "You asked how I became so quiet." 

Recognition flowed over his face, "Ah. Yes, I did." He sipped his wine and leaned towards her. "Your uncle, then?"

She nodded. 

"He was unkind to you?"

She picked at the skin of her fingers, seemingly reliving the moments in her mind. 

A battle within herself.

He put a hand on her thigh, "I will not force you to tell me things you do not wish to."

"I do," she insisted. "But I know not how to."

"Begin to speak, and I shall piece it all together."

She took a deep breath. "My uncle hit me when I spoke out of turn. At first, at least. Then… it was whenever I spoke at all."

He felt ice go down his veins and a feeling like a rock going down his throat. 

But being such a skittish thing, he knew not to react too harshly.

"When I told my father, he…" her eyes became glassy. "He said he was right for it. That… that a girl was made to only… shut her mouth and open her legs."

He couldn't keep it in anymore. "And you believed them?"

"When I spoke to you for the first time, I feared you'd be the same."

"I bask in the sound of your voice, my girl. I hope that you see that."

A warm tear ran down her cheek as she looked up at him.

"Oh, sweet woman," he cooed as he cupped her cheek. "Do not cry over false words."

When more tears began to fall, he quickly pushed her chair out from the table and pulled her into his lap.

She tucked her face into his neck, melting against him as if she wished to disappear. 

He held her close, not caring when his tunic became damp. When he did speak, it was soft and assuring whispers.

Once she caught her breath, she pulled away from him. "Forgive me."

"I don't believe I will."

Her eyes widened, and he realized his mistake in word choice. 

"Sweet girl, you've nothing to apologize for. That's all I meant."

She relaxed at that. She reached up and wiped her cheeks with a sniffle. "Actions have always spoke more than words."

He reached up and brushed a stray tear from her cheek. "Have they?" He asked softly.

She felt a smile come to her lips at his touch. "You are different. You could speak or act, and still, I'd only hear a brilliant melody to which I can always trust."

He never felt such love radiate as it did then.

.......................................

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia

[emeritusemeritus]

Breed like Gnomes [Fred Weasley]

Title: Breed like Gnomes.

Pairing: PregnantWife!Reader x Fred Weasley

Timeline: Set after Canon (Fred lives!)

Summary: At Ginny and Harry’s wedding, you find yourself facing Aunt Muriel’s unpleasantness, so Fred decides to have some fun.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, babies, sexual references.

Word count: 1.2k

June 4th 2003, a joyful and long awaited day for all in attendance. The marriage of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley. It was a family affair, both in blood and bond, the entire venue packed with loved ones sharing in the happiness of the newlyweds.

Being Ginny's long standing friend and now sister-in-law, you were naturally made a bridesmaid along with six others who proudly stood by Ginny's side as she said her vows. It was beautiful, joyous and utterly heartwarming to see them unite and be declared husband in wife in front of the many people attending. The couple had initially wanted a much smaller affair than what had transpired but in the end, they were too deeply cared for by so many and the numbers were ever increasing, only made worse by Molly's excitement and welcoming nature.

It had been a truly magical day; getting to support your new sister in law, to see your daughter throw wild flowers down the aisle and most of all getting to check out your husband in his tux as he sat beaming beside his twin brother in the front row, holding back a tear at seeing his little sister suddenly looking so grown up.

"You alright sweetheart?" Fred asks worriedly as you lower yourself gently into your assigned seat inside the bustling marquee. It was getting late now, the party stretching into the night as people danced merrily around you.

You were exhausted from the day, the early morning, the usual nuptial stresses and from the shoes that were growing increasingly uncomfortable around your slightly swollen ankles.

You simply smiled warmly at Fred with a little nod, leaning into his touch when he placed his arm behind you on your chair, his fingers fidgeting with the strands of hair that had fallen down your back.

You both turned your heads in the direction of delighted squeals and watched as your children danced around, chasing each other and their many cousins with beaming smiles on their faces. Their nice outfits were quite frankly ditched at this point and they'd eaten more cake than you cared to admit throughout the day but as you looked at the three happy faces on the dance floor, you couldn't care less. Their uncle George took turns spinning and twirling them and you couldn't help but watch in devotion at seeing your oldest dancing with your brother in law, no doubt standing on his feet as he glided her around whilst the twins ran in circles around the dancing pair.

You let out a little surprise gasp when you felt a sharp kick to your side, just underneath your rib.

"I thought you were asleep," you say quietly with a loving smile as your hand drifts down to your blooming bump, gently rubbing over the spot where you'd felt a little prod.

"Letting you know he's there?" Fred asks with a smirk, noticing your movements. He moved closer and places his large hand over yours, wanting to feel for himself the little kicks that had you smiling at your bump.

"He?" You question sarcastically, with a slight raise of your eyebrow.

"Fathers intuition," Fred smirks with a slight shrug, "never been wrong yet."

"You didn't know there were two last time," you countered teasingly, nodding your head towards the two litttle boys causing havoc on the dance floor. He lets out a boyish chuckle and for a moment you both catch each other's eyes, both twinkling in delight and bound with love. You'd been married for nearly five years, together for much longer but it still took your breath away how much you loved this man, and how much he loved you in return.

"Good heavens!"

The nice moment passed as soon as the loud, screechy voice sounded out on the next table, forcing you apart. You jumped slightly at the unexpected noise before realising that Fred's great aunt Muriel had taken up a seat at the table beside yours and as usual her presence was unwanted. Her voice went through you, like nails on a chalkboard. The high tone and the derogatory, unpleasant undertone to her words, accompanied by the constant hateful look on her face were enough to cement a negative association in your mind. Both you and Fred deflated a little at her presence, with Fred letting out an audible sigh that you felt in your soul. Even your baby let out a sharp kick as if to announce their own displeasure at the sound of her voice.

"Yes aunt Muriel?" Fred says in the most monotone voice he can muster, not even attempting to hide the dismay in his voice, or his face.

"Godric," she mumbles under her breath, casting her eyes between the two of you, focusing her beady eyes on your bump, and where your children were currently hanging off George like monkeys in a tree. "You breed like gnomes!"

You hope your face doesn't show the depth of your exasperation at her words but you doubted your ability to keep a straight face. Fred, of course, finds it hilarious and can't keep the smile off of his face. You can feel his shoulders moving up and down with silent laughter but he manages to contain it and simply clears his throat to hide the laughter.

"Have either of you considered simply reading of an evening? Instead of what I assume are your usual activities?" She says with a bitter tone, face downturned into her usual grimace.

Fred snorts at her words and though you feel slightly offended by her accusation, just as you always did by her comments, you can't help but chuckle yourself at the strangeness of the situation. Was she really commenting on your sex life?

"Onto your fourth already! And only 25! You’re worse than your mother, all of you breed like Gnomes."

"You see I've never been one for reading, but I tried," Fred replies coyly. From his tone of voice you can tell that he's teasing, about to prod the bear. "But it only gave me more ideas. What was is called sweetheart? Some muggle book... Kama sutra! Eroticism for begginers. Let me tell you, it's changed my life! Couldn't put it down... or her," he says, nodding his head towards you with a wicked smile on his face as his hand snakes around to cradle your bump once again.

You can't hide your smile this time as Muriel lets out a disgusted squark and turns away with a deeper grimace than before. You turn your head and snuggle into Fred's shoulder to hide your laughter whilst he openly chuckles to himself, head thrown back slightly in glee.

"You're terrible," you mutter with a smirk, pulling yourself away from the soft fabric of his shirt where it stretches over his muscled shoulders. His smile is wide and wicked as he takes in your words, hearing nothing but compliments.

"Hilarious is a better word," he quips, eyes shining in delight.

"Incorrigible."

"Completely irreformable," he agrees without a single care. "But I think you like me like this."

You look up from under your lashes at him, matching the look in his sparkling eyes and can't help but agree.

Taglist part 1 ♡

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