#when you have something to hide you have to be

[strangerexee]

ꜱɪʀ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜰɪɴᴇ | ʙᴏ ᴄʜᴏᴡ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Set in 1932 Reader x Bo Chow (Smut | NSFW | 18+ | Kissing | Light Choking —barely | F!Receiving) ᴡᴄ : 4ᴋ ᴘᴛ.2

The bell over the door gave a tired little jingle when you pushed it open, stepping in from the heat and dust of the street — 𝓑𝓸 𝓒𝓱𝓸𝔀 & 𝓒𝓸 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐀 ɢʀᴏᴄᴇʀʏ & ᴍᴀʀᴋᴇᴛ Your shoes were worn thin. Your dress was simple cotton, sticking to the back of your knees.

And you were tired — bone-tired — from chasing one dead-end job after another across this godforsaken town.

You needed work. Or a miracle. Or both.

The store smelled like tobacco and dry wood, with a hint of something sweeter — maybe the candy in the jar by the counter, or the bright bruised apples piled up in baskets.

Shelves lined the walls, packed with everything from flour sacks to pistol rounds. It was the kind of place where a man could buy a loaf of bread, a hammer, and a coffin without walking more than twenty feet.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, wiping sweat from your forehead, trying not to look as desperate as you felt. It was quiet inside, but not empty.

There, behind the counter, sleeves rolled up over strong forearms, stood a man.

And Lord Almighty. You almost forgot how to breathe.

He was fine — broad through the shoulders, lean through the waist — and the worn suspenders crossing his chest did nothing to hide it. Dark hair, a little mussed like he'd run his fingers through it a hundred times that morning already. Sharp jaw. Sleeves pushed up. And a cigarette dangling careless between his lips.

He watched you over the top of the ledger he was scribbling in, one eyebrow tilting up slow, like he wasn't quite sure if you were real or a heat mirage rolling in off the road.

"You lost, darlin'?" His voice was rough, low. Not unfriendly. But not soft, either.

You swallowed. Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun outside.

"No, sir," you managed, clearing your throat. "I'm lookin' for work."

He tilted his head a little. The cigarette bobbed between his fingers as he tapped ash into a tin. There was a long, heavy pause, stretching thin between you like taffy pulled too far.

He leaned forward, arms braced on the counter, and you caught the faint scar along the side of his throat — a rough, pale line disappearing beneath his shirt. He smelled like leather and smoke and maybe something wilder, something you couldn’t name.

"Ain't much work left 'round here," he said finally. "Dust's got more jobs than we do."

Your heart sank. You started to thank him anyway — ready to turn, ready to leave with your pride shriveled up tight inside you —

But then he said, almost too casual:

"You know how to tally numbers? Take stock? Keep folks from stealin' when I ain't lookin'?"

You blinked up at him. Nodded fast.

"Yes sir. I can read, write, count. And I can run a register." (You prayed you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt.)

Bo Chow smiled then — real slow, real lazy. Like maybe he hadn't smiled all day until now. Maybe longer.

And damn if it didn’t feel like that smile was just for you.

"Might have somethin' for you after all," he said, nodding toward the back room. "Mornings, couple hours. Pay ain't much, but it's clean work. And you get first pick if any more fruit comes in."

You tried to smile back, tried not to look like a fool.

"I'd be grateful," you said. "Truly."

"Name's Bo Chow," he said, holding out a calloused hand across the counter. "Most folks just call me Bo."

You put your hand in his, and he squeezed it firm — just enough to make your stomach flip once, twice. His skin was warm. Rough in the right way.

Your name felt small and clumsy on your tongue when you said it. He repeated it once under his breath — tasting it — like he was putting it away somewhere safe.

You heard boots scuffing behind you — a couple old-timers coming in, hats low over their faces — and Bo dropped your hand slow, like he hated letting go.

"Be here six sharp tomorrow," he said, voice dropping a little lower. "Don't make me come hunt you down."

And Lord, the way he said it — like it was a promise, like it was a threat, like maybe he wouldn't mind hunting you down at all —

You walked out of that store with your heart rattling around in your ribs, a stupid grin tugging at your mouth. The dust hit your boots. The sun hit your eyes. But you hardly felt it.

All you could think about was him. About Bo Chow, the cigarette smoke curling around his smile. About how, maybe you'd finally found something worth staying for.

The next morning, you showed up just before six — hair pinned back, boots polished best you could manage, apron folded under your arm.

The sun wasn’t even fully up yet, just a pale silver smear over the flat line of the fields.

The streets were empty except for a stray dog.

You hesitated at the door, heart hammering. What if he changed his mind? What if he realized you weren’t worth the trouble?

But the second you pushed inside, the warm smell of tobacco and cedar wrapped around you like an old blanket — and there he was.

Bo Chow.

Behind the counter, sleeves rolled again over those damn forearms, shirt tucked messy into dark trousers, suspenders hanging low on his hips like he hadn’t bothered to fix them yet. He was counting cash, cigarette stuck lazy between his teeth, the smoke curling up in slow silver ribbons.

He glanced up when he heard the door — and you swear, you swear, for a half second he smiled. A real one. That soft kind, just at the corner of his mouth. Just for you.

"You're early," he said, voice rough with sleep. "Good."

You nodded, setting your things down behind the counter.

Your hands shook a little, but you kept busy — dusting, sweeping, checking the register like he told you. He didn’t hover. Just gave quiet instructions here and there, moving around the store slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world.

And it was the little things — God, it was the little things — that drove you crazy.

You noticed it first when he leaned down to pull a crate from under the counter — how his shirt stretched tight over his back, fabric whispering against muscle. How a lock of dark hair fell over his brow and he huffed it out of the way without even noticing.

You caught yourself staring. Snapped your head down fast, pretending to reorganize the fruits and vegetables.

Then it was the way he stood — shoulders wide, hips cocked lazy — arms crossed over his chest as he watched you figure out how to load the till.

There was something about the way he moved — no wasted steps, no fidgeting — like he didn’t have to try to own the space around him. He just did.

And Lord, when he laughed —

Low, unexpected — a real rough chuckle that rumbled from his chest when you nearly dropped the glass candy jar and caught it at the last second — God, you felt it down to your toes.

"Careful, sunshine," he drawled. "Ain't but one of you, and glass is expensive."

You ducked your head, face burning. But you couldn’t help smiling.

Around mid-morning, after he nailed up a new shelf in the back, Bo wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. You offered him the water you packed — nervous, feeling silly. He took it with a little nod, mouth brushing the rim where yours had been without hesitation.

And when he handed it back — his fingers brushed yours. Calloused. Warm.

You felt it like a jolt of lightning, sharp and sweet under your skin.

"You doin' alright?" he asked, voice low. "Ain't scarin' you off yet?"

You shook your head fast.

"No, sir."

That slow smile again — like he was proud of you, somehow. It made your chest ache.

The rest of the day passed in slow, golden hours. He showed you how to track inventory, how to read the order forms, how to spot the difference between good grain sacks and ones chewed through by mice.

And every little thing — the way he squinted against the sun when he stepped outside, the way he twirled the pencil between his fingers when he thought, the way he touched the brim of his hat polite to the older ladies who passed by — every little thing made you fall harder.

You were a fool. You knew it. But God help you, you couldn’t stop.

Near closing time, when the shadows stretched long across the floorboards, Bo lit the oil lamps and turned the sign to CLOSED.

The town settled into quiet outside, the cicadas starting up their low hum.

You packed up your things, heart heavy. You didn’t want to leave.

He leaned back against the counter, cigarette smoke curling around his head like a halo, watching you with that unreadable look. Not smiling. Not frowning. Just watching.

And before you left — just as you reached the door — he said:

"You did good today."

You turned, surprised.

He flicked ash into a tin, voice casual, almost too casual:

"Could use someone steady around here. Someone like you." "If you want it — job’s yours."

You tried to speak — tried to say yes, of course, yes, thank you, yes — but all that came out was a breathless little whisper.

"I'd like that."

Bo nodded slow, eyes never leaving yours.

"Good," he said. "Real good."

You just huffed and left the store.

You showed up early again the next morning. Couldn’t help yourself. You barely slept — just laid in your bed all night staring at the ceiling, heart banging around your ribs like a fist.

You kept seeing him — that rough smile, that lazy slouch against the counter, the way his hands moved — big and calloused and sure — like he could tear the whole damn world down if he wanted, but he didn’t. He was gentle with you.

You dressed careful — simple skirt, neat tucked-in blouse, hair tied back. Nothing fancy. But you caught yourself smoothing it down a dozen times on the walk to the store.

You weren’t scared of work. You weren’t scared of Bo, either. Not really.

What scared you — if you were honest — was how badly you wanted him to look at you again the way he had yesterday. Like he saw you.

The bell over the door jingled when you pushed inside — and there he was.

Bo Chow.

Good Lord.

You almost had to grab the doorframe to keep from sliding down it.

Today he had the vest on — rich brown canvas, snug over his shoulders and chest — shirt rolled at the sleeves again, forearms out, tan skin dusted with faint scars like old stories he never bothered to tell. Trousers fit firm around his slutty waist, boots scuffed from work.

He looked up from stocking the shelves — and when he saw you, a flash of something warm crossed his face. Almost hidden. Almost.

"Mornin’, sunshine," he said, voice low and gravelly. "Thought you might show."

You swallowed hard, managed a nod.

He stood up slow, dusting his hands off on a rag. That damn vest hugged him in all the right places. Made your stomach flip and knot in ways that felt dangerous.

You got to work without being told, moving behind the counter, checking the inventory list. Trying to pretend like your heart wasn’t about to explode out your chest.

It didn’t help that Bo kept brushing close — not on purpose, not really — but every time you turned around he was there.

At one point, you bent to grab a crate from under the counter — and when you stood up, you bumped right into him.

Hard, solid chest — vest scratchy and warm against your back — his hand catching your waist automatically to steady you.

Big palm. Firm grip. Fingers splaying wide before he yanked them back like he touched a hot stove.

You both froze.

For one wild second, the whole store was silent — just the sound of the clock ticking on the wall — his breath brushing the back of your neck.

Then he cleared his throat, stepping back.

"Easy, now," he said rough, almost scolding. "Ain't tryna bust that pretty nose, are ya?"

You flushed so hot you thought you might catch fire. Mumbled something — you didn’t even know what — and ducked your head fast.

Later, you were coming out of the storage closet — arms full of ledgers — right as Bo was striding in.

Instead of waiting — instead of shrinking back — you moved right past him. Real smooth. Real bold.

Except — the space was too damn narrow.

Your hip brushed his thigh — your shoulder scraped his chest — and your ass — oh, Lord — your ass skimmed right up against his front when you slid by.

You felt him go still — felt his hand twitch at his side like he had to physically stop himself from grabbing you. You didn’t dare look up.

You just kept moving, pretending you didn’t notice, pretending your whole body wasn’t screaming at you.

Behind you — you swore you heard him swear low under his breath. Real soft. Real dangerous.

You bit your lip so hard it hurt just to keep from smiling.

By noon, the air inside the store was thick and heavy with heat. Bo shed the vest finally, slinging it over a hook near the door. You caught a glimpse of the way his shirt clung to him — the long line of his back, the strong slope of his shoulders.

You caught yourself staring again — caught yourself wanting — and forced yourself to look away.

But Bo must’ve noticed, because a minute later he drifted close — reached past you for something on the shelf — his hand landing light on your waist to move you out the way.

He didn’t even think about it. Just did it. Like you were his already.

Your breath hitched so fast you nearly dropped the jar in your hands.

"‘Scuse me, sunshine’," he said, real soft in your ear. "You’re in the way."

You stood there dumb, blinking, as he brushed past — close enough to smell the salt and sun and cigarette smoke on him.

It wasn’t until later — after closing — when you were wiping down the counters and Bo was locking the door — that he spoke again.

"You work good," he said, voice low and thick. "Real good. Smarter than most the men that come through here."

You turned, heart hammering.

Bo was leaning back against the door — arms crossed — watching you. Face unreadable. Eyes dark.

You opened your mouth — to thank him, maybe — but he cut you off.

"How old are you, anyway?"

You stiffened.

You knew what he was asking. Knew why he was asking it.

You met his eyes steady, chin tilting up just a little.

"Turned eighteen last month," you said. "I'm grown, sir."

For a second — just a breath — something flickered across his face. Something hungry and dangerous and real.

Then it was gone, shuttered behind that calm mask he wore like a second skin.

He nodded once. Slow. Like he was making peace with something ugly inside himself.

"Alright, sunshine," he said rough. "Long as you know what you’re doin’."

You smiled — small and sweet and secret — because you did. You really, really did.

And Lord help you — you weren't planning on stopping.

The day dragged in slow — hot and heavy, same as always — but you didn’t mind.

Not when you got to watch him.

Bo moved like he wasn’t even trying. Stacking crates, counting stock, slouching against counters — and all you could do was sneak glances every chance you got.

The way his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows — showing off strong forearms, tan and scarred, veins running beneath the skin like little rivers. The way the muscles flexed under the fabric when he lifted something heavy.

His hands — God, his hands.

Big and rough, palms calloused from years of work. Knuckles scarred like he’d been in more fights than he’d ever admit.

You imagined what they’d feel like — skimming your skin, wrapping around your throat, curling in your hair.

It got harder and harder to focus on anything else.

You were wiping down the counter again — pretending to clean when you were really just looking at him — when you realized:

No customers.

None.

Just you and Bo. Alone. Heat swirling between you like smoke.

Your heart kicked up — wild, reckless.

And before you could talk yourself out of it — before you could remember to be scared or shy or good —

You moved.

Not too fast — a normal shaky pace.

You crossed the space between you in a few quick steps — grabbed his hand — and tugged him toward the back.

He let you.

No questions. No hesitation. Just a soft grunt, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he followed.

"What’s this, sunshine?" His voice was rough, curious, amused. "You stealin' me?"

You didn’t answer. You just pulled him through the narrow back door — into the storeroom, dim and warm and empty — and shoved him back against the wall.

You stood there, breathing hard. Heart hammering so loud you swore he could hear it.

Bo looked down at you — those dark eyes burning — and for a second you thought maybe he’d laugh, maybe he’d brush you off, maybe he’d tell you to run along like the little girl you weren’t anymore.

But he didn’t.

He tipped his chin down — lips brushing yours — and said low:

"You sure, sunshine?"

You nodded. Didn’t trust your voice.

That was all he needed.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting for it. Hard. Hungry. Hands grabbing your hips, dragging you against him.

Your head spun. The world tilted.

His mouth was hot and rough, teeth scraping your lower lip just enough to make you whimper — and God, the sound you made must’ve lit him on fire because he growled low in his chest and kissed you harder.

You clutched at him — hands fisting in his shirt, dragging him closer — and he let you, let you crawl all over him, like he was starving for it.

Like he’d die if you stopped.

At one point, you stumbled — tried to pull back to catch your breath — but he chased you, mouth claiming yours again, hands framing your face so careful, so tender even with how rough the kiss was.

You were dizzy with it — with him — with the feel of his body pressed against yours, all hard heat and steady muscle.

And then —

You did it.

Hands shaking, you grabbed his wrist — guided it up — placed his big, rough hand around your throat.

Gently. Like a question.

Like a please.

Bo froze.

For one hot, crackling second — everything in the room stopped moving.

His thumb brushed the side of your throat — slow, thoughtful. Not squeezing, just holding — just letting you feel the strength there, the weight of him.

He pulled back just enough to look you dead in the eye — something dangerous and filthy gleaming behind his gaze.

And he grinned — slow, wicked — all teeth and bad intentions.

"You into that shit, sunshine?" His voice was dark velvet, wrapping around you, making you shiver.

You nodded — breathless — grinding your hips against him like you couldn’t help it. (You couldn’t.)

His fingers flexed slightly, tightening just a fraction — not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was bigger, stronger, in charge.

You whimpered — so soft, so needy — and he laughed, low and rough, like you were the best damn thing he’d ever seen.

"Goddamn," he muttered, voice rough and reverent. "You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me."

Then he kissed you again — deeper, dirtier — hand still cradling your throat, the other roaming down your spine to pull you flush against him.

You melted into him — opened for him — let him take whatever he wanted.

Bo’s hand stayed loose around your throat a moment longer — thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, his breath ragged against your mouth — before he finally let go.

Not because he wanted to stop touching you — no. Because he wanted more.

He gave you a rough, breathless little grin — one you could feel in your knees — then reached down and grabbed you by the waist like you weighed nothing.

Lifted you right up.

Set you down on the nearest wooden stool — still warm from the heat of the barn outside, a little unsteady, but solid enough.

Your hands grabbed the edge of the stool instinctively — steadying yourself — eyes wide, heart pounding so hard you could barely hear.

Bo leaned back a half-step — just enough to drink you in.

The way your dress rode up, baring the soft skin of your thighs. The way you sat there all breathless, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-swollen and desperate for him.

He dragged a hand down his face — as if trying to keep himself together — and then just said low, almost to himself:

"Christ, you're pretty."

You didn’t even realize you were doing it — but your eyes kept dropping.

To his hands. Those big, rough, dangerous hands — scarred and calloused and strong.

You could feel the strength of them from here. Could imagine them wrapped around your hips, your waist, your throat — holding you down, holding you up, whatever he damn well pleased.

Your mouth went dry.

And Bo noticed.

His mouth curled into a wicked, knowing smirk.

"Yeah?" he rasped, voice dropping. "You like the look of my hands, sunshine?"

You swallowed hard — nodded.

You didn't even try to hide it.

And that was all he needed.

Bo stepped between your knees — crowding you close, body heat washing over you like a furnace — and ducked his head down.

Started kissing along your jaw — slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses trailing lower and lower.

You gasped when he found the spot just under your ear — sucked there hard enough to leave a mark — and he grinned against your skin when you tilted your head for him, helpless and wanting.

"Good girl," he muttered into your neck. "Gimme that pretty throat."

You could’ve melted right then and there.

His hands were everywhere — roaming up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, dragging along the soft curves of your waist like he was memorizing you.

You arched into him — not even trying to play coy anymore.

You wanted him.

All of him.

And Bo — he was starving for you.

Before you could blink, he dropped to his knees.

Big, broad body sinking down in front of you — pressing your knees wider apart with those strong hands, pulling your panties down — looking up at you with something almost feral in his eyes.

"Gotta taste you, baby," he rasped, voice half-broken with need. "Been fuckin' dying for it."

You whimpered — hand flying to his hair instinctively — fisting in the thick dark strands as he shoved your dress up higher, higher, exposing you.

No hesitation.

Bo dove in like a man half out of his mind.

The first press of his mouth against you made you cry out — sharp and sweet — hips bucking up without you meaning to.

Bo groaned — like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted — and grabbed your thighs, holding you down, forcing you to stay right there for him.

His mouth was ravenous — lips and tongue working you open, devouring you like you were his last meal.

Messy. Loud. Absolutely, devastatingly good.

You tried to pull away once — overwhelmed, shaking, breath hitching in your throat — but he groaned and pulled you back down harder.

"Nah, baby." "You take it." "You let me eat this pretty little pussy just like this." "You fuckin’ taste how bad I want you."

You sobbed his name — it was pathetic, really. Hips grinding helplessly against his mouth — and Bo just groaned again, deeper, like he could come from this alone.

The wet slide of his tongue. The scrape of his teeth just barely grazing. The way he sucked your clit into his mouth and held it there until you were shaking.

He licked you like he owned you. Like he wasn’t gonna let you walk outta this storeroom until you knew exactly who you belonged to.

And when you finally came — loud and desperate, thighs clamping around his head — Bo just kept going.

Didn’t stop. Didn’t let up.

Made you ride it out — every shudder, every whimper, every sweet little broken cry.

When you finally slumped forward, boneless and ruined, hands still fisting in his hair —

Bo looked up at you — mouth slick with you, eyes dark and wild — and said, low and rough:

"Ain’t done with you yet, sunshine." "Not even close."

And you believed him.

You wanted him.

God help you — you wanted everything Bo Chow was about to give you.

A/N: LAWDDDD — I love me some Bo Chow...

[b0kevi]

saying “let’s make out” every time they(house warden + jamil) do something hot

summary: whenever they do something attractive you blurt out ‘let’s make out’ to see what they’ll do

trope: established relationship, suggestive themes

info: making out obv, they/them pronouns, gender neutral reader, not proofread

character: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, jamil, vil, idia, malleus (epel, jade, floyd, lilia, ortho mentioned)

w/c: riddle: 465 leona: 456 azul: 499 kalim: 532 jamil: 424 vil: 435 idia: 527 malleus: 493

riddle

no.

red as his hair

will scream no until he caves

only in private

gentle make out sessions

riddle was currently scolding at his dorm mates for failing to listen and interrupting your guys time together in the garden.

you didn’t mind but the way riddle was so assertive and how he looked in his house warden uniform, you couldn’t help but stare.

once they left, he turned towards you to apologize but before he could say anything you said,

“we should make out.”

he’s so red you don’t know where his hairline starts.

“w-where did that come from?! w-we are in public! that’s against rule 565! absolutely not!”

“hm does that mean we can in private? is that against the queens rules?”

he thought for a moment before grabbing your hand, he pulled you towards the dorm as he walked in front of you to hide his flushed face.

“I.. suppose it isn’t. come on now.”

°˖➴

“this is inappropriate my rose…”

you currently pulled riddle into the nearest empty room you could find.

he was helping out his fellow dorm mates study, you were there to study as well but you were way too distracted by riddles voice.

the way he was assertive yet soft spoken with them. he wanted to make sure the information was getting to them but didn’t want to sound too strict or rude.

that made you snap as you pulled him away from the group.

“is it against the queens rules to want to make out with your very attractive partner?”

riddle placed his hands on your shoulders to keep some distance between you two but he wasn’t doing a good job, he made no effort to push you away

“we have to get back now.” you frowned as you placed a small peck on the edge of his lips.

“no, we can do this later.”

“…no…”

riddle made a frustrated sound before crashing his lips towards yours.

“you’re a bad influence my rose.”

°˖➴

riddle has been cooped up in his room all day. you came over to check on him, reminding him to take breaks but when he’s studying— old habits die hard.

words were not getting through him so you had to resort to actions.

you landed a kiss on his jawline which made him freeze and flare up.

“h-huh?!”

you place more kisses on his jaw and cheek

“w-what are you doing??”

the more kisses you place the redder he gets. he knew what you were doing, he so badly wanted to push you away but he could never do that to you.

he cups your face before boldly pulling your face to his.

roughly kissing you at first but later eases up, gently kissing you, letting all his tension flow away as he kisses you silly.

leona

100% ego boost

cocky

will make out with you right then and there no matter where you are

lazy make out sessions

makes you take the lead until he gets in the mood and takes over

Leona wasn’t doing anything fancy, all he was doing was tidying his hair up in a high ponytail, getting ready for spell drive training.

you were watching him get ready. you love when he puts his hair up, makes him look even more handsome, and leona is already extremely handsome. you’re practically memorized

“we should totally make out.”

he froze a second- caught off guard by your words then smirked at you, you could practically see his ego inflating

“getting bold now herbivore?”

he doesn’t hesitate to give it to you. he crawls towards you, grabbing your waist and attaching his lips to yours roughly.

he might be a little late to practice, but it’s worth it since he’s spending his time with you and getting a reward of seeing the aftermath of your messy face.

°˖➴

it was your first time seeing leona in his official spell drive uniform and

oh my sevens.

he was with his team going over the plan for the game and you couldn’t help but admire how well the uniform looks on him. once he finished, you couldn’t help but say

“let’s make out.”

he chuckles, “what? is that supposed to motivate me?”

his teammates heard— scoffing and snickering.

“i really don’t need to see that before a game..” you could hear epel muttering afar.

leona smirked wide, loving when you get bold enough to say that in public, he’s not afraid to show everyone who you belong to. he pulled you in, devouring your lips right in front of everyone which made everyone gagged— leaving to do something else.

°˖➴

Leona was taking a nap per usual but something about the way the sunlight casted down on his face, enhancing his features made you giddy.

"we should make out."

leona opened one eye to look at you, questioning what you just said. after seeing your determine face, he knew he heard right and you were serious

"then you better get over here herbivore, before I change my mind."

you smiled wide as you jumped on top of him, his hands immediately found your hips to balance you. you kissed him slowly first as he lazily replied.

slow and lazy yet you could feel his love pouring out while running his hands up and down your sides until he started to feel more awake. He’ll never say it out loud but through his actions that’s when it started getting more heated, you had your turn now it’s time for him to show you who’s the king.

azul

flustered everytime

never say that in public, if the twins heard that.. he will hide in his octopod

will only do it if you’re alone

sweet make sessions, not too rough not too gentle

secretly loves when you want to make out

you were waiting for azul to finish up some business at mostro lounge when someone approached you, clearly flirting with you.

you kept reminding them you have a boyfriend and are not interested but they were persistent.

“come on, just one date? then you’ll see if you still want to be with this ‘boyfriend’” you looked disgusted but before you could say anything a voice came behind them.

“that will not be happening. as you can see we are going out on our own date right now, they made it clear they are not interested so please get out or do I need to show you where the door is?” azul was by your side as you saw the twins looming over the person. they got the message and headed out.

“are you alright my pearl?”

“we should make out.” you blurted out as you found that attractive, the twins were snickering as azul turned pink.

“w-what?! what are you- let’s just go.”

°˖➴

azul was scheming up contracts while you were keeping him company. this gave you the opportunity to get a good look at him, the way his glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, beauty mark looking so kissable right now..

you walked behind his chair looking over his shoulder pretending to be interested before casually saying,

“we should make out right now.”

his pen stopped abruptly, messing up what he was writing. you could see his ears turning pink

“w-well, ahem. I guess I do need a break…” he looked around the room even though it was just the two of you, he pulled you onto his lap still looking flustered and guiding himself to your lips.

°˖➴

“my pearl… i’ve told you about this.” you once again announce that you wanted to make out instead of the twins again. he can only take so much of their teasing.

he will gladly do it with no cost but please stop saying it in front of them.

“sorry zul… but… can we?” you had the hopeful glint in your eyes that he couldn’t resist, your lucky he pulled you in his vip room because he really did wanted to kiss you silly.

he sighs, “I should make you pay… but i’ll let it slide just this once.” he cradled your face as he kisses you shyly.

kissing azul was always so sweet, you could tell he was nervous but he put on a front of being confident. azul always sets a steady pace, making it enjoyable for you two.

*knock knock*

“quit sucking each others faces! bleh”

“there are quite a lot of people out here.”

the tips of azuls ears were pink as he groaned. getting one last kiss before he had to leave.

kalim

giggly

loves kissing you, will do it, you don’t even need to ask

will laugh and smile throughout the session

he’s so happy, he can’t keep his hands off you

doesn’t matter where you are but he doesn’t want jamil yelling at him so will prefer private

you and kalim were outside enjoying the sun as he was talking about his day and anything that came to him. he was so bright that your face always hurts when you’re around him from smiling so much.

he was currently making a flower crown as he continued to talk, you were supposed to be making one as well for him but you got distracted as you stared at kalim.

his eyes were like ruby’s as you got lost in them, suddenly remembering how sweet he is. he always saw the good in everything which you loved and admired, it was a nice change considering everyone else at nrc.

“we should make out.” you muttered as you were thinking about all the sweet moments with kalim.

“okay!” kalim didn’t hesitate to lean over to peck your lips then diving back in to leave longer and loving kisses, giggling every once in a while through your lips. he never questions you, always willing or finding excuses(or just straight up) to kiss you.

one hand was running through your hair while the other was playing with your fingers.

°˖➴

kalim invited you to watch him practice at his club and you gladly accepted.

kalim was so talented at the drums it blew you away. they sounded so good and you were having a great time enjoying the music.

kalims outfit was so casual, he was so cute with his beanie you wanted to smooch his face so bad. you were trying so hard to not interrupt him.

practice was finally over and kalim rushed over to you giggling.

“what did you think?”

“you were amazing baby! you were so cool, we should make out.” kalim eyes widened before laughing loudly

“my, young love…” lilia commented as he exited.

“you’re so silly habibi!” he gives you the biggest kiss with the loudest ‘MWAH’ sound. he’s smiling through your kisses while cupping your face between his hands.

will not stop until someone kicks you two out.

°˖➴

“UGH I’ve missed you so much habibi…” jamil didn’t leave kalims side at all today, making sure he gets stuff done and doesn’t do anything crazy which left no time for you two.

kalim has been dying for your affection all day. he plopped down on his bed, pulling you into his grasp

“can we make out… pleaseee?” kalim asked as he’s already placing sweet kisses on your neck and cheek.

you giggle, “i was just about to ask you that.”

kalim lights up as he makes his way to your lips.

laughing through your kisses, always pulling away a bit to kiss the other parts of your face as his hands roam over your body.

he always enjoys moments like this where he can fully love you without anyone interfering or jamil pulling them away. he can let his love overflow through his kisses and touches so you get the message.

jamil

hides behind his hood

you’re crazy

savory make out sessions, loves taking his time with you

he’s very busy so will have to wait until he gets a break

if he could he would do it anywhere anytime

Jamil was making food for yet another party kalim was throwing. you were accompanying him, helping out here and then.

you love watching him cook, how he moves so effortlessly through the kitchen, you couldn't help but blurt out what was on your mind.

"we should totally make out right now.."

jamil paused his cutting. his face heated up but he could just blame the boiling water. he swiftly put his hood up so you couldn’t see his face, trying to play it off

"what are you talking about? help me get these in the water." he changed the subject but he would definitely love to make out with you, maybe he will later.

°˖➴

jamil invited you to watch him play basketball since you’ve been asking him. he moves so agile, making baskets mostly every time. he looks so fine with his hair up, sweat dripping down his face.

they were taking a break and you handed jamil his water bottle,

“you looked so cool out there jamil! we should make out.”

he almost spat out his water. so caught off guard because of your compliment then your statement.

he couldn’t hide his face with his hood so he just used his hand to hide his blush.

“you’re crazy.”

he tried to play it off but then he looked around to make sure no one was listening to them before mumbling

“as much as I would love to right now… we can later, promise.”

°˖➴

jamil finally got time to himself but it was nighttime. that didn’t matter to you, you were just happy to spend time with him. he was currently taking out his braids as you laid in his bed.

before you could get the words out, jamil was already on top of you, devouring your lips.

“i’ve been waiting all day to do that.” he muttered against your lips, leaving kisses all over your face as he continues to speak, “you don’t know how badly I wanted to kiss you every time you asked to make out.” he kisses your jaw, “you drive me insane.”

he basically is sucking the air out of you, savoring the taste of your lips since it’s so rare for him to spend time with you, he loves to take advantage of the time he has to himself.

vil

you’ll ruin his makeup, no

admires your forwardness

either elegant and soft make out sessions or messy sessions depending on what he’s doing later

doesn’t mind messing up his makeup if you’re alone and he doesn’t have to go anywhere later

if he has a shoot, no he will not kiss you, don’t think about it

Vil was trying new makeup products and invited you over to his room to try them out. you love when he does your makeup you get to shamelessly admire him up close. he was putting blush on you, one hand holding your chin up as he applied it to your cheek.

“we should make out…”

his eyes widen then soften as he laughed, you can be so forward when you wanted to.

“that will ruin our makeup dear.” he saw you pout and he couldn’t help himself. he sighs and pulled you closer to him

“you’re lucky my schedule is free today. i’m all yours~” he attacked your lips, he can’t wait to see the finish result of your guys ruined faces.

°˖➴

Vil was at a photo shoot and you were accompanying him, he looked so radiant you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

the photographer told him to take five as he reviewed the photos, vil made his way to you who smiled brightly,

“we should totally make out.. right now..”

vil pinched your cheeks, he could feel your stares and knew you were up to something, “absolutely not. we’re not done here and you’ll ruin my makeup. I know how you get.”

“pleaseee..”

“no.”

“one kiss?”

“no. you can wait after.”

there’s no convincing him when his mind is made up.

°˖➴

“my love, I have a meeting with the director in ten minutes no.” Vil stated as he was touching up, making sure he looked presentable.

you whined at vil saying you guys should make out but of course vil wouldn’t allow it.

“that’s enough time for a couple of kisses…”

vil glared at you through his mirror as to give you a warning to behave but you never listen. you needed to kiss him now.

“fine. just a few. don’t go crazy, I don’t want to test to see if this lipstick is smudge proof.” he finally broke after your constant begging.

he gently took your chin and pulled you in, he kissed you softly, not going too deep or rough to ruin anything.

when vil kisses you like this he’s always so poise, trying to restrain himself from breaking and giving in since he has somewhere to be soon.

“you’re something else my love.”

idia

you break him every time you say it

hairs fully pink

wants to but will NOT make the first move you have to take initiative

awkward make out sessions, he has to warm up before he gets comfortable

only ever in private, he doesn’t leave his room

“we should make out.”

idia.exe has stopped working. crashing out. reboot reboot.

“H-HUHHHH?!”

idia was in a boss fight, so focused on it that it made you smile while you were sitting on his bed watching him play, you didn’t want to bother him since you know how he gets during game but you just had to say what was on your mind.

“y-you’re joking right? is this a prank? where’s the camera?” the tips of his hair is pink as he hides his face, trying to shrink.

“i’m serious idia! we should!”

he still doesn’t believe you, still trying to hide from you but can’t really go anywhere since you’re in his safe haven.

“n-no way! i haven’t even unlocked that yet! we’re only on affinity level 50… making out is totally a level 100 thing…”

he will keep rambling saying this isn’t real, making excuses until you make the first move.

°˖➴

you watched idia work on new equipment for ortho, he was telling you about all the technical stuff and how it will improve ortho which you love when he gets passionate and is willing to talk to you before he gets shy and thinks you don’t care.

“I really think this will improve his speed which could make him go at least-“

“we should make out.”

you watched his hair go from blue to pink in an instant.

he dropped to the floor, hiding himself. “w-what is wrong with you? you can’t just drop that crazy one liner! when did I get into an otome game…”

“maybe when you started dating me.”

“I-I wasn’t ready for that!”

°˖➴

“I can do it… I can do it…” idia is currently hyping himself to kiss you.

you had asked him to make out five minutes ago but he got flustered and is hiding over his sheet. don’t get him wrong, he absolutely wants to make out with you! it’s just hard for him since he’s not use to this, he needs a minute… or two… or five.

“idia, baby, we don’t have to.”

“NO! uh, I-I do I just uhm…” you smiled at him fondly as you removed the sheet over his head, you placed you hand on his cheek before slowly moving in still giving him time to pull away.

“I’m going to kiss you now okay?”

idia appreciates you so much, he nodded, sweating from the proximity as you finally kissed him.

it was slow and gentle. never rushing him, letting him have room to pull away if he wants, but he takes this time to get more comfortable

a few more kisses in, idia is more relaxed as he decided to go deeper and rougher, he needs to take a chance before he regrets it.

when he’s with you he gets a spring of confidence. hes always comfortable with you. you’re his player two, his healer.

malleus

how bold of you to say that to him

will gladly accept no matter where he is

you can text him and he will be at your door as soon as you send it

assertive make out sessions, kisses you like there’s no tomorrow

LOVES it

“we should make ou-“

“I agree.”

you didn’t even get the full sentence out before malleus is already on you gripping your waist.

you couldn’t help but laugh, he’s so lovesick it’s adorable.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, “i’m glad we’re on the same page.”

he’s already savoring your mouth, everytime you share a kiss it leaves you breathless. malleus will always show you how much he loves you, you can feel it through his kisses.

malleus is never an inch away from your face, he sometimes forgets you need to breathe so when you pull away he’s right there following you, waiting to dive back in again.

when you block him to catch your breathe he moves down to your neck and collarbone.

very clingy dragon, once you two start making out he will not let you go anywhere for the rest of the day.

°˖➴

malleus was out at his gargoyle club, you couldn’t join him since you were busy studying. He still called you through to talk about gargoyles, his voice is quite nice to listen to so you didn’t mind.

you’ve been at it nonstop so you took a little break to pay attention to malleus.

he has been going at it, spitting out facts about gargoyles and the history about them.

he’s so passionate you wish you could have joined him so you could see his outfit. the way the wind blows though his hair, you can slightly see his scales on his forehead, oh you miss him.

“we should make out.”

he stopped talking.

*knock knock*

“huh? hold on mal someone’s here.”

it was malleus who still had his phone to his ear at your doorstep.

…

“you are quite the bold one, child of man.”

malleus was visiting late at night like he usually does when you so happen to blurt out about wanting to make out with him

“not many would dare to say that to me.”

“well I would hope not.”

you stated as you pulled him closer by his shirt

“you’re mine and you better only make out with him.”

malleus widened his eyes then let out a real genuine laugh. he absolutely loves how bold you are with him, it shows that you’re not afraid of him and feel comfortable around him.

“I would never be with another. for you will be the only one I spend the rest of my life with, until the end.”

he says into your neck before leaving pecks, trailing his way up to your lips, sucking the air out of your lungs. kissing you like there’s no tomorrow, really showing you that you’re the only one for him.

______๑♡⁠๑______

habibi = my love/beloved (I used google translate I don’t speak arabic)

a/n: THIS IS ASS UGH most of these are the same omg.. idk why riddle was so hard to think of.. writers block or smth.

a/n: whenever I play games n the li does something hot or anything i’m like ‘omggg let’s make out rn’ idk i’ve been playing lads and that one scene where zanye was jealous.. i was like okayy let’s make out RN anyways have a good night/day <3

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink

It’s too soon. 

The weight of this certainty is nearly too heavy to carry, his footsteps echoing with dread. 

You’re not ready. 

He’s not ready. 

It’s his fault. Selfishly, he’s encouraged your co-dependence, pulled you closer and closer into deeper water where he knew you’d have trouble swimming without him. He thought he’d have more time to help you develop coping strategies, to get you settled, moved out of your apartment and into his house. Now, he’s leaving you alone as you try to navigate an entirely different life while straddling two living situations, without him at your side.  

You’re at his house tonight. It’s becoming more common, three nights turning to four, then five and sometimes even six, letting yourself in before when he gets caught up on base. His brave fawn on stronger legs, taking self assured steps, and following his lead, his guidance. Your comfort in his home, this world he’s created for you, feeds the beast inside his chest, the dark one, the monster curled around your body in the night, possessive and obsessed. It’s a perfectly balanced scale, never tipping too far in one direction, all his parts and pieces perfectly arranged for you, expertly developed so he can love you in every way you need. 

He’s pleased you’re home and already in bed an hour before you’re supposed to be, curled in the middle with your kindle, your blankets and pillows arranged in the usual bird’s nest, lips parted, glasses halfway down the bridge of your nose. 

They became a new rule after he realized you were getting headaches from not using them. 

“What do you think is appropriate?” 

“For my recipe cards?” 

“For screens and your recipe cards, precious girl. Squinting and strainin’ your eyes is what’s causing these headaches.” 

“Oh right.” You nodded, and then lifted your chin. When you have rules, boundaries, you have security, confidence, support. You don’t have to think, agonize, try to step into a skin that doesn’t fit. All the things that worry you, frighten you, overwhelm you, they now belong to him, they’re his to deal with. You just have to focus on the rules. “Wear my glasses when I’m looking at screens or my recipe cards. Got it.” 

“Good girl.” 

He pauses in the doorway. 

You’re kneading. 

It started a week ago in your sleep. You’d find your way to his chest, rocking and rolling overtop his heart, working a rhythm into to his sternum as you slept, a physical manifestation of your peace, your trust, a subconscious recognition of feeling safe, and cared for, and loved. It’s become present in the quiet of the morning or an evening lull too, when you’re relaxed and content, kneading away on a pillow or his thigh. Such a simple, silent thing that says so much.

Knuckles thunk on wood, and you kick beneath the blankets, kindle falling into the pillows, your startle turning to surprise, and then the sweet spread of happiness colors your face. His drug. The way you beam and light up when you see him is the same way you bloom when you’re baking, or talking about baking, or feeding someone. Your bliss gets him high. A gift he could never repay, and something he’ll never give up. You’ve been able to venture outside of your comfort zone more and into his hold, no longer hiding yourself within his walls, cautious steps becoming more self assured. He knows you’ll always struggle, but he’ll always be here, ready to catch you when you fall. 

“Hi daddy.” 

“Hi sweet girl.” He leans over the edge of the bed to brush a kiss across your lips, little whimper falling into his mouth as he takes it farther, tastes you, nips you. You give him more and more, truly limitless in his arms, your home, exploring and testing, discovering both him and yourself. This willingness, this trust, is a precious thing like your heart. And it all belongs to him.

Your throat bobs when he pulls back and tugs his shirt over his head, sneaking a sly glance as he tugs his pants down next. “I need t’get in the shower. Stay put, keep reading your book, I’ll be a few minutes.” 

“Okay.” He’d have you get in with him, but you look so happy, so cozy, fuzzy socks on your feet, cuddled up in a sweatshirt, and he wants to leave you to your peace. 

Since he’s about to ruin it. 

Your hand is small in his, and too cold. The ice he finds there matches your frozen posture, your nervous expression buried beneath snow as you try to put on a brave face. His precious girl. 

“I don’t understand… I’m- a-are you…” you lose your words, hitch of panic in your breath as you scramble to find what’s needed, something, anything to convey the influx of emotions, the quick build of questions, and he squeezes reassuringly. 

“Take your time.” Normally, he’d just stay silent, give you the space and time, but right now, he knows you need more, recognizing the way you’re tearing yourself apart inside your head. You blow out a shaky breath. 

“How long… how long will you be gone?” 

“It’s hard to say, but I think it’ll only be a few weeks.” The flash of fear strikes through your irises like lightning.

“Okay.” You nod, but it doesn’t stop. You just keep nodding, trying to steady yourself, and he doesn’t think you know you’re trembling a bit, lower lip start to peel away.  “What if something bad happens?” It’s a question for the ages, one he’s wagered his entire existence. A longstanding bet with the reaper, one he never made a fuss about.

Now, he’d barter his soul for one more moment.

“Nothing bad is gonna happen, I’m very good at my job.” He tries to soothe you, but you’re already lost, tangled up in a web, one he should have cleaned up before.

“B-but you can’t promise that, right? I mean, you can’t be sure. Right?” 

“I’m going to be just fine, baby. I want you to focus on yourself instead of worrying about me, alright? You’ll follow all your rules and take care of yourself. Do you understand?” You have a faraway look in your eye, responding like he didn’t speak. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not handling this… I feel… I’m overwhelmed, I don’t…” He pulls you close, and you don’t waste a second, placing your cheek to his chest, ear just over his heart. 

“My good girl, following her rules,” you look up at him, so tortured, conflicted and scared, and his heart aches. “There’s no reason to be sorry. I should have prepared you for this, and I didn’t. That’s daddy’s fault, not yours.” You’re drowning. You’re too far underwater, trying to reconcile what you know with what you fear, kicking and swimming against a current that keeps sweeping you out to sea, desperately clinging to him, searching for your lighthouse in the storm. It’s too much, he knew it would be, and if he could put it off he would, but this is one mission he can’t delay. It’s a rescue, in the bloody jungle, one squad already failing to reach the other. He has no choice.

He curves around you, pulls you down into the blankets and pillows, kissing your salt soaked cheeks. “I know you’re scared baby, I know. I’m sorry.” The guilt stings and bites, a serrated blade between his ribs. He did this, it’s the consequences of his failure that you’re facing now, your uncertainty and fear all created by him. 

Your face presses into his neck as he applies pressure to your nape, murmuring against the shell of your ear, surrounding you with himself, blocking out the rest of the world. 

That’s where the two of you stay, long past the conversation, your tears turning to quiet whimpers before you fall asleep, snuffling against his skin, still holding him tight. 

“I’ll be good daddy, I promise.” He’s got a duffel slung over his shoulder and a backpack at his feet, truck running in the driveway, waiting. He should have left ten minutes ago. Fifteen even, but he can’t let go, still standing in the foyer cupping your face, memorizing every detail. There’s not much he can do now to fix his mistake. It will have to wait until he comes back, a razed city left waiting to be rebuilt.

“I know you will sweetheart,” he brushes his knuckles over the apple of your cheek, “everything is going to be fine.”

“And you’ll call when you can?” He kisses your forehead. 

“I’ll call when I can.” He’ll need to release all of this before he steps on the plane, but for now he allows himself to feel it, ruminate and own it. He’s worried. This is his fault, he’s pulled the rug out from beneath you without any semblance of a warning, he’s changing your routine, your life, again, uprooting you just when you’ve started to feel comfortable. You’re vulnerable, and he’s abandoning you. Ripping a freshly healed wound wide and pouring salt in it.

You lean in, turning your cheek to press your ear over his heart. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’m going to miss you too sweet girl, so much. But I’ll be home soon, I promise.” His younger self would scoff at him, chastise him for making such a promise, but it’s different now. 

He’d dig himself out of grave all over again just to crawl home to you. 

[lazysoulwriter]

the trouble we cause. - pedro pascal x wife!actress!reader.

requested!!! thank you for sending, love doing this one.

---

It had started as a joke.

"Imagine if we ever worked together," you had laughed, curled up against Pedro’s chest one night. "We’d get absolutely nothing done."

Pedro had only grinned, pressing a kiss to your hair. "I'd be professional... ish."

You should've known better.

Because now, six months later, you were sitting across from him at a press junket, cameras rolling, mics hot — and you were this close to bursting into laughter because of the dumb little face he was making at you from across the table.

It was a losing battle from the start.

From the very first day on set, you and Pedro had been... a problem.

It wasn’t intentional. You were both professionals — award-winning, seasoned actors. But professionalism had limits when it came to your husband whispering Spanish nonsense into your ear between takes just to make you giggle.

It wasn’t your fault he kept sneaking glances at you during serious scenes. It wasn’t your fault you kept blushing and ruining your lines. And it definitely wasn’t your fault when the director had to physically separate you two during lunch breaks because apparently, "you're distracting each other too much."

Not that the separation helped much. Pedro had a whole arsenal of "across the room" tactics: raised eyebrows, secret smiles, a whole silent language only the two of you understood.

You were, in short, insufferable.

And everyone else loved you for it.

The junket was the worst (or best) example yet.

Initially, they had placed you and Pedro side by side, thinking it would be cute — married couple! same movie! adorable!

It took all of ten minutes for chaos to erupt.

You couldn't stop leaning into each other, whispering jokes under your breath. Pedro kept trying to "discreetly" hold your hand under the table. At one point, you straight-up started laughing so hard at something he muttered that you had to hide your face behind your coffee cup.

The publicist eventually gave up and moved you to opposite ends of the panel.

Big mistake.

Now, you were playing silent games of charades across the stage — winking, mouthing jokes, making faces until the moderator very politely asked if "the married couple could please focus."

You bit your lip, cheeks flaming. Pedro just shrugged, grinning like the devil himself.

Later, during the one-on-one interviews, it only got worse.

Every time someone asked a serious question, Pedro would somehow manage to derail it.

"What's it like working together?" Pedro: "Dangerous. I fear for my life daily." (said while giving you a full-on heart-eyes look.)

"Was there a lot of on-set chemistry?" Pedro: "Wouldn’t know. I was too busy trying not to propose again."

You smacked his arm for that one — gently, lovingly, the way you did everything with him.

The interviewer laughed. Pedro just looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

When you got home that night, exhausted but buzzing from the day, you collapsed onto the couch together, still in your fancy clothes.

Pedro immediately pulled you into his lap, arms locking around your waist.

"You know," you murmured, tracing lazy patterns over his chest, "we're a menace."

Pedro laughed, deep and warm. "I think they’re just jealous," he said, nuzzling your temple. "They wish they had this."

You smiled, feeling that familiar, overwhelming rush of love for him.

"This," you echoed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

And you wouldn't have it any other way. Even if it meant getting scolded like teenagers every time you were in a room together.

Especially if it meant this.

---

[beemovieerotica]

so my sister's dog is very very wary around new people, barking and circling and hiding behind furniture, and i haven't seen this dog in 3 years since before i transitioned. i.e. i went from futch aunt to bald james flint, so i'm like, ah shit, i'll have to introduce myself to this dog all over again.

so im sitting on the ground very non-threateningly as The Creature is circling with her tail between her legs. and then i remember something the adoption agency told me when i first adopted my blind dog, Loki. they said "talk to him ALL THE TIME!! dogs learn who people are by the way their breath smells! nobody knows that."

so i think. Oh, excellent. and I grab The Creature by the face, pull her toward me, and blow air straight into her nose.

AND IT FUCKING WORKED.

her mouth opened into this big old smile and she immediately started wagging her tail like "oh, it's you! Hi! sorry. something changed, but idk it doesn't matter anymore" and she was an unstoppable cuddle bug aftter that.

anyway psa if you've transitioned and are visiting a dog who you once knew, breathe on their face.

[watchmegetobsessed]

PLAYER

A/N: this fic has been on my mind for over a week, but i just couldn't get it written the way i wanted, im still not entirely satisfied with it, but at least it's done and i didn't stop writing after the first paragraph like i did about six times lol

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

SUMMARY: Your roommate has locked you out of your room for a hookup, so you end up having to spend the night at Harry's, the boy you've been eager to keep yourself away from since you shared a rather passionate kiss. You 're convinced that the two of you do not belong together... right?

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The place feels eerily empty even though there was a raging party happening just an hour ago, but now only the trash and leftover snacks and drinks reminds you of it all. You’re standing in the middle of the living room, arms folded over your chest as you assess the room, especially the couch. It seems comfortable enough to accommodate you for the night, but the wine stain in the middle is what concerns you the most. Maybe if you covered it with a blanket or something, it wouldn’t be that–

“Hope you’re not thinking about sleeping on that couch.”

Harry’s voice makes you jump, even though you’ve been hearing him moving around in the kitchen, collecting trash. He is still wearing the same black shirt he wore at the party, but most of the buttons are undone, giving you a great view of his tattooed chest and you can’t push down the memory of the feeling of it under your touch when you were kissing him just a few weeks ago. 

Nope, you cannot be thinking about that. You have to be strong, you remind yourself. That kiss is something that will never happen again, no matter how badly your body is aching for it. 

You and Harry do not belong together, that’s a fact. If you took that one passionate kiss further, that would result in a disaster, you’re certain about that. 

Your eyes snap up to his face, realizing you haven’t answered him and you have no doubt he knows what you’ve been thinking about, that tiny smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth is a tell he can see right through you, but you choose to ignore it. 

“I’ll be fine for just one night,” you nod, hoping to look a lot more confident than you feel right now. 

“Y/N, some freshman spilled a whole cup of wine on the cushion.”

“I can just… turn it around, it’s alright.”

“Okay, then you might want to know that I have caught Niall having sex on that couch several times.”

At that, your eyes widen and that makes Harry laugh. 

“And you let people sit on it, knowing his bare… parts rubbed on it?” You give him a disgusted look, but he just shrugs his shoulders with a smirk, grabbing two empty beer bottles from the coffee table. 

“You’d be surprised how many surfaces you’ve touched in your life that were used for sex.”

“Don’t even plant that thought into my head,” you hold a hand up. He disappears in the kitchen and you hear the rustling of a trash bag, then he returns with one in hand and he starts collecting the abandoned cups and glasses. You feel stupid just standing around, so you start helping him. 

“I’ll just sleep in this armchair,” you offer, pointing at the comfy looking furniture in the corner of the room, but as soon as you look at Harry, you know it’s out of the game as well. “Jesus, is there a surface in this place where he hasn’t had sex?” you groan.

“Yeah, in my room. So you’re sleeping in my bed.” Harry answers, like it’s nothing, when your heart just jumped at the thought of sharing a bed with him. 

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Okay, then I’ll take the couch then,” he sighs, but guilt bubbles in your gut instantly. You can’t make him sleep on that couch when he is doing you a favor by letting you stay here while your roommate is occupying your dorm room with a guy she met tonight. 

“No, I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you’re sleeping on… that.”

“Then we are out of options, Y/N. We either sleep in my bed or one of us doesn’t sleep.” He tilts his head at you and something is telling you he already knows you’ll give in. 

Of course you will.

“Okay,” you say, shoulders falling forward in defeat. “Thanks,” you add, to which he just nods. 

You help him clean for a bit more, but at around four in the morning you both decide the mess can wait until the morning. 

Entering Harry’s room your pulse instantly jumps again, it feels way too intimate. Seeing his rumpled sheets, the pile of laundry next to his wardrobe, his books stacked on the shelves and on his desk, the little trinkets here and there and the few photos on the wall above his desk. But your gaze inevitably migrates towards the bed that you’re about to share with him. 

“You can pick a side,” Harry says as he moves over to his wardrobe and grabbing a t-shirt with a pair of shorts, he steps to you, holding the clothes out. “The white towel in the bathroom is clean, you can use it.”

“Thanks,” you take them, your cheeks burning when your fingers brush against his for a second. Your gaze wanders over to the bed again and this time he catches it.

“If you’re worried my bed has the same issue as the couch, I’ll let you know nothing has ever happened here.”

That’s not what you were thinking about, but his confession surprises you. Harry is known as the guy every girl wants to hook up with and you’ve heard several rumors of one night stands spent with him, told by different girls on campus. Yet he is now telling you no one has ever had sex in his bed, including him.

“Nothing?” you ask, eyebrows rising. “What about…”

“All the gossip?” He arches an eyebrow at you, almost in an annoyed manner that makes you shut your mouth immediately. “Most of them aren’t true. I’ve only hooked up with two girls from school, both happened in their rooms.”

“Two? I’ve heard way more than that,” you say and almost instantly want to take it back when you see a hint of sadness in his eyes, though it passes quickly. 

“I admit I kissed more than just two, but some girls like to spread stories that never actually happened.”

“And you let them?”

Harry shrugs, though something is telling you he is not that nonchalant about this as he shows. He turns his back to you as he is rummaging through the wardrobe, though you feel like he is just trying to keep himself busy with something so he doesn’t have to look you in the eyes.

“What’s the use in embarrassing them and calling them out on the lie? They must have their reasons to tell people all that shit.”

“So you just let them spread whatever they want about you?”

“It always dies down after a while and I save myself the energy. Besides, some might still think I’m just denying it. It’s not like I can prove that something never happened.”

You open your mouth, ready to throw him another question, but none comes. In a weird, twisted way you understand his reasoning even though you don’t agree with it fully. But thinking about it you realize that he is right that not everyone might believe him over the girls, especially not now that so many stories have gone around about his alleged hookups. Who would believe they didn’t even happen?

And the worst of it? That you believed them too, never questioning them, not even when you started getting to know him. It’s been one of your biggest concerns about Harry, that he is just a typical fuckboy who likes to fool around with girls and then move on to the next one.

It’s one of the reasons you’ve been talking yourself out of giving him a chance.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to say and for him it sounds like you’re sorry he is so misjudged, but in your mind, you’re saying sorry for being one of those who misjudged him. 

“It’s fine, I don’t really care,” he shrugs, finally looking you in the eyes. “So, you want to go first?” he asks, nodding towards the bathroom. 

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

The shower feels nice, but Harry’s clothes on you feel nicer. You stare at yourself in the fogged up mirror you tried to clean with your hand. The clothes he handed you were surely clean, but still, you can smell his scent on them and it messes with your head to have it lingering around you at all times. 

You wash your teeth with your finger and make sure you don’t look like a raccoon, wiping off all the mascara from under your eyes before unlocking the door and stepping out, holding your own clothes to your chest. 

Harry is lying on the bed, scrolling on his phone and when he sees you, he puts the phone to the night stand, rising from the bed. 

“Pick a side,” he smiles before disappearing in the bathroom and a few moments later you hear the water running. 

You still feel quite out of place in his room, but at last you put your clothes to the chair by his desk, your eyes wandering up to the photos on the wall. In the middle you see one with two women and you catch on the resemblance right away, guessing it’s his mom and sister he has told you about before. He has one more with each of them too, the rest is with friends, some you know from school, some seemingly unknown to you, probably from home. He is smiling in almost all of them, except a few candid ones. 

This is the side of him you’ve gotten to know lately and this is the one that’s been pulling you in for sure. A side you didn’t know he had when you only knew The Harry Styles people often talked about on campus. Guilt washes over you once again for being so judgy about him. When you met him by total accident in the beginning of the semester, sitting next to each other at Economics and getting paired up for an assignment you couldn’t imagine a version of himself that wasn’t a cliché, popular guy who probably thought he owned the campus just for looking good, but as time went by and you got to know him better you had to realize your assumptions weren’t as accurate as you thought, though they remained in the back of your head. Especially when things started taking a different turn at a party a few weeks ago and you ended up making out in a dark room. It was probably the most passionate kiss you’ve ever gotten, but once the haze wore off panic settled in and you ran. 

Something in you convinced you that he just wants to hook up with you and nothing more, that he would throw you away once he got what he wanted so you told him it’s never happening and you two will only stay friends. 

He didn’t protest, though you saw something in his eyes that had you unsettled, maybe sadness, maybe disappointment, you couldn’t tell for sure, because it was gone quickly. 

You expected him to never talk to you again, but he was just as friendly to you in and out of class as before, though you could feel a sense of coldness in him that wasn’t there before. You’ve spent the past few weeks trying to convince yourself you and Harry would never work out, but now it seems like the biggest bullshit you’ve ever thought of. Harry has proven that he is not the guy people like to gossip about and now you feel like a jerk for never even giving him the chance. 

The bathroom door opens and you turn around, seeing him walk out in nothing else but a pair of boxer briefs. He steps to the wardrobe and grabs a white t-shirt, pulling it on while you try to gulp with a dry mouth. When he turns around you quickly try to pretend like you weren’t ogling him. Walking over to the bed you take the opposite side of where he laid before and you’re quick to get under the sheets, pulling them up to your neck. Harry shuffles around the room for a bit before getting in bed as well and when the mattress dips under his weight, your heart is beating in your throat. 

You’re so tired, you’d probably fall asleep right away if you closed your eyes, but you also kind of don’t want to sleep just yet, not when Harry is lying right next to you. 

“Thanks again for letting me stay,” you say, turning to your side to face him. 

“Well, you kind of just stayed without asking…”

At first your eyes widen, thinking that’s what happened, but then you see the cheeky smile spreading on his face and you know he is just messing with you. 

“Shut up! I did ask if I could stay and you said yes!” Laughing, you try to smack his head, but he is quick to grab your wrist, tugging on you a little so you end up moving closer to him. 

“You know I would always say yes to you, Y/N.”

The laughing has ended and your face is so close to his, you can feel his breath on your skin. His hand is still holding your wrist and your heart is pounding against your chest when your gaze drops to his lips for a moment. 

But then you completely chicken out. 

Clearing your throat, you pull back and Harry lets go of your wrist as you lie back to your pillow. 

“Great, now I know who to ask for help if I need to hide a body,” you try to joke, but it only pulls a smile from him before he reaches for the light switch and flicks it, darkness falling over the room. 

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmurs and you feel him move around a bit before he stills and you’re left staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how you could be such a dumbass. 

Then you close your eyes and let sleep take away the shame. 

When you wake the next time, it’s still not fully bright outside, the early dawn is casting just enough light on the room for you to make out where you are, but it takes you a few moments to realize that it’s not your dorm room, but Harry’s bedroom. 

Then the next realization is that you’re hugging something warm that’s soft on the outside, but hard on the inside and you have to assess your surroundings for a minute before you make out what it is. You’re lying on your side in Harry’s bed, hugging his forearm like a teddy bear, your face resting in his palm while he is sleeping next to you, lying on his side, his face mushed into his pillow just inches away from yours. 

He looks like an angel, so calm and soft, you just want to reach out and touch his face, run your fingers through his curls. But instead, you tighten your hold on his arm, running a hand over it gently, sliding it between his hand and the pillow, cupping the back of his hand. 

He stirs in his sleep and you still, not wanting to wake him up, but then he opens his eyes the tiniest bit and you expect him to pull his hand back, but he doesn’t move. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice groggy and so fucking sexy, you almost let out a sigh. 

“Yeah,” you nod into his hand.

He nods as well, closing his eyes, ready to go back to sleep, thinking you’ll do the same, but suddenly, you feel wide awake. 

“Harry?” you whisper, though you have no idea what you want to tell him.

“Hm?” he hums, keeping his eyes closed. You don’t answer him and you think he has fallen back asleep, but then he opens his eyes again, looking at you in the dim light. “What is it?”

Reaching out with his other hand he brushes your hair out of your forehead before letting it drop between your faces as he waits for you to speak, but the words are dead on your tongue, you’re way too lost in him. 

So you decide to act instead. 

Before you could give it a second thought you start moving, closing the distance between the two of you, your lips pressing against his. 

At first it stops there, just lips touching, unsure what is going to happen next and you start doubting yourself right when his lips open and he takes the kiss further without hesitation. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get fully tangled, in the sheets and in each other as well, the warmth under the covers is increasing rapidly, especially when his hands slip under your (his) shirt, running up and down your back while hook a leg over him, trying to press up against him as close as possible. At one point you roll around so that he is above you, his hips wedging between your thighs and you can’t hold back the sigh that slips past your lips when you feel just how much he wants you right now and it just riles you up even more. 

He starts kissing down your neck, gently sucking and nipping at the tender skin over your collarbone while you keep raking through his hair with your eager fingers, your hips involuntarily rolling against him, desperate for more friction. Your hands move down, bunching the fabric of his shirt, tugging it up on his body and when he finally pulls back from you, he is quick to rid himself of it, throwing it to the side. 

It’s not your first time seeing him without a shirt on, but the effect it has on you is major now, especially because you get to reach out and touch him, feel the soft, warm skin that stretches over his hard muscles. 

To match his lack of clothing your shirt comes off pretty fast as well before Harry comes down, above you, his lips reconnecting with yours in a demanding kiss. But as heated as it started, it slowly starts to die down until the kiss ends entirely and he is clearly holding himself back, but you have no idea why. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his forehead. 

“I just…” He exhales heavily, shaking his head before looking at you. “I don’t want you to wake up and… regret it and change your mind. If we go back to being friends after this, I would rather just… not have it happen.”

Your chest aches at his words, the hurt now clearly visible in his expression, it’s apparent just how much you fucked up when you judged him by what other people tell about him. You were so damn stupid. 

Cupping his face between your hands you pull him down for a short, sweet kiss before speaking up.

“I’m sorry for being such a coward. I was afraid all you want is just… some fun and then you’d move on. I was proven wrong.”

“I’m not who people think I am.”

“I know that now,” you smile at him bashfully. “And… I want to see where this could go.”

It’s silly to feel nervous admitting that you want more with him when you’re literally half naked, in bed, with clear signs that he wants you as well, but still, your pulse picks up as Harry just stares down at you. 

Then slowly, a sweet smile spreads across his lips that mirrors on your face as well, easing the nerves almost instantly and when he leans down, clearly with the intention of kissing you, but using the sudden boost of confidence, you push him onto his back, throw a leg over him and get on top of him. You see a spark of excitement in his eyes and his palms are quick to run over your back, teasing the elastic of your bralette that’s still on you. His gaze wanders down your body as well and he thrusts his hips upward just enough to earn a moan from you at the sensation. 

“You better not be playing with me, Styles,” you warn him as you lean forward, lips brushing against his, but not kissing him just yet. 

“I’m not a player when it comes to you,” he answers, his gaze locked with yours and for a second you feel like you can see into his soul. With a relieved smile, you finally kiss him and after weeks of battling your own desires you finally give in and let yourself fall right into Harry’s arms. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[dmitriene]

distant inspiration picture.

simon ghost riley is familiar with how needy you can become when he gets deployed for a long couple of weeks, he doesn't even has to imagine, really, because you text him and send those tease pretty pictures with your body barely clothed and bend over to flash out a pair of squishy tits or plump, perched ass, and oh, you make it hard to him in more ways than one.

the issue is, that when he returns home, his body barely cooperates with his mind, sluggish, boneless, every limb is worse than jelly, with his mind fogged from exhaustion and a bone deep settled need to just slump back against something cushiony and let himself drift off, but you welcome him so eagerly, mold your sweet, gorgeous body against his, wrap your dainty hands around the clasps of his grimy gear, helping him get out of all the heavy, tight layers.

every wound tight, sinewy muscle drooping in tension beneath the tender ministration of your feathery touch, pulling, unraveling, pushing, until all of his tactical gear drops heavy and useless at his foot, body now clad in nothing but casual, military outfit, shirt pulled tight around wide, firm pecs and soft skin hidden underneath, flexing when you lay a palm over where his heart kicks up a notch in response to your proximity, as you reach over to get his mask off.

he get's his face peppered with smudged, eager kisses, tugged over to the couch on his unsteady feet and tripping over untied shoelaces of his boots, your fingers all the way to cup over his bristled, rough cheeks and stroke over the tissued skin underneath, sneaking towards the nape of his neck, clinging, tangling in the barely outgrown hairs there, mussed and greasy, but unable to reappreciate, simon can only groan deep from his throat and plant his hands lazily over the curve of your hips, squeezing.

it's good you and simon have a box saved for this special occasions, when he's too tired to indulge in getting his cock stuffed in the tight, gooey clutches of your cunt, but there's a couple of toys that can get you well sated and all trembling, enough to help you with this gut winding neediness, so you bring it out from your bedroom, settling down kneeling at the rug in front of his feet, while he straps the dildo to the toe of his boot, and a wand vibrator tight around his shin.

that way, you can get your fill, your dripping hole stuffed full, every short buckle of your hips making the silicone tip scrape teasingly against your spongy spot, not nearly as pleasurable as if simon's own were battering against your every sweet spot, the thought of it making your movements quicken, sloppy, desperate, hips rolling down to where your clit keeps grinding over the rapidly vibrating wand beneath, and that's enough to make your toes spasm and curl, pussy gushing wet.

and simon can get a pretty view of his darling getting off on his boot, getting it all shiny with your slick, your hands looped tight around his leg, forehead brushing against the rough fabric of his pants, as you nuzzle in there to hide your warming, blissed out face and mouth drooling, agape in a chorus of broken, chanting moans, his palm stroking over the crown of your head, soothing and anchoring, honey warm eyes heavy and watching how you come apart, repeating his name.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[muntitled]

Boa

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're just a kid, caught in a gangster’s crosshairs. What happens when you don’t deliver like you should…

Warnings: Language, Dom!Seongje, Gangsterism, Bullied!Reader, Coercion, Bullying, Extortion, Mentions of Rape, Smut +18 (mdni), Dark fic, Dubious consent, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Desperate Sex, Humiliation, Degradation

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume. I wrote this for me so...

Ever since you've started working for him, you've learned to get extremely acquainted with the floor.

"I'm sorry, Sir…” your voice is brittle as you try to make yourself heard in the suffocating internet cafe, “I'm short on delivery today..."

Hardwood. Tile. Linoleum. It's become all too familiar to you. The floor is all you see in his presence.

You never looked Seongje in the eyes unless he addresses you first. He likes that, you suspect.

It's kept you alive this long so you must be doing something right.

"I got assigned a kid to tutor and..." you clear your throat, not daring to make direct eye contact, choosing instead, to keep your eyes trained on the dirty, cold floor.

The internet cafe is the very last place you'd want to be on a Friday evening. You were caught right in between two challenging essay due dates- one for English and one for AP English. Both hung gravley over your head, threatening to set off your sympathetic nervous system and have you fainting from academic stress. Seeing him was the very last thing you needed.

"That tutoring time fucked with my system and-" despite all your achievements, despite the academic prestige and the boundless knowledge… in Seongje's presence you feel insignificant.

A bug he's letting scurry around for no other reason except his enjoyment. You didn't want to get stomped on. You saw what happened to the other kids under his thumb and it kept you up at night. All that blood. All the merciless sadism.

You aren't dumb enough to hope an exception would be made for you.

"I'm sorry,” you conclude, and for a second, you get no response. He plays his game. His friends remain silent.

That's all until he pushes the bridge of his glasses up further against his nose. A calm, quiet sigh leaves his lips.

“Before you started working for me, do you know what you were?" Seongje doesn't take his eyes off the screen. His fingers run deftly over the keys as he speaks to you without ever really acknowledging you, "You were in an alleyway, about to get raped by Eunjang scum."

"Yes, Seongje, I know-"

"And in return for my kindness, what did I ask of you?"

"FUCK- COVER ME BRO!" Your eye snaps up to the source of the loud and sudden burst of energy. Your frightened and pitiful eyes find a boy seated adjacent to Seongje and his goons. He's bent over his screen, clearly not a part of the group. Clearly far too young.

Your heart sinks when you realize Seongje's eyes are trained on the boy too.

"Ya…” Seongje raises his voice a decimal above the cacophony yet it has you flinching. “Too loud,” he says to the boy, “Didn’t anyone teach you shut up when adults are talking?” he asks monotonously to the boy- a child really- still mourning the loss of his avatar on the screen. He doesn't pay Seongje any mind.

Of course he doesn't. He's a kid.

How could he have known?

He came to an internet cafe to play a game with his friends.

It's the boy's innocence that hurts the most.

He doesn't know that the monsters under his bed are very real.

They walk where he walks.

They don't hide.

They move about freely.

Your heart makes like the titanic and sinks.

"Excuse me for a second." Seongje addresses you politely, finally giving you a fleeting glance before pushing himself out of his gamer chair. You see his entire row of friends (if that's what one could even refer to them as) remain unfazed as Seongje rounds the table to stand directly behind the young boy.

He’s bigger, far bigger as he pushes the rims of his glasses up, staring directly at you

"I know you're smart so you're probably aware that your fuck-up won't be tolerated-” he says to you, despite slithering his arm around the boys neck like a boa as he squeezes. Everyone keeps their eyes trained to their computers. Your fist curls at your side. You want to look away but you can't because you're speaking to Seongje. You wouldn't want to aggravate him further by showing him his mindlessly violence bothers you. So you try not to flinch.

You try not to let the casual violence scare you. How nonchalantly he speaks while an elementary school boy flails in his arms, begging to be released from the headlock making his lips turn blue

“You knew there'd be a punishment,” Seongje is still speaking to you. You hold your breathe in solidarity with the boy choking in his arms, “-for fucking up your delivery-” crimson blossoms onto the little boys face but Seongje keeps his eyes on you, appearing unfazed by the boy flailing like an animal in arms, "And yet you came anyway. That's the kinda work ethic, I like-” he smiles, “I like it alot-"

Eventually, after what feels like forever, he lets go of the boy. You finally breathe as well, watching as the kid slumps forward ingesting the air in horrid gasps.

Seongje bends forward, patting the boy on the back.

"No more interrupting when I speak, yeah?" Whether the boy was new to this particular internet cafe, it was unclear, but you hoped to whatever divine being that he wouldn't dare come back.

"So I'll let it slide-" He turns his attention back to you and you watch, still shaken up as Seongje leaves the little boy to make his way back to his side of the table. When he breezes past you he smells like nothing. Like his eyes, everything about him is empty.

"Thank you, Seongje-"

He nods before adding, "After you get on your knees." The goon sitting nearest to you, all the way at the end of the table, his fingers hover over the keys, and just like before, the room is rid of all air.

"Excuse me?”

He pulls out his chair for you, like some mimic of a perfect gentleman he opens his arm, gesturing you in.

"I want you on your knees, under the desk.” His words hang above you all. It has tears threatening to spill. Bile rising.

“What’s with the face? Its not like I’m asking you to suck my dick,”

"Seongje, I need to get home-"

"If you can't do it yourself I'm more than happy to help."

That has your legs moving into action. In your periphery, it feels as though everyone's watching you. A thing in psychology called the imaginary audience. When you're so self-conscious you concoct this idea of being the center of attention… only this time, it's real. You know they're all watching you. You know no one will do anything about it.

"Under the desk you go," he chuckles before sitting down and pushing his chair back in. You back away, creating intense distance between you. Your back hits dirty wires and your knees press hesitantly down onto the grime just to achieve a more comfortable position. Everything you see is his legs, his friends legs and you're suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to cry.

You want to scream at him to let you go. He's hijacked you from your endless pile of homework and yet the very thought of standing up for yourself causes a sea of nausea.

So you sit there in the dark, not knowing when this punishment would conclude. When would he let you go home? That sends you into another spiral. You've heard Seongje could game for 24 hours straight. Maybe more if he was in close vicinity to food and a bathroom. You knew this internet cafe would close eventually, that gives you the smallest sliver of hope and so you do your time.

Never once does he acknowledge you- the girl under his desk. Unbeknownst to Seongje, you catch one of his fellow gang members sneak multiple glances at you under the table. They all do. Like they enjoy seeing you under here. As time passes, and you slip further and further away from the stress, you realize that down here, on the floor, under his desk, the world is small. It's quite comforting actually and that wasn't the trauma talking.

You've always liked small spaces.

It definitely beat dealing with whatever he had going on up there half the time.

Slowly, your body begins to shut down. Your energy plummets from all the stress and all the thoughts. This is the first time you've been forced into a spot for too long doing nothing. No essays. No tutoring.

Due to tendencies from your childhood that you should've gotten rid of, you find yourself curling up against his leg. He stiffens and you snap out of the exhaustion long enough to reel back. Especially when you see his hand reach under the table. Your heart hammers in your chest, not a single word spoken as his hand searches for something. You move a bit closer until his hand catches on your hair. You wince as he drags you closer, pushing your head against his leg as you had done.

He leaves you there. You try to regulate your breathing as you feel him adjust in his seat above you.

You shift as well. Not your head. He clearly wants you there. But your legs are uncomfortable. You try to kneel and it's ridiculous because your head never leaves his leg.

No position seems comfortable enough until he stretches his leg out, right in between yours and you're made to straddle it. Above you, his fingers are still hitting the keys and you try to disassociate from the fact that his leg is pushing against your cunt. You try to sneak a peek at the surface, his glasses are trained on the screen. Not knowing whether it's your exhaustion making a reappearance but you could've sworn you hear the words, "good girl," release from him in a low drawl.

Something in his tone has you shifting over his leg. Your cunt warms against his leg and you fight the urge to buck against him. All you had to do was remember who it is that you're currently touching. That conscious reminder has you once again hellbent on doing your time with concrete resolve.

That resolve breaks.

It shatters when he eases his back against the chair, enough to once again slither his hand down towards you.

He curls his fist into your hair and tugs.

He pushes you down and lifts you up and you mindlessly follow his movements until you realize he's coaxed you into riding his leg.

He lets go of your hair, satisfied when your hips move out of their own accord.

You hate how good it feels to quite literally be beneath him. You look up and you whimper oh so quietly when you see that small smile play on his lips while his eye remains on the screen.

He's given you new instructions now and so you don't dare to stop moving your hips against him. Despite the damp spot forming on the seat of your underwear. You're not sure what it is that allows you to lose yourself so easily. Perhaps it's all the expectations that melt away when you're doing something so pitiful. You're breaking for him and he's letting you. You're not in control of anything and there's freedom in that.

“F-Fuck-” you didnt mean for the words to slip. There are still other people here but you also couldn't help the wave of pleasure that pushed up so suddenly. Your clit is moving against the fabric of his pants just right and your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head.

The second that whimper escapes your mouth, he stiffens again.

You watch as he leans back again, this time his hand isn't reaching out for you. It's to ghost over the bulge forming in his pants. Somehow that spurs you on more.

You grind against him desperately and before he can take his hand away, this time you reach up for him.

You watch him closely. The glare from the screen reflects on his glasses. His jaw, tight.

He controls the game easily with one hand, while you bring the other into your mouth.

You're not sure where this other side of you came from. This vixen who rolls her tongue out and forces his index and ring finger into her warm mouth.

He becomes more and more restless… His breath hitching. Seongje's fingers hit the keys more aggressively, while his right hand forces his fingers further down your throat. His hips buck upwards and you can see the damp spot forming where his cock is straining against his pants. He's about to cum in his pants and you're about to cum on his leg and it's far too much for you.

You know his friends are about. You try to preserve even a sliver of dignity but it all goes out the window.

“Fuck-” he spits out, slamming his fist on the table before abandoning the game. There's a fire in his eyes as he sits back to watch you peer up at him with complete and utter desperation.

“What a fucking slut-” he snarled, cleaely audible enough for not only him but his friends too. It has your mouth snapping open. Your back arches as you try to watch him watching you cum on his leg.

You've never held his attention for this long and it sends you off the edge.

“S-Seongje-” you barely squeak out as your cunt spasms against his leg. You rut uncontrollably, spurred on by the name That fell from your lips as if your body needed a reminder of just who it was making you cum. Your tormentor.

It has you seeing stars.

For all of 11 seconds.

Until it comes crashing down on you. Your pitiful act has you reeling. Mind spinning.

You don't want to look up at him but you have nowhere else to look. Your heart sinks when you see a smile form slowly across his lips… Somehow you knew you'd never be rid of him.

[iamasaddie]

lessons in control

Joel Miller x f!Reader

summary: after you witnessed the conflict at the dance, you tried to comfort Joel as best as you could, too bad you weren't really good with words. warnings: PWP, just the tip, mentions of a belly bulge, mentions of cockwarming, creampie, emotionally awkward reader, sex as a distraction, fat girthy age gap (reader late 20s-early 30s, Joel 61. don't like don't read i am planning to write some more stuff about them <3) wc: 1,7k a/n: episode came out weeks ago and i just finished the fix-it fic. i love being on time. divider by @/saradika-graphics

You were already warming up your shared bed when Joel's heavy body plopped next to yours. The matress squeaked pathetically, or maybe those were Joel's knees. He silently scooted closer to you, hugging your body from behind and inhaling your scent.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you reached and blindly found his cheek, scratching the stubble with your thumb in a gentle gesture.

“I can’t seem to control myself when I feel something might happen to her, you now?" You did know. Joel's hyperprotectiveness over Ellie was the thing that brought you together in the first place. And that was the only time when it didn't cause mass distruction. Almost. "I just get filled with rage and I lose it.” Joel sounded like a beaten dog, you knew exactly how much pain his eyes carried. You wished you could say something that’d take his mind off things. You wished you had a better way with words. But the only thing you felt you could offer was your body, so you press your back harder into his t-shirt clad chest; you pushed your ass a bit out to meet his cock that was still soft in his boxers.

“I can help you with the control thing.” You whispered, your breathing soft and calm.

“Yeah?” There was a tint of humor in his voice, a half-smile creeping up on his face. “Gonna walk me on a leash?”

“No,” you grabbed his hand and brought it up from your belly to your tits. Joel barely squeezed the supple flesh, waking up the sleeping beast that was your need. “Let’s start with something less dramatic.”

“You know full well I’m not able to control myself with you either.” As if proving his words, his hips bucked, teasing your ass with his hardening dick. His voice dropped lower, the honey thick cadence you grew to know very well. Joel’s grown out stubble brushed your ear as he moved his lips closer. “If I can have you, I devour you fully.”

You breath caught in your throat. Whatever this turns out to be, you knew you at least gave him shelter from the dark thoughts for the night. “You can have me, but,” your ass kept grinding on him, bringing Joel’s cock to the full potential, “just the tip.”

He barked a soft laugh, fanning your face with his whiskey breath. “Sounds like you’ll be the one struggling, baby,” his thumb and pointer finger pinched your nipple, already taut with excitement, and you bit your cheek to hide the moan. “Since it’s you who always begs me harder, more, deeper.”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin as Joel started nipping at your neck, dragging his teeth along the tender column. His hands enveloped you in a hot cage, forearms squeezing your boobs as he pressed you even tighter to his chest. You couldn’t move—not that you wanted to—but you didn’t think it’d be great for that exercise in control you wanted to give Joel. He bit in the juncture between your neck and shoulder and you gasped. You were so responsive, it drove Joel mad. His hips kept humping your soft ass, and you knew a wet stain already bloomed on the front of his simple underwear. 

“Come on, Joel, let me help you.” You moan was breathy, and you tried to gather some composure to no avail. Feeling his hard length fit between your asscheeks made your core burn. You desperately wanted to have him stretch your pussy around the veiny shaft, even though that wasn’t what you planned in the beginning. You guessed that both of you could learn something.

His hand let go of your tits, dragging down your body to tug your panties down. You fumbled for a moment, helping him get rid of the damp garment. His own he only shoved down enough to let his hard cock out, the elastic of the band sitting tightly under the heavy ballsack. 

Your wet pussy was sheilded from the cold of the room by the blanket that covered you both, and when Joel’s tip finally kissed the slick lips of your cunt, sweat started gathering on the back of your neck. 

One of Joel’s palms rested on your thigh, his almost fully grey happy trail that lead to the coarse pubic hairs tickled your ass and back. His finger dug into the meat of your leg, dragging it up and over his own hairy thigh, so he had a better access to your weeping pussy.

Joel’s teeth grazed your ear, low voice rumbling through you.

“Sure you don’t want me here?” His hand left your leg, and he pressed into your lower belly, making you shiver. “Don’t you love feeling me in your tummy, baby? See how my cock bulges your little belly?”

You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut. You did love that. Loved seeing how big he was, in every aspect, and how well you could still take him. Seeing how much of his cock was in you when he told you to suck your tummy in. 

“N-no,” your whimper lacked any confidence, and Joel only chuckled darkly. “Just the tip.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

He moved, grabbing the shaft of his cock that was throbbing with the absence of needed contact. With tortuously slow movements, he teased your slit, making sure to nudge your clit every time. The fat head of his cock spread your lips, mixing your arousal and his precum into one cocktail of need and despair. You felt his spongy tip knock on your hole and it took everything you had in yourself not to push down, taking as much of him as you could in one go.

You shook with desire against his body, and Joel finally allowed you to have some of him. Gently, almost mockingly, he pushed the leaking head of his cock in your tight heat. Even this small fraction of his dick felt overwhelming without proper preparation. When your walls hugged his tip, both of you exhaled sharply.

“Fuck, Joel, good, that’s good.”

“Yeah? Already full?” 

“Mhm.”

“I need you to play with your clit, baby. Want you to squeeze that tight little pussy around me as I fuck you with just the tip.”

Shaking, your right hand found your pulsating clit, but before touching it, you pushed your fingers lower, blindly feeling where the tip of his cock split you apart. You grazed his shaft with the tips of your fingers and immediately heard Joel suck air through his clenched teeth.

“If you don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you into this mattress with my whole dick, better keep your fingers on your clit, baby.”

You’d giggle if only he didn’t choose that exact moment to slip out and immediately punch into you again, this time a bit further, but you kept your mouth shut.

Your fingers expertly danced over your throbbing bud, gathering slick that generously seeped out of you. Joel was uncharacteristically quiet, all of his concentration focused on not thrusting his hips and burying himself to the hilt in your welcoming pussy. Sweat dripped down his temple, thighs screaming, but he kept feeding you just the tip, enjoying your breathy mewls. 

Having so little of him when you knew what the whole deal felt like resembled a punishment that you brought upon yourself. He stretched you good, but he couldn’t reach that magic spot he usually pondered into whenever he sunk his cock inside you. That made you work on your clit harder, already desperate to cum when it’s barely been ten minutes. 

“I can hear how wet you are for me,” Joel nipped at your neck, his tip continuously thrusting in and out of you, teasing. “D'you hear that?”

The sounds were loud, vulgar. You’ve heard the wetness of your cunt welcoming Joel with an obscene smack, like when you pat the surface of still water with your opened palm. The waves of your upcoming orgasm rippled from your core and out, like those same disturbed waters.

“Grippin' me tight, darlin’,” he groaned, you could smell his sweat and it made your mouth salivate. “Grippin' so good I can barely pull out.”

Your hand started faltering, rythm failing and Joel, sensing your trouble, left the tip of his cock inside you while his own hand started working on your clit. The simple touch of his fingertips, rough and gentle at the same time, pushed you tripping over the edge. You kept choking on air, inhaling more and more until your lungs burned and your mouth opened wide in a silent scream. 

Joel felt your little bud throbbing under his fingertips, your pussy squeezing his cock so hard he could barely hold off his own orgasm. He found your hand, bringing your slippery fingers back to your spent pussy.

“Keep touching your clit.”

“I can’t,” you whined back, voice barely audible, “it’s too sensitive, Joel.”

“Keep playing with it or I will,” the thought of his big rough fingertip on your sensitive bud again sent a chill down your spine, though it was far from fear that you felt. “I want your pussy choking and crying around me when I fill you up.”

You tried to steady your breathing, your trembling fingers started to work gentle circles on your pussy again. It felt raw, and every extra touch felt like a shock wave shooting through you. But it did what Joel wanted, every swipe made your pussy clench around him with extra strength and he just kept his tip inside you, stroking his shaft that was covered in your cum with his thumb and two fingers.

“Doing good, baby, keep going.”

“It’s too much.” You whined, almost breaking apart from him, but his hand kept you in place.

“It’s not, you can do it for me, can’t you?”

You could do anything for Joel, he was right there. So your fingers kept torturing your poor pussy, bringing as much pain as pleasure, and you kept squeezing around Joel’s cock, bringing him to his own release.

In one long unexpected thrust, he pushed the rest of his cock in you, growling as he spilled rope after rope of his cum inside you. The sudden movement ripped another orgasm out of you and you wailed, tears of pleasure tickling the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, baby,” he sounded everything but sorry, “had to make sure I don’t spill a drop.”

“Does it mean you’ll leave it in for the night?” There was hope in your voice, and you didn’t try to hide it. Whenever Joel kept himself snug in your pussy for the night, you had the best dreams, and the horniest mornings.

He hugged you close to his chest, making sure his softening cock was still plugging you. “I don’t think I got that much control, sweetheart.”

[amexizlov]

TWST characters reaction when they accidentally snap out to you and didn't mean it + apologize

Vice housewardens version

1st Years version

2nd Years version

Halloween characters

Riddle Rosehearts

It was a stressful afternoon — rule violations, papers to grade, and another Spelldrive match approaching. When you asked a simple question about tea time plans, Riddle, overwhelmed, sharply barked back, "Can't you see I'm busy?! Stop pestering me!" You froze, the hurt flashing across your face too quickly for you to hide. Riddle’s own anger evaporated instantly, horror replacing it. "___ , no, wait. I didn’t mean— I apologize! That was unforgivable of me. Please, allow me to make it up to you properly."

His voice was trembling a little. He looked like he was ready to sentence himself to a dozen collars in repentance.

Leona Kingscholar

You tugged lightly at his sleeve to tell him dinner was ready. Leona, having been stewing in a pile of frustrating family letters all day, let out a low growl and snapped, "Tch, can't you leave me the hell alone for once?" Your hand dropped. You didn’t say anything — just turned away. The heavy silence that followed hit Leona harder than any scolding could. He rubbed the back of his neck roughly, sitting up for once. "...Oi. Don’t do that. Don’t walk away." His voice was lower, regretful. He reached out, almost awkwardly, "C’mere. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, herbivore."

Azul Ashengrotto

At the Mostro Lounge, you gently pointed out a mistake on a customer order sheet. Azul, frazzled from back-to-back meetings, snapped, "If you're just going to nitpick, then leave it to someone competent!" You reeled back like he had slapped you. You mumbled an apology and stepped away. Azul's heart plummeted. The moment you disappeared into the kitchen, he almost tripped over himself following you. "____ please, wait, listen. That was— I was... stressed. I had no right to say that to you." He was wringing his hands, practically trembling, like he expected you to disappear forever if he didn’t fix it now.

Kalim Al Asim

You were helping him prepare for a big party, listing out supplies. Kalim, uncharacteristically flustered from responsibilities he wasn’t used to, blurted, "Just... stop talking for a second, okay?! I can’t think!" The hurt in your eyes broke through his panic immediately. Kalim gasped audibly. "Oh no— no no no! ___, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! You’re amazing! You’re helping me so much!" He almost toppled over the table running toward you. "Please don’t be mad... I'll do anything to fix this! You’re the best, please smile again!

Vil Schoenheit

You suggested — gently — that maybe he should take a small break during his intense training schedule. Without thinking, Vil snapped, "Do not tell me what to do if you don't understand the discipline this requires!" The flash of pain across your face was swift but deep. You stepped back without a word. Vil’s expression twisted immediately, a sharp regret slicing through his pride. "Wait." His voice dropped. He reached out, almost delicately, fingers brushing your wrist. "I was... unkind. That was uncalled for. You deserve better than being caught in my frustrations." He bowed his head slightly — something he rarely did for anyone.

Idia Shroud

You knocked on Idia’s door to remind him he hadn’t eaten. A voice snapped from inside, "Why does everyone keep nagging me? Just leave me alone!!" You stood there for a moment, stunned, before quietly setting the tray down and walking off. When Idia cracked open the door and saw you gone, a pit of guilt opened in his chest. His hair dimmed, crackling weakly as he grabbed his hoodie tighter. He spent the next ten minutes pacing before finally messaging you a frantic stream of texts:

[Idia] omg I didn't mean that [Idia] pls don’t hate me [Idia] I'm an idiot sorry sorry sorry sorry [Idia] can I come apologize IRL? pls? (๑ó﹏ò๑)

Malleus Draconia

You casually asked if he was feeling alright, noticing his solemn mood. Malleus, lost in centuries of royal burdens and ancient worries, unintentionally let his voice rise: "Do not concern yourself with matters beyond your understanding." The formal sharpness of it cut you deeper than any shout would have. You lowered your gaze and stepped back. Malleus immediately sensed it — the severed thread between you. He turned to you, anguish flickering through his usually composed face. "___ ....Forgive me, It was not my wish to wound you." He lowered himself to your level, his tone soft, almost pleading. "Please. Allow me to explain myself. I cannot bear the thought of you turning away from me."

[unreasonablerobin]

HI BARBIE

Damian Al Ghul x Girly!Reader

Summary: Damian and his... very girly girlfriend??

W.C: 4.3K

Tags: Fluff ♡

Something was different... everyone in the manor could tell that there was something different with Damian Al Ghul Wayne.

Considering he lived in a manor full of detectives, you really wouldn't think he'd have gotten away with his secret rendezvous.

7 months ago...

It all started with Alfred noticing new smells on his clothes as he did the laundry. At first, it seemed that Damian had simply switched to a new shampoo or maybe gotten a cologne. Then, the sharp scent of cologne started to come mixed with floral. Alfred did what any good butler would do. He ignored it. If his master wanted to indulge in wearing floral scents, he wouldn't shame him for it.

Alfred wasn't the only one who noticed the change in scent, though. Dick had been messing around with Damian in the training room. They always liked a good spar with each other. Everything was going as usual until... SNIFF

"Dude, are you wearing perfume?" Dick suddenly asked as he blocked a punch from his little brother. Damian's composure faltered for just a moment before he pulled himself together, grabbing Dick and tossing him over the shoulder. The poor vigilante was too distracted by his discovery to catch himself. He fell to the floor with a thud.

"Don't be ridiculous Grayson." The boy clicked his tongue as he began to walk out of the training room.

"It's one of those Britney Spears ones, Kori has a few," Dick said more to himself than Damian as the boy was choosing to ignore him the more words tumble out of his mouth. "Hold on don't tell, is it the pink one with the little green gems on it?"

Damian had to fight back the urge to inform him that the perfume he was thinking of was called Fantasy. He'd become quite the enthusiast simply from listening to you go on about all sorts of perfumes, and other products, sat at your vanity as he admired your reflection through the mirror.

"Why do you know so much about Britney Spears perfumes Grayson?" Damian retorted.

"Cause I have a very gorgeous girlfriend, Dams. I got her the perfume for her birthday, the bottle reminded me of her." He replied a lovesick grin already forming at the thought of his alien lover. The former assassin took the opportunity to sneak out of the training room as his older brother got lost in a train of hopeless romantic thoughts over his lover.

Once he made it back to his room he sharply inhaled. Yep, it smells like your perfume. Very clearly, like you'd jumped around spraying it before sneaking out this morning. He took a handful of his shirt and lifted it to his nose. Yep, also smells like your perfume and your setting spray. If he wanted to keep your relationship hidden from his lunatic families he'd need to do a better job of covering it, he thought to himself as he began to light any scented candles he could find. An attempt to cover your traces. One of them was a gift from you, so not entirely hiding your presence.

5 months ago...

The two of you were walking through the mall. Hands intertwined and a bundle of shopping bags in his other. He'd insisted on carrying them. No matter how ridiculous he looked. It was a funny sight. His cold hard expression paired with cute bags of clothes, makeup and a Sanrio plushie peeking out from one of them.

"Are you hungry, beloved?" Damian turned his head to face you. You pondered for a moment until your stomach decided for you by making a growling sound.

"Yes..." You said slightly embarrassed. A downturned smile spread on your face.

"Where would you like to go?" You were about to respond when your phone started ringing, a cheery pop song blared from your charm-adorned handbag.

"Sorry, one sec," you reached into the bag. Shoving all sorts of things around to get to your phone. "It's my mom, you pick I'll be back in a minute!" You stepped off to the side and answered the phone.

Damian huffed at the feeling of his empty hand as he began to scan the mall food court up ahead.

'Burger King, McDonalds, Stephanie and Cass, KFC...' He paused his train of thought. Oh shit, he didn't realise Stephanie and Cass would be here and walking towards you both, unaware of your presence.

"Mom, I promised I'd be back home for dinner. 6:30, I know," You laughed at her antics before saying your goodbyes and hanging up.

You didn't get the chance to turn around as your hand was being grabbed and you were getting dragged away.

"Damian?" you looked at the boy as he swerved between the crowds. "Is everything alright?" You watched as he occasionally looked behind the two of you. Taking a small glance back you spotted two girls you recognised from a photo he'd shown you.

"Hold on, is that Damian?" Stephanie stopped Cass in her tracks and pointed ahead. Cass looked up from her milkshake and saw the head of her little brother.

"We should go say hi! Wonder what he's doing in the mall?" Stephanie had taken Cass' arm and was pulling her towards Damian, both unaware that he wasn't alone and trying to get away from them.

Damian noticed the two getting closer and took a sharp left turn into a random clothing store. He used the clothing racks to hide from the persistent girls following them.

"Why's he gone in here?" Stephanie wondered out loud. "It's a women's clothing store." Cass shrugged her shoulders as her mind went to Dick's theory on Damian trying out more feminine things, and being ashamed of it, after the perfume incident. She thought the theory was ridiculous.

Cass looked around quickly to see if the shop was even worth spending time in, but nothing was to her taste. As she scanned the store she spotted what looked to her brother... and a girl? Sneaking into the dressing rooms.

'No, it couldn't be,' Cass thought to herself watching the figure of a boy that looked exactly like her brother disappear into a dressing room with a really pretty girl. 'Could it?'

You and Damian crammed into a little dressing room with all your shopping bags.

"So..." You began, turning to the mirror to fix any out of place hairs.

"We'll have to wait a while, they are unfortunately persistent."

"How long?"

"I do not know, beloved," He shoved your shopping bags into the corner. "Longer than you'd like, I'd imagine."

You stood in silence for a moment.

"I can think of a couple ways to pass the time..." You turned away to prevent yourself from laughing at Damian's flushed face.

3 months ago...

Damian and Jason had been giving each other a hand during patrol that night. Damian was chasing some low-life thugs and they managed to slip out of his grasp and dash all the way to Crime Alley. Thankfully Jason was there and helped him catch the guys. After dealing with them Damian stood up, a vibration surged through his pocket. He reached in about to immediately hit decline. Why would he answer the phone on patrol? That's what he thought until your face graced his peripheral. He quickly turned his back towards his brother. It was a photo of you and your closets friends. (Obviously the contact picture was only focused on you). It was taken on your birthday. You were all dolled up in makeup and a gorgeous outfit you'd insisted you needed his opinion on before going out. He was about to answer when, "Who's that?" Jason called out from behind.

'Oh Shit.' Damian thought to himself. There are so many excuses to use when your brother smells your girlfriend's perfume on you, so many ways to hide from your sisters when out on a date. How does one convince Red Hood that 'Beloved <3' isn't what it looks like? That its no one special on the other end of the line?

"No one," Damian tried his luck with lying anyways. "Mind your business!" He possessively clutched the phone to his chest. Hiding the caller ID and contact photo. That was only for him to see.

Jason stared at him through his helmet, "Uh-huh, sure," Damian could feel the bullshit look on Jason's face behind the helmet. "No one at all."

"No one for you to concern yourself with Todd, mind your business." Damian stuttered out sharply before disappearing into the night. Away from prying eyes.

Jason couldn't help but grin as he watched his brother run off, phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

"Idiot."

Damian had perched himself on top of an apartment building. He brought his phone in front of him and called his last missed call. You. He sat in the silence of dawn, only the buzz of his voice and the tires of some earlier commuters to be heard. Until he heard the sweet voice of his favourite person.

"Hello? Damian?" God, how did your voice sound so angelic this early in the morning, through a phone speaker?

"Good morning, beloved," He sighed contently, "Apologies for not picking up when you first called I was finishing up something." He felt at peace hearing your voice and the ruffle of your bedsheets. Even if it was only through a phone and not in person. It would do.

"Oh sorry!" You whisper yelled. The sun was only rising, your family were probably still asleep. "I didn't mean to bother, we can talk la-"

"Nonsense, you are certainly not bothering me, beloved. I'm more than happy to make time for you at any hour of the day or night." He cut you off. It was silent on your end of the line for a few moments. A couple of giggles and some sheet rustling could be heard. Damian could see it in his mind you going slightly rouge and hiding your face in the pastel duvet.

"It's just," you trailed off, "I had a stupid nightmare and I couldn't go back to sleep."

"If my presence is what you seek in order to feel safe than I will always be available." You smiled at that looking out the window by your bed.

"I will be there."

"What!?" You shot up in your bed, shrinking in on yourself when you realised how loud you were being.

"Damian, there's no need-"

"Yes there is very much need," You sighed at his persistence. "You require my comfort to fall back asleep, I know how much you enjoy your weekend sleep." You fell back k down into tour bed with a smile. He was so right. You loved your weekend lie ins.

"I am finished patrol so I will make my way to you."

"Okay, I'll see you in a few, my windows open," you bit your bottom lip for a moment, hesitation filling you, "I love you." There was silence on the other end of the line until the call ended. You looked at your phone in confusion worried you'd accidentally hit the red button or if Damian had decided he actually hated you. A shadow replacing the sunrise light that had been beaming onto you stopped your train of thought. You looked up to see Robin perched on your windowsill. Strategically, as to not damage your flower boxes.

"I love you too." He whispered before he crawled through the window, landing on your bed.

2 months ago...

Damian was sat in the back of the Batcave as Bruce and Tim discussed something about an ongoing case. He was cleaning one of his katanas. Deciding it was clean enough he picked it up and set it to the side. A small sound of metal hitting metal made the two detectives perk up. The sound came again as Damian picked up another blade to clean. Tim turned his head ever so slightly to glance at the boy and in the corner of his eyes, he spotted it. A small ring on his left hand. He gave a small glance to Bruce, who was still staring at the screen before him, but he could tell the scrunch of his face wasn't from the confusion of the case. Damian completely unaware of his brother's and father's change in demeanour continued to clean his blades. The metal ring subtly caught the light as he carefully rubbed the cloth against the sharp edge of the blade. A gentle smile graced his face as he stared at the ring. His mind wandered back to the day he gave you the promise ring. He knew you'd love it but he was still so nervous. He would rather die than let anyone know that though. Little whispers snapped him out of his thoughts. Looking up he spotted Tim leaning in towards Bruce muttering something.

"Can I say something?" Tim questioned in a hushed teasing tone.

"No, you can not." Bruce sternly replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh come on," Tim looked from him to his brother out of the corner of his peripheral. "You can't not be curious about what's up with him?"

Bruce gave the young detective a quick glance before returning to the screen with CCTV footage playing.

"Of course I am, but it is none of our business." He said curtly. "Damian is very capable and I trust that he is independent and mature enough to do as he pleases."

Tim sighed in response to that. He'd have to lay off on the teasing for now, but just know that when he gets a moment alone with his little brother he will become the biggest pain in the ass.

Damian couldn't help but let his smile grow back after hearing his father's words. He spun the ring around his finger for a brief moment before setting his blades aside and exiting the cave.

1 month ago...

Another rare day where you manage to spend the day in Wayne Manor. Today was much easier than all the others. Dick was in his apartment with Kori'ander, Bruce and Tim were away on company business, the girls were all out, and Jason was god knows where. You didn't really care if they were in the Manor or on the other side of the world at this moment. You were sprawled on top of your boyfriend in his bed. Nothing could possibly ruin this day for you. Your head was rested on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. His hand held yours and the other played with the ends of your hair. You both layed in the silence of the day as you quite literally watched paint dry. Over on his desk, which was supposed to be used for homework and not art or makeup, like it you had previously been using it for. Two small paintings lay drying; one of batcow and the other of a sunset. A huff of laughter from the chest beneath you made you look up.

"What?"

"There is paint on your face, beloved."

You shot up from his body and where about to run into the bathroom. Damian gently grabbed into your face. The red paint streaks where mostly dry now so he was easily able to rub them off. Even when your face was paint free, you both sat there, your face in his hands and his thumb caressing your skin.

"You are so beautiful, Habibti." You stared with a lovestruck look right back at his lovesick one. He leaned in a little closer.

"May I?" He asked, ever the gentleman. You nodded.

He brought his lips to yours not caring about the sticky sensation of your lip gloss. You sighed into the kiss and brought your hands up to rest of his. They slid down and held onto his wrists. Neither of you would get Iver this feeling. The butterflies, your lips on eachother, the fear that enters your body when you hear a knock of the door. Oh my god. You immediately pulled away.

"Master Damian," Alfred's muffled voice came through the door. "Would like some cookies? They are freshly baked."

"No thanks, Pennyworth." Damian quickly replied. There was an uncomfortable silence for a second before-

"Would your friend like some?" Both of your eyes bulged out and your jaws dropped.

"I won't tell, no need to fret!"

You looked to Damian nervously, who nodded his head, telling you that Alfred really meant what he said.

"Yes please!" You piped up. You could smell those cookies and my god, you wanted them so bad.

"Very well, I'll prepare them and some tea." Alfred laughed before heading back to the kitchen.

Present...

Yesterday had been another one of those rare days where nobody was in the manor, so you had come over and Damian persuaded you to stay the night.

You sleepy made your way into the bathroom attached to his room. Deciding it was time to get ready for the day. Your eyes scanned the counter top covered in skincare and makeup products left here overtime by you. You couldn't help but smile thinking of all the smalls ways you two had been intertwining your life's. You had things in his place, he had things in yours, he carried hair ties for you and you carried bandages for him. It was simple and sweet. It got you thinking about why he didn't want you to meet his family as you did your skincare. He'd met yours, plenty of time at that. He'd spent the night, he'd had dinner with them, hell you're mom bought him an Easter egg! You swore up and down to yourself he didn't have any problem with you or his family. Now picking up your primer you couldn't help but be confused. Why is he so desperate to hide you and your relationship? You shook the thoughts away when you spotted your frown in the mirror, now just focusing on getting ready.

An hour had passed and Damian was awake. He could hear you in the bathroom as he rolled over in the now cold bed.

"Babe, can you help me?" You softly called out as you nudged the bathroom door open. "I can't get my earing in." You informed with you hands at your ear.

He got up from his bed a maneuvered you back into the bathroom, where the lighting was good, shutting the door behind him.

"I can't get it through, it shouldn't be closed up though!" You handed him the earing and stood beside him under the ceiling light.

He tilted your head and began what would be an annoyingly long process of trying to perform the simple task of getting a piece of metal through a hole.

Alfred was in the middle of cooking breakfast and asked Dick to go wake his brother up. Unaware that you were still here. You usually snuck out earlier but you're phone was dead when you woke up so you never checked the time.

Dick trecked up the stairs, past Jason leaving his room and towards Damian's. He softly knocked on the door before swinging it open.

"Uh, Jason?"

"What?" Jason grumbled at the end of the hallway.

"Who's phone is that?" Dick asked pointing towards a phone that definitely wasn't his brother's. Unless he'd taken a sudden liking to charms and bows.

Jason sleepy stared at Dick until the image of Damian's phone with a picture of a girl and suspicious caller ID appeared in his head. Now he was sprinting towards his brother's room.

Jason and Dick stood in the doorway examining the unknown phone plugged in and rested on the nightstand. Jason gasped and pointed at a woman's bag, say on the floor, leaning against the desk leg. Dick dramatically took hold of Jason and put a finger to his lips. He then pointed to the bathroom door.

"Damian it's fine!"

"I don't want to hurt you!"

"It's not going to hurt, babe I promise!"

A girl? Babe!?

This had Dick and Jason turning to eachother, shock written all over their faces as they sprinted to the stairs.

Bruce, Tim, Stephanie and Cass were all sat at the dining table. Bruce was reading the newspaper, Tim was chugging a coffee, Stephanie was talking to Cass while they waited for the other three boys. Same as every morning. At least it was, until-

"Damian has a girlfriend!" Dick shouted like he was the final girl just after discovering who the killer was.

"She's upstairs!" Jason skidded into the kitchen behind him.

Alfred froze, as he watched Tim and Stephanie sprint faster than he'd ever seen before. Dick and Jason following right behind them. Cass subtly followed. She didn't want to be nosy but... she needed to know! Her suspicions were driving her crazy ever since the mall. Bruce sighed, folding up the newspaper and setting it down before heading up to Damian's room as he heard screaming.

You were mortified. Six people just barged into the room and saw you in your pyjamas; your underwear and one of Damian's shirts. You screamed and immediately bolted back into the bathroom. You were panicking. Damian didn't want you to meet his family and you just did it in the worst way possible. Half naked and screaming. What a way to meet the future in-laws. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you slid to the floor. Atleast your hair and makeup look good.

"Drake, what the fuck!?" Damian yelled.

"Hold on, why am I the only one getting yelled at?" Tim retorted.

Stephanie nudged his shoulder. "You scared her stupid!"

"We barged in at the same time!"

"You're a guy!"

Damian stood there with a frustrated expression watching Tim and Stephanie bicker and the rest of his family pile in. Cass's small smile at him help him relax a little, but only a little. And just for a moment, cause then Dick and Jason piped up.

"So..." Dick began. "Who is she?"

"None of your business."

"That's what you told me when someone named 'beloved' called you on patrol." Jason chimed in with a teasing tone. Damian could only stare at more frustration than before. His cheeks began to flush and that just passed him off more. Stephanie wasn't helping with her "awww's in the background. Damian was about to scream for them to all get out, get physical with Tim if he needed to.

“Damian.”

Everyone turned towards the stern, deep voice in the doorway. Bruce stepped forward to his youngest son.

"Father," Damian started a tangent before Bruce even had a chance to say anything more. "Her name is Y/n. We have been dating for 8 months, and I love her. No matter your approval or disapproval I will continue to see her." Damian informed his father in a stern and determined tone.

“If it’s alright with you I would like to meet her. Properly.” He requested. “I believe the rest would also like to meet her.” Damian didn’t know how to respond. He thought his father would have a bigger reaction to lying and sneaking around with a girl. Especially considering the occupations of everyone present.

“Of course only if she’s alright with it as well.” Bruce added with a light smile.

"Allow me to check." Bruce ushered all of his children out of the young boy's room.

Once they’d all left he slid into the bathroom where you were still sat on the floor.

“Habitat,” he called out softly. “We don’t have to go down there if you don’t want to.” He knelt in front of you.

“No! I want to, I’d love to meet your family.” You countered quickly. “Only if that’s okay with you, I don’t want to overstep.”

“Whatever you want, beloved.” He said with a smile identical to his father’s.

You were now dressed and sat beside Damian at the Wayne dining table. All of the Wayne's were staring at you. It wasn't daggers or disgust. You'd figured it was curiosity.

"How the hell did you even meet?" Jason asked the first question.

"School." Damian answered coldly.

"No offence, but I didn't expect you to end up with someone so..." Dick trailed off as he swung is fork around as if it would conjure up the words he wad looking for.

"Girly?" You suggested. "I get it, you probably thought he'd end up with someone like yourselves."

Everyone at the table felt a bead of sweat drop from their foreheads.

"What?" Stephanie asked with a nervous laugh.

"She knows." They all snapped their necks to look at Damian and then their father at the head of the table.

He sighed, "Damian I trust that you thought about all this before giving us away?"

"Of course I did. Do not suggest that they are not trustworthy." Bruce and Damian had a bit of a stare off. While that was happening Stepahine had kicked Tim out of his chair beside you.

"You're hair is so gorgeous! What do you use?" She asked as she held a strand in her palm.

"Oh, I cannot think of the name! But there's some up in Damian's bathroom, I'll show it to you."

Dick leaned over the table, "I thought I was going crazy when I started smelling perfumes off him!" You laughed at his comment.

"What do you use? It smells similar to the one Kori uses."

You began to chat with the vigilantes about all sorts of things. Telling Cass and Stephanie about the products you use and where you shop, listening to stories about Dick and Kori. Jason chimed in with a few book recommendations and reviews after learning you like to read. Quickly you found yourself having conversations with all the Waynes like it was as easy as breathing. As you were laughing at some Internet joke you and Tim were discussing, you spotted a poute on your boyfriend's face. And it finally clicked.

Damian Al Ghul was jealous of his own family.

He kept your relationship a secret and avoided introducing you for so long because he didn't want them to steal your attention.

You couldn't help but smile at that.

A/N: First piece published!! I welcome back feedback with open arms. Please just don't take this opportunity to be rude. I'd love to know if I write ooc or if my grammars incorrect, ect.

Shout out to Damian Al Ghul my gatekeeping king🙏

[sugussugar]

random sugu hcs <3

suguru who insists you both sleep naked- not for sexual reasons (at least not most of the time), but rather because be enjoys the feeling of skin to skin and keeping you warm all night long.

suguru who's favorite place to kiss you is your forehead and finger tips.

suguru who loves buying you new everything; it fills him with a sense of pride knowing every time you two go out that you're wearing a new dress that he bought you, paired with a set of heels that he got you for valentine's day, while you apply lipgloss that he thought was the perfect shade for your lips. it's like he's indirectly marking you.

suguru who, on the topic of marking, loves littering love bites and hickeys all across your collarbones, neck, chest, and thighs. most of them, actually, don't even happen in a sexual setting. he simply gives you little markings whenever he pleases; biting your thighs when he's helping you put on your shoes, sucking the back of your neck when he's hugging you from behind while you work on something, licking at the bruises he just left on your collarbones while you both cuddle on the couch, ect.

suguru who, despite hiding it well, gets jealous easily. he knows that in his past relationships he had some toxic tendencies where he wouldn't let his ex-girlfriends have male friends, and don't get him wrong, he knows that was wrong. but god, he wants to keep you all to himself. but he can't risk scaring you off, and the thought of hurting you kills him, so he'll just watch in envy as you interact with your male friends from afar.

suguru who loves watching you do your makeup or skincare. you just look so cute all focused on making a perfect wing with your eyeliner. he loves watching the whole look come together just as much as he loves seeing you wash it all off. you're just so perfect and beautiful no matter what you're doing .

[bluukive]

!MDNI: JJK Men x make-up sęx

warnings: angst kinda, degredation, fem!reader, consensual

ᡣ𐭩 G. Satoru

He talks a big game during arguments, throwing his hands in there like he's in some sort of performance. Satoru's sarcastic, even playful. But it's all an act to conceal how his heart is painfully hammering in his chest. He's hurt, and so are you. Satoru mopes around like a kicked puppy once you essentially tell him to fụck off and give you space. Satoru is terrified of losing you. It's like you've ripped his heart out when you tell him to leave.

Satoru gives you like, an hour max before he's back. More words are exchanged until you're bullied against the corner of some random wall, body smothered by his lanky one. He's begging so sweetly, mouthing wetly at your shoulders, neck, jaw. Anywhere he can get his mouth on. It's embarrassing how you're just letting him rut his hips against your own like it's the last time he'll ever get to touch you like this. It's even worse now that he's laughing a little at how you reciprocate, tịts right up against his. You can act as pissed as you want, but Satoru knows your body better than anyone else ever will.

He taunts you the entire time. Once you're finally dripping all over his cọck, Satoru doesn't let you cụm until he can feel the sting of your nails dragging down his back and chest. That's the least he deserves for being such an ąss to you. But he wants you to cry for him whilst he forces his thumb away from your clịt, edging you repeatedly until you apologise. It's only fair since he did first. He even makes you say thank you after he lets you climax.

Satoru can feel his lips dampen with your tears once you're done taking your frustrations out on each other. You don't even know when you started crying, but he's there to put you back together again. His large palms are squeezing at your waist, running up and down your back as you both collect yourself. Another apology leaves his lips. He won't stop until you're looking at him in the eyes again.

"Are you seriously still mad at me? Let your Toru kiss you better."

"Tell me. Use that sweet mouth of yours and say that you forgive me."

"Honestly? I can't fụcking breathe without you."

ᡣ𐭩 G. Suguru

Suguru hates it when you both fight. He feels like he's failed as a partner when he watches the way your eyes gloss over with tears. He doesn't have a choice but to give you space because if he doesn't, he'll just overbear you with attempts to fix things again.

When he's back, Suguru's on his knees, kneeling between yours. He's quiet and begging with his eyes first before he does anything else, hair hanging down in loose strands. Your eyes are on everything but him, but that does nothing to stop him from gently coaxing your hand in his and kissing your soft fingertips, your wrists, and finally, your thighs. Like he's worshipping you.

You're yelping and throwing your arms around his neck when he finally picks you up and carries you bridal style to the bedroom after your persistant silence. Suguru wants to make it right. But something about the bedroom atmosphere makes Suguru switch. Clothes are discarded and torn off, and your hips are held down as he fụcks you deeply and deliberately. You'll feel him for days after. Suguru gets pịssed if you try looking at anything but him. It's futile to try and hide from his reverent devotion. His slender fingers are harshly guiding your face back up as his large robes conceal you both. He didn't bother taking them all off. There are mutual bite marks littering both of you, and Suguru takes an enjoyment in watching your hips jerk when he licks the sting away with a languid drag of his tongue.

Suguru uses both hands to hold your head in place when your ọrgasm hits you. He refuses to let you look away as you sniffle and convulse beneath him. His own ọrgasm is triggered by yours, but he can't focus on that. All he can do is press his lips in a worshipping manner all over your skin as he murmurs the word 'sorry' over and over again.

"I know, I know. I fụcked up. Give me a chance to make it right, hm?"

"Shịt- you know you're all m-mine, right?"

"Hurt me. I don't care. Just don't fụcking leave me."

ᡣ𐭩 S. Ryomen

Sukuna's so mean. He really does fight dirty when you dare argue back. Usually, he enjoys it. But sometimes, you strike a nerve in him that has him saying cruel things he doesn't even mean. It's all just a defence mechanism he uses to avoid actually being vulnerable for once in his life. You're slamming doors when you think you're both done, hiding in the bedroom you both share. He's busy pacing around alone like a feral animal.

He stalks into the room not long after, though. Without knocking. Sukuna looks like he's about to snap with how stiff he stands if you don't touch him right that second. He's infuriated when you just sit there, sulking with your brows furrowed. There are no apologies leaving his lips any time soon, not when he's manhandling you onto all fours once you give him more of that sass he loves. Your back is in a nasty arch, face pressed against the bed as he fụcks one of his cocks into you, as if he's trying to breed you on the spot. You're drooling, and he just licks it all up after grabbing your hair and pulling you up to his chest.

Sukuna is filthy. He's got you folded, spitting into your mouth and watching your fụcked-out face swallow it all. Some escspes the corner of your lips, which he greedily licks back up again. His teeth are dragged down your throat as he makes you cry to be filled up. Sukuna doesn't accept anything less than you becoming utterly limp after he's done with you. He wants you to depend on him, make you realise that all you need is him.

When you're both done, you can't move. He's fụcked his apologies into you, holding you in place in bed. Sukuna's completely wrapped around you, and you can hear low grunts and tuts leaving him if you even dare to think about moving away from him.

"Little brat. I should have thrown you over my knee the second you gave me an attitude."

"Hate me all you want, wife. You're mine, and you can't do anything about it."

"Don't you dare move. Not even an inch."

ᡣ𐭩 N. Kento

It's rare you both argue, but when it happens? You hate it. He tries staying respectful, but Kento eventually grows eerily quiet. When he does speak, his voice is incredibly low and clipped. He's being snide underneath all that faux politeness, yet he can't stop. Kento forces himself to take a breather.

He HATES himself for it, and you do just as much. Kento's eyes are bloodshot when he's back, much like yours, and his shoulders are hunched. After a brief word of consolation, he's grabbing you and kissing you so heavily, like a dam has burst. As if he'd die without letting you know how sorry he was. Whilst he rips off his own clothes to the point there are buttons scattered all over the floor, Kento undresses you so carefully. He doesn't want to cause you anymore pain since the memory of you looking so hurt by him is burned into his mind.

You're both pent up, it's obvious. Kento keeps sẹx to just missionary, his forehead against yours as a lump forms in his throat. He's doesn't hold a single negative thought towards you, no. He's disappointed in himself that he let the argument go that far. All you can hear is him asking if you still loved him whilst he thrusted as slowly as he could. If you felt good, if you forgave him.

Kento feels it all deeply, much like you do. You can see the sweat mixing with the occasional stray tear coming from your dear husband as he tenderly rubs at your clịt. He's incredibly passionate and tender, but memories of him during that argument has the pleasure you feel ebb away. He notices it immediately, the way your face falls flat. Again, Kento's kicking himself for it, and the rhythm of his hips falter. He holds you tighter, praying that his actions and words are reassuring. He holds your face, murmuring about how devoted he is, how he'll be a better man for you.

"I swear. I never want to speak to you like that again."

"I need to hear it, m-my love. Please, tell me you won't leave."

"You still love me, don't you? I love you, too. I swear, I'll never stop."

ᡣ𐭩 T. Fushiguro

Doors are slamming, he's muttering filthy curses under his breath, saying things he didn't think twice about. Toji's genuinely the worst when he's mad. Even when he returns from his quick breather, he's still seething and unable to voice out how shịtty and sorry he feels. Toji looms over you, both pịssed and impressed at the audacity you have to get an attitude with him. He's backing you up onto the bed, and you don't even realise. You're too busy cussing you out, and he figures a cute thing like you could get it out of her system. He just wants you even more.

You find yourself whining at the sting of his hand connecting with your ąss, and the force of it makes you jolt forward on the bed. Toji lets out a satisfied grunt at the pitiful noises you make, a hand holding the back of your neck as he's fụcking consecutive orgasms out of you. The air around you both is hot and heavy, but also thick with unsaid words. Apologies that both of you are too stubborn to say out loud.

His cọck is heavy inside you, throbbing with the need to make you cụm first. It's his way of apologising without speaking. Toji kisses with teeth, nipping at you and sucking your lower lip into his mouth to get you to cry for him. But with you, he needs to hear you're sorry out loud. He's stopping his own movements completely until you're babbling mindlessly about how you'll never act up again (which is a lie).

He's surprisingly quiet after, his breathing heavy as he smooshes your cheeks together. Toji's calmed down, and so have you. He enjoys the way you try to push his larger body off yours, but he won't budge, because you're right where he wants you. There's no way he's letting you go any time soon. Not until you know how sorry he really is.

"Still being a little bịtch, huh?"

"I see. You just needed some dịck, didn't ya? Is that why you were acting up?"

"Louder, brat. Say you're sorry. Properly."

an - idk how to feel about this one

[cherrygirlfriend]

Nerd!rafe starts noticing that he has a choking kink(being choked) but afraid to tell reader, until she realises herself and starts having fun with it until she actually does it

Girlll I love your blog

choke me

thank you for the request!! i hope you like this <3 nerd!rafe wants perv!reader to choke him. +18

rafe couldn’t stop thinking about it.

his head had just been in between your legs, your hands tugging on rafe’s hair hair pulling rafe closer to your cunt as his fingers were curling inside of you, hitting the spongy spot inside of you.

“yesyesyesyesyes-“ you moaned, pulling tighter on his hair as your gummy walls clenched and squeezed rafe’s fingers. but once your orgasm finally started subsiding, you let go of rafe’s hair and he climbed up your body, only for you to grab his neck and squeeze slightly, pleasure unexpectedly shooting up his spine and his cock basically jumping in the confines of his boxer shorts as you squeezed harder, making it even harder for him to breathe as you brought his lips to yours. “did so good for me baby…” you mumbled in between blissed out kisses. but the moment you let go of his throat, he couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment.

rafe couldn’t stop thinking about it, how good it felt to have you control of if he could breathe, if he deserved to breathe, but rafe had no idea how to even bring it up in conversation. he had always been awkward when it came to any sort of physical affection, and most of his friends weren’t too… experienced when it came to sex, so he knew he couldn’t ask them.

you were on top of him, your hand squeezing his throat as you rode him, mumbles of his name leaving your lips as you threw your head back, rafe’s hands holding onto your hips. “doing so good baby, doing real good for me…” you moaned, squeezing tighter.

rafe woke up with a startle, his skin flushed with sweat, his breaths coming out in a pant. the boy sat up in bed, running a hand through his sandy-colored hair as he took off his sweat-covered t-shirt, only to feel something wet in his boxer shorts. throwing off the blanket, rafe saw a wet spot at the front of the blue fabric, further confirming his suspicions as he lifted the waistband of his underwear. fuck.

later that afternoon, rafe was sitting at his computer, his glasses reflecting r/askmenadvice on reddit, open on a post he had made about an hour ago titled ‘how to tell your girlfriend you like to be choked?’

he was biting on the nail on his thumb as he read over the replies, taking a chug from the diet coke on his desk, a sigh leaving his lips.

u/softelectricity9

just say it to her lol

u/falseboldness

is she into choking you? if so, just try and show her that you’re into it as she’s doing it.

u/SnottyPotty15

Maybe try to ask her what she’s into and then mention what you like.

rafe was startled shitless by the sound of his door opening and banging closed. “hi baby!” a familiar voice called out at the door, causing rafe to abruptly turn off his computer monitor and turn in his chair, “hey, hi, baby…” rafe stood up and cleared his throat, smiling tightly at you as he scratched the back of his neck, “you, uh, you didn’t tell me you’d be coming by…”

“do i have to tell you every time before i come by? i was thinking we could go out to eat.” you grin, cupping his cheeks and pressing a quick kiss on his lips, “what were you looking at?”

“nothing.” rafe chuckled softly before clearing his throat, “i’ll, uh, i gotta return somethin’ to walter. i’ll be right back and we can go out somewhere. how about pizza?”

“mmm… ramen? i’m craving it.”

rafe let out a chuckle and nodded, “alright. be right back.” he said, grabbing a usb stick off his desk before heading out the door, the minute it clicked to a close, you were turning on his computer monitor. honestly, he should know you better by now. of course you were going to snoop. and once you saw what he’d been trying to hide, you couldn’t suppress your grin.

after the two of you got back from the restaurant, rafe was holding you in his arms as netflix was open on rafe’s laptop, only for you to not be paying any attention to it, more focused on looking up at your boyfriend, the screen reflected in his glasses.

“what are you staring at?” he mumbled, his eyes not straying from the screen. “you.” you replied, stroking the bare skin right above the waistband of his sweatpants, rafe’s shirt having ridden up. “and why is that?” the boy asked, his tone slightly amused.

“because.” you moved to straddle him, rafe’s eyes widening in surprise, no longer paying any attention to the show that was playing, “i want you.”

“you- uh-“

you pressed your lips against his to quiet him down before he could even say anything. rafe’s hands went to your hips almost automatically, drawing small patterns with his thumbs.

as your lips moved against rafe’s, your tongue teasing his, letting out a whine into your mouth as your hand went to his throat, gently squeezing. when you applied more pressure, you felt rafe getting hard under you. pulling your lips away from his, rafe looked up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“you know…” you lean close to his ear and whisper, “if you want me to choke you, you can just ask, baby.”

ty for reading! feel free to send reqs and check out my masterlist!

[bambisnc]

(   ➴ ) 𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲 𝖧𝖨𝖬, 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖬𝖤! ♡

୨ৎ. 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 .. 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌.

### . STARRING ⌢ p.sh ⋆ oneshot + 1.2k // kissing + reader has an ex + i need you guys to j trust me on this please ˖ ✧

[ 陰 🤍 ] ─── i have nawt read the manga before anyone asks; i found the name super funny & then a little lightbulb in my head went "!!" ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‹ FILE.ZIP 𝟹

park sunghoon usually prides himself on being a man of dignity and honor.

he’s heard people around him say this; multiple remarks of how his moral conduct seems totally unshakable. a pillar whose boundaries not one single temptation could consider breaking, they'd say.

but, he finds himself thinking, if all that were really true, he wouldn’t really be in this position—with heeseung's girlfriend all pretty in front of him, pinned up against a wall—would he?

not that he's complaining about the sight in front of him, of course. 

you are nothing less of a divine vision with slightly swollen and spit slicked lips, your delicately applied gloss now smudged from the earlier … activities.

his eyes take in the loose strands of hair framing your features, the way your eyes are delectably glazed over and the lightest sheen of sweat highlighting it all. it’s a wonder he’s able to resist diving right back in and claiming your lips in another kiss, really.

heeseung should've known better. 

he should've known that leaving you alone with sunghoon could not possibly lead to any good outcomes.

one doesn't harbour unrequited feelings for months and leave scott-free, with zero after effects. there’s bound to be some catches.

sunghoon blamed many other things too.

firstly, the sun. for subjecting him to its sweltering heat and for rendering him into a half-dazed stupor. for being the reason you were wearing that gorgeous sundress, casual but enough to catch the attention of all the others lazily roaming around the open shopping complex.

secondly, he blamed ni-ki. like, did the boy really have to drag heeseung away because he saw a michael jackson DVD (limited versions only) on display?

granted, that particular compilation was seemingly not available anywhere else without having to pay a price so scandalous that it hurt to think about. and the singer did happen to be ni-ki's favorite.

but gosh, how selfish could people be?

most importantly, though, he blamed your ex.

for? his mere existence.

it had been going just fine, peachy even, right until that person showed up, he recalls, absentmindedly tracing your lower lip—doing his best to ignore the expectant gaze you were directing towards him lest he end up doing something he'd regret.

well. regret more than he does already, that is.

when your previously cheery smile had suddenly been replaced by a pall of worry, he couldn’t help but immediately mirror your concern. you had anxiously clutched the edge of his sleeve, murmuring that you had just happened to see song eunseok. also known as your ex. 

“i just… i really don’t want to face him right now.”

that was understandable. sunghoon wouldn’t want to see the face of the man who had been such a horrible boyfriend to you (your words, not his; circa last july, pre-heeseung era) either, lest he end up lobbing a punch his way.

“do you think you could hide me?” he could practically see the unease wrapped in a sheath around you from the way you chewed on your lip, “please?...”

what was sunghoon supposed to reply to that? say no to your plea? as if he could ever.

so he did what any dutiful friend would do. he let you use him. 

an arm braced against the wall and another awkwardly fidgeting by his side—he wasn’t sure where it was considered appropriate to keep one’s hand while helping their friend’s girlfriend hide from an ex—he stood leaning towards you. 

his broader, taller frame could cover yours with laughable ease. should the ex boyfriend happen to glance your way, he wouldn’t even realize there was another person there.

it was fine even up until that point. it wasn’t like sunghoon couldn’t control himself and immediately took advantage of the situation. no matter how much he really, really wanted to.

he would never do that to heeseung or you. 

all he needed to do, he thought determinedly, was to not make eye contact and hope that this was over soon. 

but suddenly, you were tugging him closer, saying the position seemed way too odd, too awkward. and now he was closer to you than ever, and quite aware of the fact that he was sweating bullets. 

“hoon?... are you okay?” you had piped up, voice slightly muffled due to quite literally being pressed up against him, “you seem so flushed… is it because of the sun?”

no, it was most definitely not because of the sun.

he vaguely recalls replying back with some offhanded agreement to your words. you, bless your heart, had immediately brushed the back of your hand against his forehead, checking if he was truly okay.

sunghoon swore his breath hitched at the contact. noticeably.

only then did it sink in. the reduced proximity, the charged air brewing between your bodies. he really shouldn’t be getting any ideas.

"?..."

“i’m fine.” his voice was low, cautious. he ran his tongue across his lips, wetting them—a nervous tick of his. “you need to stop this.. a guy can get the wrong idea, you know?” 

you had only giggled at that airily, “no wrong ideas here, i promise.”

then, as if it was the most natural thing to do—it might as well have been, with how perfect it was—you had tipped your head upwards, placing a soft kiss right at the corner of his mouth.

“am i still being unclear?” your head was tilted at a 45° angle, playing off a cute innocence. 

... there was no way he could say no to that, rationality and morals be damned.

and so instead of gracing your teasing remark with a dignified comeback, he simply let you close the distance between your lips once again.

-

park sunghoon usually prides himself on being a man of dignity and honor, sure. but right now? right now, the only thing he’s sure of is that he’s fucked up. big time.

heeseung… one can only imagine how his friend would react to this information. none of the possible scenarios that run through his head are any good.

with a jolt, he jerks away; the hurt look on your face doing nothing to break his resolve. (mostly.) 

“this isn’t—this isn’t right. you have a boyfriend, heeseung… he—he’ll be devastated.”

“what?” confusion spreads across your face, genuine enough if he stopped to take it in. “sunghoon, no that’s not it—”

“we—it’s best we forget this happened. i, um,.. i won’t say anything to him.”

a blink. and you’re laughing. wait what?

“ah…” the way your head is thrown back as you struggle to keep a straight face almost distracts him. “heeseung is actually going to burst out laughing, oh my god.”

before he can even comprehend what that could mean, you show him your phone screen opened to a chat between you and your boyfriend (?).

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : dude if you’re planning on making out w/ hoon rn do NOT do it in front of me and niki i beg.

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : cause like it’s one thing having to hear ab how u bad u want him 24/7 (it gets to a point oh my god?)

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : go get ur man by all means but i do nawt need to be seeing allat !!!!!

“see? i only made him pretend we were together because eunseok was being a little bitch. it was super funny seeing his reaction, if that helps!”

sunghoon’s not sure if he wants to now laugh himself or instead cry. maybe both at the same time? he would rather not scare you off already though. hence, he does the next best thing. 

he kisses you once again. softer this time, as if he’s taking the time to savor the moment.

you part for air only when it becomes an absolute necessity. “what was that about?”

“i need to make up for lost time. all this while, i really thought i had no chance. and…” a pause that indicates he’s struggling to find the right words.

his tone is sheepish when he finally says what’s on his mind. 

“and... i could’ve been a better fake boyfriend, by the way. for the record.”

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit @douqhnxtss @soona-huh @amoressb @nicholasluvbot @manariee @rinrinninnin @ddeonuswife @douqhnxtss @lovenha7 ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[randompiecesofwriting]

Wrong Name (Part 2)

Summary: Part 2 of Wrong Name ft. an accidental proposal

Pairing: Jack Abbot x reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warning: None! Just super cute!

Author’s note: And I present a part 2 I honestly never thought I would write! Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who left likes reblogs and comments they all mean that absolute world to me I love hearing about your favorite parts it absolutely makes my day and I hope you like this part too!

Check out part one here!

He thought he had learned to stop being so surprised to see you just show up at the hospital.

It was always with an excuse, dropping off food for the staff, meeting him after a shift to walk home, giving him something he had forgot at home, but he thinks you actually just like being around, and the rest of the doctors of the Pitt certainly felt the same way. He was pretty sure they just texted you, asking you to come when they needed you, and you never hesitated to follow through.

It was nice to have someone outside of the Pitt. It was something he learned early on with you. Nice to have someone with what felt like objective eyes on the good and the bad, who could give perspective from a point of view other than a medical professional. And somehow, you’ve become that person for the people in the ED still too new to have that network yet.

So maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised to see you sitting on a bench across from the hospital, drinking a beer from a familiar looking cooler, surrounded by familiar looking young doctors.

“Have my med students kidnapped you” a part of him relished the way everyone in the group but you jumped a little at his voice, their immediate reaction to try and hide the beer as if they had been caught doing something wrong.

All except you who grinned up at him from the bench, tilting your neck back eagerly to give him a quick kiss in greeting with a hum of approval. “Kidnap? Please, I think I could take them”

Mel’s head tilted slightly to the side as if trying to figure out whether you were joking or not while Javadi’s eyes go wide and bounce rapidly between the two of you still trying to figure out if she was somehow going to get in trouble for this.

It was Whitaker who pipped up to fill the silence “Well Santos knows Krav Maga”

You looked at the intern with a raised brow, watching as she tried to bite down and hide her proud smirk behind her can. “That’s okay she’d be on my side”

“Damn right I would” she responded immediately, clinking her can against yours in a toast as you chuckled.

“Well now that your white knight is here what do you say we head home” he cut in putting a hand on your shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.

“And that kiddies is my cue” You gave a dramatic groan as you stood up, raising your can in front of you to address them “to my favorite doctors in all of PTMC who work under Dr. Abbot” you gave a pause for dramatic effect “who I am incredibly proud of and did amazing work today”

Javadi gave a snort at that “you weren’t even here to verify that”

“Oh those weren’t my words” you assured her quickly “those came directly from Jack”

“Now hold on” he tired to interject but you steamrolled ahead.

“Goes on constantly about how proud he is of you guys”

“Wait a second”

“How you are the best residents he’s ever had”

“I certainly didn-“

“And that you’re all getting raises”

Jack tried to swallow back the chuckle that ruminated in his chest “And with that we are leaving”

You chuckled fondly at him, Jack beyond powerless to do anything but smile softly back at you.

“Alright I will see you all…probably fairly soon you’re kinda stuck with me now”

Mel pipped up just as you started to retreat “we’re still on for Friday right?”

“Yes” You responded eagerly, making your way over to Jack and not hesitating to take his hand in yours, giving the fingers a reassuring squeeze “your sister’s okay with it right?”

“Of course she is she likes you” Mel rolled her eyes like it was obvious only making your grin widen.

“Good I like her too. But I wanted to check. You can’t just crash a King sister tradition without checking” Pulling softly on his arm you started to lead Jack away from the benches, still calling out back behind you “text me if she doesn’t want me to come, no hurt feelings got it?”

Mel gave you a thumbs up in response, you just about to finally turn around and leave with Jack before Whitaker called out again.

“Goodbye Mrs.A-“

“Whittaker you finish that sentence I’ll sic Santos on you”

And finally, finally Jack had you all to himself. A comfortable silence falling over the two of you as you started to make the familiar trek home.

“You’ve met King’s sister?”

“You haven’t?”

And all Jack could do was laugh because of course you have. Of course you knew all about how she spent her time outside of work. Of course you had gotten yourself invited to their family tradition.

But still his mind was stuck on one particular part of that conversation. Unable to stop himself from asking even as he felt he shouldn’t. “Have you ever thought about it? Being Mrs. Abbot”

“Of course” you answered so quickly, so thoughtlessly, as if those two words hadn’t made his heart stutter in his chest “that’s why its written in pink glitter pen on every page of my diary”

And maybe you noticed the way his smile didn’t fully reach his eyes, or the way his laugh didn’t live in his chest as it normally did, but something made you pause before giving a more honest answer.

“Yeah I’ve thought about it”

He let the answer hang for a bit, let you enjoy yourself watching him squirm before he spoke “and?”

Like he knew you would you grinned back at him. Giving your interlocked hands a little swing “and I think I could go either way”

“Really?” he asked with a raised brow “you have no opinions?”

You shrugged in response “I think I’ve decided my priority is you.”

And truthfully he didn’t know what to say to that. In all the ways he had envisioned this conversation going, all the possible answers you could have given that was not one he had prepared for.

“I like what we have going” you shrugged, giving his hand a soft squeeze “we’re good. I like the idea of making it official, I don’t need it though” And finally you looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips, nothing short of complete devotion in your eyes “at the end of the day I’m going to spend my life with you Jack Abbot and there’s nothing you can do about it”

That finally pulled a real laugh out of him, the kind that rumbled deep in his chest, as he forced the two of you to stop, an action you didn’t seem at all surprised by.

He brought his palm up to cup your cheek, fingers threading lazily though the hair behind your ear as he rubbed softly back and forth on your skin, taking a moment to truly look at you, appreciate the beauty of the person he was so unfathomably lucky to call his. “You promise?”

“For you my dearest Jack Rabbit” you declared with a grin, going up onto your toes until your nose touched his, finishing on a whisper “I vow it”

-

“You know you two aren’t being subtle” Jack hadn’t even bothered to look up as he said it, had in fact spent the better part of the day avoiding their gaze as much as possible.

“Well I wasn’t going for subtle. Dana?” Robby stated matter-of-factly, glancing over at his charge nurse as he said it.

“I was going for overt” she shrugged.

And Jack knew exactly what their expressions would before he looked up, could guess the mixture of barely contained mirth and disappointment that would paint their features without needing to confirm.

“Well if you could keep your overt stares to yourselves that would be great”

“What is it Jackie-boy is it the ring?” Dana ignored him, leaning forward onto her forearms from across from him, bending down and seeking his gaze just as he usually did with people “I told you the ring’s perfect. It matches all of the stuff she already has well”

“No it’s not the ring” Jack cut her off with an annoyed look, keeping his head pointed down at the charting he had abandoned long ago “now if you excuse me some of us have a job to do”

“Well if not the ring then what?” Robby jumped in, mirroring Dana’s stance as he did so, the two doing their best to present a unified front, a fact that almost had Jack chuckling despite himself “You know when I told you she was too good for you I was mostly joking”

With a dramatic sigh Jack finally straightened and looked at the two across the desk from him, resigning himself to the fact that there was no escaping this conversation for much longer “no it’s not-“

“Dr. Abbot” Mel King his saving grace appeared next to him effectively catching the attention of all three of them, Jack more than happy to distract himself with whatever case she needed him on than withstand anymore grilling from his two so-called friends.

“Yes Dr. King”

“I just wanted to ask if-“ and he spoke too soon.

“No” Jack effectively cut off the line of questioning, turning back to his chart physically putting an end to the conversation

“But I just think that-“ Mel tried again

“No”

“Have you considered-“

“Still no”

“Dr. Abbot” Robby finally cut in, raising a brow at his friend as he put on his best teacher voice that only succeeded in pulling an eye roll from Jack “I’m not sure if you’re aware but this is a teaching hospital”

“It sure is” Jack responded in a similar tone “and teaching is exactly the thing I would love to be able to do today but thanks to some of us who have decided to be nosey and ‘overt’” he pointedly glared at the two of them “the rest of the staff have gotten it in their heads that they should get to be there when I propose”

And though he hoped that would be enough to get everyone back to work Jack was never that lucky, Robby immediately jumping in with “so it is for sure a when not an if then”.

Jack only glared at his friend, pointedly ignoring the shit-eating grin he wore as he stared unflinchingly back, Mel deciding this was the perfect opportunity to plead her case again “I just think that when it happens I-“

“Okay everyone listen up” Jack cut her off with a loud clap of his hands, effectively pulling the attention of anyone in the center of the ED.

“Dr. Abbot” Dana tried to call his attention, but he steamrolled ahead.

“I’m only going to say this once”

“Jack” Dana tried again as Jack once again pointedly ignored her.

“It will be done in private, just the two of us, at a time when I feel it is right alright?” He challenged the ED with a raised brow, his audience, despite his words, looking almost giddy before him.

“Sweetheart” Dana again tried to cut him off but Jack was too deep into his speech now.

“I appreciate your help with the ring and everything you all have done for the two of us but you need to stop pushing”

At this Dana had no more to say, little more than a deep sigh coming from the nurse as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter behind her.

“When I propose it will be on my own terms got it?”

The ED went silent around him, his students eyes wide as they did little more than stare up at him with rapt attention confusing Jack slightly.

“When you what”

Jack froze. He knew that voice. He knew that voice all too well. And even if he didn’t one look at the shit-eating grin on Robby’s face was more than enough to confirm it.

Jack spun in place quicker than his feet could really keep up to see you standing just a few feet behind him, frozen in place staring back at him with a wide-eyed gaze making Jack curse under his breath.

For the longest time no one said anything, the two of you frozen before one another as Jack’s head desperately reached for absolutely anything to say, finally settling on a defeated “what are you doing here”

“When you propose?” And God help him the way your lips twitched up at the corners as you said it made him nearly melt on the spot, Jack unable to fight the smile from growing on his lips in response as he took a few steps closer to you until he was almost chest to chest.

“Okay fine yes, when” he conceded with a soft chuckle, stooping his head slightly to fully meet your gaze as he drove his next point home “which is not this moment”

“But it’s going to happen?” Your question came back quick, your smile quickly growing to a full on grin that Jack wanted to be exasperated at. It would’ve been so much easier to shut down this conversation if he could remain stoic but the unbridled glee in your eyes had his resolve crumbling.

“In the future yes but I cannot stress this enough, not right now”

“Yes I say yes, or I will say yes” you eagerly grabbed at his forearms as the words all but spilled out of you. Jack helpless against the warmth that radiated within his chest at the action, his hands reaching forward to grab your face between them as a laugh threatened to bubble out of him.

“I am not proposing right now”

You all but ignored him, pulling his hands off your face but keeping them captured in your own as you continued on “have you already bought a ring? Can I see it?”

You were like a dog after a treat, oh so eager to barrel on ahead despite everything and Jack was finding it much too hard to be mad about it “I don’t have it on me because I refused to get engaged in the Pitt while I’m in scrubs”

And finally you seemed to properly take in the scene around you, the florescent lights ahead, the beep of machines all around you, the much too eager eyes of his coworkers who watched the scene before them unfold with rapt attention. “Alright fine”

Jack nearly sagged in relief at that, glad you were finally seeing things from his point of view before you cut him off again.

“But can I see it when we get home?”

A shocked laugh spilled out of the man as he shook his head, raking an exasperated hand over the lower half of his face “will you let me do it properly? Get on one knee, recite a speech I’ll pretend I didn’t spend hours writing. The whole nine yards” Never in his life did he think he would have to beg his fiancé to let him properly propose.

You pretended to think it over, the grin on your face telling him you were getting entirely too much enjoyment out of torturing him like this “Can we do dinner first? My favorite restaurant?”

He rolled his eyes at your response, unable to fight the fond smile from his lips as he did so “this isn’t a negotiation”

But you only stared up at him through your lashes, bottom lip pinned between your teeth, and Jack was putty in your hands, throwing  out the last resemblance of a plan he had with a sigh “we have reservations this weekend”

He barely got the words out before you were wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your lips up against his, Jack grinning happily into the kiss as he pulled you by the waist deeper into him, finding that he didn’t much mind this part of this catastrophe of a proposal.

But like usual the ED chimed in at the perfect time, an abrupt cheer from his friends around him pulling the two of you apart as you were swarmed by his med students, the kids eagerly pulling you into their own set of congratulatory hugs.

But with a grin like that on your face Jack still found he couldn’t be too mad about it.

A hand clapping his shoulder pulled Jack’s attention away from the excited conversation happening between you and his students, Robby sliding up next to him with a smug smile on his face “You know I’m honored you’d want me here today to witness-“

“Shut the fuck up” Jack cut him off sharply but with a chuckle, not hesitating to pull him into a hug, Robby whispering into his friends shoulder “I’m happy for you brother”