#tickles me for whatever reason. i don't get it

[adara-of-the-flame]

the-name-is-hoggle

"Hoggle is - I mean, I am completely fine with having no facial hair. It would be nice if everyone else was too….”

Hoggle mutters back to Mars, leaning in slightly towards her now that the young woman had sat down and thus her face was at least a few feet closer to his own at this point. The pair very much had been forgotten by the now crowd of dwarves around them, despite having been the reason everyone had gathered int he first place. Even Sir Didymus was distracted talking with the Summer Dwarfs, the knight alternating between common tongue and Khudzul to make his opinion known.

The dwarf blinks at the Urru’s compliment, she thought he looked….good? Huh?

Hoggle doesn’t get to ponder on this long though, realizing with Mars that they were being lifted up.

“This isn’t me-!”

He begins to protest just as the Summer Queen reveals that it was in fact her that was literally whisking them away from the current debacle - and honestly Hoggle was feeling a bit grateful. Last thing he needed to was to try talk down a crowd of dwarves.

Sir Didymus seemed to be doing already as a moderator though….when he wasn’t adding to an argument….

“Spring Training? Whatever you’re willing to show me….”

Hoggle agrees readily to Selva, the sooner he learned the better….

adara-of-the-flame

Mars wondered if this is what'd be like to talk to the Statue of Liberty. Selva Roja was pretty much just as tall, and just as big. The half-Urru remembered seeing an old newsclipping of a drawing (or, was it a photograph? When was the camera invented again?) of when Lady Liberty's hand was first brought over from France. Back when she was still copper-colored, before the patina set in. People in old-style clothing were climbing all over it. Pretty neat.

Since then, Mars had wondered how that must have felt. Well, here she is! In the taloned hands of a very big, very feathery, red giant.

"Can I stick around and watch while you train Hoggle? I don't think I'd be much use down there." Far below, the dwarves were still arguing.

"That's the idea, hon." Entire canopies and swaths of trees tilted and bowed out of Selva Roja's way as she strided. Her jungle was vast. A literal ocean of tumbling, rolling green.

Eventually trees parted way underfoot into a grand valley. A literal dip in the Earth, like a collossal bowl, growing ever deeper towards the center. The jungle and the valley were like two flavors of the same sweet. Green met green: the lush, rough overgrowth of the jungle gave way to a more tender, level sway of grass and shorter trees. The scent of peaches tickled Mars's nose. She glance down. "It's an orchard!"

Because, there are many flavors of summer: To name a few, there's the eternal 'tropical rainforest', there's the traditional 'hot dogs and fireworks' (always a favorite), there's the scantily-clad 'fun at the beach', and for that old-timey feeling, there's 'lazy day under the fruit trees.'

Selva Roja stopped beside the bank of a large pond at the very center of the valley to set her two passengers down. "Welcome to one of my outdoor castles. It's peaceful enough here we should get some work done." Settling down next to the two, she cast a gigantic, cooling shadow. "I suppose we should start with a question I'm sure you've both been wanting to ask me: Why, before you arrived, didn't we let Saisho No Me die? Have you figured out the answer yet?"

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the stench of this terrible blog…bleck!”

[drawbauchery]

[mariasont]

short n sweet but we need one where spencer loves head scratches and getting his hair played with

Heart Nebula - S.R

summary: spencer tells you every atom in your body was once part of a star, but you think he's the celestial wonder worth studying. pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: fluff galore, existentialism, star-gazing, astrophysics inaccuracies im so sure wc: 2.1k

"You'd be so proud of me today, you know."

You scoot closer, disrupting the careful folds of the blanket. The fabric bunches beneath your legs, damp soil seeps through, not quite wet enough to be a problem, but enough to make you aware of it. A blade of grass tickles stubbornly at your ankle. You wiggle your foot once, twice, it stays. Some things do.

Your pinky grazes his, the barest of contact, but he turns his head anyway. The night seems to fold him in shadow, softens his features, makes him look almost ethereal. His eyes give him away, glinting back at you, tiny shards of cosmos blinking back at you. It should be impossible to feel jealously of the sky, and yet.

"Yeah?" The familiar crease settles between his brows, a well-loved marker in the pages of him. His head tilts, waiting, not impatiently, already certain he's going to love your answer. "Why's that?"

Your smile jumps ahead of you, swells into one of those too-big-for-your-face grins. The kind that crinkles your nose, bunches your cheeks, makes your face ache after a while.

"I learned about a nebula."

Spencer's laugh starts in his chest and works its way out, rattling through his ribs, shaking his shoulders, until the momentum knocks his knee into yours.

"Look at you," he says, all teasing admiration. "I am proud. Which one?"

"I think It was called the Heart Nebula?" You glance at him, waiting, watching, half-hoping that he'll recognize the name, that he'll give you that little nod of confirmation.

He does. You beam.

"I saw a picture earlier, and it was just—," You trail off, eyes tipping upwards, letting the sky steal whatever poetic explanation you were about to give. "I don't know. Too beautiful to be real."

Spencer had been so excited when you told him you wanted to stargaze, his eyes had practically glowed, already rattling off a dozen facts about atmospheric conditions and celestial visibility, and why tonight was perfect.

He barely took a breath before he had been launching into a dozen more reasons, winding himself up so tight with words that the only way to release them, apparently, was kissing you. Feverishly.

Like he had no other way to translate his excitement into something tangible, something felt.

It made you want to promise him everything, to tell him you'd do this forever, that you'd let him drag you under the stars a thousand times over if it meant being kissed like that.

Spencer glances at you, his mouth twitching like you've just said the punchline to a joke you don't realize you're telling. You're here, waxing about a sky full of ancient light, calling the Heart Nebula too beautiful to be real, and he's looking at you like you've missed the most obvious part.

You narrow your eyes, but he only shakes his head, like whatever crossed his mind was his to keep.

"The Heart Nebula is full of newborn stars," he tells you, gaze still pointed on the sky. "Their radiation makes the gas glow red, pink. The whole thing shifts under stellar winds, reshaping itself, over and over again."

His voice wades its way through the parts of your brain, finding its place. He has this way of explaining things, of turning something infinite into something intimate. 

And you love that. Love how he does that. Love the way he sees things. Love him.

"It's about 7,500 light-years away. Which means the light we're seeing now left before humans even figured out agriculture." A small, disbelieving laugh escapes him. "By the time it reaches us, whatever we're looking at doesn't exist the same way anymore. It's already changed. Probably unrecognizable."

His fingers twitch against his thigh, probably resisting the urge to gesture. "Space is weird like that."

"I don't know, Spence," you tease, fingers pinching the sleeve of his shirt, catching just enough of him to feel real. His dimple carves into his cheek and your heart stumbles, caught between beats. "It kind of sounds like you're telling me I can't trust my own eyes."

"Well, technically you can't." He turns fully toward you, dimple still firmly in place, eyes flicking, too quickly, too obviously, to your lips. "The human eye takes in scattered bits of light, and your brain—" he taps your temple for emphasis "—fills in the blanks. Adjusts for shadows, alters colors based on what it thinks is there. Your eyes are compulsive liars."

He pauses, tiling his head, considering. "And since our perception is limited by our optic nerves, no one really sees their own eyes the way others do. Which is a shame, because if you could see yours the way I do, you'd understand why I can't help but stare."

There are moments when Spencer says something so casually devastating that your brain just empties, and this is absolutely one of them. Your mouth opens, then closes again.

"That's—" Your voice catches, so you clear your throat, shake your head, try to reassemble your thoughts. "That's a really unfair thing to say, you know."

Spencer blinks, like he’s running back through the conversation in real time, replaying his own words to figure out what, exactly, made you forget how to breathe. 

"Why?"

"Because some of us have a very delicate hold on their emotional stability, and you—” you point at him, accusing “— just shattered it in two sentences."

"Technically, that’s the limbic system at work. The amygdala controls emotional reactivity, but the prefrontal cortex tempers it."

You would try to unpack that, really, you would, but then his hands find your waist, and suddenly the ground isn't where you thought it was. You gasp, giggle, crash right into him, catching yourself with shaking hands against his chest.

"So really," he continues, as if you aren't sprawled across him, "if your emotional stability was shattered, you should blame your neural pathways, not me."

Your fingers twist in his hair as you lean in to kiss him, deeply and thoroughly, like proof, like inevitability maybe, a thought forming in real time, one you can press straight into his skin. 

"Maybe my neural pathways are just adapting to something worth remembering," you whisper, and the way he stills, the way his lips part just slightly, makes you think you might not be the only one.

Spencer makes a small, pleased noise against your lips, something that was half sighed and smiled, and you feel it, all of it, in the way his throat moves beneath your fingertips as he swallows.

"That... might be my favorite use of neuroscience yet."

You flash him a grin. "And you thought I wasn't paying attention when you ramble."

"I should've known you'd find a way to weaponize it."

You let your full weight settle onto him, chin perched on his chest, his heartbeat a slow song beneath your cheek. Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through soft strands, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, testing a theory you already know the answer to.

Yeah. Definite reaction.

"So that's what it takes, huh?" you tease, lips curling against the material of his shirt. You scratch again to be sure, and his next breath comes slower. "Just a well-placed brain chemistry reference?"

"From you? Yeah, that'll do it."

"Noted." A pause. Then, softer. "Keep talking to me about space."

"You know, you're kind of demanding." Spencer's fingers skate along your waist before he squeezes, firm and quick, like a punctuation mark to his sentence. 

Your head lifts, eyebrow quirked, fingers hovering just out of reach, close enough for him to feel the absence. "Excuse me?"

His smirk vanishes instantly, wiped clean, replaced by something perilously close to distress. His hands twitch at your waist, fingers moving like he can pull you back, like he can make you continue if he just wants it badly enough.

"Wait, wait, I was kidding," he rushes out, voice just shy of frantic. “Don't stop."

You grin, tilting your head like you're considering it. "Hmmm. Apologize."

"I—okay, I'm sorry, you're perfect, please—" his breath hitches, his laugh a little wild, a little helpless, "please keep going."

You giggle, fingertips weaving back into his hair. His response is immediate, a low, shaky sound that buzzes against your skin, something so content it makes warmth spreads through you like a lit fuse, spilling all the way down to your toes.

Spencer smirks, fingers drumming against your waist.

"You really don't let a guy off easy, do you?" He pauses for a second, glancing past you at the sky like he's taking in his options.

"Alright. Here's a fact you might like, every single part of you was once part of a star. All the heavier elements in your body, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, they were formed in the core of ancient stars, forged under immense heat and pressure, then scattered across the galaxy when those stars died, reforming."

His words drift to you, but you don't catch them all. You're too busy watching him.

Out here, in the absence of light pollution, you can see him more clearly than ever. The starlight doesn't just touch him, it claims him, dusting his skin in silver, catching in his lashes, turning the slopes of him almost unreal. Like if you blink too long, he might disappear, slip back into the night where he belongs. A constellation carved into the shape of a person.

You used to think brown was such a simple color. But then you met him, saw his eyes, now it's in everything. Wet earth after rain, cinnamon dusted over coffee, burnt sugar on your tongue.

And now, he’s teaching you it’s also carbon and oxygen forged in the cores of dying stars, pieces of the galaxy that had traveled billions of years to become chocolate flecks on a beautiful face.

He was right, it is a shame people never see their eyes the way others do.

"But how?" you ask. "Like... how does something go from being part of a star to being part of us?"

Spencer exhales softly and you can see the way he loves the question.

 "It's a long process. Billions of years, actually. When a star explodes, it sends all those elements out into space. They mix with other interstellar material, forming new stars, planets, and eventually..." He taps a gentle finger against your stomach. "You."

"That's kind of incredible."

Spencer huffs a quiet laugh, grinning, that beautiful grin, the one that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. His fingers find your temple, trail gently down to your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Then, without pause, he leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your nose.

"It is," he murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheek. "We're built from pieces of space, borrowed, passed down, stitched together by time."

"So you're saying we've been part of the same universe forever? That's kind of romantic, Spence."

"It's also backed by astrophysics. Science just happens to be romantic sometimes. "

"Well, good," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I like knowing there's proof... but I think I would've believed it anyway."

You barely have time to register the flicker in his eyes before, he moves. In a second, you're on your back, the sky stretching endlessly behind him. The stars flicker, countless and beautiful, but right now, they might as well not exist.

Because all you see is him.

He hovers over you, gaze intent, studying you, like you're a phenomenon he never expected to witness up close. Like he's sure now, more than he's ever been about anything. Like you are the discovery of a lifetime.

"The universe has been expanding for 13.8 billion years," he murmurs, fingers trailing along your jaw. "But I don't think it's ever made anything more beautiful than you."

Heat blooms beneath your skin. "More than the Heart Nebula?"

It should sound like teasing. It doesn't.

Spencer exhales, almost like he's amused by your doubt.

"The Heart Nebula exists purely because gravity and radiation dictate that it must. But you..." His gaze softens. "You exist because of a thousand tiny impossibilities stacking on top of each other. The odds of you, of this, are so astronomically low that it shouldn't have happened at all."

Spencer just looks at you for a moment. You don't move, don't breathe. And then he kisses you.

It crashes over you, stealing your breath before you even realize it's happening. His hands tighten at your sides, pulling you closer, like the space between you is unbearable. It's not rushed nor desperate, but it is consuming, the kind of thing that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

When he breaks away, he doesn't go far, forehead resting against yours. "If the universe was capable of making something more beautiful, it would have done it by now."

And maybe that’s true. Maybe the universe, for all its galaxies and nebulae and infinite expanse, never did anything better than this. Not just you, but you and him together. 

Or maybe the universe will never quite get it right again. Because maybe this was its best work.

But it won’t stop trying. It never does. Even after you’re gone, even after you and Spencer are nothing but scattered atoms, the universe will keep going. Creating. Expanding. Changing. New stars will be born, dust will settle into something new, planets will form, galaxies will stretch apart. And maybe, somewhere, the pieces that were once you and him will find their way back to each other. And maybe, if the universe has any kindness left in it, they’ll get to love like this.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[plethorawrites]

Jason Todd who, for whatever reason— repeated concussions, a medical condition like Presbyopia (aka old age), or just extreme eye strain, starts struggling to read without his eyes and head hurting him.

It results in him needing glasses, which he downright refuses at first, since he thinks they make him look stupid and doesn't want his family to mock him.

Plus, he thinks that means he's getting old, like Bruce and there's no way he'd admit that.

But eventually you talk him into it, help him pick out a pair that he doesn't wear for weeks after getting, letting them linger on the side table while he squints to read with a dull ache in his head.

After a while of you reminding him, repeatedly, he needs to wear them if he wants the pain to stop, you stole his book away from him, refusing to give it back until he wears them.

He puts them on with an annoyed expression, asking if you're happy in a sarcastic manner. Yes. You were extremely happy. Both because he could read without pain once again and also because...well, he looked extremely good in glasses, even if he didn't think so.

Nodding, you gave him his book back, your gaze lingering just a little too long for him not to notice, unfortunately. He catches you staring, asking what's wrong and you just shake your head, telling him it's nothing.

He can tell it's something and sets his book down, insisting you tell him. "Is it the glasses? I look stupid, don't I?" He muttered.

You wouldn't respond, trying to fight back a smile he first assumed was mocking like his family had been, so he quickly rolls you over, pinning you to the bed while you try not to grin.

"That tickles," you mumble, feeling his hands press into your sides.

"Seriously, what?" He questions, noticing the blush on your cheeks as you finally look at him.

"You just look handsome, in them," is all you reply, swiping your thumb over his jawline. His lips curl up into an authentic smile.

"So it is the glasses, then?" He mumbles.

You shrug, your blush getting redder. "Maybe."

His smirk widens, leaning down to kiss you. "Should've told me you had a thing for them," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your neck. "I would have started wearing them a lot sooner."

[dwaekkicidal]

Nonsexual Dominance with SKZ

wc» 1.1k

cw» gender neutral, d/s dynamics, dom!skz & sub!reader, trad!minho, sfw but some people might see some things as controlling or toxic- it's not meant to be and this is based off a MUTUAL agreement + set boundaries. if you dont like dont interact <3

txt version

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗

Makes you send him food pics regularly. On days where you genuinely don't want to, he won't push it, but for the most part he enforces it and will be upset if you don't send a pic. And this is only really because it means you didn't eat.

He loves it not only for the obvious reason of watching over you even when he's not around, but also because it reminds him to also eat. All those hours in the studio blur and it's only a matter of time before he completely loses track of time- but you and your meals are there to remind him :)

𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚠

Ok hear me out, traditional husband!minho... If you don't want it, he won't push it but it works so well,,, If it's far enough into the relationship that the trust comes naturally, he'd sit you down to discuss your opinions on you staying at home all day and quitting your job and putting all the financial burden on him- because he wants that responsibility. He wants to take care of you so extremely.

The pleasure dom in him comes out specifically outside of the bedroom. He absolutely loves cooking for you and spoiling you with extravagant dinners & expensive gifts, and he loves just holding you close just because he can, but he expects you to do everything else in the house- or at least most of it. While he's willing to compromise certain chores, he wants to come home to the house being clean and clothes being washed and all that.

But he always makes it worth your while and spoils you rotten :( Cuddles you until you're absolutely sick of him (not) and tries to take you out on regular dates to spoil you (like while shopping at the mall or taking you out to a nice dinner)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚋𝚒𝚗

Might sound kind of weird but hear me out- him telling you "no." I think Chris is one that would love to do this but has NO self control and therefore can't bring himself to unless he absolutely has to lol. But Changbin thrives off of it.

Don't get him wrong- he looves to spoil you. But he also loves that little spark in your eyes when you bat your eyelashes at him so prettily and ask him for something- only for you to get a gentle but firm "no" that makes your bottom lip puff out. & It's not that he doesn't want you to have whatever this thing is, it's more so that he knows there's a limit to being spoiled and no matter how much he loves you, you both need an occasional humbling- and he feels like you both could use a soft reminder of who let who have all the control

He'll always make up for it with sweet kisses and maybe a little tickling to make your pout go away, but his chest puffs out a little every time he gets to tell you "no"

𝙷𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚓𝚒𝚗

Is the kind to having his hand on your body at all times, if you're more than an arms length away from him you'll be getting a certain look that discreetly reads "Get over here now." Sometimes will even curl his finger up in your direction- doesn't care if somebody is watching or even if he's in the middle of talking/an important conversation

He just likes to have you close, and he knows he needs that mental grounding that you offer more often than not. He's just confident about needing it, so he's not afraid to show everybody how much he loves you and needs you by his side

That being said, he will lead you around malls, museums, grocery stores, or hell even the other boy's apartments all with his hand either intertwined with yours or on some part of your body (usually your lower back) that lets him guide you around.

𝙷𝚊𝚗

He felt a little awkward at first bringing this up to you, but now that it's become a regular part of your routine, he lives for these moments: he loves when you sit pretty on his lap and shave his face for him. It's gotten to the point where he will refuse to shave himself at all for weeks on end if you aren't able to do it for him.

It makes him feel a bit more dominant than it should? considering he will see you have free time and point out that he needs a shave- which usually has you dropping everything to go do it for him. But he also sees it as him being loyal to you and you having an equal amount of "control" on his life. (Also you will catch him dead before you catch him complaining about his lover sitting in his lap for any amount of time lol)

Generally just domestic little acts of service that let him "command" you while also letting you have control over his life (that's really only obvious to you two, but that's more than enough for him)

𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡

Doesn't realize he likes it right away, but he loves to talk for you with strangers. He loves to order your food for you, order your coffee for you (sometimes even mobile ordering it so you don't have to talk to people if he's not available), carrying your clothes for you while you shop and being the one talking at the cash register- stuff like that.

Not only does this scratch that little dom itch in the back of his head because he's taking care of you while still being in "charge", but it also allows him to spoil the hell out of you with you knowing how much money he's spending on you lol. You get to sit pretty at his side and look at/play with the little trinkets by the register while he drops literal hundreds on you with a smile on his face.

𝚂𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚖𝚒𝚗

Sorry not sorry but he loves his non sexual punishments. No matter what you do in or out of the bedroom, he can and will find a way to punish you for it without having to lay a finger on you.

One of his favorites is making you write a sentence down over and over again. Kinda cliché "teacher" punishment but it usually gets his point across and prevents you from acting out (for like a week max lol). If he's particularly annoyed at you/frustrated he will make you write it in Korean & wont translate it for you more than once lol.

Another one he really likes is making you kneel on the floor instead of on the couch. He's not really huge on forbidding you from watching tv unless you want him to go that far, but you're not gonna be allowed to sit on the soft, comfy couch- you're gonna be kneeling on the floor, most likely by his leg so you can still cuddle up to him (he'll grant you a small pillow if it's a longer punishment)

𝙸.𝙽

Jeongin loves picking your outfits and your accessories for you. He's not usually too dominant out of the bedroom otherwise, and it's very rare that he is, but this is the main way he is.

Even before you two lived together, he would text you a grossly sweet good morning message and would include a comment about how you should send him a few outfits for him to choose from you to wear. But now that you guys are living together, he takes it upon himself to pick out an outfit for you while you're still in bed or in the bathroom waking up.

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@aeri-skzver

[specialgradefckr]

nerd!gojo is so cute! please give him a kiss on the cheek for me.

you stare at the note you found in your locker. it's written in glittery purple ink, which only adds to the insult.

gojo, "cute"??? give him a kiss on the cheek???

like an ill omen summoned by its name, a terrible presence looms over your shoulder, "watcha got there?"

"hate mail." you say dispassionately as you quickly shove gojo away.

when you face him, you see gojo's face change - smooth features and rounded eyes hardening into anger.

"hate mail?" gojo frowns, "in your locker? who would send that?!"

"you want a list?" comes geto's snarky voice. "she's kind of a bitch."

you shoot him a glare, but gojo speaks before you can.

"don't talk about her like that."

the room feels a little bit colder. since when did gojo sound so... mean?

"i'm just saying," geto says, shrugging, "you'd know better than anyone, she's always on your ass."

"yeah, my ass," gojo turns to you, a pout on his face, "you're not bullying other people, are you? i don't have any other bullies."

only satoru gojo could get into an argument this stupid.

"no," you drone, "your drain on my time and attention is uncontested."

rather than being ashamed of this, gojo looks absolutely tickled.

even when you punch him in the shoulder, his good mood is undampened.

"nerd," you grouse, stalking off to your next class, which gojo naturally follows.

it sucked being in the same classes as him, but at least it meant you could get his help. he really is a huge nerd. all those hours you put into it, and he seems to understand everything effortlessly.

the class feels like it takes hours. you pay diligent attention, take so many notes, and somehow, gojo comes out of it completely chipper.

you're left in peace for a few blessed minutes afterwards as he bolts out of the room for some reason or another.

is he finally starting to fear you as his bully? took him long enough -

"here!" pressed into your hands, your favorite snack from the campus vending machine.

gojo smiles at you, that big, boyish smile that makes him look extra stupid. "sorry i messed up last time."

you don't know what comes over you. maybe it's pure delirium brought on by hunger. or the joy from having something nice to eat.

maybe it's a new form of torture, humiliating him by making him endure a kiss from his bully.

it's just a kiss on the cheek. it's whatever.

he stands there, still, face completely red, blue eyes wide in shock. gojo looks even dumber than usual, which shouldn't even be possible.

you fan your face for a moment as you turn to leave.

"come on, you idiot. we've got a test to study for."

gojo whistles some unbelievably stupid tune, practically skipping the whole way to the library.

"i can't believe it! she kissed me on the cheek!!! a real kiss!" "uh-huh." "don't uh-huh me, suguru, it was REAL! anyways, it all makes sense now. she was just hangry. no wonder she shoved me into a locker. it's my fault for not taking better care of her..." "would you listen to me if i reminded you that you're not dating and this is all pure delusion?" "not dating yet." "so a no, then," suguru says, rolling his eyes as he returns to his work. satoru's already finished with the homework and scrolling through his text message history with you, no doubt spamming you again with memes or pictures or just remarks. but you haven't blocked him yet, have you? suguru smiles to himself, closing his notebook, tucking away a shimmering violet pen.

[catcze]

#WRIOTHESLEY — Have I told you how good you look? wc: 0.4 fluff, kisses, potentially suggestive but idk up to you, Wrio being so in love ! — Can't have you thinking that I'm anything less than head over heels for you.

It’s Nov 23 for me so!! Happy birthday Wriothesley <3 Thanks for being the sole reason I unarchived the blog before, and for being the reason i kept playing genshin 🩷

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley kisses you like a man starved, with his hands in your hair and his body against yours, pressing you into the plush of the bed— as if he can't get enough of you.

"Wrio—" You try with a giggle when you manage to get a breath, only for him to pounce on you once more, drinking the very breath from your lungs and savoring in the taste of your kiss. "Wrio!"

Finally, finally, he draws away just a hair. It's barely any distance, really. He's still close enough that his breath tickles your lashes, and the smoldering heat in his eyes is plain as day.

When he speaks, his voice is low and raspy, and the beginnings of a blush mar his cheeks. "Yes, sweetheart?" Wriothesley asks, and oh, those two words travel through you, making you shake.

The hold this man has on you— to make you react in such a way to just his voice. Unfair, really.

"What's gotten into you?" Your voice is breathless. Your lips a kiss-swollen smile and your chest heaving as you try to regain your breath. When Wriothesley takes too long to respond, enamored and enraptured and utterly besotted, you sneak a hand up to cup his cheek. Immediately, he melts into your touch.

"Just thought you look really good today. Have I told you how good you look?"

You roll your eyes. "You have. Probably a whole hundred times by now."

A wide, boyish grin graces his face and his eyes light up like stars when they look at you. "Just a hundred? Damn, I should really step up my game. Can't have anyone thinking I don't appreciate the amazing, show-stopping, breathtaking love of my—"

You push at his chest, blowing a raspberry, and cringing bad at how fucking corny this dweeb is. You can't believe that this lovesick sap is the guy you fell in love with (but at the same time, you can't imagine falling for anyone else.)

"Shut up, oh my goodness. You're awful! Just... go back to kissing me again or something."

And Wriothesley laughs, rich and quick, but it still has your heart stuttering. His face comes close, nose brushing yours and his eyes trained on the curve of your lips. His lips pull up in a satisfied smile.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

[quimichi]

≡;- ꒰ ° Sick fuck... ꒱

TW: NSFW - MDNI, name calling, slight cnc, yeah thats it???

character: Nam-gyu x F!Reader

summary: You pressed 'x' now you'll face the consequences of your actions

word count: 4.724

a/n: look, for some reason, he was my fav, idk why, idk how, its how it is ok???? I can't take myself seriously lol. I rarely write smut, I'm probably HORRIBLE at it, but we need the content for him ok??

Nam-gyu dragged you into the female bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. You try to free yourself from his grasp, but there's no use. "Hey-! HEY-!! For fucks sake guards-! If you don't do shit, why are you even here-!" you keep yelling as he struggles to shove you into a stall.

He shoved you against the cold wall of the stall, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. Leaning in close, his black eyes flashed with anger and lust as he growled, "Listen up, you little cock-tease. Next time we vote, yeah? You'll press 'O", understood?" His other hand groped and squeezed your breast roughly through your shirt. "Mmm, but maybe this is what you wanted all along, huh? To get me all worked up and desperate for your tight little body?"

He crashed his lips against yours in a brutal, kiss, biting and sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to make it throb. "Strip," he commanded coldly, releasing your wrists only to start tearing your clothes off yourself. "Now! Before I rip them off and fuck you on this filthy floor." With one quick motion, you slap him across his face. "Fuck you-! I don't even fuckinh know you, so what do you want from me?! I pressed 'X', and?! We keep playing the fucking game anyway!" you shout at him. Nam-gyus eyes flashed with rage as you slapped him hard across the face. The sharp sting of your palm against his cheek made him see red. He grabbed your wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you face-first against the grimy bathroom wall. His body pressed firmly against yours, pinning you in place as he leaned down to growl menacingly in your ear.

"Listen here, you fucking slut," he snarled, his hot breath tickling your neck. "I know for a damn fact the longer we play, the more people wanna press fucking 'x'. And I wanna keep going, so after the next round, the next vote, you'll press 'o'. If you don't, I'll make sure I kill you, and not a fucking game." His rough hands immediately found their way to your tits, groping and kneading the soft flesh harshly as he grinded his hardening bulge against your ass.

"I'll fucking ruin you," Nam-gyu hissed venomously, giving your nipple a sharp twist through the thin lace of your bra. "Scream for help and see if anyone gives a shit. They all probably jerk off to ya. Now, are you going to be a good girl and do as you're told, or do I need to get rougher?" "No-!" you stutter out, "you got your point across-!" You're 90% sure you'll die in the games anyway, after seeing the first you knew you wouldn't survive. Better play along now, than suffer even further with whatever he has planned. If you're lucky, he just did all that to scare you off...at least you hoped so. Playing tough wasn't so easy....

Nam-gyus grip on your wrist loosened slightly as he sensed your submission. He kept you pinned against the wall, his hips still pressed firmly to yours as he leaned in close, his voice a low, threatening rumble.

"Damn right I got my point across, baby," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "As a reward, we're keeping you save next game, hm? How's that sound?" He slid a hand down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly as he grinded his now fully erect cock against your backside. "Now, since you've been a bad girl, I think you deserve to be punished. Lucky you! You'll get both, a reward and a punishment. Aren't I nice?"

Nam-guys other hand slid under the hem of your pants, pulling them down. "Cute, did you know this was my favorite color on you, hm?" he teased, hot breath tickling your ear as he rubbed your clit through the fabric of your panties.

"Sick fuck..." you mumble, more to yourself than for him to actually hear it. Nam-gyu smirked cruelly as he heard your mumbled insult, clearly amused by your feeble attempt at defiance. "Yeah, I'm a sick fuck, but I'm YOUR sick fuck," he taunted, punctuating his words by shoving two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt.

"But you aren't a healthy minded bitch either, look at how wet you are." he chuckled darkly. He pumped his fingers in and out of you roughly, curling them to rub your walls with each thrust. You try to swallow down moans and gasps, but you can't. It feels too good and for some reason...you even enjoy it. He quickly turned you around, shoving your back against the wall. His thumb found your clit and rubbed the sensitive nub hard, making your legs tremble and your pussy clench around his digits.

"Listen to this desperate cunt sucking on my fingers like they're my cock," Nam-gyu laughed mockingly. "You can't get enough, can you? Don't worry, I'm going to give this pussy exactly what it needs."

Having fun never hurt anyone, right? After all, you're a sick fuck too...

[moon-ttokki-x]

Your fic about safe is so amazing I'm inlove with it?? Could you do a similar one but with daddy issues like you're dating Han or Chris (idm which you pick) and you sometimes worry he'll leave you + Ur own issues, tw? Bipolar and depression? Whatever makes you comfortable to do at least

aha thank you so much ! i just titled this one 'depressed reader' but all of the main details are in the descriptions below >< also i couldn't decide between writing chan or han so i just kind of wrote both lol . . . hopefully this one brings you some comfort too, anon <3

hold me - bang chan x depressed!reader

pairing: bang chan x depressed!reader

summary: watching chan with one of his members makes everything you've felt lately rise to the surface.

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort at the end, depression, hinting to bipolar disorder, heavy descriptions of relationship issues (i made it sort of vague so it applies to a lot of scenarios), descriptions of ed, deprecating and negative thoughts, breakdowns, attachment issues, chan is the sweetest most understanding person in the whole world, jisung is mentioned multiple times in this fic

a/n: sending love to all my readers ! you are all soso appreciated <3. divider from @ianrkives

You hesitantly open the door to the studio after knocking twice. When there's no reply, you quickly step inside and blink. The room is pretty much dark, the only source of light coming from a dim standing lamp in the corner.

Chan is seated at his desk, hunched over the soundboard, with a pair of headphones clasping either side of his head. You can barely see him in the dark, only his face, hands, and the column of his throat visible out of the baggy black clothes he always likes to wear.

He doesn't look up as you enter and then quietly shut the door, too focused on the wavy, lilting lines and sequences of the song production software in front of him. You sigh softly and walk up to him, coming from the side so you don't startle him. Placing your bag down on the small table before the sofa, you place a couple of hesitant fingers on the arm of his chair.

"Channie?" You say quietly.

He's still squinting at the screen, somehow so focused he doesn't even see you right next to him. Or maybe it's the light from the screen; when you stare at a device for so long in the dark, it gets difficult to see anything else.

But he suddenly seems to sense your movement, and he must have realised it was you, because he wraps an arm around your waist and gently pulls you closer.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs, not taking his eyes off the screen. His gaze is focused and almost intense as he scrutinizes every soundbar and beat of the music. You bite your lip.

You begin to worry a little then; have you disturbed him from his work? Maybe you shouldn't have come, or at least sent him a text telling him you were coming to the company studio. Maybe he would be more comfortable if you just left him alone.

Before your thoughts can descend on your head like a static black cloud, Chan finally slips off his headphones, leaning back in his chair with a heavy exhale. His arm is still around your waist and so he tugs you with him a little bit, eyes roaming over your face as he stretches.

"Sorry," he says, sighing contentedly as his back pops a little. "Got so caught up, didn't realise I'd be here so late."

"It's okay," you say quietly. "I figured."

Chan catches the hint of sadness creeping into your tone and he pulls you onto his lap, coiling strong arms around your torso. His unruly, ruffled curls tickle the naps of your neck and you squirm, letting out an involuntary giggle. Though the sound is happy, it immediately fills you with a creeping feeling of disgust, and you reproachfully close your mouth.

Chan doesn't seem to notice; he seems rather content to just keep you on his lap. He's absentmindedly singing something, and you stand up off of his lap suddenly, brushing yourself off. For some unknown reason, you begin to feel a bit embarrassed, like you used to feel around Chan when you didn't know him too well.

The man in question sits up a little straighter in his chair, smiling at you. "How was your day, baby?"

"Good," you say a little curtly. You're not sure where the tone is coming from, and you shove the feeling down before you can say something in a way you'd regret.

Chan hums thoughtfully and pokes you lightly in the stomach. "Just good, hmm? Usually I'd get a lot more than that... are you okay?"

"Yes," you say quietly, even though you feel anything but. You're grateful for the darkness then, because it means Chan can't see the tears beginning to prickly hotly at the corners of your eyes. You keep your voice strong and fight the urge to sniffle so as not to alert him. "Just had a long day. You?"

Saying those sentences almost makes you break.

Chan can never know what it's like; how it feels to be brushed off and ignored and attacked by someone who is supposed to love you. To feel like you don't really matter, or that your thoughts and ideas and dreams are just that; useless, empty words inside your head. And to be constantly reminded of how little your worth is, to the point where you're not sure what love is, or what it looks like.

Chan will never understand; he had a completely normal childhood, with a completely normal family and upbringing, and he's normal. Normal in the way that he has people to turn to, people who love and support him, and he's normal in the way that he doesn't scrutinize his own actions every single second of every single day.

And he will never know what it's like to be struggling with something to the point where it all just builds up inside your head like a messy pile of bricks. Where it all weighs down heavy on your mood and sends clouds of dust into the air, distorting and warping your emotions.

So far you've been able to control your mood swings around him; you'd succeeded in making Chan think that you're a person who likes to sleep a lot. In reality you just lie down and keep your eyes and mouth shut so you don't end up acting hypomanic or have outbursts at him. At least it's working; you would much rather keep it all inside than bare the most vulnerable parts of yourself to someone who might decide to turn away and leave you because of it.

You've learnt that keeping those thoughts and emotions inside is better, because then at least people stay. For some time, anyway. Lately you've been feeling like you're biding your time, waiting until the day where Chan finds out everything and decides to do what's best for himself.

When he decides to leave you.

"...And then Han decided he was going to try and do his makeup himself all of a sudden, and of course it was a whole mess. I had to clean sparkly highlighter out of his mouth. I mean, how does that even happen?"

You blink. Chan has been talking this whole time while you've been zoned out of your mind, pitifully burying yourself in your struggles. You climb out of the pit but for a moment and nod along, though he still can't see you because of the dark. You hope that he's just been talking about Han the whole time and not anything else, because if you missed something, Chan will definitely know something's wrong. You inwardly curse yourself for making a habit out of replying to every event and topic that comes out of Chan's mouth.

"Does he not know you guys have perfectly good stylists for that?" You murmur, carding a hand through his fluffy hair.

He sighs exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "Apparently not."

You feel the slightest hint of mirth warming your heart as you notice the tips of Chan's rough, calloused fingers covered in the faintest hint of sparkles. But it quickly disappears, replaced by a cold, dead numbness that seems to encapsulate your whole being. Like icy water.

"Anyways," Chan stretches again, standing up. "How come you're here and not at home?"

Slightly taken aback at the blunt statement, you stutter a little. Chan's eyes go wide and he shakes his hands frantically in front of himself. "N-not like that! I'm glad you're here, it's just that it's really late and I thought you would be asleep by now..."

You blink at him, and then at the clock. He has a point; the white LEDs on the display read 1:43 am. Normally you'd be passed out in bed at this time.

"Couldn't sleep," you say. "I missed you."

And it's true. You did miss him. But suddenly you're looking straight through Chan to someone else and saying that last sentence to him instead. You clench your fists.

"Aww," Chan whines cutely, pulling you into a hug. "My baby. I missed you too. This new song track is killing me."

You pull back from the hug and kiss him on the cheek, partly because kissing Chan makes him go all red, and if you let him hug you any longer, you'll probably break down.

Chan does go red and you poke him lightly in the side, teasing gently. He chuckles and jerks away as you walk to the low table and pick up a bag. "I brought food."

"Oh, you're the best," Chan dives for the bag and eagerly digs through, clumsily kissing your cheek as he pulls the lid off one of the takeout containers. He sits down on the couch before pulling out a pair of chopsticks from the bag and heaping a mouthful of the food. He groans loudly. "This is so good."

"Tastes better after work, doesn't it?" You sit down next to him and lean back, looking at the ceiling. You cross your arms over your stomach to keep it quiet.

Chan nods eagerly and holds out his chopsticks. "Say ahh, Y/n."

You shake your head ruefully but Chan insists, moving closer. Relenting, you open your mouth and feel the warmth of the food against your tongue. It tastes so good, and for a second, you think about asking for more, but you realise that Chan needs it more. After all, he's been working all night.

Besides, if you ask for more of his food, he might think you're being greedy and look at you that certain way that someone else does.

In disgust.

You know in your heart that Chan would never do these sorts of things, but the doubt nags consistently at your consciousness, tugging your mood one way and then your emotions the next. The constant change between feelings is almost giving you whiplash and you exhale, closing your eyes and leaning back into the couch.

"Baby?"

"Mm," you say without opening your eyes.

"Is everything okay?" You hear him setting down his chopsticks, feel the tiny thud through the table as he sets the already-empty container down gently. Your heart drops to your stomach.

Keep it together. He doesn't know anything.

You sigh and sit up, your heartstrings twinging. "Just a lot to think about lately. Why?"

Chan nods, leaning back into the couch next to you. "It's just that you've been really quiet lately. I was wondering if something was going on..."

He ends his reply on a sort of question, like he's expecting you to open up to him about everything at once. You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. How could he possibly expect you to do something like that? And so easily too...

You inwardly scoff. Nice try. You're not getting anything out of me, Chan. Better you don't know anyway. I know you'll change your mind about me.

But your heart takes control of your mouth, and maybe it's the constant sense of longing you seem to have around Chan, but you want to open up to him. Tell him everything, about your terrible past and terrible experiences, and all you are because of it. And a sudden, lingering sense of hope makes you believe that even after you tell him all of it, he'll stay.

Even if it's just for a moment.

"I, um.. I just had an argument with someone," you say vaguely. And it's not entirely the truth. But it's not exactly a lie either. The words shouted at you earlier flash through your mind, white and hot and painful. Like a fresh cut, a harsh, swift slice too deep and sudden to process. Where, for a moment, there's nothing, until the blood starts filling the white gap and then spilling over, like a gruesome parody of tears.

Chan turns to face you on the couch. "Argument? About what?"

You shift a little uncomfortably. Now you have to tell him. "About- just whatever."

"It's not whatever, Y/n," he says firmly. "Not if it's making you this upset."

And maybe it's the sudden realisation that Chan is so normal, with his normal family and mind and life that you feel a raging pang of jealousy fill you up from your toes to your head. You huff and turn away.

"It's nothing," you grit your teeth, fighting not to spit venom.

Stop it, Y/n. It's not his fault.

Chan blinks in surprise at your slightly harsh response but doesn't push you any further. You don't look at him, but you hear him sigh and get up to toss the empty takeout container in the trash. Your heart sinks and you wait for him to turn around and chide you for being so rude and stubborn. After all, he was just trying to help.

But he doesn't. He sits back down on the couch, and looks up at the ceiling, so that you two are lying next to each other in the exact same position. He doesn't talk, either.

You both sit in deafening silence.

You're grateful when the door opens with a haphazard bang and Han walks in, clad in an oversized grey hoodie and sweats. He's clutching a notebook in his hands, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose. You know the story Chan told earlier was true because you can see smears of sparkly highlighter high on his cheekbones. He doesn't seem to be aware of the time, nor the dark state of the room, or the fact that you're so tense your shoulders feel like concrete.

You're grateful for the interruption until he walks over to Chan and promptly sits in his lap. Han murmurs a few lyrics to him, who seems unfazed by the sudden action, and questions about what he thinks could be changed with the song words. Chan replies quietly and his gaze flicks to you in the dimness of the room, but you just shrug, saying you don't mind.

But sitting there, watching Han sit so quietly and comfortably in Chan's lap makes your heart pang for some reason. He wasn't afraid, didn't ask if it was okay, just sat right down and made himself comfortable. Because you know for a fact Chan lets him do this.

And maybe it's the way Chan strokes an absentminded finger down Han's shoulder, or the way he speaks so softly, or the way it's so reminiscent of someone taking care of their child, but you find your eyes brimming with hot tears by the time Han gets up and leaves.

Chan turns to you, about to say something about the lyrics of the new track, but he stops short. A look of worry comes over his expression.

He scoots closer, placing a warm hand on your arm. "Baby? Are you okay?"

All you can do is shake your head, your eyes scrunching up as you fall into his arms. Chan holds you close, one hand cradling your head against his chest like you're the most precious thing in the whole world. Little do you know, to him, you are.

You sob. The reality of everything comes crashes down on you and all you can do is wail and hiccup into Chan's warm, solid chest. You expect him to push you away by the time the tears have soaked through his shirt, but he doesn't. He holds you close and rocks you gently, shushing you and cooing as he wipes hot, sticky streaks off your cheekbones.

You can't help but cry harder. Your eyes almost sting from how hard you've scrunched them up, and your hands ball in the back of Chan's hoodie like it's a lifeline. And it is. You feel that if you let go, you might fall and never return.

"I'm here," you hear Chan whispering through the mess. "I'm here."

Again and again he says it, and every time he does, your tears flow a little slower, and he keeps saying it until your breakdown has reduced itself to a fit of hiccups and messy sniffles. Still he doesn't push you away, or snap at you to get over it, or that your tears mean nothing. He just sits and holds you.

When you finally look up, Chan is smiling gently, reassuringly, though a little sadly. He sees the look in your eyes and knows you don't want to talk about it, so he sits and rocks you softly on his lap. You squeeze your eyes shut and heave in a rocky breath.

Please just keep holding me, you beg him silently. Just for a while.

And he does. And he doesn't let go, not even when you whimper into his shoulder and soak the juncture of his neck with your misery. He kisses the salty wetness away and strokes the pads of his fingers across your face, where the skin is red and sticky.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I'm sorry," you cry. "I can't get it all out of my head, and- it's too much, and I can't-"

"Shh, baby. I've got you, okay? Just breathe for me."

You heave in a few breaths and continue clinging to him. He feels so warm and safe. All you want is to be surrounded by him, to breathe him in, have him tell you that he loves you.

He must have read your mind, because he leans close to your ear and whispers firmly.

"I'm not leaving you, yeah? I'm gonna stay right here, hold you til you're better. You mean the world to me, hmm? Do you know that?"

You shake your head sadly.

"Now you do. I'm not going anywhere," he says with such conviction that you almost begin to believe it. He wraps his arms closer around you and kisses your forehead, whispering fiercely.

"I promise."

a/n: masterlist

[bunnyyyuu]

hellooooo vampireyuuta :3 can we pls talk about……. ehem…………….. vampire yuuta perhaps…… he’d be so sweet me thinks

includes: f! reader, aged up! vampire yuuta, blood, dubcon-ish

i fear my vampire knowledge is shit and this is not accurate to vampire lore. blame my babysitters a vampire (ghe only vampire media ive consumed). sorry chat

he is such a sweetie pie. he's real gentle with you (and literally only you). unfortunately for him, urges are strong and he is so hungry. but, he is stronger than that! he can find other people to feed on and turn, plus he can just avoid kissing your body.

but that sucks! he wants you.

your blood smells so good (yes he can smell it, yes it's kind of embarrassing when he mentions it), and your neck just looks so empty and bare — you deserve those two little marks on it! he knows that your blood would taste so good, nothing like the supply he has. he knows he'd just get addicted to the sweet taste if you let him.

he gets antsy after a while of being together, and he just can't help himself anymore. though, he's not gonna do anything against your will.

he starts shoving his face in the crook of your neck in literally every hug you share (and you guys hug a lot). you can feel him practically panting against your skin as he nuzzles his nose against you. he judt grumbles and whines when you tell him "that tickles!"

god forbid you accidentally slice your finger while you two are making dinner together. he immediately whips his head around to where you're cutting up some veggies. his first instinct is to be concered, but his second is to ogle that crimson fluid bubbling from the slit you'd opened on the tip of your finger. he watches you shove your finger into your mouth to ease to sting, face scrunched in pain.

he just stares for a second, statue still. his eyes are so dilated as the smell and sight if your blood floods his mind — there's barely even a sliver of those deep indigo irises as his hollow pupils blow up. the already scent overbearing scent that is usually all yuuta can smell has increaed by tenfold: it's suffocating.

"yuuta —" you hiss, words muffled by your digit still between your lips, "bandaid!"

he blinks at you once. twice. "oh," he nods, his pupils returning to normal, "yes, yes. sorry, honey..."

he can't help but sneak glances at your bandaged finger during dinner as the pad of the bandaid gets stained with your blood. he knows he's being weird — but, you don't care, right? you've told him everything he does — weird or not — is okay as long as he doesn't feed on you! which he'd never do (at least, not if you don't want him to).

yuuta's extra strange after that. he wishes he wasn't, but, in the back of his mind, he's hoping that maybe you'll slip up like that again and create another shallow gash in your flesh. and, that time, he'll be there to lap up your cherry gore instead. though, he'd never say that. he doesn't want you to intentionally hurt yourself, but, hey, accidents happen! but, that's not the only thing wracking his brain for weeks after the vegetable-cutting-incident.

it's, unfortunately, during sex that he finally has the guts to air out all the things swarming his mind.

his fat tip is pushing past your entrance barely two minutes after he had you seeing stars with his fingers. his chest is flush against yours — missionary — and his face is, once again, buried in the crook of your neck.

"ohhhh, baby," he groans when your cunt excitedly clenches around his cockhead, his mouth falling open. you shiver a little at both sensations: the unfamiliarity of his lips on your neck (kissing your neck is something he avoids like the plauge) and the not-so-unfamiliar stretch of your hole.

you gasp when he doesn't push himself in any further and instead, for whatever reason, plants a wet kiss on the collum of your throat.

"i need to talk to you," he murmurs.

your eyes, previously gently shut, open and grow wide. "w-what? now?" your voice sounds so weak, shaky — his cock throbs at just the sweet sound of it. he could just eat you up.

"yes, now. please," he murmurs with another peck on your skin.

your head is spinning. his lips, always so soft and still leaving gentle smooches on your neck, almost tickle. and, the pulsing of his leaky, pink tip inside you. he's so desperate to go deeper — knowing that, if he was fucking you stupid, it would be much easier to have this conversation — but he doesn't, despite the overwhelming need.

"okay," you mumble with a tiny nod.

he doesn't talk for a moment, leaving you impatient. he's just kissing your neck. not sucking hickeys or nipping at it, just planting little pecks. something's off, clearly. the second you decide to speak, though, you're cut off.

"yuuta, what is —"

"i want you," he pulls back just enough to rest his face above yours, sweaty foreheads touching, tips of noses grazing, "i want you," he repeats when you don't answer.

"w-want me, how?" you meekly ask after a beat of dry-mouthed silence.

"i —" he takes a shaky breath, hot air fanning your face, "want you. i-i don't know. 'wanna feed or turn you, bite you — i-i don't care. just... need your blood, angel."

again, you're left stunned. you almost ask him to repeat himself, unsure if maybe your horny mind is playing tricks on you. but, you heard him. you know what he asked. and, maybe it's the way butterflies flapped their wings in your tummy at his words or maybe it's how insatiably you need him right now and, god, if agreeing will get him to properly fuck you, you'll do it.

you can almost feel how his nerves spike at your silence. though, those nerves seem to be eased by the way he pushes his cock further into your needy pussy — about halfway in. he doesn't even notice when you promptly smack! his back that you'd been digging your nails into a few seconds ago.

"y-yuuta!" you whine, "'m trying to t-talk!"

if he were a worse man, he'd probably keep going. but, he's not, so he stills himself upon your request. he mutters a basically inaudible apology.

there's another beat of silence. you gently rub over the red handprint you'd left on his back (though it didn't hurt him one bit).

"did i scare you?" he whispers when his anxiety grows almost all consuming.

"no — no, yuu, you've never scared me," you instantly reassure him with a small peck on his frowning lips, "i just..."

it's definitely the brain fog from how he's stretching your cunny (even though it's still not enough) and your last orgasm still thrumming through you. but, something in your head is telling you yes yes yes!

maybe it's — no, not maybe. this is a bad idea. do you want to live forever? not really. do you want to durvive off human blood? definitely not. do you —

your mind is a mess, but, "okay," is all you have to say.

it hurts — his teeth digging into your flesh — it hurts like hell. it's an abundance of pain that courses all throughout your body. the only thing stopping you from screaming and crying as his fangs pierce your neck is how yuuta's cock is pushing in to the hilt.

your crimson blood pools from those two little punctures for a mere second before he speedily licks it up with his tongue. he moans louder than you think you've ever heard at the taste, his hips sloppily stuttering up into you. he can hear your panting and feel the tears falling down your cheeks and into his hair as he suck, suck, sucks your blood.

the smell and the taste of you, unfiltered, unrestrained, is all too much for him.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, "i love you, i'm sorry, thank you — i love you so much," he's chanting incoherently against your new wound whilst slamming into you over and over again.

is he really sorry? no. he's not.

this is what he's wanted since he first met you — to live with you forever. he wants to love you like this always, blood and all.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

bound and bruised

words: 1.5k

warnings: 18+ only, NONCON!!!!, r*pe, male receiving oral, choking, p in v sex, unwilling sex, kidnapping, blacking out, loss of virginity, dead dove do not eat (PLEASE heed the warnings)

“stop fucking screaming.” rafe grunts out as you look up at him with tear stained cheeks.

“my knees!” you sob out. only moments ago rafe had shoved you down, bruising and scraping your knees against the rough flooring. you're sure they're going to be bruised by tomorrow.

“i don't care, bitch.” rafe says, gently slapping you on the cheek, more of a pat to get your attention back on him.

“you're being so mean.” you try to stand up, but rafes rough hand on your shoulder pushes you back down.

“stop trying to get away. you know you can't outrun me so you might as well just do as i say.”

“and what is it you want me to do?” you cross your arms as you glare up at rafe.

“easy.” he huffs out. “you're going to suck my dick.”

“your- your what?” you squeal, eyes widening when rafe reaches to his shorts, swiftly undoing the zipper and button, pulling the two sides of the flap open, but not pushing them down his hips yet.

“you heard me.” rafe smirks down at you, at the look on your face, one of confusion, verging on terror. “now im gonna take my dick out. and you're going to lick it.”

you try one more time to stand up, to flee and get away, but rafe is too strong, easily keeping you on your knees with one hand while the other frees himself from the confines of his clothes, kicking his shorts off before the underwear are also tugged down.

your eyes widen when you come face to face with rafes cock, hard and standing away from his body, much bigger than you could have imagined, but it fits his tall frame.

“i don't want to do this, rafe.” you whine. you've never sucked dick before, and you certainly don't want your first time to be with a guy you barely talk to.

“too bad. now lick it, it's for your own good.”

“what does that mean?” you question, but rafe doesn't respond, moving his hand to grip the hair at the back of your head as he pushes you forward.

your nose bumps his cock as you try to swivel your head out of the way, replaying rafes words in your head. 

you stick your tongue out, taking a cautious lick against his length. you make a face, spitting onto the ground. “this is gross, rafe!”

“you have about five seconds to start licking before i just shove my whole cock down your throat. go.”

you know rafes threat isn't an idle one, so you push away the oddly salty taste as you begin to lick, focusing just on the mid shaft, ignoring the pulsing head of his cock for as long as you can.

“put it in your mouth, come on. you gotta get it real wet.” rafe encourages you.

“for what?”

“suck me first and then you'll find out.” rafe says, guiding your head to the head of his cock.

you part your lips, placing them around the head of his cock, feeling the weight against your tongue as you suck slightly, not sure what you're supposed to be doing.

“shit- that's good. just be careful for your teeth. if you bite me, you'll regret it.”

you have no plans of biting rafe as your tongue flicks over his slit, finding the taste slightly more bearable now that you've gotten used to it.

“that's it, good girl.” rafe says, even though the only reason you take more of his cock in your mouth is his hand pushing your head down.

“cover it in spit baby, you'll be grateful when i fuck you.”

your eyes widen and you try to pull off. no way you're letting rafe fuck you and losing your virginity like this.

“oh, no you don't.” rafe warns, pushing his hips forward to bury his cock down your throat as you gag aggressively around him, more tears pooling down your cheeks.

rafe pulls you off after a moment as you sputter, coughing aggressively to get the tickle out of your throat.

“get up. im gonna fuck you now.”

“no!” you squeal. you really should know better by now. should just lay back and let rafe do whatever he wishes, but you still fight him and try to get away.

rafe tugs you up by your hair, your scalp burning as he pushes you against the daybed, warm from the sun shining down on it, comfortable and soft in sharp contrast to how rafe is treating you.

“now let's see if you got my dick wet enough for this not to hurt.” rafe makes quick and easy work of your clothing, flipping the bottom of your dress up and literally tearing away your underwear as you cry out, skin burning from the fabric.

“it'll be better for you if you relax.” rafe says, spreading your legs open for him, looking down at both your holes as your ass spreads for him, but even he isn't going to take it that far as his cock presses against your pussy.

you're not wet in the slightest, and despite the spit, it still burns as rafe pushes inside as you cry out, gripping onto the daybed, grabbing a pillow and tossing it back at rafe, who easily swats it away.

“don't piss me off or i wont give you any time to adjust.” he warns.

you manage to relax slightly, enough for rafe to push all the way inside as he sits for a moment with his cock buried in your cunt, the virginity you were planning on losing on your wedding night now ripped away from you.

“shit, you're fucking tight.” rafe moans. “next time i fuck you ill get you wet too. i bet if i lick your pussy you'll get soaked for me.”,

“you're not gonna fuck me again.” you growl out.

“i will. i own you now. your pussy is mine, baby.” rafe makes his point by pulling out then pushing his cock in with a hard, punishing thrust.

your defiant words are lost on your tongue as he moves, thrusting into you with a tight hold on your hips, keeping your ass in the air.

rafes moans and growls are loud and unafraid of the neighbors hearing, like him fucking a girl on his back patio is a regular enough occurance for them to not look.

you try to keep breathing, try to keep your cunt relaxed as his cock pushes in and out, your wetness slowly increasing from the stimulation.

“you like this, huh?” rafe smirks, hands moving to grip your ass, leaving red marks from his fingers as he squeezes at your plump flesh.

“it-it feels good.” you admit with shame, red flaring over your cheeks. no point in lying when rafe can literally feel the way your body is responding.

“and i haven't even touched your clit yet.” rafe chuckles. “you'll gush, baby.”

despite his words, rafe makes no movement for your clit. right now isn't about your pleasure as he pulls your body back onto his cock to meet his already hard thrusts.

“don't… don't cum inside of me. please.” you plead out, chest rubbing against the daybed as he moves you, nipples hard even through the multiple layers of fabric and padded bra.

“where should i cum then?”

“anywhere. my ass, my mouth-”

“ill go for mouth. but get on birth control because im gonna flood your pussy next time.” rafe continues thrusting until you feel his cock swell inside of you.

he pulls out suddenly, flipping you over onto your back. you only have a second to take a quick breath before rafe is kneeling over you, shoving his cock between your lips as his hand strokes his base.

the second your lips close around his head, he's cumming, filling your mouth with the salty taste as you swallow it down, somehow seeming more pleasing than trying to spit it all out.

“that's a good girl.” rafe pats your cheek before turning to splay out next to you on the day bed as your chest heaves, pussy feeling stretched and sensitive.

“you wanna cum?” rafe asks. “i can rub your clit.”

“i don't want you to touch me ever again.” you say, adrenaline wearing off as tears form in your eyes once again.

“i wish you wouldn't say that type of thing, baby.” rafe frowns, reaching over to wrap his strong hand around your neck. your body flails as you try to hold onto the last bit of oxygen, but ultimately you give out, vision going black.

you wake up much later. you're not sure how long, but it's been multiple hours, your throat is dry from lack of water and rafe choking you until you blacked out.

“see what happens if you misbehave?” rafe asks as your head snaps to look at him, not even realizing he was in the room.

you look down at your wrist, handcuff wrapped around it, connected to a chain, which is secured to the very bed you're sitting on.

“now.” rafe smiles wickedly, moving to the edge of the bed. “about touching your clit…”

[bywons]

WITH AND WITHOUT ﹆ LHS

⌕ where lee heeseung realises he messed up too bad

𖦹 pairing. toxic!bf! lee heeseung x f!reader w.c. 0.7k tw/cw. cursing, implications of cheating at end genre. angst/hurt sru's note. pls don't let this flop TT ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

heeseung's head aches more than ever, and for every second that he stares at the minimalist silver pendant sitting still between your collarbones, it's thin silver chain hugging your neck ever so softly, it aches even more.

and now it's the time for his heart. he physically cringes out of guilt when he watches you retract your hand away from his. he just wants to hold your hand in his, wants to embrace the soft warmth that once felt like home, that cosy and cordial sensation that gave him butterflies.

but now that is long gone.

it started with heeseung really. from your shoulders missing the embrace of his arm to his cheeks missing your tickling, feathery kiss. neither of you know when this started; an invisible wall growing between you two, and all you can do is sit and watch, letting the wall increase the distance you've already built in between you both.

“you should focus on the movie instead”, your tone is boring, maybe even annoyed. or maybe none, heeseung simply doesn't know. he can't concentrate on whatever's playing in front of him, his eyes are fixed on your necklace, sending such visuals to his brain out of which he can only think of scenarios that hammers his heart even more.

the pendants’ a heart. it's a fucking heart.

“yeah, i am”, heeseung lies, again. just like the way he lied to you three months ago saying he would definitely attend your birthday party albeit his rough basketball practice.

you searched for your boyfriend's compelling face for hours that evening. waited for him the whole night, an hour passed by, then two, then three. every face in your apartment left and the one that should've been there by your side on the couch, holding you in his arms and kissing you all over, was not there. lee heeseung indeed broke his promise that day, along with a piece of you.

“really? what just happened right now then?”, you yawn, munching on the caramel popcorn, a flavour you didn't really like. but heeseung is unable to answer your question right now, he doesn't find enough words to formulate a sentence and explain why he didn't really know what was going on in the movie. his eyes just mindlessly read over the subtitles at the bottom of the screen not really getting the context behind it, there are more vital thoughts in the back of his head, eating him alive in this moment.

heeseung mentally curses himself for instances that took place months ago. instances which once broke your heart, you cried over it, burying your face in the pillow and then eventually forgetting about it. instances that heeseung never cared enough to think about twice before going to bed, or use to reflect on his actions or even think about it.

but suddenly heeseung wishes he could go back in time and return to your birthday party that evening, he wishes he was not that casual to flirt with your best friend in front of you, he wishes he hadn't caused those meaningless arguments with you, he wishes he'd never told you that his ex was better. heeseung wishes he was a better boyfriend for you.

“this one new?”, and heeseung's eyes are back on the necklace you were wearing, it's dainty silver heart infuriating him even more and he can't find the reason why. why the fuck can't he recognize the necklace?

“this one?”, you very well know which one he means when you point at the silver necklace on your neck, or else why will you be sitting with your cardigan pushed all the way down to your collarbones? “you gave it to me, don't you remember?”, you smile.

“not really”, heeseung trails off, a smile from you felt odd after days of cold shoulder from you. it doesn't feel genuine though, so he returns another fake smile hoping you wouldn't notice, “maybe i forgot.”

heeseung can never forget, never ever when it comes to you. he might have been the worst boyfriend ever but he's dying for your touch right now, maybe playing hard to get in your own relationship got him? he can't bet on being ‘good boyfriend’ all over again, he knows he fucked up. but he can bet on one thing though.

he swears and he swears to god and all his 23 years of life, he has never bought that necklace for you.

‘cause why the fuck would it have a ‘J’ engraved on it?

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @fleumiu @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaasia111 @ashtxrie nets! @/k-labels

[fatliberation]

Sorry for leaving this in your inbox, but I need to vent and ask for advice in a place where people won't mock me. What do you do when sex is super difficult because of your fat? I've recently gotten into my first relationship and. I thought I had a handle on my internalized fatphobia and self hate but this has made it worse than ever. We can't have satisfying penetrative sex (we've tried all the tips and workarounds. Nothing works. I'm larger than most of the FA community.), and recieving oral sex is also difficult for me. I also get tired and sweaty extremely quickly if I have to like hold up myself on mostly my arms or something, so he has to do most of the work. So sex is just. Mostly the one that works on repeat, and we don't have it very often because it isn't that fun for either of us, and it also makes me cry afterwards sometimes because of how disappointing it is & me beating myself up over it.

I'm genuinely worried my boyfriend is going to leave me for this. He's clearly very frustrated with the situation, even though he tries to be nice about it most of the time. Earlier today I tried to like be flirty and hint at stuff and he just. got a bit sad. and then said that clearly neither of us enjoy the sex we're having and that he has a lot of trouble staying hard.and that he doesn't see the point when we're both forcing it for no reason. I think he's going to break up with me soon. His ex is way lighter than me, so he's probably comparing the normal sex he had with her with whatever the fuck this abnormal shitshow is :/

All the work I've done on myself to be happy with being fat (including working up the courage to date, what a mistake that was lmao) is all gone. This has ruined my self-esteem so much. I feel like one of those fatphobic jokes but a person.

first and foremost, please try your best to remember this: your body is not the problem. one more time. your body is not the problem. I'm so very sorry you're concerned that your boyfriend would leave you over this. it sounds like he has a lot of preconceived ideas about how sex is supposed to go. I promise you that it doesn't have to be this way. if this is something that could really end the relationship, know that this person is not compatible or open to exploring your needs, rather than your needs being "too difficult." I promise it's him, not you. I know folks who are 600+ pounds who have excellent sex lives and partners who satisfy them and enjoy satisfying them. when someone starts treating your pleasure like a chore, that's just shitty. I know how much it hurts. it also does damage to your own openness to pleasure. when you're caught up in feeling like sex/your body is something that needs to be "fixed," nothing is going to feel sexy, because all that pressure puts stress on and takes you out of the mental state where you're able to experience pleasure. does that make sense? so many couples get stuck in this cycle.

there are so many ways to engage in pleasure without penetration or orgasm. there's a lot that goes into foreplay, setting a mood, making your partner feel appreciated and attractive. words and touch play a huge part in this. something as simple as exploring each other's bodies, not with the intention of reaching climax, but simply to be vulnerable and engage each others' senses. have your partner give you a massage. play with your hair. tickle your back with a feather. shower together. kiss you. compliment you. if either of you are into any kinks or dirty talk, that could be a great way to engage each other sexually without the pressure of "achieving" a goal. the goal here is just to feel good, close, and connected. societal messaging about sex has placed so much importance on orgasm instead of pleasure - when taking the time and space to relax and receive attention, is key.

feel free to check out my other posts on fat sex ed, there's lots of assistive toys that can make pleasure more accessible, but I think that should be a tool for later, since the biggest issue here is the pressure to perform. know that pleasurable sex can exist for you! but for now, I would recommend taking a break from sex altogether since it is not pleasurable for you right now. because pleasure is the whole point. forcing it is only going to feel worse. you do not owe it to your boyfriend, especially if it doesn't feel good and is taking an emotional toll. I hope you both are able to take a step back, reassess and communicate, and are able to reconnect and create a safe space to explore.

I understand why you're beating yourself up over this, I've been there too. but also know that it's just another societal standard that's been internalized (and it doesn't sound like your boyfriend is helping). like you said, you've done a lot to unlearn fatphobia. there's a lot of internalized beliefs we absorb from society surrounding sex, just like body image. I promise that there is nothing wrong with you. If your boyfriend takes his frustration out on you instead of making you feel safe to express your needs, then he's not a supportive partner. you deserve someone who takes delight in your pleasure and your body. believe me, we're out there.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 3

[prompt: fingering] male reader x kim chaewon 2.5k words

Chaewon hates that you’re actually good at this.

To be clear, there’s plenty more that Chaewon hates; it’s not exhaustive, just that bit.

She hates losing. Hates whenever anyone talks over her or doesn't give a second's worth of attention to whatever it is she's trying to say. She absolutely loathes it whenever her friends insist on complimenting her appearance when she doesn't have her clothes or makeup or hair or attitude down just yet.

But the thing she hates most? There's reason to believe it might be that her friends laugh at your jokes, or that when you roll up your sleeves and smile, they all notice things they normally wouldn't (and like it), even when Chaewon fixes them a look just this side of sour and scowly.

Realistically however, and Chaewon doesn't seem to mind admitting this part out loud - especially once you stop teasing her thighs with kisses that tickle the crease where her legs meet her hips - you really are good at going down on girls.

This, is absolute truth.

"Fuck," and "me," she breathes out, harsh little syllables coming with her fingertips knotting into your hair, right above the nape of your neck. She crashes down into the pillow behind her. Back and hips tensing - thighs all spread wide. She probably gives a bit too much, but Chaewon's the kind who gives, then turns around to take some more:

"You can-" is cut short when she gasps at the sudden, slow touch of a finger at the sensitive bundle of nerves atop her folds. There and back. "Ah - a little more, fuck, god. Again."

It's your mouth. The exact right movements - pulling and kissing, sucking gently, fluttering your tongue. Then harder and harder and harder, licking against the crease. That's what has her toes curling and feet flat to the bed. Little fistfuls of cotton sheets twisted up in her grip.

Actually, It's the flat of your tongue, soft and slick and moving on her clit in these long and languid sweeps that really makes the tears in her eyes begin to sting - like all that ache around her pussy is nothing compared to the one simmering in her stomach - like if only she could unwind around you a little bit faster and have her body turn to water and utterly ruin your sheets, she could catch her breath - and find her voice again.

You pull her puffy lips into a kiss, a devilish little suction, and her thighs press tighter and tighter together, around the sides of your head until you start to get a little dizzy. With a hand splayed open across her thigh - a tiny tickling gesture - you urge her to spread. Beg for breath.

Only to your surprise, she closes her legs completely.

"Asshole. Fuck," Chaewon sighs out.

"Did you think you'd lose me?" You kiss your way up from her hips to the flat of her stomach and grin into her skin.

"Was about to kick you," she rolls her eyes, then raises an arm and pushes her bangs off her forehead - wiping a sheen of sweat with the back of her palm. "No mouth."

"No mouth?" You cock your head, giving her an innocently questioning look.

"It's..." Chaewon is barely a hair's length away from what you expect. "Don't kiss me either. Unless you wanna make out, in which case actually, the answer's also no. I don't want to taste myself."

"Chae, you actually taste pretty good."

"Stop." Chaewon's sigh has a lilt, something obviously worried in the noise. Tucked into the shape of her half-lidded eyes. "I'm literally too turned on for this."

"So you want me to touch you."

Here’s to that what Chaewon doesn't say, "I want you to stick three of those fingers into my pussy and fill me 'til the knuckle and eat my ass while your thumb is tucked deep in my cunt. I want it to hurt, how badly I'm aching for you to fill and ruin and tear me the fuck apart."

She instead asks, "what the fuck do you think?"

"But no mouth," you repeat, slowly running your fingers down the creamy skin along her thigh, watching how she shivers when you brush a certain spot near her knee, and feeling a tightening grip on the opposite hip.

Chaewon groans a bit, lips twisting down.

"Can I perhaps, like, ask why?" you ask, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses into the flesh of her leg, down from her knee, over the curve of a thigh - but not, determinedly, into her where she's hotter and softer and practically melting, from all this pressure built up inside.

"Mind your own business," she mutters back.

You look. Chaewon's pussy is so, so pretty. Wetness gathering at the glistening, flushed hood. She's fluttering: desperate for the faintest touch. It's hard to imagine yourself doing anything other than making her writhe and gasp and wail on your mouth and lips and tongue, as your undoing - reducing her to an exhausted, sweat-drenched, wracked mess, the kind of spent that follows with long, long sighs and whispered curses under her breath.

With a fingertip ghosting touches around her cunt, Chaewon lets out an unexpectedly high-pitched whine. One that fades, bit by bit. Into an eventual murmuring - begging?

"Baby," you say, when you just can't resist. "I just want to make you-"

"I said, I wanted-I want-" and then with the pillow over her face, her groan, muffled, "look - it's fine. It's...great, even," is what you think she means by "amazing," but she continues, "you're literally the best thing I've ever felt, please. Fuck-come on. Keep touching."

You slow your hand, smoothing down the soft skin over her thighs.

And as soon as your lips cover her hole, from where she's wet and dripping and open, her hands fall to her side, pillow sliding into the corner of the sheets. "It's too good."

You're kidding. With a tip of your head, and your most self-satisfied little smirk, you ask, "too good?"

"Can you shut the fuck up, I hate you. I really fucking do," she says in what you figure was meant to be a dismissive sigh. One that's something stuck in a guttural moan and the squeak of mattress springs. "Please, you make me cum too fast otherwise."

You chuckle, trying your damnedest not to keep the mood going and actually get her to enjoy the moment - the best orgasm of her life, you want her to remember. To deserve the bragging rights.

“Odd complaint, princess.”

The stare she has fixed on you - over the space where her shirt is bunched up over the arch of her ribs - cuts right through you, if a bit hazy. And with her hands over her face, squirming her hips closer to you, she says, “don’t fucking call me princess.”

The implication is not lost on her. You let out an apologetic laugh, bringing your mouth, if briefly, closer to the peak of her hips and blowing a cold breath.

Chaewon just mutters something that sounds vaguely like, "fucking prick, just go back down."

Which is where she ends up. Or, starts. Because now she's lying back on the pillows with her hand slung across her forehead, leg up and bent and calf draped over the crook of your elbow, her eyes rolling back as you start to touch her - really, earnestly; work her up again, thumb rubbing the length of her clit. You can hear Chaewon's breath leaving her chest, in a broken pattern, until the sensations finally allow her to settle into one smooth inhale.

And then, slowly, just the length of one finger up to your first knuckle, the second - you slip inside her so, so easily. Then almost all the way. Her body tense, and her cunt, deliciously soft.

When you stroke and rub and slide your way back in, adding another digit, the noises she begins to make - your name, then god - sound raw, like a far-off cry and a drawn-out wail. There's a swishing sound whenever you get really slow and rhythmic, with the push, that turns slick-wet from the hot, milky way her insides get all sticky with her own want, before you can press more kisses into the bone of her hips and lap against the same skin - almost biting.

"Tell me if you want to stop," you whisper, the hot, humid breath of which does not fail to cause her spine to bend.

"Don't."

She's half-swearing, half-whimpering.

"Fuck you," is what follows next. As she wraps a hand in the hair around the base of your skull and pulls you close, right into her thighs and hips.

It's the small pleasures that have always gotten to you the most, the smallest, most vulnerable and unthinkingly personal acts, like, you think, when she presses the heel of her hand over her eyes and half-smiles, when the palm spreads out across the flatness of her stomach, as if, somehow, her whole self could not be any more delicate and devious at the exact same time.

And you are compelled, because of course, you are compelled: to be anything and everything Chaewon asks for in this moment, you tell her.

(Here's the embarrassing part. For her, really.)

You have your thumb tucked up along the muscle of Chaewon's thighs, opening and stroking a straight line from where your finger is still nestled all the way up the entirety of her folds, "so good and so," before circling the tensed point in a delicate, feather-touch, "tight, baby."

"Shit, oh, that's. You're." And all you do is hum, agreeing, adding another stroke and letting your lips fall into her open thigh. Your finger fucking her cunt a few times before twisting back and pulling out.

"You're making me feel so," and her whole body relaxes. Not only her voice. A shudder that breaks up her spine and spreads to her thighs, loosening. And looser and looser.

And at the exact same time she's saying: "hot."

Chaewon runs the pad of her thumb over her lip, bucking her hips into the flutter of your fingers. The soft, velvety heat of her cunt takes quickly to the slow circle-stroke, slide and curl, repeat, again. Her whine is longer, louder. More-so once her whole body tightens up once your fingers fuck into her, especially deep, in short-rhythmic staccato strokes, rubbing at her from the inside until she's shaking all over and can hardly breathe.

"Fuck, the way you're so-" Chaewon's heels digging deeper, "oh, deeper. Right there, please right there–."

This isn't even the worst of her embarrassment. When her stomach gets visibly tensed, muscles bunching and giving, and your free hand falls to rest on top of it. All this friction happening within her. Just beneath the surface of her skin and how that must be lighting every nerve along her spine and sending them all aflame, so overwhelmed and tightened, only relaxing in small increments whenever you move a bit too slow, to a bit more pressure - adding the extra touch, kissing her everywhere between her thighs, right into the dips between them. Close but not there. So frustratingly near, and she barely has the air left in her lungs to make a frustrated noise, but somehow finds the impetus to let the weight fall out of her body - let her limbs stretch open, give, release the tension.

Then all those incoherent twitching spasms: "God. Now-"

When the sudden ache inside her walls hits, it catches first in her chest, spreading out where the fist curling into the covers can't hide. "Right there, right there," she's panting, nodding her head in these tiny little shakes, rocking her hips into the movement and pushing them into your touch. And you just nod back.

Her orgasm hits her like a fucking lightning storm: blinding and thunderous, heavy. 

Chaewon simply cries out when she unravels, finally, and the sound is a little wrecked. Cursing your name, god's. 

Her hand is twisted in your hair, and she pulls, twists and wrenches, an arm tossed over her face when it feels like you're rushing, surging waves breaking all along her senses, the pads of your fingers pushing into the ridges, knuckles wrapping, knocking at her core, finger prints seared into her skin and pressing into that knot of pleasure, swollen and raw.

She just exhales into a groan and runs a palm down her face and throat, and breasts, rubbing a bit harshly at the tops of her shoulders. You raise yourself over her, until your head's just next to her collarbone, not speaking but watching how her breaths are slowing - the moment they become steadier, like a boat to shore.

You prop an arm over her, carefully, letting Chaewon twist her palm, finger the tips of yours. It's like listening to music, hearing how she laughs and swallows around this haze. Her whole body in the dreamy afterglow, writhing a little when the ache crawls back up through the space between her hips and she settles onto her side, curling up in your half-embrace.

"Oh, well. Look what you did to me, fuck," she murmurs. You can't help smiling.

"Too fast?" you ask, lowering your head, propping yourself up on a single elbow and gently placing a kiss along the top of her hair, tangling her fingers with your own.

"You're really annoying," she huffs. She tries her best not to blush, but the glow in her cheeks is quite apparent - especially once it reaches her ears. You laugh right into the top of her head, and she playful slaps a fist to your chest. "Go to bed, idiot."

"To think - you said you liked me."

"Said. Said, being the key word here."

When you roll over - slightly onto her and slip a thigh between her legs - Chaewon groans, and her hands press into your back. The touch is light. Practically nothing. Then you're grinning down at her, a sly smile playing in your eyes. "Maybe it’s my turn," she murmurs, "to make you squirm."

"No mouth?" you tease. "You might need the help sweetheart."

"Fuck that. Absolutely not." Chaewon rolls and turns until she's on top of your thighs, pinning you gently in place. She’s fixing her hair into a clumsy little ponytail, hallmark signs of impatience, that says, "if I want to suck your cock, I'll do it," she glares a little, but her smirk is turning the corner, and her whole face softens. 

"Shouldn't have laughed earlier, asshole."

(And here is the start and end of all you think you know, watching as she places a trail of kisses down your chest.)

[edenspoem]

neck kissing with ellie.

gif creds: elenaxnate/tumblr. short indulgent fic :P romance/fluff.

Like a bee to nectar. Kids to sugar. Sunflowers to sunlight. Your neck is a preserved pollen: captivating, entrancing—it entrances that reddish-haired beau prancing around your kitchen searching for warmth. Branches to perch. Nooks to kiss.

Dying suns encapsulate the hours she feeds; in the evenings, devotion. At your neck, a prayer.

"Wish you'd lay the work off after dinner. Told you I'd get it," she kisses you there, too sweetly.

Cheeky prayers, muffled in your ear, and more so mundane covets. To save you trouble, is her duty. To prove her fondness, is her life's dream. And you never found your place amongst her forests to learn and understand why fleeting dreams of you are what motivated her all those years ago. First at your service, then your door, then your hands, lastly your neck.

For all you know, minds assume reason, and instinct falls short of it. Now, in the resign of autumn, reason dies, and tendency prevails. Tender tendencies.

"Why not together then?" you suggest every once in a while, and your tone curls as you do, "Dishes would get done much faster with four hands."

You fail to see it, but her eyes smile. "Because you distract me," laughingly, she says.

She isn't lying; your presence abstracts her thoughts, and the threads of what she was going to accomplish tangle and fray. Be it reading, painting, or guitar— a cacophony of silvers, oaks and water will languish her focus, and suddenly phantom imagery of you and whatever it is you're doing fills her every nerve. Contemplation departs.

But she loves to distract you more.

And because her laughs are stuffed in the crevice binding neck and shoulder, you giggle too. Not because her words are ticklish, or laughable—other days, her silly dad puns are— but because all you can feel is her mouth and her teeth and her chest to your back and everywhere her hands wander and fuck is it overwhelming. Almost facetious that she is doing it intentionally. An elaborate ruse to convince you time is worth wasting.

Her intentions lie between the fangs. Amusedly love-biting.

It fosters a slight shiver, a love-cringe. "Ellie," you weakly release, and roll your shoulders up as a way to peel her off. "That tickles.."

Don't you dare, babe.

Her nips get noisier. "'Spose to.." she insists in a whisper, laying the boundaries for her lips. They creep up, and up, leaping after your shy-away. "Do you hate this?"

"So much." you quip.

"Then it's working," her breathy giggle is hot against you, and it's contagious. A sound you want to eat and nourish from. "Will this take long?" Doubt already inhabits that antsy tone of hers. "I can't wait to show you what I found on patrol. Like, seriously can't wait."

"Can the kissing wait?"

".."

"Right."

"Shut up," her brows tweak against you, mouthing sass. "Pretend 'm not here," speech dimming, her lips lower into you once more, and find reason again. They pucker, suck, and pepper across plains of damp skin gone cold. Hungrily pulling the taste of your skin through her teeth, and down her throat; soft animalism.

It never stops—she never stops. Not for the moon, not for the sun, not for breath or silence.

"You're weird."

You can feel the evidence forming on your skin already. Phantom marks she embeds so she can admire them later. Revisit and reintroduce her tongue to them in bed.

"I know."

[kiemiu]

my boyfriend's a vampire | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 1.6k (library) + (request)

one. who gained an inevitable infatuation with you because of your uncanny resemblance to a past lover he had hundreds of years ago. you were walking home late at night, lost in your own world while completely in tune with whatever music blasted through your headphones. you were so distracted that you wouldn't even realize a mugger chasing you. highly unsafe, he thought.

it seemed like easy prey to him, he didn't even pull out his usual over the top techniques, he just followed closely behind until you were in a more secluded area. his footsteps got quicker and quicker, and he got closer and closer, until he was barely a wisp away. he grabbed your shoulder, whipping you around. you let out a shrill scream in return, both of you stuck frozen in place. you trembled in fear, while his grip on your shoulder loosened, and fell to your elbow. "mon cherie?" he quietly whispered. your face so familiar, those same plump lips that he missed so much coated in a sticky gloss, your hair the same length as the last time he saw you take your last breath, and your scent carrying solemn memories. you came back to him, at last.

your wide eyes looked at him in fear, your figure physically recoiling away from him the more he stood frozen in shock. your visible discomfort snapping him out of his trance. "oh, um—yo-you dropped this." he muttered out, revealing the lip gloss in his palm that he had snagged from your purse without you noticing. you quickly accepted it before scurrying away, your head whisking behind your shoulder a few times to make sure he wasn't following behind, yet as soon as he saw you slow down your pace, he began to follow you until you reached home.

two. who is your personal shadow. wherever you go, he's not too far behind. always closely analyzing your every move. not in a scrutinizing way, but with pure fixation. after seeing you pass in such a horrific way centuries ago, the simplest tasks keep him infatuated with you. he'll watch you fix a pb&j as if you're completing a once in a lifetime mission. "you don't have to watch me write my essay, matt." you quietly murmured, your eyes remaining trained on your computer screen, even as warmth creeped up your neck from the pressure of his gaze. being caught in the act as well as the simple mention of his name made him shy away from your peripheral vision, resorting to floating behind you. "you just move with such eloquence, mon amour. i can't help but stare." he'd admit quietly, the brush of his lips tickling the lobe of your ear, a small smirk making its way on his face at the sound of your quickening heartbeat.

three. who doesn't sleep but will cuddle you from sunset to sunrise. he knows how important it is for humans to get their sleep, finding that it keeps them healthy and from going completely insane, he ensures that you follow a strict sleeping schedule. usually, when nighttime falls and the moon makes an appearance, he has little to no acception of you staying up past a certain time. only every now and then will he let you bend the rules, but it's very rare. he wants you to maintain the best health possible and will take every measure to make sure you keep it. after having a particularly vicious nightmare one night, matt swore to stay close to you even when you're asleep. you tell him that he doesn't have to do it but he continues to do so anyway, finding comfort in a routine with you, yet never admitting it. always saying "oh, please. the best sleep you get is when you're with me."

four. who is hesitant to feed on you when he starts to get hungry out of fear of hurting you. you've offered plenty of times and each time he's turned it down without an argument. it's not like he doesn't want to, because he absolutely does. hearing your blood rush in thick streams through connected veins has been the main reason on why he's so hesitant on keeping you close, yet he still continues to. even when it drives him mad. albeit pouty, that he won't drink your blood, you've offered animals in the woods behind your house, but he simply refuses to ever feed on animals, having too intense of a fondness for them, you'll sometimes catch him talking to them but you never question it. his hunger only satiated by mutilating muggers and sleazy men in the dead of night when you're fast asleep, always making it home in time to clean himself up and sneak back into bed without you noticing.

five. who lets you dress him in todays' fashion and will unwillingly be your test dummy for wigs and makeup. as time went on, matt grew out of his outdated blouses and followed suit on whatever fashion was popular. he didn't dive too deep into the trends, only wearing what he liked and assumed was more fitting. pilgrim shoes weren't exactly today's fashion and it hadn't been for years. his once colonial style had slipped into a more business casual flair. you liked his style, but you also liked to persuade him into a pair of baggy jeans every once in a while. when you weren't doing that, you were using him as a mannequin to style your wigs on or as a test dummy for new makeup looks. "princesse, this isn't even my shade."

six. who communicates to you telepathically. he's not really one for words unless he's writing them down, and he made that known so you wouldn't be put off by his silence. yet it did startle you when he randomly started to communicate with you telepathically. it became a habit for the two of you, sometimes being in completely separate rooms but still managing full blown conversations with each other. there has been a handful of occasions where you've introduced a friend to matt in your head and not out loud. it's a handy way to communicate, you just have to find a healthy balance.

seven. who writes you love letters. not being that big of a talker or one for boisterous romantic gestures, matt resorts to writing you love letters. everything he feels but can't say has been transferred onto delicate pieces of paper. there are piles and piles of letters addressed to you, some delivered to you, others kept locked away. the ones he keeps locked away are letters that no lady should see. they're shameful, white sheets being stained with red ink as he explains every primal desire that haunts him whenever he sees you, feels you. sometimes he'll go back and re-read said letters, flustering himself at how feral he sounds. he will never let those sheets of paper ever see the light of day. the other letters, the more light-hearted and sappy ones, he'll fold up and put them in different places for you to find throughout your day. under your pillow for you to read before you go to bed, on the fridge door handle, wedged in a flower bouquet, etc.. they can range from a short 7 word sentence to a 1200 word document. all of them oozing words of love.

eight. who loves your obsession with his fangs. he always watches with a fond smile as you cuddle close to him and poke at his fangs. "they're so sharp.." you'd mutter, gently sliding the nail of your finger down one. he'd jokingly bite at your finger as if he'd actually bite it off, making you retract your finger in fear with a shrill squeak, his laugh at your reaction making you laugh with him. with his sharp teeth he makes good use out of them, opening bottles, slicing through bags of chips, cutting fruit, carving pumpkins, etc.. he also likes to do a stereotypical vampire kiss where he dips you down and playfully bites your neck. never hard enough to draw blood, but enough to tickle you.

nine. who turns into a bat to avoid arguments. every time he senses one of your conversations starting to go left, his walls start to build up. sometimes he feels cornered and doesn't know how to react in those situations, he never did even with a millennia of experience. so, his go to mechanism is to turn into a bat. 'bats can't talk so you can't be mad at him' not to mention, how utterly adorable he is in his bat form, hanging in the corner of the roof, all bundled up, his doe eyes warily peaking out past his wings. he knows exactly where to hit the weak spots and will take advantage in his favor. he won't leave his bat form unless the situation is really upsetting/serious to you or until you've calmed down.

ten. who can't lose you again. he knows as a human that your time is extremely limited and precious. but for you, it doesn't have to be. everytime he hears you complain about abnormalities that only humans go through he suggests the idea of turning you. "you know, you wouldn't have to go through any back pain as a vampire." you laugh it off, underestimating how completely serious he is. matt has already dealt with the loss of you one time and he refuses to go through it again. being without you changed him for the worst, so, he'll take any and every measure possible to keep you around. even if it means turning you into a vampire while you're at your most defenseless.

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