#this piece caused me so much trouble

[flailingfrog]

A Reintroduction of Sorts

TW: BBU-adjacent setting, dehumanization, abuse

Holly does her best. Kit knows this, deep and well into her gut. But she does the same thing everyone else does and carries on like there isn’t a crack in her world even when it’s obvious that there’s something there, edging worry into her. It’s obvious, when you know what to look for, and Holly doesn’t wear it the same as Daphne did, but there’s a stress to her hands, a permanent tug at her shoulders and lips. Kit knows Holly well enough to know what they mean.

But Holly doesn’t want to discuss it, so Kit won’t bring it up, at least not directly. She’s very good at side-stepping issues like that—It’s part of what made her a good pet to Daphne. Besides, Daphne always said there were ways to make someone feel better other than talking.

Kit would still like to know what it was—What about looking at her left Holly’s lips thinning. Maybe then the tightness in her chest and threatening pain in her neck disappear.

Part of the anxiety is good, of course. Being anxious means she cares, and she should. After all, today is the day Holly takes her home. Her nerves need this sticky coating of not quite terror.

She’s never met her husband, or her children. And she’s never been to Holly’s house. It’s too messy, which Holly says is the nature of three kids, a husband, and busy lives, and that there’s only so much you can ask Renee to do in a day when she’s also cooking and helping Holly with her Etsy store and the kids. Renee sets off her nerves, too, though that bit she can admit is unreasonable. Renee and her will probably make great friends, if Holly allows it.

She’s settled perfectly for the moment Holly will arrive: Daphne had arranged the living room so that from the largest of the couches you could look straight across the coffee table to the front door. To herself, Kit can admit she’s always thought the furniture clashed with the wall of glass, high ceilings, and large, sparkly tiled black floors. It’s like her, though, and she’d feel warmer about that if Daphne weren’t gone.

Her crochet bag’s by her feet and she works on one of her current projects, one of what was supposed to be a series of rose doilies her and Daphne made as a pair.

The key scratches in the front door’s lock. Kit wills her heart to stop thumping and looks up from her vantage point on the couch. Downstairs, as the door scrapes across the inner floor mat, Paul starts to yap, which Kit forgives even as it stings through her brain.

It doesn’t show in the easy smile she always gives Holly from rising to her face as the door opens, doily slid back into her bag, and that is another success today.

But it’s not Holly at the door. It’s Nikole, Holly trailing after her with a flat face that makes Kit’s heart stutter.

“Does he always bark like that?” Nikole asks over her shoulder to Holly.

“He’s a barky guy,” Holly says, then to Kit. “He still downstairs?”

“Yes, Holly.” She hadn’t asked her to carry him up them. She digs through the words regardless, looking for any sign of what she’d done.

It must’ve been something bad for Holly to bring Nikole. Of course, asking’s out of the question. She shouldn’t have questions, not the kind that wouldn’t leave Daphne with a fond smile to her lips. She should just know what she did. Can she effectively lie about it this time? Her heart is a traitor in her chest.

Nikole looks away from where she’d frozen staring at the quilt on the wall to Kit, and already Kit can see something building in her. “You’re on the couch?”

Kit’s mouth freezes in the smile meant for Holly. She reaches for it, wills it to act for Nikole, but can’t locate her nerve.

Before she can be punished for it, Holly speaks up, sharper than Kit would dare. “Daphne let her on the couch.”

She could melt into her for the defense, press apologetic words into her skin for whatever she’s done.

But Nikole doesn’t so much as tilt towards her, even as Paul reaches a new crescendo. “Even when she wasn’t home?” Her legs carry her in measured steps deeper into the house, and Holly follows, softer.

This is stupid. That’s what Kit thinks. And she would smack herself for it if she were by herself, because that’s not a thought Kit’s supposed to have. The itchiness of annoyance isn’t supposed to be there, either. Under that, there’s an ache. This is different and she misses Daphne. Her face stays in perfect bland pleasantry as she asks, “Do you want me off the couch?”

“Yes,” she says, and Kit’s heart ratchets at how little it gives her.

She slides to her knees. She shouldn’t have asked. Asking would’ve upset Daphne, and Nikole is worse than Daphne. She’s been to the family events, has seen the way Nikole snaps at her daughter and husband over imagined slights.But sitting there, Nikole digging into her as she danced around an issue so easily fixed…

She aches.

On the other side of the table, Nikole stares at her.

She tries to keep her focus on her, face bent to neutrality and care even as her heart beats faster. She keeps waiting for her to speak, but she doesn’t.

Her eyes flit past her to Holly, as covert a question as she dares. Holly looks back with something Kit thinks might be guilt, and she barely has time to snap an internal rubber band at the elation that comes with it before Nikole speaks.

“What are you looking at her for?”

She snaps back to attention at the accusation.

Frowns settle easily on Nikole’s face, and this one is no different. “Don’t you think you should focus on your owner?”

“Nikole—“ Holly reaches for her, but Nikole flinches away and Holly follows suit, as strongly as if she hit her, further away from the pair than where she started.

Kit doesn’t dare look at Holly, her eyes stuck somewhere at Nikole’s collarbone. Holly said she was going to take her home. She pretends Paul can understand the terrible fate that’s befallen them from even downstairs and that’s why he won’t stop barking. It’s easier to deal with the pulse of pain brought on by each sharp burst of noise that way. If it made all the other pain easier, she’d never stop pretending.

Eventually, Nikole will be as familiar to her as Holly or her mother. For now she isn’t. The safest option, she tries for as much earnestness as she can spare, as much as she dares, and says, “I’m sorry, Niko—”

*“Miss,” she interrupts, a haziness to her. “You can call me Miss.”

For all intents and purposes, Kit and Nikole are alone. Very soon, that will be the reality, too. Something drips in her at the thought.

*Her face has fallen out of standard, but she puts back on a smile as soon as she can muster and says, “I’m sorry, Miss.”

“Look at me.”

She wouldn’t refuse a direct order.

Nikole holds her gaze for a long second, mouth a thin line, as tightly coiled as a snake. And then she relaxes with a cock of her head, and for half a moment, Kit can almost relax, too.

“What other bad habits did my mother let you develop?” Nikole asks.

For a second, she can’t process the words. There’s something scrambling in her throat, a smokiness to her thoughts that leaves her woozy. If you had asked Kit before Nikole came through the door, she’d have said she didn’t have any bad habits. She was perfectly suited, the best friend an old lady like Daphne could ask for.

Out the corner of her eye, Holly almost says something to Nikole, jittering in an almost-step into Nikole’s space, but then she stops, glancing at Kit. Kit doesn’t dare glance back. She’s too busy trying to answer properly. Her throat’s grown too thick. She searches for any flaws Daphne had pointed out in the last few weeks, but as always, there’s nothing.

Instead of an answer, Paul echoes off the high ceilings and inside her skull.

*“You’re taking too long.”

She’s too aware of her heart in her chest. She ducks her head to fulfill the image of contriteness demanded, hands cupped in her lap. It’s like she’s admitting to some kind of crime when she says, “I’m sorry, Miss. I can’t think of any.”

“Why is Paul downstairs?”

Paul barks his own accusation, a throttle to Kit’s heart.

Her chest squeezes her tighter. She manages to say evenly, “His things are downstairs, and he can’t walk up the stairs.”

“So you didn’t think to carry him?”

It’s an accusation, but she can’t grasp the crime. “No one asked me to.” She doesn’t let it sound like she’s begging for understanding. No one likes when you beg. If she explains calmly enough—

“So you’re lazy.”

The words dunk her in water, and she missteps. “No, Miss, it’s just—”

“And you’re argumentative.”

Her mouth snaps shut, the label tight around her. She focuses on the whorls of her fingertips as she fights to keep her shoulders rounded.

“I want you to say it.”

She chances a glance up at Nikole. From the floor, Nikole towers over her, even when Kit knows her new owner’s shorter than her. She fights the urge to glance at Holly, knowing she’s already pushing her as her stomach clamps. She pushes down the thoughts that she shouldn’t have and instead pushes worse. “Miss?”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” she asks, a snip to the warning. Daphne used that word a lot when describing her daughter. It’s like her chest is aching all over again.

Her mouth tries to do something funny, and she’s not quite sure what it is, only that it makes her temple pulse. She forces her jaw to work out, an even mumble, “I’m argumentative.”

“Louder,” she says, the upper knees of her faded light blue jeans pressing into the coffee table. Nikole doesn’t look at Kit like she could ever love her. She doesn’t think she could even love Paul.

Louder, loud enough to be heard clearly over Paul downstairs, she just manages not to rasp, “I’m argumentative.”

*Nikole leans over, sides of her cardigan brushing against the magazines on the table with a slick noise. “That’s right. And my mother might have tolerated argumentative, but I won’t. If you talk back again, you don’t want to know what I’ll do.” She pauses, and the words sit between them just long enough for Kit to feel sick.

Then she says, “You can pack two bags for you and a smaller one for Paul.”

*It’s nowhere near enough for either of them. But it’s not her place to argue. She should be grateful. She reminds herself that in the death of an owner, several pets have it worse. She could be refurbished if Nikole so chose, and even the thought leaves her damper, but instead she’s just…

Being forced out of her home with far too little for her or the little dog Daphne has always trusted her to care for.

*Kit is not grateful. Instead, she is bad.

She still nods, not daring to try and see what Holly’s doing now that she’s gone quiet.

Nikole stares down at her, and Kit waits for her dismissal.

Finally, she says, “I meant now.”

*“Thank you, Miss,” Kit manages, loud enough she won’t be asked to be repeated, and she leaves the room as quickly as she can.

-

@angst-after-dark @black-hole-cobra

[boimann]

I can't fucking wait to move out and cut ties with my whole entire family, I just want to go live alone in a cave with four dogs and a pack of feral rats

[caged-dreamland]

🔌✨So fuck it, I'll say BYE BYE buzzing melodies And burn through all the LIE LIE copying machines You lose yourself in what you're pretending to be Can we go back to what we had at the start?✨🎶

I love love love the official English cover of Cyberpunk Dead Boy so much that my hand became possessed and drew Nightingale in the style of the MV. This was incredibly fun to do even if it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing!

[moechies]

toji’s little pregnant wife who’s only pregnancy craving is his thick, bitter cum </3

“but.. i want it..” you pester toji, tugging on his arm. you groan at the way your big, soft belly gets in the way of completely smothering the man, but it doesn’t stop you.

“no,” he grunts back, shaking his hands off as he places back the last dish from your two’s meal prior. “i can’t have y’hurtin’ yourself. i’ll never forgive myself if ya do.”

“i-it’s a craving, toji,” you joke, but truthfully you know you’re serious. looking up at him with watery eyes, you’re undeniably desperate, your plush thighs growing achy and soft cunny growing hot at the thought. “please toji, wan’ y’r cum.” you purr.

he scowls, cursing at the hard bulge that undeniably presses against the countertop. he tried his very best to deny your little pleads , that’s enough right ? if his pregnant wife really insists, wouldn’t it be right to accept so ? he wonders.

“t-toji,” you moan, like a bunny in heat.

“fuck me, princess.”

“i-i wil—“

before you’re able to finish your sentence, he’s hoists you into his arms with no trouble, making his way towards the soft couch displayed in your home’s living room. you giggle uncontrollably when he nuzzles himself against your neck, blowing soft raspberries against your skin, which has grown sensitive throughout the term of your pregnancy.

“ill jus’ finger you, how about it ? i don’t want ya on yer knees , mama.”

“no.. n-not enough.” you mumble into his chest, tugging against his ribbed tank top. “wan’ your cock. in my mouth, your cum—“

he finds it hilarious, you’re so adorable. he thinks the celibacy for the sake of your two’s baby may have have been the cause of all this attention, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“insatiable little dolly, aren’t you ?”

“mhm, i missed you s’much.”

“‘m right here mama.” he lays you against the soft cushion, pressing a kiss against the back of your hand.

“y’sure ya wanna do this ? y’don’t have to.” as if you were doing it for his sake. your legs ache and shiver with anticipation, already able to feel your mouth salivating at the thought. “want to, i want to !”

“shh, don’t get so worked up, now.” he chuckles, “stress is bad for the baby.” he drops the softest plushie on the ground, and leading your supple body against his lower half. you sit obediently between his legs, sore cunt throbbing erratically at the anticipation.

“take him out, dolly.” he smirks, watching you tug down his thin sweats, huffing at the stiff bulge that presses against his cotton boxers. you fumble your little fingers against his cock, nervous at how he seems to be watching you so intently, watching your each and every move, finding any reason to stop.

your breath is hot against his budge, slithering your hand against his boxer clad cock before pulling the fabric below his plump balls. he groans at the juxtaposition of your soft fingers against his meaty dick; oh how much he missed the mere sight of such.

“‘m gonna cum just like this mama.” he jokes alongside panty groans, twitching when you press your plush lips against his tip without hesitation. you envelop your warmth around his swelling cock head, pink tongue lolling out and dragging through his hefty slit.

you moan at the taste of his salty musk coating your eager tongue, hands fondling at his pudgy balls as you ease yourself further closing in on his base.

“just like that, just like that mama. yer doin’ p-perfect.” he sighs, petting your hair gently. his fingers stroke through your soft locks, curling a finger around the stray pieces that’s fallen in front of your face, and tucking them behind your ear.

“gorgeous lady, my pretty wife, hm?” he watches you fuck your own cheek with his cock, drooling unexpectedly at the overwhelming girth. “juuust like that.”

“pwah—!”

“what’s wrong , dolly ?” he mumbles with a tint of worry. he runs a thumb across your swollen bottom lip, pressing his sticky thumb back into your mouth as you eagerly suck. “‘s-s too g-gud,” you mumble. “wan’ more.”

“s all yours, darling. take yer time.”

your hot breath causes toji to twitch, shoving his cock mindlessly back into your mouth. you press your throat onto the blunt tip, hot tongue swirling around the un-cut tip.

with a few more pumps of your hot mouth assaulting his sensitive tip, he spurts a heavy load into the warmth of your mouth with soft groans, hand leading yours to jerk at the rest of his cock. “fuck, damn.” he groans breathlessly, barely visible beads of sweat crowning at his forehead.

you swirl your nut-covered tongue against his dick, making a mess. it drools down his cock, dirtying his now-soft sack, coating your plush lips in a soft creme white. toji tugs on the cushion tightly, allowing you to have your fun although he’s well beyond overstimulation and close to passing out. not from the simulation itself, but the way you look so innocent below him, yet you’re really so nasty.

definitely his wife.

“that’s it.” he watches you slowly swallow his cum, throat bulging gently every time you take a gulp; just the prettiest sight. although your mouth emptied, lips licked clean, you continue licking at his dirtied shaft, taking everything you can get.

he scruffles your hair, a light tug at your head to pull your suckling lips away from his sensitive cock. he leans down, pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips and pressing your head to close in on him. he sucks on your flavorful tongue, tasting himself. “damn, doll. really haven’t lost yer touch, huh? no wonder we’re perfect f’eachother.”

[sabertoothwalrus]

There’s something I love love loveeee about Laios and how badly he wants to be cool.

Let me preface with this: in general, I believe the harder you try to be cool, the less cool you actually are. The less you care what people think about you, if you’re “cringe” or “weird”, the more likely people will perceive you as confident and self-assured.

There are countless pieces of media where characters try to fit in with some group, change every part of themself to look/act like what they’re “supposed” to be, and end up miserable, often realizing the people they’re trying to impress aren’t worth the trouble.

I’ve experienced this in my own life too! Sometimes when I go out I wear a rainbow propeller cap! Cause I think it’s funny and silly and!! I ALWAYS get compliments!! I don’t wear it to be cool, I wear it because it makes me happy. And people overall have a positive reaction to it. it’s a huge contrast to when I was teenager and didn’t really put as much of myself into my appearance/wardrobe, and barely left any kind of impression on people.

So anyway, let’s get into it.

Laios… he’s been hurt so badly by people. He resented humanity for it. And yet, he still yearns for the approval of others. He wants FRIENDS!!!! and was angry and frustrated to learn his perception of his relationship with Shuro was so drastically different than Shuro’s!!!!

He KNEW that people were put-off by his love of monsters. Up until Falin got eaten, he deliberately suppressed how much he talked about it with others. He probably thought by not talking about monsters so much, it was working!! He was doing all the Right Things now! So Shuro confessing he always hated him was a huge blow.

But the reality is, he loves monsters. And most importantly, he loves cool monsters. He fantasizes about what would make the Ultimate Monster.

He feels very strongly about what he considers “cool” as well. He finds all aspects of monsters fascinating, but can still be HORRIBLY underwhelmed when they look too lame for his tastes.

He knows most people don’t feel the same way he does. He knows his “cool” is everyone else’s “weird”. It’s so tragically sweet how he latches onto Kabru the moment he shows interest in monsters, and takes every opportunity to infodump about them to him.

He wants people to find monsters as cool as he does!! But, he also wants people to think he’s as cool as he finds monsters.

Like!!! djkfghadkfjg IT DOESN'T EVEN BOTHER HIM WHEN PEOPLE HAVE A WRONG IMPRESSION OF HIM! He's FLATTERED by it. It's almost like, at this point, it doesn't matter to him if people don't like him. People can not like him and still think he's cool.

And my favorite thing is, it works. Laios IS cool as fuck. You KNOW he thought he looked so badass when he did this and he was RIGHT:

And yet, this is him trying very hard to look cool. But it's Laios's version of cool. It's almost contradictory, in that sense. Cause he knows people still don't get it. Like. He wants to be cool. He doesn't care about the "normal" ways to be cool. He thinks his cringe thing is cool. He does his cringe thing, that people very much do still think is cringe. So you would think that, since he wants people to think he's cool, he would not do the cringe thing. But he wore the pelt because he thought it was cool. And people clapped and cheered for him anyway.

is what he's doing really so different than this? ^

YAYYYYY WOOO GO LAIOS YOURE SO COOL!!!!!!!

[bodybaggage]

Ghostly Heir or Batty Custody?

DP X DC

———

The Justice League Watchtower was an advanced piece of technology, housing the world’s greatest heroes. But even in a place dedicated to protecting the Earth, some things were simply unavoidable—like gossip.

It had started innocently enough, as these things often do. Superman, having just returned from Gotham, was discussing the latest developments in the Batcave with Wonder Woman over a cup of coffee. The conversation was meant to be private, but when you have people like the Flash who can be in and out of a room before anyone notices, privacy is a relative term.

“So, Batman has another kid?” Superman had said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Are we running a daycare now?”

Superman shrugged. “Not sure. But he’s different from the others. White hair, glows a little. Bruce is being… secretive.”

“Bruce is always secretive,” Wonder Woman pointed out.

“Yeah, but this one seems—” Superman’s words were cut off as the Flash zoomed by, pretending to be busy with something else. The two superhumans exchanged a glance but said nothing more, knowing that once the speedster got wind of something, the whole League would know within the hour.

And they did.

Back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne—better known as Batman—was oblivious to the brewing storm. He sat in the Batcave, going over the latest reports on Gotham’s criminal activity with his usual intensity. Beside him, a ghostly figure floated lazily, occasionally glancing at the screens with mild interest.

Danny Fenton—known to most as Danny Phantom—had been in Gotham for a few weeks now, lying low while he figured out how to deal with some supernatural issues back in Amity Park. Clockwork had suggested Gotham as a good place to lay low, citing the city’s reputation for attracting all sorts of weirdos. Besides, Clockwork had argued, Batman wouldn’t care as long as Danny didn’t cause trouble.

And for the most part, Danny hadn’t. He’d stayed out of Gotham’s wayward criminal elements, kept his ghostly powers under wraps, and only occasionally wandered the streets at night to stretch his legs (or float, as it were).

Of course, he hadn’t counted on the Bat Family.

Damian had challenged him to a duel within minutes of their first meeting, insisting that he prove himself worthy of staying in the Batcave. Danny had countered by turning intangible and letting Damian tire himself out, which only seemed to frustrate the young Robin more.

Tim had interrogated him about the nature of ectoplasm and ghost powers, scribbling notes furiously as Danny tried his best to explain without giving too much away.

Jason had simply grunted, muttering something about “another brat” before disappearing on his motorcycle, while Dick had been the only one to offer a somewhat normal welcome.

“You’re like, what, the seventh kid Bruce has taken in?” Dick had said, clapping Danny on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not staying here permanently,” Danny had replied, but Dick had just laughed, as if Danny’s words were the punchline to a joke only he understood.

Things had been relatively quiet since then—until now.

It started as a low hum, a barely noticeable vibration in the air. Alfred, the ever-watchful butler, was the first to notice something amiss.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred said calmly, setting down the tray of tea he’d just brought in. “We appear to have… company.”

Bruce looked up from the Batcomputer, his eyes narrowing as the hum grew louder, evolving into a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Batcave. Danny, who had been floating upside down, lazily spinning in midair, suddenly snapped to attention.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Danny muttered, his expression turning from bored to annoyed in seconds.

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Alfred replied, his tone as even as ever, despite the growing disturbance.

The rumble turned into a roar, and suddenly, with a burst of green light, a swirling portal opened up in the middle of the Batcave. The vortex crackled with energy, and from it stepped a towering figure clad in ghostly armor, a crown of ectoplasmic fire atop his head.

Pariah Dark, the Ghost King, had arrived.

“BATMAN!” Pariah’s voice boomed through the cave, rattling the glass cases that held the old Robin suits. “I, Pariah Dark, King of the Infinite Realms, have come to challenge you for the custody of my heir!”

There was a moment of silence as the words hung in the air. Danny facepalmed, groaning audibly. “This is not happening.”

Bruce, for his part, remained as stoic as ever, though his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “Your heir?”

“Yes, my heir!” Pariah bellowed, his eyes glowing with ectoplasmic energy. “The boy you have taken into your care! I will not allow this—this mortal to usurp my claim!”

Bruce’s gaze flicked to Danny, who looked thoroughly unamused. “Is there something you forgot to mention?”

“Oh, come on!” Danny threw his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t what it looks like! I’m not his heir, and I’m definitely not up for custody!”

Pariah seemed undeterred by Danny’s protests. “You defeated me in battle, boy. By the laws of the Infinite Realms, that makes you my heir! And now this Bat-creature seeks to claim you as his own! I will not stand for it!”

Bruce’s expression remained impassive. “I’m not trying to claim him.”

“See?” Danny gestured to Bruce. “Totally not trying to claim me. So you can just go back to the Ghost Zone, Pariah. No custody battle needed.”

Pariah’s eyes narrowed, his fiery crown flaring. “The only way to resolve this is through combat! Batman, I challenge you to a duel for the boy!”

Bruce glanced at the portal, calculating the odds. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I will take the boy by force!” Pariah declared, raising his massive sword, which seemed to materialize out of thin air, crackling with ectoplasmic energy.

Danny floated down between the two, trying to keep the peace. “Guys, let’s just calm down. No need for a duel. I’m fine. No one’s taking anyone by force.”

Pariah looked down at Danny, his expression a mix of paternal concern and royal indignation. “Do not worry, my heir. I will defend your honor.”

Danny groaned again. “I don’t need my honor defended. I need you to stop making this weird.”

Before Danny could protest further, Bruce stepped forward, his voice as calm as ever. “Very well. A duel, then.”

“Seriously?” Danny looked at Bruce, incredulous. “You’re just going to agree to this?”

“If it ends the situation quickly, yes,” Bruce replied, his tone as dry as ever. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with an overprotective guardian.”

Pariah raised his sword, clearly satisfied with the outcome. “Prepare yourself, mortal! I will not hold back!”

“Hold on, hold on!” Danny zipped between them again, clearly exasperated. “We don’t need to do this! Pariah, go back to the Ghost Zone. Batman, you don’t have to fight him.”

Pariah looked genuinely perplexed. “But… the honor of the Infinite Realms demands it.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Danny insisted. “The Infinite Realms don’t care about some weird custody battle! Besides, I’m not a kid, and I’m not staying here permanently! I’m just crashing for a bit!”

Pariah frowned, lowering his sword slightly. “You… are not staying?”

“No!” Danny said, exasperated. “I’m not staying! I’m not your heir! I’m just Danny, okay?”

The Ghost King looked around, as if trying to process this information. “But… you are under his care. It was reported by reliable sources.”

“Reliable sources?” Danny echoed. “Who told you that?”

Pariah seemed to hesitate for the first time. “A rather talkative sorcerer in a trench coat. He mentioned it while muttering about ‘bloody bats’ and ‘undead nuisances.’”

Danny blinked, realization dawning. “Constantine. Of course.”

Bruce’s expression remained unchanged, though there was a faint glimmer of irritation in his eyes. “This… Constantine has been spreading rumors?”

Danny sighed heavily, feeling more tired by the minute. “Look, can we just forget this whole thing happened? Pariah, you go back to ruling the Ghost Zone. I’ll handle Constantine. And Batman, you can go back to doing… whatever it is you do.”

Pariah Dark seemed to mull this over for a moment before finally lowering his sword completely. “Very well. But know this, boy—if ever you require my assistance, you have but to call.”

“Sure, sure,” Danny muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With one last, dramatic sweep of his cape, Pariah Dark stepped back into the swirling green portal, which closed behind him with a final, ominous crackle.

For a moment, the Batcave was silent. Then Danny turned to Bruce, looking both sheepish and annoyed. “So… I guess I should have warned you about that.”

Bruce simply nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Next time, try to keep your interdimensional family disputes to a minimum.”

“I’ll do my best,” Danny promised, floating back toward the Batcomputer. “But with my luck, that’s not gonna be easy.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Bruce replied dryly, already turning back to his work. “And tell Constantine to keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Danny muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he floated back to his usual spot, thinking about the supernatural messes that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

As the Batcave returned to its usual state of brooding silence, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Gotham wasn’t the best place to lay low after all. But with the alternative being another encounter with Pariah, he figured the Batcave wasn’t so bad—at least, not until the next interdimensional incident.

[hiraethwrote]

contents : f!reader, stressed and overworked satoru, pretty much pure fluff, profanity, baking, somewhat proofread, no use of y/n wc <1k an : happy birthday to the loml <3 that's it... that's the post

This was the last thing Satoru needed right now.

It had been a long day — much like most mornings, he had to carefully wiggle out of your grip in your shared bed to head to work, only to have the higher ups ride his neck from dawn until dusk. And today, for some reason, his students had decided to be particularly difficult, arguing on whatever he said.

Maybe he was just more short tempered than normal today, as he had a perfect vision of how he wanted the day to go — lazy morning, slowly waking up next to you as you’re nothing but tangled limbs, have a share breakfast, then do absolutely nothing of importance while graced with your company. Was that too much to ask for his birthday?

Seemed like it.

And what greets him first when he enters your apartment isn’t your warm embrace — no, instead it’s the scenery of his home looking like a complete mess before a frustrated groan is heard, followed by a loud “fuck, just work god dammit”.

He wanted to relax, rot on the couch with you pressed up against him before sleep eventually trapped you in oblivion and he could carry you into the bedroom where he could fall asleep next to you.

Instead, something is wrong — he doesn’t need to see it to know. His entire body feels it when something’s off with you, and he won’t be able to rest until he knows you’re at peace with whatever is causing you trouble.

“Piece of shit machinery,” he hears you say as he turns the corner to enter the kitchen. And though the scene is a mess, it’s a whole different mess than what he expects to see. “Ten thousand yen for this not to do its fucking job,” you say through gritted teeth.

Satoru lets his eyes roam every corner of the kitchen. There’s bowls and tools everywhere, flour covering the floor, some semi successful attempts of pastries on the table — there’s even what he suspects to be cake batter travelling up the walls, wondering how the hell you managed to do that.

“What’s this?” he breaths in confusion, your frame jumping at the sudden sound of his voice.

“Satoru!” You groan as you turn to face him. “No! You’re not supposed to be home yet,” you clap your hands to dust off the access flour.

If it was even possible, you were more of a mess than your surroundings. Your apron had definitely seen better days, frosting speared across your cheek and your hair tied up in a… birds nest was probably the best description.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” it came out nearly like a cry as your hands came flying to cover your face before dragging them through your hair, leaving white flour in its trail. “I wanted to do this for you! I mean, all that you do for me, especially with your busy schedule. Then I couldn’t make up my mind on what to make, because let’s admit it, sweet is your favourite flavour. So I thought, hey let’s just make them all. You deserve it after all, but then the damn machine decided to be a little bitch. I just wanted to do something special for your birthday-“

Your rambling is cut short as Satoru captures your rambling pout in a deep and passionate kiss, a hand on each side of your face. When he eventually pulls away, you’re left speechless and face flushed warm.

“My god, I love you,” he breathes, staring into your eyes with all the devotion he has for you, and it still doesn’t feel like he is able to do his feelings justice.

“It’s just cake, ‘Toru,” you say with a shy giggle. “Or more like four different halves of cake.”

“It’s about more than the cake.” His voice is low, nearly fragile, letting his thumb stroke tenderly across your cheek, never even daring to let his eyes leave yours.

Sure, it was just cake — but to him it was also the effort. The fact that you’d wanted to do this for him, specifically. The time, the work, the dedication — all things you didn’t owe him, but something you just wanted to do for him to show how much you loved him.

“But they didn’t even come out right-“

“I don’t care,” he smiled, leaning forward to press a soft peck on your nose before resting his forehead against yours. “It probably tastes amazing anyway.”

“Yeah, I used a shit ton of sugar,” carefully pulling away to look at his face.

He smirks again, thumb wiping away the frosting on your face before licking it off. “Hmm, think I gotta eat some to be sure.”

“Well, help yourself. They’re all for you after all,” you step away to gesture towards your creations on the dining table, his eyes immediately drawn to the chocolate cake with ‘happy birthday baby’ jankily written on top.

“Thank you,” he says softly, hand trailing down your arms to loosely grab ahold of your fingers. “I really love you, you know?”

“I know,” you smile in return and give his hand a squeeze. “I love you too.”

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[kitten4sannie]

blinding faith (1)

fall in line now, bow your head

pairings: cult leader! yunho x disciple! reader (fem) x elder! mingi feat. husband! seonghwa

genre: twisted religious romance (if you can even call it that), smut, late 1970s setting

summary: when it’s revealed that you and Seonghwa are having trouble conceiving, the founder graciously offers his own divine solution.

bend your knee, Child of God

w.c: 4k

warnings: aged up dom! yunho, switch! mingi, subby innocent (?) reader, corruption kink, pet names (for mingi too <3), light pain kink, perversion, major sacrilegious vibes and behavior, heavy mxm, mingi sucks cock, breath play (m receiving), light spit/sweat kink, oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, implied marathon sex, breeding kink, cum eating, squirting, an attempt at impregnation

a/n: this is dedicated to my loveliest lily <333 tho this is just part oneee i hope this helps you see the light if ykwim~ happy birthday baby 💕 so yeah this is pure filth,, like idk something must’ve happened to me when i wrote this but it’s prob bc i’m a yunwhore what can i say 🙂‍↕️🫶🏼 oh and thank you all so very much for getting me to 4.6k followers ;; it means the absolute world to me >< anygaysss happy readinggg and please do lemme know if you’re excited for the second part 🖤

song recs: sunshine of your love by cream - starboy by the weeknd - judas by lady gaga (i’m just a Holy Fool, oh baby, it’s so cruel, but i’m still in love with Judas, baby~~)

As a broke, faithless runaway, especially during such a turbulent decade, you didn’t have many options, to say the least. There was no phone that you could use for miles, not a single soul in sight that you could ask for directions or for a dime they could spare, no map to look at to familiarize yourself with your surroundings — not that it mattered. Why would God provide you with what you needed when your existence itself was an accident? Your own flesh and blood didn’t want you, instead dropping you off at some rundown orphanage while you were still coated in your mother’s vernix caseosa, and crying incessantly for her, for someone, to feed you. 

When you were old enough to make rash decisions, you decided that anywhere else was better than that hellish place, tired of waiting for a new pair of faceless parents to force you into their life like a misshapen puzzle piece, instead taking your fate into your own trembling hands. 

That was what led you to come across the small, seemingly abandoned town that was located within the forest that you had been wandering inside for so long. All of the quaint, hand-built houses and buildings surrounded a tall, white picturesque church — one you had recognized from the various postcards that you and some of the other orphans had been handed by someone in a long white robe outside of the orphanage, listening intently to their promises of the love and acceptance you would feel if you joined their cause. 

And that was when you met him, the man that would alter your life forever, taking away what could’ve been, and instead molding it into what He wanted, what God wanted.

He was hammering in the very last nail into the very last board of wood that kept the church together when he heard the sound of your dirty feet shift through the forest foliage behind him. As if he had been waiting for your arrival, he hummed softly and headed into your direction, not giving you the opportunity to escape when his sweaty, calloused hands enveloped yours, inviting you in with his friendly honey brown eyes, his cracked lips twisting upwards into a smile that sent a wave of instinctual fear into your heart, before his soft, warm words lured you in, forever holding you captive. 

“You’ve finally arrived, my child. Welcome home.” 

-

Over the years, you were taught by Yunho, your beloved leader, your savior, your everything, that God allowed those he loved the most, those that remained tied to their earthly bonds, to endure deep suffering and endless tribulations — because within that pain, within that humiliation, laid pleasure. Unimaginable pleasure that sat just below the surface. Yunho took great satisfaction in reaching into the darkness, into the depths, and ripping it out with his silver trimmed talons, always willing to graciously bestow it upon his followers. 

There was no greater joy than to witness the moment his dear flock began to walk in the truth. He savored the sweet sounds of ecstasy that tore out of their sweat-ridden throats, longed for the moment their rosy faces ceased their contortions, their lips, wet with saliva, their unfocused eyes, wet with tears, knowing that another one of his beloved disciples had seen the light. And they would always look up at him with delicious desperation, begging for another chance to catch a glimpse of heaven once more. And, only because of his unending benevolence and boundless love, he brought them back, expecting nothing in return, except for their undying loyalty. 

Yet, none of them were ever as loyal as you, even after you met a lovely man within the congregation to wed. You were still his angel from above. If only he had clipped your wings sooner.  

There you were, sitting inside the garden with the other couples, the prettiest flower of them all, just waiting to be plucked, with your husband’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his hands resting gently against your stomach, your hands over his, your head hung downwards, a small, sullen frown gracing your lovely face. Why was his sweetest lily wilting the way she was, instead of holding herself high, closer to the sun, to his everlasting love?

As soon as Yunho made his presence known within the bountiful garden that he had planted with his own two hands so many years ago, his followers grew quiet and offered him their full attention. He basked in it as he made his way in your direction, offering his touch to many of the people nearby, allowing them the privilege of bringing his jewelry-adorned hands up to their cheeks, which he caressed, or their trembling lips, which he brushed gently with his thumbs. 

The warmth and light of the sun on your face suddenly disappeared, causing you to look up, your reddened eyes growing wide upon the sight of your savior standing before you. You watched with bated breath as he reached his hand out from behind his back and brought it up to your face, placing a small flower behind your ear. “Savior…”

“Savior, what have we done to be blessed with your presence?” Seonghwa asked, nuzzling his cheek into Yunho’s rough palm once he offered it to him. 

“I wanted to check on the progress of your union.” Yunho smiled kindly down at Seonghwa, before returning his attention to you, who continued to gaze up longingly in his direction. “Are you with child, my dearest Y/N?” 

You bit down into your bottom lip, your eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry, Savior….We’ve been trying our hardest to contribute to your beautiful congregation, yet I remain barren.” You shook your head out of frustration, a stream of tears spilling down your cheeks. “We don’t understand why God has not graced us.” 

“Oh, my sweet child. Do not ever allow yourself to cry for sorrow, or pain, but out of joy, of pleasure,” Yunho taught, angling his head down further to gaze at your deliciously distraught expression, unable to keep himself from running his tongue across his bottom set of teeth, pressing one talon underneath your chin, so that you obediently angled it upwards without him having to tell you.

“Yes, Savior…” you whispered, gasping softly at the feeling of the cult leader’s sharpened fingers carefully wiping your remaining tears away, your admiration and love for him sprouting more and more within your beating heart. 

Humming, Yunho lowered himself to his knees in front of the both of you, pressing his hands into your stomach through your thin garments. His benevolent smile deepened, his eyes displaying a darkness neither of you could see, not with the allusive veil he had placed over your own. “I will assist you in bearing offspring, my dear. Please come to my bedchambers after supper, and I will show you the true meaning of faith.” 

“We offer you a thousand thanks for your grace, Savior…” Seonghwa bowed his head to Yunho, just before he pressed his lips lovingly against your cheek, which you reciprocated without hesitation. Your dear husband sighed with great relief, resting his temple on yours, his long, curled locks tickling your face, his hands returning to your stomach, placing them over Yunho’s this time around. 

Despite the tranquility you felt, the sun still shining, a gentle breeze cooling your warm skin, the comforting smell of earth and flowers keeping you grounded, the sound of birds chirping in the trees above your head — there was still something else that you couldn’t quite shake off, something that sat just below the surface of your distorted mind. If you truly wanted to see what it was, you would have to get your hands dirty and dig it up yourself. But, for now, you would live in bliss, in heaven, feeding off of the love and mercy your savior offered you.

Yunho tilted his head to the side, reaching up to adjust the flower that began to fall from your ear, pushing a few strands of hair behind it. He studied your suddenly unreadable gaze from underneath his wispy lashes, his tongue just barely slipping past his curled lips to lick at them. “Is there something on your mind, my lily?”

You simply smiled back at him, your eyelids lowering, batting your own lashes at him. “I’m just admiring my savior and the safe haven he created for us. Makes me want to cry those tears of joy.” You briefly mirrored the perversion he had let slip out only a moment ago. “Of pleasure.” 

It was then that Yunho began to grow stiff from beneath his heavy garments, biting at his lip as an attempt to keep himself grounded. This was why you were his favorite. You were his flower to water, to grow, and to tear away from your roots as he pleased. Everything in the garden was his, after all. God told him so. 

-

“My love, my heart, my dearest angel, why do you look at me this way?  With those tears in your eyes? With such devotion?” Yunho sighed out against your flushed cheek, his body flush against yours, the cold metal of his rosary splayed across your hot skin. You simply couldn’t speak, not with the way he was spilling inside you yet again. 

The corners of his lips quirked up into a sadistic smile, his warm, uneven puffs of breath hitting the bottom of your jaw, as he clutched your slick, trembling thighs, holding them farther apart to ensure that he could continue accessing the heaven you kept in between them, the hot, wet haven you allowed your savior to access. “Is it because I’m filling you with my own devotion? Does knowing that my seed will soon grant new life inside of you bring you to tears, Y/N?”

You gazed up at your savior past your wet lashes, reaching down to press your hands into your stomach, feeling the outline of his pulsing cock that twitched inside of you and dribbled a few more beads of cum into your womb, a lust-struck expression carved into your flushed features. “It would be an honor to carry your young, Savior. I’d do anything to carry on your legacy of love.” 

“Anything, my dear?” Yunho whispered carefully near your ear, as though he were testing you, before running his tongue along your jaw to get a taste of your essence, slowly making his way down your body, unable to keep himself from tasting your salty skin along the way. “Even though Seonghwa is your beloved husband?” 

“Anything. I might be his wife, but you’re my savior, Yunho,” you sighed lovingly as a delightful shiver shot down your spine, not a single doubt present within your meticulously molded mind. Your ideas of the world, your life, its purpose — your saving grace had always been Yunho. How could he not be? Considering he built you himself, with great precision and care. You were the intricate tapestry he painstakingly sewed together year by year, each painful jab of his silver needle acting as a reminder of his divine love for you. 

“Say my name again,” Yunho exhaled, his lips ghosting along your abdomen to your navel, unable to keep himself from tonguing it for his own pleasure, his talons leaving red streaks along your skin. 

“Yunho,” you repeated, watching as the older man settled in between your thighs, his lips and tongue already exploring your slick entrance, gasping at the sensation of him lapping up his own release once it dribbled out of you.

“Again,” he commanded, his sharp eyes boring into yours from below, pinching your clit in between his teeth, his talons digging into your thighs. 

“Yunho..!” You looked down at him with such sincerity, it had the potential to touch Yunho’s corrupted heart, your fingers sifting through his sweat-soaked raven locks, tugging on it once he filled you with his long tongue. You were growing feverish, losing sight of why you were there in the first place. “Don’t stop, Savior…Need more...”

Yunho dragged his tongue over the entirety of your cunt, blowing on it just to make you shudder. “Is that what you tell your husband when you want his cock? What else do you tell him?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling your cunt pulse. “Am I selfish for wanting more of your love? Am I a sinner for wanting you to fill me? I’ll go to hell a thousand times if it means I can have my savior’s love inside me once more...”

The seasoned cult leader’s long-lasting poison was far stronger, far more potent than your sincerities, especially when he administered it to his favorite prey in the most pleasurable, most effective way — with his sweet, saccharine lies that poured out like honey past his shiny, pointed teeth and rough, curled tongue that continued its ministrations on your puffy, used cunt.  “Oh, please don’t say things like that, angel. You’ll ruin me for everyone else.” 

In reality, you were the one he was ruining, corrupting, defiling — and all in the name of God. It made the cult leader so stiff, he could hardly keep his composure. 

You whined softly, shuddering underneath his touch, your hand forming a fist, gripping Yunho’s hair tighter and tighter, the longer he licked at your slit and sucked on your clit like a starved man. “Yunho, please…I won’t last much longer….” 

“Would that be such a sin, angel? If you released onto my tongue?” Yunho asked in between lingering licks, his tongue hot and heavy against your leaking cunt, using two fingers to keep your fluttering hole on display for his viewing pleasure, his silver talons gently pressing into your soft flesh. He wondered if he should continue admiring the mess of cum he painted your walls with, or use his saliva-streaked tongue and lips to slurp it out of you, his free hand attempting to milk his slick, throbbing cock. Decisions, decisions. 

Yunho wouldn’t have the time to make one, because just then, the cult leader’s most trusted confidant, Song Mingi, knocked on the door and entered without being granted permission, very aware of the privileges he had as a respected elder. The white-haired man saw the nude, disheveled state you were in, your white ceremonial garments laying in a pile on the floor, the love-struck look in your teary, doe eyes, your trembling, marked-up legs still obediently spread open wide for your savior, knowing you’d let Yunho fill and abuse your poor cunt until he saw fit. 

“Elder Song, are you going to continue standing there drooling like a dog or are you going to come here?” Yunho asked gruffly, rubbing the pad of his thumb relentlessly into your clit, all while he glowered at the younger man over his shoulder. 

Mingi quickly strided over to his leader’s side, sinking to his knees, looking up at him with his apologetic, round eyes. “I…have news, sir. It is of great importance.” 

Yunho shook his head slightly, letting out a small chuckle. “The news can wait, Mingi,” the cult leader began softly, reaching over to caress the other man’s cheek, making sure the younger man’s gaze was fixed solely on him. “Can I ask you for something?” 

Mingi nodded intently, his lips parted, taking short breaths, as if he was waiting with great anticipation. “Anything, Savior. What do you need from me?” 

It was then that Yunho brought the tip of his reddened cock to Mingi’s mouth, drops of pre-cum getting onto his plump, parted lips, his once softened gaze contorting into one of pure perversion. “Can you be a good boy and open up? Hm, princess?” 

Mingi closed his eyes, as an attempt to hide the way they rolled underneath his eyelids and the influx of arousal that had spread throughout his body like a virus, his sudden heavy breathing and flushed cheeks betraying him. “Yes, savior,” he moaned out, just as Yunho’s stiff cock filled up his drooling mouth, trying his best not to choke as he repeatedly took it down his tight throat. 

Yunho tossed his head back, a few drops of sweat sliding along his straining jaw and staining the bed below, gripping the back of Mingi’s head to make sure he didn’t stop worshiping his cock. “That’s it, princess. You’re taking it so well.” 

Mingi groaned wantonly, beginning to grind his own leaking cock against the side of the bed, not even caring that his knees began to ache from being pressed into the hardwood floor below. He found himself gazing down at you, his body on fire from being watched by his savior’s favorite angel, beginning to gag around Yunho’s thick length once he began ramming it down his throat with abandon. 

When you let out a small whine from witnessing such a visceral display of power and submission taking place right in front of you, Yunho reminded you with shaky words, “Don’t worry, my angel, this is all for you. Mingi here is going to transfer my love to you once I…Oh, God–”

Mingi’s gaze returned to his savior above, a few tears slipping down his flushed cheeks, his jaw aching from the way Yunho bottomed out completely inside his bulging throat, only to find his oxygen supply suddenly being cut off when the older man pinched his nose. 

“You trust me, don’t you, princess?” Yunho asked in an eerily calm tone, not bothering to hide his sadistic tendencies in that moment, throbbing inside the young man’s throat upon seeing his small nods and hearing the tiny, breathless squeaks he made. It was then that he held Mingi completely still until his face began to grow red. 

Just when he thought he might pass out, his vision sporting a fuzziness around the edges that reminded him of the television set Yunho had put inside the community room, his throat had finally become unblocked. As he gasped for air, he watched Yunho’s eyes roll into his skull, hot, white ropes of cum splattering onto Mingi’s lolled-out tongue. Before he could swallow, Yunho grabbed his chin and guided him in between your legs. 

“Impregnate her, princess. For me,” Yunho whispered into Mingi’s ear, his digits forming a V against your pulsing cunt, spreading you open for Elder Song. 

Not letting a drop go to waste, Mingi pursed his lips and sent a wad of cum directly into you, before shoving his tongue in as deep as it would go. He fucked the warm milkiness into you, with sloppy desperation, like the demon dog he was. He looked up to you for approval, which you gave, through your cries of pleasure and your fingers suddenly tugging at his snow white hair. He didn’t even realize he had lost his own composure, until he was whining and whimpering against your slick cunt, soiling his once pristine garments with his sticky load.   

Once Yunho watched Mingi pull his tongue out, a few strands of milky saliva connecting his plump lips to your cunt, the cult leader tapped your puffy pussy. “Good boy. Can you fill her up with those thick fingers of yours now?” 

Mingi huffed and puffed, trying to catch his breath, his pupils blown wide when he looked to Yunho for guidance. “Two? Three? How many, sir?” 

“As many as you need to make sure my seed reaches her womb,” Yunho reassured in a gravelly voice, watching as Mingi hovered over you, drops of saliva falling from his open mouth and onto your pleasured face, easily slipping in three fingers up to his knuckles. 

Yunho leisurely flicked, squeezed, and rolled your puffy clit, admiring Mingi’s relentless pursuit in finger-fucking you into a state of pure ecstasy, throbbing at the sight of his precious loads dripping down along the other man’s straining wrist and along his veined forearm. “Very good, princess. She’ll be nice and round soon, thanks to your support. Your hard work won’t go unnoticed.” 

Mingi bit down into his bottom lip, a few groans slipping out, despite his effort to conceal just how much his leader’s praise affected him. “Thank you, Savior. Now, I’ll make your angel cry out to the Lord,” he began breathily, locking eyes with Yunho for a moment, their digits working in tandem to send you over the edge, their focus returning to you. “Let it be done.” 

“Amen,” Yunho sighed, bringing his precious rosary up to his mouth to kiss, the metal cold against his warm lips. 

When you began to writhe around, your focus shifting to the various crosses that were nailed to the wall, your forceful release causing your bruised body to seize up, the cult leader suddenly grabbed your chin with his talons, the tips of them stabbing into your skin, drawing blood, making you whimper. His crazed eyes bored into your barely open ones, looking as if he was about to come undone himself, despite not touching himself. “You see it, don’t you, Y/N? Heaven? Isn’t it beautiful?” 

It was all too much. The pain. The pleasure. Elder Song watching closely as your squirt soaked his tan skin and the mattress underneath your jolting body, a demonic smile painting his sharp, seraphic face. Your savior clutching you so tight that you bled, his seed blossoming within your womb. It was then that you fell unconscious, your body falling limp against the feather-filled quilt. 

Yunho ran his jewelry-adorned fingers along your jaw, letting them graze your neck, down to the cross necklace that laid against your chest. “What did you need to tell me, Mingi?” 

Mingi pushed his sweaty bangs back, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to find his composure. “We have two new visitors. They mentioned Y/N by name, and claimed that they grew up in the same orphanage as her. They were hoping to find her here, so that they could…” 

Yunho turned his head to glare at Mingi, his gaze alone making Mingi cower. “They want to take her away from me, don’t they? From us? From God?” 

Mingi began to scratch at his neck, leaving red streaks behind. “They believe that they can provide her with a better life.” 

“And what life could be better than one of enlightenment? Of purity? What could those heathens possibly offer my Y/N that I can’t?” Yunho suddenly erupted, his anger being directed towards Mingi, who lowered his head down, staring at the cross that hung past his chest. 

Yunho’s face twitched slightly, his once rage-filled expression dissipating as soon as it had surfaced, as if it had never been there in the first place. It was a simple trick of the light. He placed his hand on Mingi’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, until the unusually timid man found the courage to meet his gaze. “Mingi.” 

“Sir?” 

Yunho hummed to himself, catching onto the way your breath hitched, as if you had suddenly held it, his honey brown eyes gleaming with pride, and something else, something indistinguishable. “Offer them a room and dinner, oh, and invite our guests to the annual communion on Sunday.” 

“Right away, sir,” Mingi replied, getting up from the bed and exiting the room. He pressed his back into the mahogany door and shut his eyes, carefully sliding his fingers into his drooling mouth to savor the taste of his savior’s seed and his angel’s release. 

Once he was alone with you, Yunho reached down to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes, smiling knowingly at the sight of them opening. “How much did you hear, sweet girl?”

“Enough,” you whispered carefully, as if you were testing him. You might have been the flower inside his clutches, but you still had thorns. 

Yunho began to chuckle softly, before it grew louder and louder, his pleased laughter ringing out through the halls. 

One of your threads was beginning to come undone. Nothing a little stitching couldn’t fix. 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[archangeldyke-all]

Consider the following cuz I think it's funny:

Sevika with a gf who's just... Kinda dumb? Just kinda ditzy and airheaded and it's kind of a miracle that she's still in one piece. Just a bit of a bimbo but goddamn does she love Sevika with everything she has.

-🌙

okay as a blonde who definitely has my fair share of Blonde Moments i love this l;askdjflskj

men and minors dni

sevika loves you so much.

so much.

she would kill for you. she would die for you. she would even wear matching pajamas with you-- that's how much she adores you.

that being said... sevika has to admit that sometimes you can be a little... clueless...

you aren't stupid! you're constantly reading and learning, watching documentaries and sharing interesting scientific facts with sevika. you're a whiz in the kitchen, always making delicious meals and treats, and you're incredible with couponing and keeping your grocery bill within budget. in sevika's eyes, you're one of the smartest people she knows...

but... sometimes...

sometimes, you can be a bit of a ditz.

you're horrible with directions. sevika's watched in horror many times while you hook a right, completely confident that you're headed left.

"babe, the bar's this way."

"you said left!"

"use your hands, babe..."

"...oh." you mumble, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment as you turn around and start headed the correct way. sevika cackles and wraps an arm around you.

"where would you be without me?"

"wandering by the docks, probably."

"the docks are south of here, babe."

"yeah, south." you say, pointing east. sevika groans.

she gifted you a compass keychain for your birthday that year.

you struggle with spelling.

you love to leave sevika little love notes-- and she adores them! but sometimes, your notes have the unintended consequence of making sevika cackle while she tries to interpret your unique spelling. 'sevika, i've never been able to be so intimidate with somebody before...'

she teases you for the rest of the night about how intimidating you are together.

sometimes, sevika really wonders how you made it through life without her there.

like when you're behind the bar at the last drop making change for a twenty, and you hand the customer six fives.

"baby, that's thirty!" sevika squawks, smacking your hand before you can hand the man the money."

"what? no, babe, six times five." you say, scoffing and rolling your eyes.

"six times five is thirty, baby." sevika says slowly.

you groan and bury your face in your hands, embarrassed. sevika giggles and wraps you up in a hug, handing the man four bills and kissing your scalp.

"i'm an idiot." you groan.

"sometimes, yeah." sevika agrees. you gasp and elbow her, glaring at her. sevika giggles. "but the rest of the time you're smart! and i'm usually here to help before you can get yourself into any dumb trouble..."

"whatever. you're dumb too!" you say, pointing at sevika. she laughs.

"i am not!"

"you thought i hated you for months before we started going out." you say. sevika cackles.

"i didn't get why you kept looking at me!"

"'cause you're hot!"

sevika grins. "okay, i'm a little dumb emotionally. good thing i got you to balance me out, huh?" she asks.

you grin and kiss her. "you bet your ass."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

By Your Side

The Arcane brainrot remains strong, and is apparently strong enough to make me write a fic twice as long as usual. Dammit Silco

Summary: Silco receives reports of an enforcer in Zaun beating the chem-barons at their own game and goes to investigate. He doesn't expect to see a ghost of his past.

It's always on the bridge that his life-changing moments happen. First it was Felicia's death, then Vander's betrayal. Now…now it was you, trading your life for his, pushing him away as enforcers moved towards the both of you.

Go, your lips mouth as your dagger sinks into the throat of the enforcer closest to him. You rip the blade out, causing blood to spurt from the wound and whirl around to face the others, shouting a challenge to draw their attention away.

His feet remain rooted to the ground, throat dry as he watches enforcers crowd around you, hears your war cries as you turn into a deadly whirlwind of steel and suddenly Sevika is dragging him away, eyes hard. Your cries get softer as Sevika hauls him further and further away from you, until he can no longer hear you anymore, nor see you.

No, he can't lose you too. Not after everything, not after what he's promised you. Not when the reality of Zaun is so close at hand —

"—co! Silco!" He blinks slowly, raising his head. Sevika stands before him, her flesh hand on the table supporting her as she leans forward, staring right at him.

"What is it, Sevika?" He groans, noticing the fallen pieces of paper that he will have to reorganise later.

"There have been reports of an enforcer single-handedly cutting their way through Zaun. All the chaos has been affecting business and the chem-barons have been complaining."

"Are they all that useless? One enforcer is giving them so much trouble?" Silco rubs his temple. As if the chem-barons themselves aren't enough of a problem already, now they're handing him more problems to deal with.

"The enforcer apparently knows all the ins and outs of Zaun or something," Jinx chimes in from her perch atop the rafters. She lazily rolls over to look at Silco, playing around with her latest grenade, grinning down at him. "Disappearing into the alleys only to pop out again when everyone least expects it and kills everyone."

Silco frowns, how would an enforcer know Zaun's streets well enough to trick chem-barons? The only plausible explanation he can think of is that someone had given the enforcer a map, and a traitor in their midst was an thorn he had to remove with haste.

"I suppose I will have to clean up after them once again," he sighs. "Sevika, track this enforcer down. Follow their movements, take note of anyone they meet and report back."

"Understood." With that, his ever-loyal right-hand exits his office, leaving him alone with Jinx.

"You know," she hops onto his desk, "that enforcer looked rather familiar."

Silco raises an eyebrow at her, and she smirks, knowing she has stolen back his attention. "They looked a lot like…someone…what was their name again?"

Silco turns back to his stack of paperwork when she falls silent once more and Jinx rummages through a drawer, only to slam it shut with a loud bang that echoes all around the room. She lunges forward, deft fingers quickly finding the thin chain around his neck and pulls on it, hard.

"They had this hanging around their neck too." She whispers. "Sounds familiar?"

No. No, it couldn't be. You — you were gone, dead, lost to the enforcers that day on the bridge. It couldn't be you, it had to be an imposter, there was no way — he had to see it for himself. He had to know, had to confirm it with his own eye.

"Are you sure?" He asks calmly, careful not to break his facade. He had to remain rational, control his emotions for this could be a trap laid by Piltover, but how would they know about you? Too many questions, not enough answers. He could wait for Sevika's report, he had patience.

Jinx lets go of the chain, sliding off his desk. "I saw it myself. You can't miss it, dangles from their neck like an obnoxious piece of jewellery."

Silco's eye widens slightly. There is no doubt about it, it really is you, but how? How had you survived the fight, the riots, and why didn't you come back to Zaun? To him? His fingers curl around his cup as he searches for the answer in his past. You'd promised to be by his side, and he thought that promise lost when he was separated from you that day, but you were very much alive. Had you lied? Yet another question to ask when he got his hands on you.

Jinx notices the twitching and frowns. Silco was clearly hiding something from her, and she didn't like it when he did that. She leans forward, "who are they to you?"

"Someone I may know," he answers, pushing Jinx away. "Don't you have better things to do than bother me?"

"Hmph," Jinx pouts, annoyed that she isn't getting a proper answer. "They're clearly someone you were close to, otherwise they wouldn't have that ugly ring."

Silco sighs, picking up the topmost paper from the pile, "Not anymore. Now go and tinker with something else or make yourself useful and help Sevika track the enforcer down."

Jinx groans but exits the office, leaving Silco alone with his thoughts. Was the enforcer really you? How were you still alive? He plays with the ring hanging around his neck, remembering the day you had presented him with the ring. It hadn't been anything special, fancy or big. Just a simple gesture of shoving a box into his hand and telling him to open it.

"What's this?"

"A surprise gift! Open it!" You grin at him, clearly rather excited about his reaction to whatever that gift is. He frowns, mind cycling through possible pranks you could pull with this 'surprise gift' of yours and stares at it suspiciously.

"I told you it'd backfire," Vander chuckles, cleaning a glass. "You can't escape that reputation of yours."

"Oh come on! I'm not that bad…am I?" You blink owlishly as the two men stare at you incredulously. "…I see. Thank you both for the votes of confidence."

"You're welcome," Silco drawls, suppressing a chuckle of amusement as he pulls the box closer. "You're going to clean up whatever mess comes of me opening this box, understand?"

"I swear there will be no mess!" You pout, slumping onto the table. Vander laughs, ruffling your hair, "I can vouch for her this time, Silco."

"Fine," Silco sighs, but still braces himself as he opens the box — to reveal a simple metal band resting on a cushion.

"So, gonna marry me or —"

"How did you get this?" Silco lifts the ring into the light, studying it. There are carvings set in the metal, your initials and his, bringing a smile to his face as he reads it. "And yes, I am 'going to marry you', don't fret."

"Yes!" You whisper-yell giddily, excitedly bouncing around the bar. Vander pours three drinks, pushing two towards Silco and you while drinking the last one, chuckling. Silco rolls his eyes, taking the cup offered by Vander and throws his pen at you. You yelp as the pen hits you squarely in the forehead and then chuck the pen right back at him.

Silco calmly dodges your terrible aim, taking another sip from his cup, "are you going to answer my question or not?"

"I stole it!"

"I don't believe you."

"What?!" You flop onto the floor dramatically. "The man I love doesn't believe me, it's over."

"Who did you steal this from?" Silco slips the ring onto his finger, then takes it off again. It's far too loose. "I'll need to hang this around my neck."

"Uh…a jewellery merchant I happened across a couple days ago."

"And you didn't even check the ring size."

"I'm supposed to know your ring size?" You snort, moving over to the counter top.

"I don't know, are you?" Silco leans in close, swiping your drink.

"Hey! That's mine!"

Silco simply smirks at you as he drinks half before handing it back, "too slow."

"Give that ring back! I'm reverting my decision, you drinks thief!"

"It's mine already, I'm afraid I'm not keen on parting with it." Silco quickly glances around, ensuring no one is looking before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "Although I could make it up to you with a return gift."

"Oh? Better not disappoint me then, Sil~" You grin, capturing his lips into a full kiss, which he returns.

"Have I ever, love?"

He tucks the ring away upon hearing his office door open, revealing a scowling Sevika who has a couple of scratches.

"They got away, sorry," she grunts, "but I did find out who they are. It's Y/N. They really are alive."

"How?" Silco growls.

"Don't know, but they don't remember me. Don't know if they'll remember you." She frowns. "Going in alone is stupid, don't you dare think about it."

"I wasn't." Silco sits back down, pinching the bridge of his nose. There's a weird ache in his chest, a pull that tries to drag him out of his office but he forces it back down. He can't let his emotions take a hold of him, there is much he doesn't know about your situation, going after you right now is far too risky.

Still, he takes a different turn during his usual nightly routine, entering an alleyway and takes out a cigar, lighting it. He lets the ring around his neck dangle outside his clothes, the silver reflecting what little light exists at this time of day. A ring of smoke floats into the air, disappearing into the cold night sky as footsteps sound from his left.

"About time you showed up, you've always been late whenever I wasn't around to haul you out of bed." Silence greets him, save for the click of a gun and Silco turns to face you. "Silence really doesn't suit you."

The gun lifts, pointing right at him and he simply stares back. A finger curls around the trigger, pressing it down slightly but he remains unfazed.

"Y/N." He can see the ring that hangs around your neck now, a simple gold coloured band hanging from a thin silver chain. He remembers the day he gave it to you, the way you took great care of it every day, but now it hangs tarnished from your neck, stained and rusted. "It's dirty."

He reaches over, pressing his chest against the barrel of the gun and inspects the ring. He can easily get rid of the rust that has set in, scrub away the dirt but returning it to its former shine will be quite impossible. He clicks his tongue, annoyed and lets go of the ring lifting his gaze to meet your empty eyes. "Let's go home."

The gun doesn't go off, your finger falling from the trigger when you see the ring hanging around his neck, images flashing through your mind. Memories that feel familiar and alien at the same time roar in your head, confusion eating away at you and you drop your gun, clutching at your head. Your chest tightens, lungs refusing to inhale the oxygen you need and your heart thunders in your ears.

No no no no no.

"Breathe." A deep voice cuts through the haze. "In and out. Focus on my voice, follow my instructions. I will not lose you again."

You force your lungs to cooperate, following the instructions step by step, encouraged by the gentle deep voice until your vision refocuses.

"Silco," you whisper shakily. "Silco."

"I'm right here," he murmurs, arms wrapping around you.

"I —"

"Hush now, love. Everything's alright."

"No, it's not. I nearly — I — Sevika —" Panic bubbles to the surface but Silco quickly steps in before the situation can spiral.

"Sevika is alright. You held back enough for her to escape with a few scratches." He presses a kiss to the top of your head. You're back, with him, in his arms. Silco tightens his grip, hugging you closer. It can't be a dream, such a dream would be far too cruel.

"They took me, suppressed my memories, Silco I —" You choke out a sob, tears silently flowing down your cheeks. His heart aches at the sight, it always has whenever he saw you cry.

"But they could never take away our love." He presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your new scent. You smell like Piltover, a weird freshness, a hint of lavender that doesn't suit you in the slightest, and that disgusting blue clashes with the colour of your eyes. Your hair is no longer as rugged, it's combed neatly and Silco ruffles it, running his fingers through the strands like he used to.

He kisses you until your breath smells like cigars, throws his jacket over your shoulders and bundles you in it until he's satisfied he can't smell the Piltover stink anymore then presses one more chaste kiss to your lips. You smell like ash now, like the smoke that fills Zaun's air and he allows himself a small smile. The only trace of Piltover left now is the blue uniform but that has to wait until the both of you are home.

You're back now, with him, safely in his arms, and that's all that really matters. You, by his side once more, keeping the promise you had made to him years ago.

Don't worry, I'll be by your side, always.

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! I'm the one who requested the Siren thingy from some time back! LOVED IT BTW!

But anyways, since oneshots are opened, I was wondering if It's possible to do a one shot with Leona and a Reader who has a very intimidating appearance but is actually a sweetheart. They even own a motorcycle that they drive around on and often wear skates on campus!

leona fic... I've been itching to write him lately idk why... thank you anon!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ "dangerous"

type of post: fic characters: leona additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, CUDDLES!!!

So, you're "intimidating".

He supposes you're in the right place for that.

After "meeting" you (you accidentally skated over Ruggie's foot, which was very funny, but still annoying), Leona had dismissed you as yet another NRC showoff with something to prove.

He'd been at Night Raven College for a decent time, now, and he'd seen your type before. Intimidating, fast, dangerous.

Leona had heard the way the other students talked about you. The whispers, the gossip, even the quiet looks of awe/fear were worth a thousand words.

His thoughts? Whatever.

To him, you were another herbivore in need of a serious ego check. And, more importantly: not his problem.

Until today.

"And beat it," he says, shoving the two Savanaclaw first years he'd caught cornering some poor piece of meat in the hall.

"You're gonna give me a damn headache."

The two scamper off, tails between their legs. Leona sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Damn froshes..."

Can't anyone at this school behave? Showoffs.

If he so much as gets a sticky note from staff about his freshmen causing trouble... again... Sigh. Nothing a good nap can't fix.

He's about to find a warm place to sleep when he feels something in his hand. Leona would jump if he were anyone else.

But he's not. So, he looks down to see... you. The poor piece of meat in question.

Holding his hand.

"Thank you," you chirp.

He raises an eyebrow. It's not every day some herbivore has the guts to touch him like that.

So damn sweet he can feel his teeth rotting from that look alone.

"I wasn't 'doin it for you," he takes his hand back and begins walking.

He makes it halfway down the hall before his ears flick towards the sound of footsteps behind him. He turns, and you're there.

Leona gives you a warning glare, and he keeps walking.

Again, footsteps. He looks over his shoulder. "Beat it,"

He keeps walking. If you weren't giving him that damn look, so innocent and sweet at witless, he might've assumed you were trying to pick a fight.

You're either stupid or brave, following him into the lion's den.

But you do, from the hall to the botanical gardens, from the door to his favorite spot.

For whatever reason, he lets you. Something about that look on your face...

"Y'know, if you're trying to hunt, you're not doing a good job," Leona yawns, stretching out in a patch of sunlight.

"Oh," you say. "I'm not."

"Obviously,"

He closes his eyes. You just stand there. He clears his throat. You still don't move.

Finally, he sits up. "What're you, looking for handouts? Go bother someone else, I've already got a moocher,"

"I'm not, I just..."

He raises an eyebrow. "You what?"

You seem hesitant, your hands folded oh-so-politely. For all the talk he'd heard about you, you're really... rather...

"You're nice to me,"

Sweet.

Leona scoffs. "That's it? I'm nice to you?"

You say nothing. That question answers itself, anyway- and, yet, doesn't annoy him, either. You must have a piss-poor life if you think he's nice.

It makes Leona's chest feel warm. Damn it.

"Fine," he sighs. Damn it. And he scoots over to make room for you in the patch of sunlight. Damn it.

You sit beside him, and he wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you into his side. He watches you get comfortable.

"You're a real sweetheart, y'know that? You're not gonna survive long at this school," he mumbles. "But I guess you know that, huh? That's why you're here."

You nod. Damn it. When'd he get so weak?

"Just... don't get too used to it," he says. "This is a one-time thing."

(Spoiler: it was not).

[hysteria-things]

Can you make a song image with the song older by Isabel LaRosa or even kiss me more with doja and sza?

NEEDY, ARE WE? (part two)

read part one here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the night started with only kisses, but you’ve never craved something so bad in your life. that something is your best friend chris sturniolo.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY ASF, swearing, begging kink, teasing, making out, oral (male & female receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (SON’T EVEN TRY IT), marking, finger sucking, choking, slight spanking, praising, degradation, stomach bulge, overstimulation, dumbification, cream pie, cockwarming

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,713

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for the 3 AM post… but hello🥰

y/n is a whiny bitch in this LMAO

“what did i say?” chris whispers sternly, smacking your hand away when it reaches down to his pajama pants string for the third time.

another fifteen minutes went by, and your panties are soaked from the orgasm that washed over you not long ago. chris’ dick fucking hurts, but he enjoys seeing this side of you: needy and desperate. “i’m begging you.” you pout. “i need you inside me. please.”

you seriously don’t know what’s gotten into you. you’d never thought of your best friend this way, but tonight feels different. you’re so dick-deprived that you’ve turned into a whiny mess.

he sighs in defeat, untying his pants and pulling them down. your eyes lock in on the boner in his boxers, beaming once his aching cock slaps against his stomach.

licking your lips, you go to hover over his tip, but he beats you to it and instead pushes your head down. you look up at him with sad eyes.

“what?” he questions, even though he knows the problem. he knows you meant inside you the other way, but what’s the fun in not teasing first? “you said you needed me inside you.”

“that’s not what i—” he cuts you off by pushing your head down, gagging when he forces himself down your throat. you hum, bobbing your head while his grip stays in your hair.

he chuckles, using his free hand to move the pieces of hair out of your face so he can see you looking up at him through hooded eyes. “you’re talking too much. if one of them wakes up you’re going to be in big trouble.” he points to his brothers who are still peacefully sleeping on the couch in front of you.

it doesn’t take long for your throat to morph into the shape of his dick. he licks his lips and smiles menacingly, seeing how you suck his cock so casually. your cheeks hollow, causing chris to exhale to not make a loud noise.

your tongue kitty licks his red tip, pre-cum threatening to spill out. starting to suck, your hand pumps up and down his shaft. his eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open as he watches your every move. the grasp on your head loosens, and before you know it, chris is pulling you up to where you’re hovering over his lap.

taking his thumbs, he spreads your folds to see the glistening silk in the dim light. your arousal coats the inside of your thighs, some of it dripping down your leg. he takes his pointer finger and slowly moves it up your slit. you flinch at the feeling. “what a needy pussy.” he mumbles, his finger easily sliding into your cunt from the wetness.

you barely give him time to add another when you rut your hips repeatedly, fucking yourself on his fingers. you’ve never felt so pathetic in your life, but you also never felt so turned on. it’s like he read your mind. “pathetic slut; becoming stupid on just my fingers.”

the degrading nickname has you whining, only to start humping his hand faster. he looks as you sink perfectly on his digits… in and out, in and out, your pussy stretching the more you move until—

he removes the two fingers, now soaked with your juices. chris grabs your thighs, sliding his body down so now that his mouth is directly under your cunt. his dick twitches as he groans, seeing it at this angle.

immediately, he sits you down on his face and starts to eat you out like he’s on a time limit, which he technically is. the way his tongue moves so deliciously has you seeing stars, gasping and tugging at the brown strands that lay on his head.

“no, please.” you cry quietly. yes, you love the pleasure your body is going through, but this isn’t what you want. he’s teasing you to tears, and it’s making you sexually frustrated. nonetheless, it only makes you want him more. “th-this isn’t what i want.”

chris hums, making a tiny moan slip from the vibration. his hand gently smacks the outside of your thigh to remind you to keep quiet. “i’m sorry.” you mumble, shutting your eyes tight and biting down hard on your bottom lip that you won’t be surprised if it draws blood.

again a moan falls from your mouth, but this time it’s louder than before. his palm hits you harder this time, and you take your hand to cover your mouth instead. each time you twitch or try to move away from being so overstimulated, his nose still manages to nudge at just the right spot on your clit.

not only are your shoulders shaking from your sobs, but your legs quiver when you feel the heat in your lower belly. mumbling out a few words, chris lets out a questionable hum while speeding up his movements. he wants you to be loud and clear.

“i’m gonna cum, chris.” you cry, thanking every god out there that his brothers are the heaviest sleepers on earth.

he flattens his tongue, smiling in the process while your legs squeeze around his head, cum dripping down onto his tastebuds. a grunt leaves his throat, your pussy tasting exactly the way it’s supposed to. it’s by far the best meal he’s ever eaten.

sitting up again, you guys are back at the position you were at when this all started. chris enjoys the teasing, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can take. dick hard to the point where it hurts; pre-cum starting to leak from the tip. it’s unbearable.

eyes scanning his face, you bite your lip seductively. some strands stick to his forehead from the sweat, mouth is puffy and wet from your cum. how can you possibly be more horny? you have no idea.

leaning in, he pulls away when you’re centimeters apart. you pout, repeating the action when this time he turns his head with a chuckle. “stop teasing me.” you punch his chest lightly out of brattiness. “i need to get fucked by your cock. please, chris.”

raising his eyebrows, he smirks before grabbing your thighs that are still shaking from your high. “see? that wasn’t hard, now, was it?”

he helps you lift yourself to hover over his tip, his grip releasing from your flesh but still grazing it while you slowly start to sink onto his dick. your back arches, eyelids fluttering as you feel every crevice stretch from his size. it’s like your entire body was made for chris and chris only.

“—fucking birds stealing my shit.” the end of the sentence is a grumble, rustling coming from across the room. chris jumps into action and covers where you two are conjoined with your nightgown, being that you still have it on.

still, you decide to roll your hips, feeling his cock rubbing at your walls and insides just right. to keep a moan from coming, you nuzzle your head into his neck and bite at it.

nick sits up, eyes still closed but looking over nonetheless. “fucking birds.” he repeats.

“tell those birds, nick.” chris says, the hickey forming on his neck while you nibble down on another empty spot.

nick nods. “i’ll tell them. yeah, i’ll tell them. i’ll tell them…” then, he lays back down, the soft snores continuing as if he didn’t wake up at all.

you lift your head, chris now face to face with your tear-stained one. “wanna kiss you.” you whisper, starting to plop up and down on him. he doesn’t say anything, only grabs your throat gently to pull you in. from the way your tongues intertwine, you can taste yourself.

at this point, your bouncing so fast that whenever the couch starts to creak he has to grip on your ass for you to slow down. you whimper softly. “feels so good!”

“shit.” he exhales, mouth agape as he watches the bulge in your lower abdomen peek out whenever you sit, your pussy swallowing his fat cock whole. you were, without a doubt, fucking made for him.

accidentally letting out a scream when your g-spot gets hit, it’s cut off by the hand squeezing tighter around your throat. he glances at his brothers to make sure there are no signs of movement before speaking. “don’t have them wake up or we’re going to be in deep shit, and i won’t be able to fuck you again. is that what you want?”

“no!” you choke out, his thumb grazing your bottom lip while he looks at it.

“then you have to be quiet.”

without thinking, you nod and open your mouth, inviting his thumb inside for you to suck on. he smirks with a whisper. “that’s my good girl.”

he removes his thumb from your mouth, now holding your jaw in place. hickeys decorate one side of his neck.

you don’t know how long you’ve been going at it, but you can’t take it anymore. your breathing is becoming heavier the more his dick hits that angle inside you, eyes rolling back having your vision almost fade to black.

clenching so tight to the point where you could barely move up on him, your nth orgasm of the night washes over you, dripping down his thighs and onto the sofa. alas, you don’t make a peep, because you're chris’s good girl. you will always listen to him.

to ride out your high, you still move when you talk into his ear. “cum in me, please.” you gasp, your brain officially shutting off. your face portrays different waves of pleasure all at once, drool dribbling from your chin. you didn’t even notice releasing a-fucking-gain.

ropes of cum shoot up into you with a thrust of his hips, grunting each time he does so. he throws his head back with his eyes slammed shut, waiting ten seconds until he’s done planting his seed into your womb.

“thank you… thank you…” you repeat. he grabs your hips to lift you, but you whimper and nuzzle yourself closer.

exhausted is an understatement, hence why you fell asleep in mere seconds with his cock deep within your cunt. all chris can doze off to is think about how he has to clean this up before morning.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @tylerthecreatorsbf @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @selenascorner @sturnstvr @sturnclouds

[ellecdc]

Mother, im sitting here at 4am, eating mini easter eggs and ive had tge most brilliant idea!! (Inspired by @inkdrinkerworld 's fic)

Okay so, poly!moonwater and readers been having trouble sleeping due to tensions/problems with her pureblood family. As a result shes been taking more naps, but they arent restful. So reader were napping in Rems bed (the dungeons were too cold) but after a fitful 30 minutes she gets up groggy, sleep deprived and beyond frustrated. She stumbles her way down to the common room, pin point Sirius lounging across the couch and promptly throws herself down to cuddle with him and continue her nap. Everyone (minus Siri) is shook. Jamie even asks if she got the wrong person because Reggie was sitting over there (in which he got a one eyed death glare before she burrowed into Siris chest and passed out).

Now, what everybody else didnt know was that Siri had more or less adopted reader as his own (she remined him so much of Reggie, being her big brother was 2nd nature). And while Barty was her person, he was a little too crazy to be comforting in this situation ("y/n, i'll get rid of them for you. Its not hard to do so" "Barty, no."). And of course Siri nows how bad their kind of familys are so he'd been taking care of reader on the down low as an older brother would.

Bonus if Reggie then decides that looks warm and fuzzy and wants Siri cuddles too so he joins ( it took him so long to get to a point where he could let himself be vunerable enough to openly allow Siri to take care of him 😭)

aweeee poor reader. this ended up being way more serious than I thought it would be? like it's not funny at all, there's no humour (which feels odd to me, usually I can throw some jokes or banter in there) but plenty of hurt comfort???.......idk, I can't tell if this is any good, it feels very different from my usual pieces

poly!moonwater x fem!reader whose family sucks (but it's very Sirius-centric)

CW: mentions of insomnia, mentions of abusive families, making fun of only children (sorry), hurt/comfort

You were miserable to say the least; you couldn’t remember when the last time you had a restful sleep was, and nothing you did seemed to help.

The closer it got to the Winter Holidays, the more your mind seemed to spiral. Every time you began to relax, your heart pounded as if you’d accidentally leaned too far back in your chair, reminding you of your upcoming visit home. Every time you closed your eyes, you were bombarded with images of angry faces and violent curses being shot at you.

The Slytherin dungeons were too cold, and every time you found your way into Regulus’ dorm, Barty insisted on butting in, and though you appreciated his support, you couldn’t handle his threats promises to burn down your home with your parents in it. 

Remus and Regulus both suggested you perhaps talk to Madame Pomfrey about getting some dreamless sleep or sleeping draught, but you were too embarrassed to admit to your two overprotective boyfriends that you’ve used them so frequently during your life for this very reason that they had lost all efficacy. 

It had gotten to the point that you managed to get the most sleep in the library bent over the table with your face on your book whilst Remus and Regulus did their work (and sometimes yours), and that honestly left you feeling more painfully tired than you had been before your nap.

So, you were nearly falling asleep at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall over your chicken and roast potatoes when Remus gently nudged you and suggested you go lie down for a bit and you wanted to weep into your potatoes which was only slightly less embarrassing than sleeping in them, causing him and Regulus to bring you up to Gryffindor tower.

You’d kicked them both out of the Marauders’ dorm room after some time – Remus for snoring and Regulus because the sound of him turning the pages of his book was distracting you. He promised to stop reading, but then he breathed too loudly and you started crying.

You were overtired, emotional, and running on fumes.

You’d counted puffskeins, you’d had a warm glass of milk, you’d taken off articles of clothing and reconfigured your outfit numerous times (which was currently Remus’ jumper and no pants), and you’d tried every position imaginable to no avail. 

You think you might have perhaps gotten five minutes of sleep before you woke up with a start, a barely repressed scream grating through your teeth.

Feeling disturbingly weepy and no less groggy from your horrid sleep, you pulled on a pair of your sweatpants and grabbed the throw blanket from the end Remus’ bed before trudging down the stairs to the common room.

“You should have seen the look on Filch’s face- oh! Hi Y/N!” James called as you made your way over to the three-seater and stood over the black-haired boy currently occupying it.

“Oh, Trouble.” He cooed sympathetically at you before kicking his feet out, laying back, and opening his arms for you to join him. You quickly climbed on top of him, and he tucked you in between the back of the sofa and his side, bending your knee so that your thigh rested on top of his, and pulled the blanket over the two of you.

You let out a shaky sigh and felt the first few tears fall from your eyes and onto Sirius’ chest.

“Uhm...” James said loudly, looking over to both Regulus and Remus cuddled in a large plush chair from his place on the loveseat with Lily like ‘are you seeing this right now?’. “I think you’ve got the wrong wizard there, L/N.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“No, she’s quite alright.” Sirius gritted back at him, looking far more severe than James thought the situation called for as he rubbed his hand consolingly up and down your arm. 

James looked to your boyfriends, his face clearly asking all the questions that his mouth wasn’t.

“He helps, sometimes.” Regulus admitted, not looking particularly happy that you chose his brother over him, but not nearly as murderous as James figured he might look if he’d found Lily snuggled up like that with some other bloke. And it appeared as though the look of heartbreak on Remus’ face was caused more by your current sorry state and less about your current cuddle partner.

“But...your brother?” James asked, still befuddled over this development. “Doesn’t she usually go to Junior for things like this?”

Sirius scoffed. “Junior’s solution to almost anything is fire or murder.”

“Or both.” You whimpered quietly, causing Sirius to tighten his arm around you and bring his other hand up to continue stroking your arm.

“Besides, Barty’s an only child.” Regulus said flippantly.

“What’s that got to do with it?” James asked, slightly offended at the insinuation that anything may be wrong with him on account of his only child-ness. 

Regulus’ irritable demeanor over Sirius usurping you was quickly replaced by a cocky smirk at getting under James’ skin.

“Let me ask you this, Potter: last summer when Lily returned your letters unopened and called you an arrogant toerag after saying she’d rather date the giant squid, whose arms did you cry into?”

“He didn’t cry.” Lily laughed at the same time as James answered “Sirius’” without any hesitation.

“What?” Lily asked, looking slightly horrified that she may have actually hurt James’ feelings.

“Oh, all the time, every time, actually.” James said readily. 

“He got snot on so many of my favourite band-tee’s, Red. As a matter of fact, I expect retribution.” Sirius commented.

“And why do you think you cried into Sirius’ arms?” Regulus continued.

“Well...because he’s my best mate.” James said simply.

“You may think that’s the reason, but you’re wrong. It’s because Sirius is an older brother.”

James scoffed at that. “Please, that has nothing to do with it!”

“Have you ever cried in Remus’ arms?”

“No, but-”

“Pettigrew’s?”

James grimaced but answered honestly. “No.”

“No. Because they’re not older brothers.” Regulus said definitively.

“That actually makes sense...” Lily mused aloud. 

“You say that like you’re surprised, Evans. I know you’re not used to good idea’s coming out of men’s mouths, but I do assure you it happens more frequently than you might imagine.” Regulus taunted, earning him a pillow being hurled at his head. 

Much to James’ chagrin, his seeker reflexes caught the pillow before it made impact with his face. 

“Tosser.” James grumbled. 

“Would you guys shut up.” Sirius whispered, causing everyone to look over at you. 

Regulus couldn’t even find it in him to be miffed when he saw you sleeping what looked to be quite peacefully in Sirius’ arms. Your eyes were slightly swollen from your tears, and he could see the tracks they had left on your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose, but you looked so content. 

“So... all big brothers know how to do that?” James asked incredulously.

“I doubt it.” Sirius commented quietly.

“Only ones who know what it’s like to live in a Pureblood hellscape and needed to share his bed with his younger brother who was too scared to sleep on his own for years.” Regulus added quietly, staring unseeingly towards you and Sirius. Remus pulled Regulus tighter into his side and began rubbing his arm consolingly.

Suddenly, things started to make a little more sense to James. 

“I’ll write to mum.” James stated, causing both brothers, Lily, and Remus to look at him bemusedly.

“About what?” Remus asked finally.

“Y/N staying with us.” James said simply.

Regulus opened his mouth ready to argue; to argue that James didn’t have to and that he already took in both Sirius and Regulus. James didn’t owe Regulus anything. 

But Sirius spoke first.

“She should be with her big brother, Reggie.” Sirius said, shooting him an encouraging smile and wink.

And seeing how your breathing had fallen even with your mouth slightly ajar as you clutched to the fabric of Sirius’ jumper like it was a lifeline, who was Regulus to argue?

[neverendingford]

.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

azriel crack headcannons!

im alive!

note: use of “tits” instead of “breasts”, i hate that word yall. 

-You love being mushy with him. Complimenting his eyes, his hands, his voice. He gets all blushy and squeaky and it’s so cute. 

-He activated cuteness aggression which confused him at first but he secretly loves how obsessed you are with him. (he’s never had anyone be so obsessed with him) 

-You both give each other flowers. The first time you gave him his own bouquet he was giggling and kicking his feet in private. 

-You have trouble trying new food, so he will let you try a bit of his meal if he gets something new. That way you don't “waste” (even though he has enough money to buy velaris at this point) money. Even if he insists you don't need to worry about money. 

-You like asking him insane questions. 

“How do you feel about me wearing revealing clothes in public?” 

He shrugged. “I can fight and you look beautiful in anything.”

“If i got a new piercing-“

“My love, it’s your body. But if you pierce your nipples i’m going to have so much fun.”

-You got your nipples pierced. You couldn’t decide on what jewelry to get. So you bought two pairs. One, for the healing process that were barbells with blue gems. 

For after, barbells with an ‘A’ on both ends of the jewelry. That man audibly moaned when he saw that specific piece of jewelry. 

-He has loud sneezes. 

-He’s afraid of spiders. 

-You two 100% gossip. 

-You’ll read smutty novels to each other in funny voices. This is the only way Azriel discovered that he can make an incredible high pitched voice. 

-He gets the zoomies at random times. You know it’s brewing when the shadows start to practically vibrate in the air. 

-If you have your hair up, he or his shadows will play with your baby hairs that escape the hairstyle. 

-Speaking of the shadows, they’ll just sit on your waist like a belt and just be part of whatever outfit you have on. Or a necklace (not in a kinky way you dirty birds) 

((but like, that too))

-Speaking of things being taken as kinky. He stretches you out. You have a disability that worsens when you don't do your daily stretches (sciatica nerve damage gang rise up) so he forces you to do them. 

-As in pins you down and forces your body to stretch out the nerve. 

“It’s almost like you like to be in pain.” He admonishes as he pushed on your glute. 

“I’m just lazy.” You admit. 

He smacks your ass, causing you to yelp. “Well, I don't like seeing my love in pain, so stop being lazy.” 

-He may be a stoic warrior, but he’s also a guy. He loves titties. 

-He’ll burrow into them when he’s upset. 

-When your cycle happens, your tits get sore and swollen. So he’ll massage them, suck on them, anything. 

-You wear lip balm a lot. You just have a thing where a tube needs to be on you at all times. He personally prefers when you wear a balm that’s vanilla or like a baked good. The minty balms he really doesn’t like the taste of.  

-Usually, he is the exact opposite of lazy. However, you’ve turned him into a lazy sunday morning man. Or really, any day he wants to sleep in, he does now. You’re just so warm and sweet and sleepy he can’t resist it! 

-You sprawl out in bed. You starfish over the entire bed if he gets up for the bathroom or water in the middle of the night. To get you back to your side, all he has to do is poke your side and you curl in on yourself. 

He giggles (yes, giggles) every single time. 

-He already is a mischievous man, but with you the silliness hits an all time high. 

-Random ass spankings, he bean dips you, when he works out wearing a shirt, he’ll take the shirt off and throw it at you. So you have a musty sweaty ass shirt coming at you. 

-You always call his shadows “little stinkers” and he loves it. 

-They’ll move things to higher shelves to force you to ask Azriel for help getting them.  

The man loves leaning over you, your sweet ass pressed against him as he reaches. 

-Sometimes, you’ll just stare at him and wonder how this beautiful man is yours. 

But that’s okay, because he stares at you the same way. 

[bahablastplz]

Canvas: Hyunjin x Reader

Content: A late night with your boyfriend turns into something more as you both try something you had only talked about before; smut and fluff Warnings: p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, heavy heavy praise WC: 2500 Happy birthday Hyunjin <3

Hyunjin was painting again. 

As you roll out of bed in the middle of the night, this fact is apparent. The smell of paint wafts from the living room where he has his work space set up. A large tarp on the floor, a small easel propped up and a lamp set to illuminate his latest work. Paints lay haphazardly around him, a blend of colors and shades of hues mushed across the palette. The rest of the room was dimly lit, moonlight shimmering through the curtains and shining on your boyfriend’s face. God, he was breathtaking. One paintbrush is in his mouth and the other in his hand, gliding across the canvas. The sight makes you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Love?” He looks up at you now, watching your frame as you admire him from the wall. The lamp light reflects onto his dark-framed glasses when his gaze meets yours, and you smile at how the yellow and orange lights glow across his features. He smiles back. It’s a small gesture, and even though you’ve seen him smile hundreds of times the gesture warms your heart. 

You cross the room in your nightgown, the cold breeze from the air-conditioning causing you to curl into yourself slightly. Hyunjin beckons to the spot on the floor beside him and you take it eagerly, body curling around him and head resting on his lap. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him. He has the habit of sneaking away in the night, so as to not wake you, and painting until the sun starts to creep through the windows. It’s cathartic for him, a way for him to get away from his thoughts that trouble him in the night. In moments like this you love to watch him, how his brows furrow in concentration and his lips get caught between his teeth. Hyunjin was the most in his element when he had a canvas in front of him. 

“Mm,” he confirms. He checks his hand to make sure no paint dirties it before he rests it on your hip, drawing soothing circles on top of your nightgown. Your head nuzzles deeper into him and you breathe in his scent, letting out a content hum. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks a moment later. His hand moves effortlessly across canvas, dappling acrylic paint across a vision of flowers that was already the picture of perfection to you–but would probably take him at least a few more hours to complete. He was a perfectionist like that; he could point out every absence of color, needed highlight or small imperfection of his work that was near imperceivable to you. 

“No, the bed was just cold. I wanted to see where you were,” you hum against his skin. Your words were true, of course; because you get so hot when you sleep next to your boyfriend, the house usually stays a bit chillier but you notice his absence sometimes when he leaves the bed late at night. He now wears a dark colored hoodie that swallows his features, meant for his comfort when lounging around the house like this. His pants are also meant for lounging, the gray sweatpants soft but covered in remnants of previous art projects known lovingly as his ‘painting pants.’ 

“Do you want me to warm you up?” You nod and crawl into his lap, nuzzling your face right into the crook of his neck. He lets out a breathy laugh underneath you, arms wrapping around your frame to bring you closer as he continues to work. After a few minutes your boyfriend leans closer to the canvas, examining a piece of his work that must have not looked right to him. This action shifts your position, however, your core now pressed right against his clothed length. You tense against him and your breath hitches slightly, and you know that he’s caught on to your arousal. 

“How much longer?” You whine against him. He lets out a laugh and uses his free hand to stroke your back, long fingers moving languidly across your spine. The action is meant to soothe you but has the opposite effect, sending an electrical shock down your body and causing you to let out a small breath. 

“Why, love? Are you feeling needy for me?” You nod almost embarrassingly fast. While you love watching Hyunjin paint and could for hours, you can’t help the want that settles deep in your gut that begs for his touch, his attention, and his desire to be released toward you. 

“I was hoping to paint for a while more,” he confesses. You try not to let your disappointment show, but you let out a moan as the man’s hand finds your hips, pushing you harder against him. The friction that meets your core has you feeling more desperate and you buck into him and he’s smiling, and it infuriates you to know he’s intentionally trying to work you up. He has always loved seeing you pliant, needy and desperate for him, and you were unfortunately already in that state somehow. “Do you want to sit on my cock baby?” Your head reels back to look at him with wide eyes. “You can sit on my cock while I paint but you have to be good and promise not to move, okay?” 

You had talked with him about cock-warming before but it was never something you had actually done. Now, it must be just past 3 a.m., and you were finally turning the hypothetical into reality–it felt unreal. You let out an affirmative sound and nod your head, and he’s maneuvering your bodies to get you set up. He repositions you so that you’re on your knees above him, slightly towering over him where he sits on the floor. He’s lifting his hips up and pushing his pants down just past his thighs, releasing his cock and pumping it one, two times. He’s hard already, and you watch him in awe as he works to pleasure himself in front of you. It’s just for a second, but enough for him to have your breath come to a stop, which is exactly what he was waiting for. 

His hands find place on your waist. He’s hitching your nightgown up above your hips, leaving you bare for him. It’s no secret that sometimes you sleep without underwear on, but he smirks at you and stares in a way that leaves you feeling utterly exposed despite him having seen you like this hundreds of times. His fingers come up to your core, rubbing it and gathering your wetness to spread it around your folds. You let out a moan at the action, thankful for the contact before he’s dragging you down and placing his cock at your entrance. 

He leans back on his hands and looks up at you, waiting for you to do the rest. And so you do, piercing yourself onto him and sliding down his length, inch by inch. Hyunjin was well-endowed, so to speak, so it was never an easy fit to take him but it felt pleasurable nonetheless. Finally he is fully inside you, and your breathing and each moan is completely synced with one another. A hand comes up to bring a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the movement is so domestic and loving that it makes your heart pang in your chest. 

“Beautiful,” is all he says. 

He brings your nightgown back down so that it covers you up, remembering your recent complaint about being cold. Your head finds its place back on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck like it’s your home. 

And, he continues painting. 

You’re not sure why you’re surprised–that’s exactly what he said he was going to do. Your boyfriend has a lot of self-control and restraint that you did not, and it was especially evident when you were intimate. While you often become wrecked from the start, he would let his pleasure build up and would reel from the delayed gratification of it all. 

Your knees find the ground and before you can help yourself, you put your weight on them. You’re propping yourself up, sliding up his length about halfway, before crashing back down. Your clit drags deliciously across his abdomen in the process, causing you to let out a heavy sigh of pleasure. You rock against him only one more time before strong hands find your shoulders, pushing you down hard. You try to bounce up again and find that you’re unable, his grip keeping you in place so firmly that you cannot budge despite your attempts. 

“Don’t,” he scolds. His words are sharp, not laced with venom but to remind you of his earlier demands. 

At this angle, his hands pushing you down causes his cock to be seated deeper inside you than before and you let out an embarrassing squeak. You feel so full, and you tell him so. 

He has an idea; he grabs you and leans forward, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his torso. When he sits back down, you are now unable to give yourself the momentum needed to move your hips or rock against his length. You are fully seated on him and he is fully inside you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you flush against him as he continues his work. 

It’s silent, now, with the exception of your shallow and uneven breathing. You find yourself clenching against him over and over again, reeling in the sensation of him inside you. And it’s just that–you can really feel him like this, every ridge and vein, every pulse of him inside you, and it has you feeling lightheaded. 

“God, baby, you’re gushing around me,” he whispers into your hair. “Taking me so good.” His praise makes you smile and squeeze tighter around him and he groans. You feel smug to finally get him to lose his composure, but he starts spouting more praise that makes all thoughts vanish in an instant.

“So good for me, baby, you know that? Such a good pussy. You’re the love of my life, God, you were made just for me. You were made for me to love you, to hold you like this… So pretty for me. You’re all mine, meant to take my cock, yeah?” You whimper against him, the mixture of sweet nothings and sexual praise whispered to you making you feel dizzy. 

It’s several more minutes before you say something, finally coming to the conclusion that you would have to be the one to initiate it further, if he would even let you. 

“Please…” It’s all you can say at first. 

“What, love?” He teases. He knows exactly what you want. 

“Need you to move, please, Hyune… It’s too much. Need to cum,” You beg. You’re sure you sound pathetic but you can’t find it in you to care. If there’s anyone who’s not only willing but wanting to see you in your most pathetic and vulnerable states, it’s Hyunjin. 

“Poor thing, does it feel that good?” His voice asks with a small lilt in it. You’re sniffling now, embarrassed about the tears starting to spill down your cheeks but so overcome in pleasure and sensitivity; you can both feel it in the ways that you clench around him unabashedly. He brings his head back to see your face, to examine your tears. He’s seen you on the verge of tears a few times while having sex from being overwhelmed by pleasure, and though it always makes his heart tighten because he’s the one that’s doing that to you, he’s the one making you feel that good,  he knows it’s about time you’ve reached your limit. He wipes a stray tear away and you don’t even realize that he has dropped his paintbrush until he’s picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. 

He leans back, enraptured by you, and brings you in for a sweet but messy kiss. It’s open-mouthed and hot, and it feels like you’re breathing into him and filling up his lungs. Your tongues meet and you’re covered in spit, a mixture of yours and his, and suddenly his hands are on your hips and his feet are planted strongly on the ground. He doesn’t disconnect his mouth from yours as he thrusts up into you long and hard, but any coherence is long since gone and you’re not sure you’re even kissing back anymore, instead giving loud, high-pitched moans into his mouth. 

His hands move to the undersides of your thighs and he uses his strength to piston into you. In this way, you can only take what he gives but it’s more than enough, as he knows your body better than you do. 

“I’m close, love,” he confesses. He lets his head fall back onto the couch but his eyes never leave yours, drinking up your scrunched up face and open-mouthed pants. It’s no surprise that you’re both close to your arrival so soon, after sitting on him for so long your pleasure feels like it’s increased tenfold. 

“Me too,” you say, struggling to get the words out. You didn’t have to tell him, though. He could tell by the way you were starting to tighten around him. 

“Go ahead and touch your pretty clit for me, make yourself come.” You follow his command, hand snaking down to where your bodies meet. He was right, you were absolutely soaked, and you use this wetness to shakily circle around your clit. His thrusts get harder, deeper, the way they do right before he cums. Unsurprisingly, you beat him to it, clenching all over his length and throwing your head back as you release. 

He follows suit, thrusting into you a few more times before he finds his release, spilling deep inside of you. He holds you close, rutting into you now slowly and working you both through your intense orgasms. When he stills, you collapse into his arms and he holds you tight, embracing you and running a hand through your hair as he praises you. When he finally pulls you off of him you feel empty and this makes you whine. Hyunjin pulls up his sweatpants and carries you to your shared bathroom, placing you onto the sink as he runs the bath. It’s late, but you feel grimy and covered in sweat so the bath is more than welcomed. 

When you look into the mirror, you can’t help but laugh. Your nightgown is covered in paint at your hips and your waist. Though he had tried to be so careful, you suppose it was the risk that came with the reward. When Hyunjin sees the target of your laughter, he joins you and apologizes sheepishly, promising to buy you another. 

“It’s okay, this can just be my paint nightgown,” you joke. “I’ll wear it the next time we have sex while you’re painting.” He smiles at you affectionately, and when you finally get back to sleep it’s in his arms and your bed is warm again.

*** Masterlist Recs