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hyuckmov · 2 years

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haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby pt.2 read the first part here!

haechan x fem reader wc: 11k genre: fluff, smut 18+ minors dni warnings: chest/boobs/nipples fixation, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex, choking, finger sucking, blowjobs, handjobs, mirror sex, overstimulation, a little bit of dacryphilia (crying), hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics (haechan doing both), tittyfucking, thigh riding, this list is making me feel embarrassed minors dni i am so serious, breeding kink, a bit of saliva play i guess, aftercare , haechan is a mastermind male manipulator (in a cute way), me using mark as a plot device or: in which haechan is competitive (read: eager to please), and determined to find out what about him makes you lose all control

a/n: where do i even begin. writing this was so exhausting but also so rewarding at times but also i feel like i'm going to take a break from writing smut after this, i've literally written almost everything i could think of for this fic. i think what we liked from part 1 was haechan being needy and subby so i did add in scenes for that dw <3 i know i describe a lot of what they are thinking in this fic so hopefully it doesn't bore you... if it does... please sugarcoat it for me in your review (just kidding but also like...please don't be mean) anywayy... do send me an ask/reply if you liked this, as per tradition, i hope this is at least a little bit hot :) happy valentine's day!

haechan would say that his standard of living had increased exponentially since your second anniversary.

the two of you had become more open with each other, communicating your frustrations and needs more easily. there was also a faint buzz of something in the air, moments when you would look over at him and he would feel a blush spread across his cheeks, burn low in his stomach. it felt a little like he was falling in love with you for the first time — it had been a while since he had felt so vulnerable and loved by you.

"what are you thinking about?"

but perhaps the most significant improvement made to his life was the way he could now reflect on your loving and healthy relationship with his face nuzzled against your boobs.

"love you so much," he mumbles against your skin, placing a small kiss on your cleavage. "that's what i'm thinking about."

he feels your hand come down to stroke his hair gently, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. sunday mornings with you in bed: you scrolling through your phone while he's given the freedom to love on his favorite parts of you, have become just another routine that started ever since your second anniversary.

focusing on freckling kisses on your warm skin, he's then completely unprepared for when you card your fingers through a handful of his hair only to give it a light, but still significant, tug.

the sensation sends a feeling shooting down his spine, a slight shudder to his body as he lets out a small gasp muffled against your chest. feeling something stirring in the pit of his stomach, his legs twitching on the bed, he nuzzles his face into your chest.

"again, please," he mumbles.

he feels the giggles you let out at that right from where his face is pressed up against your chest. kicking his feet, he whines lightly in protest.

"what's so funny?"

"found something else you like," he hears you muse. "you're so sensitive, baby."

frowning, he sits up. the visual is slightly amusing — his hair mussed up, his lips swollen.

"it's not fair," he states. you reach out a consoling hand to him, and even as he continues to grumble, he still intertwines your fingers gently, a contrast between his unhappy tone and his tender actions. "you have too much power over me."

"what are you talking about?" you laugh, and he scowls.

"you know." he mumbles. "you can just flash your tits at me and i'd do anything you ask-"

"i can?"

"and now you know i like it when you pull at my hair," he whines, a permanent pout forming on his features. "it's like there's nothing i can do that makes you go crazy."

"that's because i love all of you," you soothe. "all of you makes me feel crazy."

"do you have any kinks you're keeping from me?"

"you're my kink," you tease, but your smile drops when he scowls. "sorry."

there's a pause. haechan looks at you, hard. scanning your face, his gaze doing a slow drag down and up your body, his expression darkening. something had shifted in the air, and suddenly you're a little scared to breathe too hard.

"haechan?"

"i'm going to find it," he breathes.

"what?"

"i'm going to find it, and then i'm going to make you beg for me to fuck your brains out."

"what the fuck?"

but haechan shakes his head, and when he next refocuses his eyes on you, his eyes have the familiar twinkle in them. moving over to you, he cups your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your cheek.

"love all of you too," he beams. "i'm going to go make breakfast, okay?"

and with that, he all but skips out of the room, leaving you sitting on the bed, feeling unsettled and also just a little bit excited.

the first time he tries it, it's a complete disaster.

it's not that haechan isn't good at observing you and what you like. when you go shopping together, he doubles back when you're not looking to take photos of items you've picked up to examine, making mental notes of their price and when he could get them for you. point something out to him, and haechan runs back to the store if you leave him alone for just a second, the bag hanging from his arm when he returns as he tries to hide how fast his heart is beating from sprinting. make an off-handed comment about how good a dish looks on instagram, and he's looking up the recipe before the video ends, and you can bet on the fact that you're having it for dinner the next day.

it's just that when it comes to him, he has no clue how to begin. you had laid out the perfect plan for him because you knew exactly what he wanted — meanwhile, he was starting from scratch.

so in the end his brain goes to the one thing you've told him you enjoyed. after all, considering how many times he's seen you fall apart on it, you must like his cock, right?

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"why are you so far away…" he whines, exaggerating his tone a little. you're seated on the other end of the couch, head against the arm rest, your laptop perched on your lap as you work on something. at his words, you lower the screen a bit, peeking over the top of your knees with your eyebrows raised.

"what's wrong?" you frown. "are you okay?"

"come here and sit on my lap," he says quickly, before the embarrassment can get to him. "i missed you," he adds, patting his thighs for emphasis.

that evening, he had chosen to put on a pair of gray sweatpants that usually left little to the imagination. he didn't wear them often for that exact reason, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. however, that was kind of at the top of his agenda right now.

shrugging, you make your way over to him, settling down in his lap with your back pressed against his chest. his chin rests on your shoulder as you open up your laptop again, typing in a few extra words on your document as mumble to yourself under your breath.

and then nothing.

haechan doesn't really know where to go from here. his plan had actually only involved one step: putting on the sweatpants. asking you to sit on his lap was already improvisation on his part, hoping that by getting you close he could hopefully get you to react. but here you were, sitting peacefully, happy in your boyfriend's warm touch.

unsure what to do, he figures he might as well get comfortable, bringing his arms around to hold your waist. feeling like this was turning out to be a complete bust, haechan sighs and buries his face in your neck, huffing a little as he wonders if he should just give up and spend a nice evening cuddling with you.

but then suddenly, haechan jolts. troubled by your slow progress at your work, you’ve started to absentmindedly fidget, wiggling your hips uneasily and even bouncing a little in his hold as you shift around some more. his arms reflexively tighten around you, his breath catching in his throat as he feels something stirring in his navel.

"y/n…"

"sorry." you whisper sheepishly, trying to keep still as you continue your work. but behind you, haechan is grinning as if christmas had come early.

"don't be," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. gripping your hips again, he begins to move you on his lap so that you're grinding down on him. "keep going, sweetheart."

you bite your lip. you really wanted to pay attention to haechan, the sinful way he began to rut against you and the feeling of him slowly getting hard creating a soothing haze in your mind. "i can’t. my work…" you mumble.

haechan freezes, thinking to himself. you weren't giving in yet. he wanted you to beg him, but so far he had initiated almost everything. "okay," he breathes, settling back down and removing his arms from your sides, even though he could feel himself getting hard. "okay, i'll stop. focus on your work, baby."

confused, and a little worried — because when haechan wanted something he usually never stopped to get it, — you try to snap out of it. "maybe i'll go work in the bedroom…" you suggest reluctantly.

"sure," he replies, easily. crossing his fingers and hoping you didn't truly mean it.

but before he knows it, you're standing up, the absence of your weight on him making him feel doubly empty as you begin to walk unsteadily back to your room. a slightly sad expression on your pretty features, the tension in the air making it difficult for you to look at him.

it's the look on your face that makes haechan forget all about his mission.

"y/n wait-" his voice is high-pitched and breathy. he was more affected than he realized he was.

at the sound of his voice, you turn around. immediately putting your laptop down on the dining table, you all but run back to your eager boyfriend, skidding slightly on the floor. clambering back into his lap, this time straddling his waist, you smile as he leans in to kiss you, frustration making his movements a little rougher than usual.

punching him lightly on the shoulder, you glare at him for playing with your feelings. "did you really want me to go…?" nervously, you fiddle with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

"no," he says firmly, kissing you again and pressing you closer. "never."

you beam at him, happy you had such a sensitive and caring boyfriend. anyone else would have found your reaction laughable, but haechan just got you. it warmed your heart to no end.

"y/n…" pulling you back to the current situation, haechan gently thrusts up, reminding you he was still hard. "can i…?"

"yes," you say, excitement making your reply come out rushed and flustered. "please."

smiling to himself, he pulls your sleep shorts to the side, pressing his fingers hesitantly to the seat of your panties before he falters.

"you're so wet," he breathes, tugging your panties to the side too so he can stroke your folds with his long fingers. rubbing quick circles into your clit, he pulls you down by your shirt so he can kiss you heatedly.

holding on to him, you feel your thighs start to tremble, unable to hold yourself up with the feeling of his hand between your legs. as he runs a finger along your slit, rough fingertips sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, you lean your weight almost entirely on him. "please, -" you gasp, not sure what you were asking for, but somehow he's even more desperate than you.

a groan rumbles from his chest as he impatiently lifts you off his lap, maneuvering you so you take a seat on the couch. scrambling to kneel on the floor between your legs, he pulls you to the edge and pushes your legs upwards, practically folding your body. your feet planted on the couch, your breathing grows heavier and heavier as he tugs off your shorts and panties, leaving you completely exposed to him. the sight makes him moan out again, and he pauses.

"can i lick you?" breathlessly, and almost in a trance, he presses a kiss to your thigh, arms coming up to hook around your thighs and keep them open. "pussy's so pretty baby…" he murmurs, blowing air on your clit and making you tilt your hips towards his mouth. "i just know it'll taste sweet."

"don't tease," you plead. haechan's only ever done this a few times and on special occasions, usually more for you than for him. but when you look at the way his eyes are glazing over, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips hesitantly, you know he wants this just as much as you do.

"wouldn't dream of it." and with that he dives in, his tongue flat and wide as he licks up your arousal. alternating between flicking at your clit and lapping at your entrance, his moans fall from his open mouth freely, muscles in his arms flexing as he presses you further in the couch and tries to keep your hips from bucking up into him.

when you feel him dip his tongue into your tight entrance, your hands fly to his hair, curling on his strands around your fingers. the feeling going straight to his cock, he whimpers as he loosens a hand to ease a finger into you, his mouth suckling on your clit.

"haechan-"

"cum for me," his mouth detaches from you sloppily, and you swallow as you see his chin dripping with your juices, his lips wet with saliva. "wanna feel you cum on my fingers so bad…" dipping his head back down, he flicks at your clit harshly, his fingers pressing against your walls. you feel your back arch off the sofa as your thighs clamp down around his head, his tongue still working on you as you cum, hard.

your hips buck against his face and his nose bumps against your clit as he kitten licks at your folds, lightly overstimulating you as you ride out your high. pushing his head away gently, you’re just beginning to put down your legs when you're startled by his hand, shooting out to prevent them from closing entirely. grasping your thigh.

"please?" haechan's eyes are blown out and wide as he rises up on his knees, his hands trembling slightly as they move higher up your thighs. "i'm so hard…" you take in the way his hips absentmindedly move against the edge of the sofa seat. fully hard in those sweatpants, looking absolutely sinful the way he chases any form of friction.

"of course," you breathe, lying back on the couch as he enthusiastically tugs down his sweatpants, his cock slapping up against his navel, the tip red and leaking precum. propping himself up with a hand, the other gripping onto your waist, he closes his eyes as he slides in, the two of you letting out moans as you shiver from the sensitivity. before you know it, he's fucking you into the couch, whines falling from his lips freely, rising in pitch as his eyes screw tightly shut. you close your eyes too, reaching out to grab onto his shoulders, the feeling of him stretching you out pushing you close to your climax again.

haechan has completely lost all grip on reality. he feels your walls sucking him in, wrapping around him so tightly he can't even pull out properly. the rhythm of his thrusts jagged and needy, his hips rutting into you in a frenzy, he's only able to last a few more seconds before he's cumming, his hips stuttering as he feels you tighten around him again. his throat is hoarse, and he wonders if he was screaming instead of moaning. under him, you're also coming down from your high, smiling as you see how winded he is.

"you okay?" tapping him gently on the cheek, you give him a small kiss on his cheek as he blinks dazedly at you. "haechan?" you give him another kiss.

"yeah-" he mumbles. "fuck." he realises he's still pressed on you, so he gets up, giving you more space to sit up and breathe. as he collapses on the other side of the couch, he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to his knuckles, lips still sticky. "was i too rough?" he murmurs, worriedly. "i'm sorry, i just really lost control at the end-"

"it was perfect," you assure him, crawling over so you can hold him. "i liked it," you smile.

his expression clears, and his eyes crinkle into a smile that mirrors yours as he kisses you sweetly on the tip of your nose. "you were perfect," his eyes sappy with love, he feels sleepiness overcome his body. "i'll run a bath and we can relax after, okay?"

it's only after the bath, and after the impromptu supper he makes for you, when the two of you are in bed, when he realizes that he's completely lost the plot. today's attempt had told him nothing, except maybe he was going to get addicted to the feeling of eating you out.

looking at your sleeping form in bed, a light smile ghosting on your lips and the glow of being taken care of by your boyfriend shining on your face, he shakes his head and decides that for now it doesn't matter. he'll figure it out eventually, he knew he would.

the second time haechan tries it, he starts out slow.

"your fingers are so pretty."

you're out running errands with him, and as the two of you stroll back to the car, his fingers brush yours and he takes your palm in his. now, holding up your clasped hands to examine his fingers, you smile sweetly at him. "i think you have really pretty finger joints."

"yeah?" it's a small compliment, but haechan always liked being praised, even for the smallest things. "thank you, baby."

he doesn't want to build any expectations for himself, or expect any reaction from you immediately. he's sure that that's what went wrong with the first attempt. did he really expect you to fall to his feet when you saw him in those sweatpants? it was silly. it was childish. haechan could do better than that.

he starts out by not taking off his rings when he's around the house, hoping that the sight of them on his pretty finger joints could stir something in you. so far, nothing. (although you did ask him if you could get another set of couple rings together. he said yes.)

he starts picking up activities which show off his fingers more. asking you if you wanted to watch him play the piano, or the guitar. still mostly nothing, although the activities did bring you closer together, his cheeks burning as you praised him for his talent.

happy that your boyfriend was sharing his interests with you, you asked him to help you with your baking, wanting to reciprocate with your own creative date-night ideas. he was nothing but sweet to you when you brought up the idea, accompanying you to the store for ingredients and helping you set up the kitchen. sure, he seemed to want to hold your hand throughout almost the whole thing, following you around the kitchen like a lost puppy, but once you assigned him to the task of melting the chocolate the two of you fell into a nice rhythm, his soft humming filling the kitchen as he busies himself with the hot water.

"is the chocolate ready?"

"yeah," he mumbles, lips pouting with concentration. he looks up to see you smiling at him, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch him stir the melted chocolate a few times.

and suddenly, he knows exactly what to do.

dipping two fingers in the chocolate, he holds it up to your lips. "wanna taste?" he asks, as casually as he can.

flustered, you swat his hand away gently. "i can do that myself," you try, shyly.

"come on," he urges you. his eyes, which have been zeroed in on your lips, flicker up to your eyes and you can see them glint. "just a taste," he says, softly.

inside, his heart is beating hard against his chest. although it was only the two of you in the kitchen, he could tell from the way you looked at his fingers that you were flustered, hesitating over the idea of sucking on his fingers so boldly. if he could just get you to do this…

he watches with bated breath as you swallow, inching forwards. grabbing his wrist to keep his hand steady, you stick out your tongue to lick at his fingers cautiously. you're just able to taste a hint of the chocolate, when haechan pushes forward and his fingers are enveloped in the warmth of your mouth.

"now come on," he breathes, a thrill running down his spine as he sees your eyes widen. gently but firmly, he continues to hold your gaze. "suck."

this was it. a smile spreads across his face as you begin to suck on his fingers obediently, looking up at him through your lashes. he'd won. except…he wasn't really sure anymore, what with the way your tongue was now swirling around his fingers as you continued to lick them clean. the feeling of it foreign yet familiar, making his breath catch in his throat as he’s reminded of the fact that it had been a while since you’ve sucked him off.

but while he was still struggling to figure out who had the upper hand, you already released his fingers with a pop, looking at him knowingly as you went back to measuring ingredients.

a pause.

shaking his head a few times to steady himself, he tried to stay confident, putting on his cockiest smile as he sidled up to you.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"did you like that?"

"like what?"

"you know what," he wraps a hand around your wrist to halt your movements, pushing your measuring scale and various other bowls to the side so you focus on him. "did you like sucking on my fingers?"

"haechan…"

"i felt what you were doing with your tongue, baby." he relishes the way you can't look him in the eyes. "i know you liked my fingers, but i didn't know you liked them that much…" he muses, voice low. a heavy hand snakes up to rub your waist. "wonder if you would like my hands somewhere else…" a flicker of need courses through his body as the words leave his mouth, his hands wandering up to your chest to palm your boobs. "or…" he trails off, biting his lip to try to keep his thoughts to himself.

confused as to why he had gone silent, you finally look up at him, feeling your eyes widen in surprise to see that haechan's demeanor had done a total shift entirely on his own. rather than the usual hard stare and stony expression that accompanies his low tones and rough touches, his lashes flutter with need, teeth tugging mindlessly on his lip as he is completely and wholly distracted by the soft feeling of your chest in his palm.

"haechan?" you prompt him.

"fuck, sorry-" he blurts out, unsure of what he was apologizing for. "it's just…", breathily, he scrabbles at your bra, tugging it down so he can touch your nipples. "they fit perfectly in my palms…" and there it is: the familiar pitch of his voice that tells you he's going to start whining soon.

you can't help but laugh at him, amused as much as you are in awe of him. "did you really just dirty talk yourself into this state?"

"yes. wait, i mean, no-" troubled, he furrows his brow as you begin to take off your shirt. "uh…"

"we can discuss this later," you soothe, leading him out of the kitchen, the idea of baking long forgotten.

1.12 am, haechan: don't get distracted by boobs. 1.12am, haechan: don’t look at boobs. 1.13am, haechan: don't touch boobs. 1.13am, mark: what the fuck ?????

“you taste good,” you murmur, touching his cheeks lightly as you lean in to kiss him again in the darkness.

eagerly, haechan sits up. you’re startled by the sudden movement, blinking at him blearily, but soon you’re being tugged up and into his lap, him rearranging your legs haphazardly so you’re straddling him as he leans against the headboard.

“what-?”

but haechan kisses you before you can finish your sentence, his remarkably soft and pillowy lips moving against yours with a soft fervor.

“feel good?” he asks, expectantly.

“yeah…” you mumble, a little dazed.

“used a lip scrub,” he states, proudly, kissing you again to punctuate the point. “and i’ve been using a lip sleeping mask for the past 2 days.”

“you taste like strawberry,” you point out, weakly.

“lip balm,” he breathes, almost buzzing with excitement. “you like?”

“yes,” you smile at him, endeared by how happy he was. you lean in, kissing him again, sucking gently on his bottom lip and making him sigh into your mouth. pulling away, you fail to notice the way his eyes light up in anticipation, only to flicker with confusion as you dip your head to snuggle into his hold. burying your face in his chest, you give him a gentle pat as you close your eyes, ready to return to the peaceful state of dozing off you were at when he had first kissed you goodnight. “sleep well, baby.”

his puffy lips, his puffy sweet strawberry-scented smooth lips, pucker slightly into a pout. “y/n?”

“hm?”

“you don’t wanna kiss me more?” he whispers, the words a little pathetic in the silence of the room.

“tomorrow, baby.” you assure him, stifling a yawn as you feel yourself drop off. “sweet dreams.”

sighing, he pats you gently on the back as if you were a baby, lulling you to sleep. this really wasn’t as easy as he thought it was going to be.

sweet dreams he thinks bitterly to himself, closing his eyes too.

all the thinking was taking a toll on haechan's brain.

he was good at games, he was good at strategy. but the thing was, this felt less like a game and more like an experiment: the observation required, the long-term planning, introducing new variables, and analyzing your reactions to see if his actions had the desired outcome.

he tried revisiting the hand thing.

"look at how pretty my fingers look around your neck."

he slides his fingers out from between your legs slowly, smearing your arousal on your thighs before coming up to steer your chin back towards the mirror. the image is so lewd that you want to look away again — you, wearing only his shirt. haechan's chest pressed up against your back, you sitting between his spread legs, your thighs propped apart by his own. one of his hands squeezes lightly on your throat as the other trails back down, two fingers stretching you out as much as he can.

choked moans fall from your lips as you shake in his hold when you cum, his rings digging into your throat. he releases you almost at once, letting you come down from your high as air floods back into your lungs, murmuring praises into your hair as he cleans you up, while you were too tired and hoarse to speak.

but that was that. you never brought it up with him or requested he do it again, although he knows that if he asked you wouldn't deny him. so he filed it away for next time.

he tried thinking of things he loved about you. he loved to kiss your neck — so he tried wearing necklaces, tilting his head back more to showcase his jawline, encouraging you to kiss him there. but the most you'd done was ask him if his neck felt sore.

it was a friday, and haechan decided to leave work early, to see if he could get a headstart on a new lead he had. you had stared a lot at his legs the other night when he had taken you out for dinner, saying they looked pretty in the skinny jeans he was wearing. if that wasn't a directive, he didn't know what was.

and so he made a short detour on his way home, stopping by the mall to pick out a pair of ripped skinny jeans. he liked the way they hugged his thighs, the slivers of soft skin that showed underneath.

that's how you find him, when you arrive home. standing in front of the bedroom mirror, scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror.

"i'm home…" you call out, before stopping. in the mirror, haechan can see your eyes widen and his heartbeat quickens with excitement. you're clearly distracted, unable to tear your eyes away from his legs. was this it?

meanwhile, you can't stop staring at your boyfriend. usually in sweatpants or baggy jeans, you haven't seen him dressed like this in a while. there are so many rips in the jeans he practically didn't have to wear them, and yet somehow they're positioned in a way that made you want to suck bruises onto his smooth skin.

your eyes flicker up to his, narrowing slightly when you see the expression of pure unadulterated glee that takes over his features. the corner of his lips quirked up smugly, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

and it just flips a switch in you.

"did you dress like this for me?" you ask, softly. walking over to him, you tug him closer by the belt loops of his jeans, leaning in so your lips brush his. "did you want my attention that badly?"

haechan falters. this was not how it was supposed to go.

"can't think of an answer?" you mock. trailing your fingers down to his thighs, you scrape at the exposed skin there with your fingernails, making him jolt. "you were so confident just now, baby…" you pinch him, and he sucks in a breath. "what happened?"

"i…" at the sight of you tugging your shirt off, his splutters out in alarm. "wait! don't-" feeling stupid, but panic overtaking his brain, he squeezes his eyes shut. "don't take off your shirt."

you burst out into genuine laughter. getting more and more flustered by the second, he slowly opens his eyes, peeping a few times to make sure your shirt remains on. "don't make fun of me," he mumbles. "it's just that, i get really distracted if i see them, and-"

"oh i know," you assure him, kissing his cheek. "i mean, i was going to let you fuck them, but i'll just suck you off instead."

"what?"

he protests the entire time as you push him to take a seat on the edge of the bed, babbling on and on about how this was supposed to be about you. however, the moment you take your position, kneeling between his legs as you reach out to palm him through his jeans, he falls silent.

"these are new…" he mumbles, weakly. he can't help the way his hips begin to squirm under your touch.

"aww…" you squeeze him tighter over the denim and he whimpers. "bought them just for me?"

"yeah…" he admits, swallowing hard. "y/n…can you…"

you finish his thought by undoing the buttons on his jeans, tugging down the zipper as he lifts his hips obediently, tugging the material down to free his hard on. when he starts to remove his jeans entirely, you place a hand on his to stop him. grinning at him, you place a light kiss on his thigh.

"i really like these jeans," you explain.

you can feel haechan's eyes on you as if he were in a trance. looking up at him, you coo at the sight: his mouth hanging slightly open, drool spilling around his mouth from how he's been licking and tugging at his bottom lip from just the feeling of you touching him over his jeans. reaching a hand up, you wipe his saliva off with your fingers as if he were a baby, his tongue darting out to lick at your fingers. indulging him, you push them into his mouth: full, heart-shaped lips, wrapping around your knuckles as he sucks obediently.

extracting your fingers from his mouth, you comfort him with a pat on the cheek as slowly, and with a light touch, you start to rub at the pink tip of his cock with your wet fingers. the stimulation makes his legs jump, and he lets out a cry, hands scrabbling and twisting at the sheets. neediness seeping out from all the pores in his body, your hand becoming slick with his precum as you pick up the pace, giving him longer strokes along his shaft.

you look up at him, and his face is contorted with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. his head thrown back, you can see his adam's apple bobbing as he gasps for air.

"do you like your reward, baby?" you tease, taking your hands off his cock to dig your nails into his thigh instead. the feeling makes him wail, eyes opening to focus on you, blinking away the spots in his vision.

he nods, still gasping for breath. "don't stop," he manages. "please, don't stop."

"i'll take care of you, baby, i promise" you ease, hands going back to stroke him, although at a much gentler pace. "keep your eyes on me, okay? i want you to think of this every time you see these jeans…" you take his tip into your mouth, pressing your tongue into his slit. and without any warning, his hips buck into your face and he's cumming messily, all over your mouth and chin.

"sorry," he moans, unable to control himself. "fuck, i'm sorry,-" his words are twisted into a loud cry at the sudden feeling of both of your hands on him. cum makes the slide easier as you twist your wrists in opposite directions, watching as haechan's whole body spasms — his movements jerky, grabbing at your arms to push you away while his hips continue to thrust forward into the pleasure. you feel a sense of excitement rush through you too as you survey how his thighs shake, muscles in his legs spasming.

"thought you told me not to stop," you bite your lip, putting on a confused expression. "i promised i'd take care of you."

haechan is too far gone to respond. tears begin to run down his cheeks as he cums again, globs of cum oozing from his slit. finally stopping your movements for good, you climb up onto the bed next to him, letting him reach for you and pull you close. his tears stain the shirt on your shoulder, and you run your hands through his hair to soothe him.

finally, his breathing evens out and he plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

feeling a little guilty, you brush the hair out of his eyes as you try to read his expression. "are you okay?" you ask, softly.

he gives you a dopey smile. "yeah," he kisses you again, letting the feeling of your lips moving against his ground him. his hands ghost over your thighs, and he starts to pull you into his lap. "you want me to return the favor…?"

"no, it's okay." smiling at him, you cup his face in your hands before you realize that your palms are still filthy with drool and cum. "we should probably get cleaned up…" you murmur.

"i'm never wearing any other pair of jeans," he sighs, contentedly, letting you guide him towards the bathroom.

later that night, haechan is lying in bed, reflecting on what just happened. sure, he hadn't gotten you needy and desperate, and in fact he'd done all of the begging, but this was definitely a step in the right direction. it was the biggest reaction he'd gotten from you yet, one that was entirely initiated by you, his cheeks warming at the memory.

"haechan?"

"yes?"

"can we talk?"

"of course, baby." clearing his head of his thoughts, he pulls you in closer to him, heart warming at the feeling of you snuggling up to him. "is everything okay?"

"yeah," you say in a small voice. "but i wanted to ask you if you're okay."

hearing the soft concern in your voice, he tries to remember if he said anything to you about feeling upset, or unhappy, but nothing comes to mind.

"yeah i'm fine," he frowns. you look up at him with skeptical eyes, and he lifts a hand from where it's wrapped around you to stroke your hair, hoping to comfort you. "what's wrong?"

"it's just this whole…" you sigh. "you trying to find ways to make me feel good."

"is it too much?" panic starts to seep into his brain as he runs through the things he's done with you, and to you, these past few weeks. he's sure he made sure you were comfortable with everything, but there was always the possibility that you were appeasing him. maybe he'd gone a little too far with the choking. "i can stop if you want, i didn't think-"

"no, that's not it-" you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest. "i'm okay, everything's okay." moving up a little bit on the bed, you press a soft, close-lipped kiss against his lips. it takes a few seconds, his body still frozen with uncertainty, before he relaxes and kisses you back, deepening the kiss and holding on to you tightly.

"i just hope you know that i love you, so much," you say when he pulls away. "and, you don't have to do anything special to make me feel crazy about you."

"y/n…"

"i meant what i said that day," you insist. "i know i've mostly been in control recently, and you think i have so much control over you now…but i want you to know that even before our second anniversary i've been just as obsessed with you."

shyly, haechan bites his lip in thought, your words making him feel more flustered than he would have expected.

"see?" you continue. "i think you look so pretty when you bite your lip. and i love your hands…" you reach for his palms and place a soft kiss to his knuckles. "love your fingers, no matter what you're doing with them. love your legs, love your moles…"

"okay, okay." he buries his face into his pillow, a warm glow spreading through his body at your praise. "you can stop now," he murmurs.

"love all of you." you finish, burying your face in his chest again. "love everything you do, so don't worry, okay?" you mumble, sleep slowly taking over your body as a weight is lifted off your chest. watching haechan observe your reactions extra carefully has been endearing, and being on the receiving end of his constant affection has you dizzy in more ways than you show. you just hoped that his relentless attempts to please you and read your mind didn't mean he felt unconfident about how much you loved him.

but haechan doesn't respond. a sense of disappointment blooms in his chest, and he can't for the life of him figure out why he felt so forlorn. it had seemed so simple: he wanted to find out how he could have you needy and eager for him, just as he was with you. just like you had tested out his obsession with your boobs — and at the thought, his hand guiltily strays downwards to palm you over your shirt, needing at least some form of comfort on this confusing night, — he had tested you. and while you responded eagerly to whatever he did, there was no denying that you didn't usually initiate it, and he doesn't know if he would classify your behavior as needy in the way he wanted you to be.

maybe he just needed to tease you a little more. or maybe he needed to deny you pleasure just as you were about to cum. maybe, if he initiated it, and then suddenly left to do something else-

"you're thinking so loud, baby," he snaps out of it with a jolt, feeling you shift in his hold, your eyes opening groggily and a pretty pout settling on your lips. "go to sleep, please," you groan.

haechan lets out a groan of his own. "i'm confused…" he mumbles.

"about?"

but he shakes his head. you've already reassured him, and honestly he thinks he'll go crazy if he hears you profess your love to him again.

drumming your fingers on his chest, you hum lightly, thinking to yourself. "will you feel better if i let you fuck my tits?"

"yes please," haechan sighs, sitting up and shaking the sleepiness from his body before clambering over to straddle you, practiced hands pushing your shirt up.

and as he lets out a soft wail — feeling you licking at his tip when he thrusts all the way up your cleavage, his hands scrabbling for purchase on your soft breasts, — he almost believes he's okay with giving up this game he set for himself.

almost.

haechan spins the controller in his hand and waits for his next game to load.

he had let the whole thing fall from his mind. he'd gotten some pretty good sex out of it, and he felt closer to you than ever before, and that was all that really mattered in the end. now, he could actually focus on his favorite past-times without wondering what you were doing, could wake up each day and not stress over what he should wear. he was sure he would get over the disappointment, pushing the uneasiness from his mind completely as he slumps further down in his gaming chair and starts to think about how to get past his opponent instead.

faintly, he can hear the door push open behind him. you must have entered the room. "hey," he calls out. "i just started another round but i can come spend time with you after i'm done, okay?"

no response. weird, but maybe you were distracted with your phone.

"i was thinking," he continues. "do you want me to cook dinner or should we order in? i've been craving pasta but i need to know if you prefer mine or-" but he cuts himself off when he notices you hovering next to his computer, a large oversized shirt hanging from your frame. it's the look on your face that makes him forget everything about dinner or pasta or cooking.

"y/n?" he blinks. "what's wrong?"

"i need you," your soft voice whiny.

"um…" surprised, he's taken aback as you sit yourself down on his lap, straddling one of his thighs. he drops his controller clumsily, arms coming around to hold you as the game goes on ignored behind your back. "are you hurt? or is it…do you-" he sucks in a sharp breath when he feels your wet core moving on his bare thigh. you're not wearing anything except for the shirt.

you start moving, rolling your hips onto his firm muscle as if it were second nature, your eyes locking with his and he gulps at the desperation in them, pleading with your expression for him to help you.

"fuck, baby, what's gotten into you?" what should he do? panicked, he sits up in his seat, the movement making his thigh muscle tense and you let out a whine, your swollen clit extra sensitive at the feeling. "baby, not here," he coaxes, alarm in his tone as he wonders if you're going to cum right then and there. his hands going to your waist, he feels you press down harder on him, your moans increasing in pitch as you ride his thigh without a care in the world, egged on by the feeling of his skin on yours.

"baby, wait, get off for a moment, let's get on the bed," he tries to move again and it jostles you, and you roll your hips even faster.

"don't care," you whine. "need you now. wanna cum now…" tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. you're so frustrated that it hurts, you needed him so badly but it's like he'd forgotten how to touch you entirely. "haechan," you groan. "i need your fingers, anything…" the hot friction on your clit making you fall forwards, burying your face in his neck.

still flustered, haechan tries his best to help you out, wracking his brain of what to do. tensing his thigh muscles, he bounces you gently on his leg, one hand steadying you and the other scraping lightly across your nipples, just the way you like it. gasping at the sudden stimulation, you whimper in his ear to let him know you were close, your arms grabbing haechan's hands and guiding him to move your hips for you.

you cum just like that, a high whine and your body shuddering, haechan continuing to bounce you on his thigh to help you ride it out. as you recover, he realizes that he's winded and breathless too, the reality of what just happened sweeping over him.

but what exactly just happened?

"if you don't mind me asking…" he panted.

you nodded, still in your head. "yeah?"

blinking up at you politely, he licks his lips nervously before asking, "what did i do? and, how do i do it again?"

shaking your head you hug him before clambering off his lap. "like i said," you reassure him with a kiss on his cheek before you stumble off to clean yourself up. "i love all of you."

"you guys need to leave me out of your sex life," mark grumbles, the moment the call connects. "i want the best for you, dude, but i'm not that invested in your personal happiness, okay?"

haechan scoffs at that. "firstly, it's not like i'm not privy to your sex life. been a good boy for mommy recently?"

"i was just-!"

"and secondly," continues haechan, ignoring mark's splutters and protests, "you owe me."

"i owe you?"

"haechan's fucking obsessed with your tits…" he mocks in a clumsy voice, scowling at the memory. "you gave her an unfair advantage-"

"i don't sound like that-"

"so you owe me. now help me figure this out." before mark can think of some other way of protesting, haechan begins to ramble on and on about his feelings for you, and the dynamic in the relationship as of late. he analyses your reactions to him, the varied success in his attempts to get you riled up, your conversation together when you convinced him to drop the matter.

"but then, this morning i swear i'm just doing nothing-" he cuts himself off, feeling his breath hitch as the vivid memory hits him with full force. remembering how it sounded when you begged for him. the feeling of you moving on his thigh, of you guiding his hand to your core.

everything he ever wanted, and he had no idea how he got it in the first place.

mark is staring at him blankly. "this morning…?" he prompts.

"nothing," haechan shakes his head quickly. "basically, she kind of jumped me, and i'm still trying to figure out why."

"jumped you like in a bad way…or-"

"in a really good way," haechan mumbles, suddenly feeling a little shy. not wanting to describe exactly how it felt for you to use his body like that, when he wasn't even trying.

"okay, uh, cool." mark nods a few times, frowning slightly to himself. "you sure you were doing nothing?"

"i was playing a game in my room."

"could've been the gaming?" mark suggests, half-heartedly.

"but i do that all the time," haechan sighed. "she doesn't do that with me every time." if only it were that easy, he would have you figured out in 3 seconds flat.

"what were you wearing?"

"just some shorts and a shirt."

"could've been your thighs…?" mark tries. "she told me she loved your thighs."

"could be…" distracted, haechan blinks. "wait. my thighs?"

"yep," mark winces. "i won't quote exactly what she said, because i don't want to hear myself saying that to you, but just take my word for it."

haechan thinks about it, hard. but then he shakes his head. "fuck, i think i did it wrong. i mean i tried legs and it didn't work, and i thought thighs were included in legs for obvious reasons, but-"

"or maybe it just had nothing to do with you," mark shrugs, reaching for his drink to take a sip. "maybe she's just ovulating or something."

"she's just what?" haechan balks.

"um…ovulating." mark freezes, immediately wishing he hadn't brought it up. to hell with haechan's sex life. "it affects the hormones and it might results in a higher sex drive for her or-" he cuts himself off when he notices that haechan is staring at him, stock-still in his seat. "um…it's part of her menstrual cycle…?" mark tries.

haechan looks at him blankly.

"basically, it's like when her ovaries-" mark winces. "dude, i'm not about to explain your girlfriend's ovaries to you."

"but i can't ask her," haechan finally speaks up.

flustered, mark runs his hand through his hair a couple of times before deciding to just rip the band-aid off. haechan could be very persistent if he wanted to be, and he didn't want his phone blowing up with texts about this.

"basically, in the days leading up to her…um…her period, her hormones levels are messed up because her body's preparingforababy," mark rushes through the sentence, hoping to god his girlfriend wasn't currently standing outside his room, listening to him poorly explain what a woman's menstrual cycle was.

thankfully, haechan gets it on the first listen. "so she might be extra…"

"yeah," mark cuts in, feeling his face burn. somehow, haechan seems to be taking in this information extremely calmly, as if he were sitting in a life sciences class. "um, so, can i go now?"

"sure," haechan says, absentmindedly. "thanks mark-" but the call ends before he can finish the words.

slowly shutting the screen of the laptop, haechan stares at the empty wall before him and just thinks. could it really be that your neediness this morning wasn't a result of his doing at all? he tries to think back to previous months, because if mark was correct, this wouldn't be the first time this has happened: but for some reason, he can't recall a thing. he's always too lost in the feeling of you to ever notice things like what day it was happening on or whether it mirrored your behavior from previous months. scheming and plotting was truly not his style.

what exactly was he trying to do with this experiment? was he really trying to find a way to get to you just as you had to him? but he did have you just the way he wanted. this morning had proven that.

so what if he couldn't figure out if it was his hands or his thighs? you had promised all of you to him. said you loved all of him just the same.

so maybe it was time to make good on that promise.

haechan has been on his phone the whole day.

normally, you wouldn't really mind. he was so loving and attentive all of the time, that a little bit of absent-mindedness didn't bother you. it's just that today, you wish he were paying a bit more attention to you, especially because you can't seem to get him out of your mind - what with it being your peak day of ovulation.

the thing is, haechan was always somehow so attuned to you that he never left you feeling restless and needy. you rarely had to ask him for anything, because he would always deliver of his own accord — wanting you as much as you wanted him. it had been fun, in the weeks leading up to your second anniversary, seeing how riled up you could get him, and exactly how far he would go. even while he claimed to be doing the same to you, he was still the one to initiate everything, leaving you more than satiated afterwards, each time. and although his efforts had unsettled you, you'd eventually told him, hoping that it wasn't some underlying miscommunication or problem in your relationship causing the sudden eagerness to take you anywhere and everywhere.

and ever since, nothing. chaste kisses on cheeks, arms around your waist while you cuddled. somehow, subtly, control had shifted back to him as you waited on his next move, waited for the next time he would approach you to try something. you suspected he didn't even know that he had control, skipping around the apartment, unaware that you were practically begging for him to make a move.

this morning, you couldn't take it anymore. your dreams the previous night punctuated by visuals of haechan eating you out, of him letting you ride his thighs, of him playing with your chest. the moment you heard him in the next room, raspy voice ordering his teammates around, and the moment you caught sight of him in his shorts, you had decided to indulge in your own needs, to hell with waiting for your boyfriend to take care of you.

but almost an entire afternoon had passed since then, and you could feel the space between your legs getting wet again, your brain flitting back to the scenes from your dream. shuffling into your bedroom, you see haechan lounging on the bed, disappointment flickering at the back of your mind when you release he had put on some sweatpants instead. still on his phone, he barely looked up at you when you approached him.

"haechan?"

raising his head to look at you, he raises his eyebrows. you falter as you see his closed off expression.

"yes?" he responds, softly.

swallowing, you press on, sitting down opposite him. "can you…can you please…" you take a deep breath, fiddling with the edge of your shirt before you realize that yes, that was the perfect way to get him to notice you. removing your shirt quickly, you see him look up from his phone, his eyes flickering down to look at your bare chest, lingering slightly before moving back up to your face.

"can i please…?" he repeats, face devoid of expression.

you balk. haechan never acted like this with you. embarrassment, and a little bit of indignance, rises up in you, and you have to stop yourself from whining. "you know," you bite your lip, imploring him to understand.

he sighs. "speak in full sentences, baby." going back to his phone, he clicks on a new tab. "i can't read your mind."

"i need you," you blurt out, feeling delight rush through your body as he looks up at you. finally.

but he makes no effort to move. "why?"

confused, you make an impatient sound. "what do you mean, why?"

"why are you suddenly so needy?" he asks, voice steady and calm. his eyes stare at you, gaze unwavering. "was it something i did? or did something happen to you?"

"i don't know what you mean…" you hesitate, but your answer doesn't mean anything because he's not really listening. setting his phone down, he pushes you onto your back with a slight roughness, crawling over to you.

"thought i was doing it for you, baby-" he confesses, quietly. "trying to figure out if you liked my fingers, or my thighs…seeing if you liked it when i use you…" towering over you, he takes in the tension in your body, your shaky breaths as his fingers trail up your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"but i was wrong," he muses. you hang onto his every word, mind attuned to the syllables falling from his lips, body sparking at his slightest touch.

"haechan…"

"was doing it for me," he breathes. "i wanted to see you this fucked out before i even touch you." his hand caresses your upper thigh, tutting lowly under his breath. "messy baby, dripping all over the sheets…"

unable to take it anymore, you try to sit up and move towards him, pushing your body up on your elbows, but haechan's hand whips out and he shoves you back down onto your back with a firm palm.

"don't move." he soothes, but there's a warning in his tone. slowly, he eases your legs apart to settle down in between them, and you whimper slightly from how he manages to make you feel so exposed.

"when was the last time you'd been good for me, hm?" his thumb traces soft circles on your soft skin. "i give you a little bit of power and it goes to your head…doesn't it, pretty?" his face leans closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he speaks.

"it doesn't-" your voice trembles, as his palms press down firmly on your thighs, spreading you open wider.

"have me touching your tits, stroking you all the time," he breathes. "does it feel that good?"

"i-"

"thought you were letting me use you, but all this time you were using me," he ignores you. "all i wanted was for you to sit on my lap and beg for me…" suddenly, his hand moves, and you feel a sharp sting as he flicks at your clit with his thumb and forefinger over your panties. a loud whimper leaves your mouth as you feel your thighs jerk, and embarrassingly more of your arousal seeps out onto the sheets. your hand reaches out, trying to hold on to his wrist so he stops teasing you, but gently, and almost lazily, his other hand manages to grasp both your wrists in his hand.

"but no matter what i tried…" he continues, and you can tell he's saying it for himself more than you. his hand moving as if on instinct, his fingers beginning to stroke your folds over the fabric, paying no attention to the way you trembled and squirmed at his touch. "you would still sit there on the couch, waiting for me to come take you…"

"i'm sorry-" you sob, your throat closing up.

"you're so spoiled." and for the first time this evening, he kisses you lightly on the corner of your lips. you tilt your head, trying to catch his lips with yours, mouth open and ready, but already he's pulling away, smiling to himself. "spoiled." he repeats.

"haechan please-" you try to free your hands so you can do something — touch him, or even touch yourself. "i need-"

"you need me to fuck you?" he tilts his head, the harshness of his words contrasting with the gentle, and almost mocking way he says it. "is that what you want to say?"

shame burns low in your stomach, and you nod imperceptibly. mirroring you, haechan nods too, his eyebrows raised.

"say it," he insists. "say you need me to fuck you."

"i…"

at your hesitation, he backs away slowly, the warmth of his body leaving yours as he starts to slacken his hold on your wrists. immediately, your hands shoot free and you pull at the hem of his shirt pathetically, trying to keep him close to you.

"i need you to fuck me," you whine, trying to hold your gaze with him even as his eyes go dark. "please, don't go-"

"how long were you going to make me wait?" he seethes, flicking at your clit again, fingers roughly pulling at your panties and making them snap against your skin.

you can't think of anything to say. you whine his name, and he scoffs at how wrecked you sound.

"why didn't you tell me your body wanted a baby, hm?"

you freeze. what? "you m-mean…" you stutter, as haechan begins to tug your panties down your legs.

"needy baby fucks herself on my thigh because she wants a baby in her, is that right?" his voice thick.

"yes," you hear yourself say. there was no point in denying it, you needed him so badly. and the idea of him putting a baby in you, of fucking you so full of him until you were swollen and full…

"then prove it." sitting back up against the headboard, you follow him eagerly, no longer caring about how you acted around him, your skin burning hot from the way he was speaking to you. he let you strip him of his sweatpants, your mouth going dry at how hard he was. maybe you could suck him off first, and in return he could finger you-

a rough hand shoots out to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "focus," he demands. "i want you to ride me."

hurriedly, you start to straddle him, lining his cock up to your entrance before you hesitate. he hadn't really prepped you yet, and although you wanted it so badly…

you cry out as he shoves two fingers into you, sighing at the way you fall forward into his chest at the feeling. curling his fingers in you, finding your soft spot effortlessly, he murmurs close to your ear. "tell me if i'm being too rough, okay?" if possible, his words make you even more needy, and you nod, hips chasing his hand. "don't wanna hurt you," he mumbles, before stilling his fingers and pushing you back.

"why am i doing the work here?" he muses, condescendingly. "i thought you wanted this."

nodding vigorously, you begin to grind on his fingers, whimpering when your clit bumps the heel of his hand. a hand on his chest to steady yourself, you move the other downward and try to shove a third finger into you, wiggling your hips as he relents and starts curling three of his fingers against your walls.

"cumming," you gasp, feeling something tighten in your core. his thumb comes up to stroke your clit, and you're about to tumble over the edge, when suddenly he yanks his hand away, leaving you throbbing and empty. a sob rips out from your chest, the built up pressure of having him act differently around you, of needing him for the whole day, washing over you like a tidal wave.

"crybaby," he coos, wiping your tears away with the hand still slick with your arousal.

"please," you choke out. "cum, i wanna…let me…" pawing at his chest, you try to lift his hand back up and guide it in between your legs, but he grabs onto your wrist instead, forcing you to stay still.

"just want you to cum on my cock, that's all," he soothes. "don't you want me to fill you up?"

gulping, your breathing slows as the words seem to calm you. "yes," you mumble.

"good girl." grabbing your hips, he eases you down onto his cock, groaning as your walls spasm around him, your entrance fluttering uncontrollably. "fuck," he muses. "did you just cum?"

feeling humiliated, you nod reluctantly. "was sensitive…" you mumble. he laughs, stroking your cheek as you take all of him. he gives you time to recover, stroking your back tenderly as you get used to the feeling of him in you.

"ready?" he urges, thrusting his hips gently.

you nod, placing your hands on his shoulders as you begin to bounce in his lap, your thighs still shaking from your previous climax but the feeling of him too good to ignore. trying to pick up the pace, you stare at where your bodies are connected, the wet sounds of you sliding on him embarrassingly loud in the room. you only realise you've been letting out a steady series of moans when he brings a hand up to squeeze your throat.

"tired?" he pouts at you. you nod, begging him with your eyes to take over. "thought you said you wanted my baby," he mocks. your hips continue to circle even as you lose the strength to lift yourself up and down. feeling his tip brush against a spot inside you, you wail as you feel yourself clench hard around his thick length.

"please help me," you gasp. "wanna feel you cum inside me, want you to fill me up-" and haechan, tired of waiting, finally gives in.

he pushes you back onto the bed again, his arms pushing your legs up so they brush his shoulders, hips tilted towards him as he rams himself back into you. letting out a low moan, he begins to thrust hard into you, snapping his hips such that the blunt head of his cock repeatedly brushes your g-spot.

"you gonna cum?" he mocks, sarcastically. "or do i have to do that for you too?"

your hands find your clit, rubbing circles on it frantically as it immediately brings you to your high.

the feeling of you cumming around his cock, your warm and tight walls milking him, pushes him closer and closer to his own climax.

"where should i come?" he breathes unsteadily.

you don't respond, still too lost in your own pleasure. a hand comes down to pinch at your nipple, and you whine incoherently.

"where should i come?" he demands again.

he can see you struggle to piece together the words in your head. he hadn't asked you this in a long time — ever since your first anniversary, when you went on birth control and he celebrated by finishing inside you, the feeling of you raw making him come undone faster than he would have liked.

"w-where?" you make a sound of confusion.

"should i come on your tits," he pinches your nipple again,

"on your face," a light slap across your cheek,

"or inside?"

"inside," you moan, beginning to thrust your hips upwards to meet his movements, desperate for him to finish.

"good girl," he breathes, and with a final stroke he's cumming, pushing deep inside you as you feel his warmth fill you up inside, seeping out where your bodies connected.

the two of you stay like that for a while, him stroking your hair and peppering kisses on your face. you holding on to him for comfort, whimpering whenever he made an attempt to leave, burying your face in his chest. it's after you've mostly recovered when you finally let him go get something to clean you up with, and after you drank the glass of water he insisted you have, when you finally get a hold on what just happened. and a question comes flitting into your mind.

"haechan?"

"yes, baby?" you open your eyes, and squint at the angelic expression on his face. "tell me…mark didn't have anything to do with this, did he?"

tags: @91qowngus, @joonpantheress, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author, @krazy-kpoppy, @9900z, @kosmoreads, @matchahyuck, @donghyeok-okie, @bbh-kji, @isearchedtheyooniverse, @bettyschwallocksyee, @babyjenono, @prdshobi

#haechan smut #haechan imagine #haechan au #haechan scenario #hyuck smut #fic: gold skinned eager baby pt.2

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 11 days

Text

daddy!chan helping you shave

genre: smut

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: daddy chan, oral (f.receiving), fingering, squirting, pet names.

an: chan won the poll on which member should get a part 2. so here it is! sorry it took me so long, i’m going through some shit. heh

masterlist - part 1

you felt so cozy, and warm. laying on the couch, chan’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly to his chest. the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed slowly, was lulling you to sleep. the knit blanket covering your legs felt soft against your skin. he gently ran his fingers through your hair, your eyes growing heavy. you were fighting to keep them open and focused on the movie.

that was until his hand started to travel.

it moved from your hair, down your neck, his fingertips leaving goosebumps on your skin. it traveled over your pajama shirt and down your back. his hand cupped your ass before giving it a rough squeeze. your eyes shot open, your hand gripping his black t-shirt. he chuckled softly as he squeezed your ass again. alternating between rubbing his fingers up and down your skin, and squeezing roughly, his fingers surely leaving marks. this went on for a moment, before you whimpered against him. hearing your sound, he tilted your head up to look at him. without saying a word, he gently placed his lips against yours. his lips were so soft and full against your own, so gentle and loving.

he deepened the kiss, sliding his hand in between your body and his, cupping your warmth with his hand. you gasped into his mouth as he rubbed soft circles over the material of your pajama pants.

"daddy—" you panted.

"what is it baby?" he whispered against your lips.

"we—" it was hard to focus on your words when his fingers were doing that. "we can’t."

he stopped suddenly, thinking that you were unhappy with what he was doing. "why not, baby? do you not want to?" he asked, pain in his eyes.

"no! no it’s not that. i always want to.." you blushed.

he smiled warmly at you. "well if it’s not that, then what is it?"

"i just.. i haven’t shaved in a while.." you said softly, embarrassed.

"aww baby" he cooed. "you know i don’t care about that. you’re perfect, in any form." he thought about it for a moment, before kissing your forehead. "do you remember what you asked me a couple weeks ago?"

you thought back, but couldn’t think of anything. you shook your head no.

"you don’t remember texting me and asking me if i would help you shave?"

oh yeah. you suddenly remembered. you had been in a particular mood that day. needing him bad and he wasn’t home to help you. "oh yeah, i remember now." you tell him.

"i know i remember." he said. "i was fighting an erection the entire afternoon." he laughed, the sound shaking your body where it was in contact with his. "do you still want to do that?" he asked. "now seems like the perfect opportunity.."

you thought about it for a moment. it’s definitely out of your comfort zone. you imagined what it would look like to be standing over him as he knelt. the thought made your skin hot and that familiar feeling to pool in your tummy. you were nervous, but you knew that he would help you through it. he always did. you nodded. "yeah, we could try that."

he stood up gently, offering you his hand. you took it and he led you to the bathroom. he leaned in and turned the shower on, the sound of the water hitting the tiles filled the room. he turned to you, cupping your face in his hands. "you’re so beautiful, baby." he said. "my perfect girl." he punctuated his statement with a quick kiss to your lips, before pulling away, smiling. he reached for the hem of your shirt, waiting for your approving nod before lifting it over your head and discarding it on the floor. he made quick work of your pants too, giving you a quick preview of what you were in for as he knelt on the bathroom floor to help you step out of your pants, throwing them in the same corner as your shirt. you stood there, naked, feeling his eyes on you. you were nervous, you itched to cover yourself with your hands, but you knew better. that would only get you a scolding.

"you now." you said, tugging on his clothing.

he chuckled, before reaching behind his neck and grabbing the back of his shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head. and before you could even look at his body, he bent over and pulled his pants down, kicking them to the side. he was so.. perfect. you questioned again for the millionth time that day how you got so lucky. he kissed the top of your head, before leaning in and checking the temperature of the water. his muscles flexed with the movement, muscles in his side and his shoulders that you never got to admire much. he caught you staring. he smiled. "i think the water is warm enough. in you go." he held the glass shower door open, and grabbed your hand. "careful, tiles are slippery." he said as you stepped inside. the warm water felt so nice against your skin. you stepped into the stream, letting it cover your entire body. you heard the shower door close behind you, before feeling strong hands on your waist.

he stepped into the stream as well, the water droplets rolling tantalizingly down his chiseled chest. you were staring again. you forced your eyes up to his face. he was looking at you, his eyes practically sparkling with admiration. the steam in the air was already causing his hair to start to curl and that made your heart flutter. you loved his curly hair so much, you wished he would embrace it more often. he reached for the soap, opening the bottle and dispensing a small amount into his hand. he rubbed his hands together, the veins running down his fingers and up his wrist, under his chrome hearts bracelet that still hung from his wrist. god his hands looked good. you were staring again. you scolded yourself internally. telling yourself to get a grip.

his hands started on your hips, rubbing the soap in circles, the bubbles sliding down your legs. he moved his way up, washing your tummy, and your arms, before gently taking your breasts in his hands, rubbing the soap into your skin. your eyes closed, your body swaying. "eyes open princess. i don’t want you to fall."

he washed your collarbones and your shoulders, before motioning for you to turn around. he got some more soap and started rubbing circles into your back, your neck, and your ass. he rubbed back and forth, trying to squeeze your cheeks with his hand, but your skin is too slippery. you felt him kneeling behind you, rubbing the soap in to your thighs and your calves.

"okay, baby." he said. you turned back around to see him kneeling on the shower floor, looking up at you. his thighs looked large, his muscles flexing, his cock was semi hard, resting against his left thigh. the muscles in his stomach were prominent, the hard ridges wet with water. his chest was similar in musculature and dampness, giving way to his broad shoulders that you loved so much. but most devastating, was his face. he looked up at you, his brown eyes twinkling in the soft light of the bathroom, a single drop of water perched on his cupid’s bow, threatening to spill over his full lips at any second. his dark curls clung to his forehead, begging to have your fingers running through them.

the sight made your knees weak.

he reached for the soap, the separate soap you use just on your intimate area. he squeezed some into his hand, and looked up at you again, almost questioning with his eyes if this was still okay with you. you nodded. he nudged your legs apart slightly, before bringing his soap covered hand to your center. he gently rubbed the soap back and forth, coating your skin and hair but careful to only stay on the outside. this should not be sexual, you thought. it shouldn’t be. but god did he look good, his eyes focused on the task in front of him, his gentle fingers rubbing against your most sensitive area. you held back your whimpers, not wanting him to see how much this small action from him affected you.

"could you hand me your razor?" he asked, his voice gruff. this was affecting him just as much as it was affecting you. his cock was hard now, standing up on its own. he held his hand out and you placed your razor in his palm. "put your foot there." he pointed to the small ledge to the right. "please be careful, it’ll be hard for daddy to catch you when i’m on the floor." carefully you lifted your leg and put your foot on the ledge. "good?" he asked. you nodded, feeling sturdy for the time being.

he turned his attention back to your center, analyzing, trying to decide where to start. you had the thought that he may be nervous. which was a rare occurrence for him, at least outwardly. he was always so confident, it was cute to see him a little unsure. with his thumb, he reached up and held the skin taught, before slowly bringing the razor to your skin. he made his first pass, pulling the razor in the direction of your hair growth. he reached behind you and rinsed the razor in the falling water. "is that okay?"

you nodded again. "you’re doing good." you said.

he smiled. "thank you baby." he made pass after pass, stopping to rinse the blade each time. and your arousal grew with each pass. he was so gentle, so careful with you. you felt so small, and loved, and taken care of. you needed him. he made quick work of it, honestly. but was careful around the top. he knew you liked to keep some hair there, so he was gentle and made sure to only trim that area and not shave it completely. he leaned back and admired his work. "i think im done." he said. "does it pass?"

you reached down and felt your skin. it was smooth and hair free where it needed to be and there were no cuts or scrapes. "i think it’s perfect." you told him. you leaned back, letting the water run over your shoulder and down your body, rinsing away any left over soap.

"i think you’re perfect." he said, watching the water fall over your bare skin, drops catching on your nipples. he leaned in and placing a kiss just below your belly button. his kiss was sloppy, you could feel his tongue against your skin. "now that i’ve shaved it, can i play with it?"

he kissed lower, over the small patch of hair that he purposely left. he looked up at you through his lashes, waiting for your answer. "fuck- yes. yes you can." you huffed out.

he let out an mmm. "language baby." he scolded gently, his kisses going even further south.

"sorry daddy." you mumbled. "just need it so bad."

"what do you need, princess?" he asked, pulling at the hair gently with his lips, his fingers grazing your inner thighs.

you whined, unable to find the words, frustrated that he is going to make you say it instead of just giving it to you.

"you can do it baby, tell daddy what you want."

your hands balled into fists at your sides, you would have stomped your feet in protest if you weren’t so precariously perched on one leg. "need—" you tried, his tongue played in the little patch of hair, causing your brain to short circuit. "need your fingers."

"my fingers?" he teased. "where?" he ran his hand up your thigh, and ran his fingers in between your folds. "here?" his fingers rubbed small circles around your clit, your body jerking. you forced your body still. you didn’t want him to stop because he thought you may fall. his fingers slid down and played with your entrance. "or here?" he asked.

"there. please there." you almost cried.

he slipped his index finger inside of you, pushing it in slowly. "but what about your little clitty baby?" he pumped his finger in and out, agonizingly slow.

"you— your— your tongue."

he licked one quick pass over your clit, your body jerking again. "baby i’ll lick and finger your little pussy but you have to stay still okay? i’ll never forgive myself if you fall and i can’t catch you."

you nodded quickly, needing him desperately. "i— i promise i’ll be- be careful." you hiccuped.

"good girl baby." he said before lapping at your clit. he added another finger, sliding it easily in with the other, your arousal coating his fingers. his tongue moved leisurely back and forth, savoring your taste. one of your hands braced yourself against the wall, the other came down and tangled itself in his mess of curls. he hummed against you as you tugged gently on his hair. a stream of curse words were running through your mind, but you didn’t let them out, wanting to be a good girl for him. instead you let out the moans and whimpers, your voice echoing off the tiles.

"your clenching around me, princess." he said, curving his fingers to hit your favorite spot. "are you going to cum?"

you nodded, having increasingly more trouble holding your body still. you felt that familiar feeling and you were suddenly glad that you were in the shower. "daddy— it’s going to be a big one." you said, your cheeks and ears flushing pink. he knew exactly what you meant. and it made his cock ache. he reached down and stroked himself, fucking his fist as he licked across your clit.

"are you gonna make a mess, baby?" the sounds coming from your pussy told him that you were. it was getting harder and harder to push his fingers into you, you were squeezing so hard. "want it on my face baby." he mumbled against your skin. "fuck— i know you can do it." his tongue kept the same glorious pace, his arm muscles working overtime to continue pumping his fingers into you. and you could feel it, your orgasm crashed over you and you gripped his hair tightly. "good girl baby. good girl." he praised. your release was leaking out around his fingers, he pulled them out quickly and replaced them with his tongue, your cum squirting out into his mouth and coating his chin and chest. "fuck— yes." he groaned, one of his hands squeezing your ass as he licked up every drop.

you were proud of yourself for not falling, but your legs were incredibly weak. you looked down at him, his skin was flushed, his eyes glazed, his cum peppered his abdomen. he looked completely fucked out. "you.." he panted. "you, are perfect, little one."

he stood, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, you tasted yourself on his tongue. you carefully removed your foot from the ledge and placed it on the floor, your legs wobbly as you fell into him. "hey hey, easy." he said, holding you. he quickly washed himself, cleaning the evidence off of his skin, before gently washing you again, his fingers running over your sensitive and puffy clit. he rinsed both you you, the water only lukewarm at this point. he reached behind you and shut it off. you leaned against him, feeling useless, your body heavy and weak. he opened the shower door and grabbed a towel. he wrapped the fluffy material around your body, rubbing back and forth and helping you dry off.

"you did so good, baby." he said, kissing the top of your head. he wrapped the towel around your shoulders, and his arms over the towel, before squeezing you against him. "i love you." he said against your hair.

you did your best to wrap your arms around his waist, returning his hug. "love you, daddy."

he stepped out of the shower, holding your hand he helped you step out onto the bath mat. "let’s get you to bed."

you nodded, sleepily.

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

#stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #stray kids bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids chan #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #bang chan x you #hyunjins orange slice too

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christinesficrecs · 10 months

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I love ALL of these fics but if they are a bit "too classic" for you, definitely read Mating Habits and The Dating Game. 🩷

Things To Do On The Dates You Aren't Having by lielabell | 5.5K | Mature

"So are we dating now or what?" Stiles asks the third time he finds himself doing the obligatory postcoital cuddling with a certain sour wolf.

A Heart is a Heavy Burden by lielabell | 41.2K

In Which Stiles: is accosted by unhappy witches, becomes friends with fire demons, is rescued by darkly handsome wizards, discovers hidden inner depths, is introduced to princes, and finds true love. Though not necessarily in that order.

And Dwell Beneath My Shadow by lielabell | 8.6K

Derek is not stupid. He gets why Stiles puts up with him. It’s clear every time Stiles looks at him, the spicy scent of lust and arousal Stiles’s body can’t help but put off. It doesn’t surprise him. Not at all. Derek knows what he looks like, knows that his face and his body are more than enough to compensate for his shitty personality. Stiles wants him more than he is annoyed by him. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not anything to be amazed over, nothing to write home about. Stiles isn’t the first– and most likely won’t be the last– hormone soaked teen who has panted over Derek.

Good Intent by lielabell | 4.4K | Mature

It’s dark out, no moon tonight. Just clouds and a bitter, cold wind that rips right through you as you move from shadow to shadow. You’re hunting, because you are always hunting, and tonight’s prey is the best kind: not too smart, not too old, and worth enough to keep you in the black for the better part of a year.

Nine Times Out Of Ten by lielabell | 4.6K | Explicit

Nine times out of ten, Stiles is the one being pushed back on the bed with his head tilted back to expose his neck. Nine times out of ten, Stiles's legs are the ones that are spread, his hands are the ones that grip the sheets. Nine times out of ten, Stiles gasps and moans and arches up into Derek's touch, Stiles's thighs grip at Derek's hips; Stiles’s feet lock together behind Derek's back. Nine times out of ten, Stiles takes and takes and takes and loves every single second of it.

But the tenth time . . .

The tenth time is different.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell | 35.4K | Mature

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

The Dating Game by lielabell | 4.5K | Mature

Derek doesn't exactly understand how he ended up as a contestant on a dating show. He knows that it started with a lot of whiskey and a late night phone call to his sister and mockery. Lots and lots of mockery, because Laura never lets anything go, no matter how old she gets.

In Word and in Deed by lielabell | 7.7K | Explicit

Stiles has stopped saying "I love you." Derek wants to know why.

I Like My Coffee Like I Like My Men by lielabell | 2K

Seriously, sometimes Stiles thinks that the man is a plant by the owner, who is a hippie, through and through, but just business savvy enough to pay someone hot to sit on the premises and brood up a storm like a modern day James Dean, clicking away at his computer in his leather jacket with that pensive look on his face.

Upon My Skin by lielabell | 6.2K | Mature

"I smell blood." Derek draws in a breath through his nose, frowning like it's going out of style. "And ink and--" his voice trails off and his eyes widen slightly. "Let me see it," he demands, crossing the space between them and tugging at the hem of Stiles's shirt.

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lielabell #author appreciation

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faeriekit · 1 year

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Health and Hybrids (IX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here and this is part nine 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Wonder Woman has secured the coveted position as The Only Reliable Adult in the sore eyes of an injured half-ghost. World's saddest presumed-alien takes his meds on purpose for once. The author wrestles with Roman numerals.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny is not in the container.

He very much doesn’t like the container.

The new lady and all the milling-about humans and his quickfast human have, however, encouraged him back to this room that looks just like the container's room, with one key difference. This one has a bathtub.

Danny touches the water.

It is too hot.

Danny does not want to go into the bathtub.

No one…no one is making him go in the bathtub. But everyone is gesturing, and making encouraging noises, and it makes Danny shrink into the sparse shadows of a partially-lit room, too afraid to get near the water, and too unhappy to cooperate.

It’s too hot. It smells funny in the way that cough drops and antiseptic tastes funny so it’s probably good for him, but Danny’s not a person and the water is too hot for him to put his core into.

The youngest human is so sad that it reverberates throughout the room, moaning and groaning and toying with Danny’s pull-toy fidget, which Danny is kindly letting it keep. It is laying on the floor. Danny does not have any feet for it to trip over right now, but Danny is hovering above it, so no one with a flesh body falls and hurts something when they trip.

Breaking bones hurts. Danny would know.

The new human lady tries to encourage Danny with his rocket ship. It doesn’t work. The bath is too hot even with the rocket ship in it. Danny wishes there was something he could use to change the temperature.

…He reaches over the side of the tub. Danny swishes a finger around in the water.

Nope. Still too hot.

Okay. Danny needs… Something. He needs. Something.

He quietly removes himself from the most familiar human and just…floats around the room. It is mostly bare. There is space for lots of humans to work with lots of technology to make things happen, but the room is mostly empty right now, except that it has a whole bunch of humans and Danny in it.

There isn’t anything helpful in this room. Danny goes to the next room.

(The new human lady follows behind.)

The next room has…the container. Danny hisses when he sees it.

No one does anything.

…Okay. Danny slides further into the room. No one is making him go in. Okay. He can…explore.

There are other things in the room. Danny can’t tell what all of them are, so he just starts opening things. He finds stuff made of wood and cotton. He rips something small in half, and a bandage falls out. He sticks a wet wipe in his mouth before he realizes it’s a wet wipe—that one drops out of his mouth and onto the floor. It tastes so bad.

The human makes a sad noise that might be a laugh too, but Danny can’t interpret now. He’s on a mission. He has more important tasks to finish.

There are more rooms with more things and Danny keeps looking. He finds towels and medical robes in cabinets and machines that do things that Danny can’t tell and tubes of all sorts and packages of medication Danny can’t eat. He keeps opening doors and looking inside and closing them because none of them help.

…There’s some white packets inside of clear plastic wrap. Danny can’t tell what they are. Is this something that he can use? Will it help?

Danny flexes his comeherelookitthis aura with a curl of his tail, and the human buzzes to attention in Danny’s current room.

Danny hands him the pouch.

The human does something to it. The crinkly-shiny wrapper falls to the floor. The human makes a noise, the packet creaks ominously, and the human holds out its hands so that Danny can take the packet back.

He takes it back.

Danny immediately drops the packet back to the floor because it’s hot!!!! Ugh!!!! If he had known that the package was one of the hot packets, he wouldn’t have bothered!

He floats elsewhere into the room, sulking. He opens more cabinets and doesn’t close them after. He—

Wait.

—Danny feels out with a hand. It’s…cold inside.

Danny shoves his face into the cabinet. There’s no food, just little vials, but yes! Cold! He shoves a hand inside and roots around, even though he is also trying not to crush or break the little vials. The white-coated humans don’t get close or try to get him, but they do make sad noises. Danny hummmmms an apology. But—

Out of the fridge comes squishy packs. There is nothing in them but squishy wet material. They are only cold.

Perfect!

Danny grabs as many as he can with his hands and one in his teeth and his teeth tear through the plastic a little and he kind of tastes the goo inside (gross!), but he has armfuls of cold packs and they are all very good at being cold packs.

The buzzing human comes back to find him and laugh, laugh, laugh all the way through the soft layers of the universe, but Danny doesn’t care, and also he needs it to show Danny where the bathtub is again so he can go sit in the gross medicine water. He might be a little lost.

Thankfully, once Danny stops moving and just stands around, it does. Great!

The lady is still there with the rest of the humans. Whatever. Danny spits the cold pack in his mouth into the bathtub and medicine water probably goes everywhere, but he can’t tell and doesn’t care. The rest of his pile he dunks into the tub by himself.

Now. Danny sticks an arm in the water.

It’s…better. Not so warm. Danny could probably tolerate it now. He doesn’t want to, sure, but he’s also covered in his own waste products and hasn’t cleaned anything in ages and ages and who knows how long. So probably washing out his insides in uncomfortably warm water and a little bit of cold pack medium is better than, uh…not doing that.

Danny slides carefully into the bathtub. Gross. The water is gross. Also it smells bad. Wait. Could he smell before?

He sniffs again. His hands slide through the water, and Danny has to work not to make himself intangible so that he doesn’t get wet. Getting wet is the point right now. He brings one of the cold packs a little bit closer to his body, the cool water radiating from it, and gently splashes water onto his abdomen.

Danny can’t exactly tell where and how he’s injured, and this form hides his wounds even from himself. Still, he remembers…he remembers most of the bad things. Being pinned down. The restraint bruises.

The bright lights.

The…scalpels…

When the human lady is suddenly at his side again, Danny flinches back into invisibility. She doesn’t yell at him for disappearing, or pull out a weapon to punish him.

She has ice packs in her soft flesh hands. One by one, without looking where Danny is hiding in thin air, she drops them into the bath, cooling it further.

…Danny quietly slithers back out of the shadows. The woman makes a quiet noise, and then she leaves the side of the tub.

He doesn’t know how to respond. He continues to wash himself by gently splashing water on his torso. There’s organs under there he’s gotta clean. Probably. If not, he ought to wash anyway.

Huh. There’s no soap here. Can he get soap? Maybe the weird water is supposed to be the soap. Bathwater doesn’t exactly lather, though.

Whatever. Danny washes everything from his sore scalp to his largely-nonexistent toes/tail. The water turns a filthy, corroded black-brown. Danny doesn’t even ask if the white-coated humans want anything to do with the water; he doesn’t want to see them, and this is nasty.

He pulls the stopper out. The water goes down. Danny watches it drain.

…Okay. So. They’re on the moon. Where does his gross water go? Danny hopes they don’t recycle it. A base full of mostly-humans probably doesn’t know how to filter ectoplasm out of the water supply. Or, depending on what they know or don’t know, they might not even know they have to.

Do they know what Danny is?

Danny hopes they don’t. Maybe they would give him back to the lab if they did.

…He doesn’t want to think about that. He wants another bath. Danny fusses with the taps by the bathtub long enough that the human lady comes back, with her fully articulated fingers that can grasp and twist and pull.

This time Danny gets cold water, which he likes. He doesn’t like that she’s so close, but he appreciates the help. The tub fills, and Danny washes again, and the lady comes back with a very soft towel that Danny wants to add to his bedding.

Danny definitely pushes the towel through his body a few times. It’s mostly to get the most water off of his body as possible, even though the human woman keeps her attention on him as he does.

He doesn’t relinquish the wet towel.

The woman holds her hands out for it.

…Danny scoots a little further back. It’s a nice towel. He wants it on his cot so that the sheets don’t absorb as much waste ‘n blood ‘n stuff.

One of the other humans in white walks forward, and Danny pushes himself as far back as he can go. It ignores him. It hands a second towel to the human lady with the red colors, and walks away.

The human lady turns back to Danny. She holds out her hand and a fresh towel, not suffused with contaminated medicine water.

…Kay. Danny can do Tradesies.

Danny gets a new towel, is nice and dry, and roams invisibly back to his cot.

The sheets are all nice and new when he gets there. The humming human’s little friends are all there, chatting and toying with Danny’s stuff. Hey!

He makes the head and his chest sticking through the ceiling visible to human eyes, and he hisses. They scatter quickly. It’s a little funny—he’s not actually mad at them, but they can’t tell, since they can’t hear the little tones in his core. Danny drops to float over his cot, lays down the towel, wraps himself in it, and puts his things back into his bed.

It’s kind of like having a grave. It’s nice and cozy.

When the small humans poke their heads out from behind the curtain again, Danny purrs so that they know he’s laughing at them.

If they fuss, that’s their fault. Danny pulls his rocket ship into his pillows, finds a stretch toy that’s easy to chew on, and eases himself onto his cot for a nap.

#Diana babysits the world's weirdest teenager #Medical: *taking notes*#dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #health and hybrids #dcu crossover #tw medical #tw gore #tw body horror #uh #tw...gross. It's gross #cryptid!au #danny phantom #faer fic

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eudaimonia83 · 5 months

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Everyone who was requesting Feral Elain, here you go. 😅 Don’t judge me too harshly on this, bc it’s an upcoming chapter of a long-form fic and hasn’t undergone any real editing. There are also some references that might be unclear, as this chapter is a ways down the line. But if you have read my fic The Gift (on AO3) you have most of the background info.

Basic details: Lucien has just escaped from being held prisoner under the Hewn City with his powers suppressed. He was jailed for allowing Elain to escape…which she has just discovered. And she is, naturally, deeply unhappy about this. 😈

Tag as requested: @lorcandidlucienwill @mr-agent-mulder

——————————

His wrists. What had happened to his wrists?

She stared numbly at the puckered, darkened skin that bracketed his hands, scabbing over as his healing finally began to return…his tender, beautiful hands that touched her with such gentleness, such affection…

“What is that?” She couldn’t keep a tremor out of her voice. Steady, steady. Be calm. She knew this feeling now; the sick coiling in her veins, around her heart, rustling through her brain.

He glanced down, tearing his eyes from her face with a physical wrench. “It’s only a scar. I’ve got plenty of them, remember?” He turned his hands over and squeezed hers, so gently, so kindly.

A scar. But from what…?

“What kind of scar?” Her voice only barely escaped past the lump in her throat; she could barely hear it over this singing, this thrumming in her blood. It was hot and deadly cold. The strength of anger, with the ice of…revenge. Leaves curled around her ears, tendrils winding through her hair.

He looked up at her again. “Please, Blossom. Don’t be angry with me. I tried to get away, to get back to you. But I couldn’t.”

He did not understand, how did he not understand? He thought she was angry with him…

She swallowed hard, then brought one of his hands up to her face and dragged her lips over his wrist, trying to mimic the gentleness he’d shown her that night, that sweet night that was both their first and last, before he’d sent her away and the long hand of darkness had reached out to grasp him and hold him…hold him…

The True Sight bubbled up inside her like a hot spring, filling her eyes and tearing her heart to pieces. Lucien, her Lucien, limp on the stone floor of a cell, drenched in a sticky, purulent substance. No light to see by. No warmth to envelop him. No comfort, from her or anyone else. Lost in the cold, and the dark. Why did he not summon his fire, that spirit that breathed inside him like coals, that had kept him alive and protected his kind heart through so much before this? She didn’t know if she said it aloud, but she screamed to that limp body on the floor, stay alive. Stay alive, no matter what occurs. Bring your flame to bear, and I will avenge you, I swear it…

But he just lay there, breaths shallow and broken, his hands…his wrists…bound to the wall…

She leapt up, the vision melting like smoke, only to see his wide eyes before her.

“They bound you?” Her voice did not sound like hers. What writhed underneath it?

He nodded, pushing himself up on the cot to a sitting position. “I knew they would. It was only a matter of how.”

“How, then?” She squeezed her fist at her side. The earth would fill their mouths and choke their cries, drag them into its depths and bind their very skeletons to the rocks that made its own bones…

He hung his head. “I was shackled, with Hybernian stone, I think. They put faebane on me too, before the chains. Not as I knew it, either — a sort of paste. Perhaps it concentrates its effects that way. I only recognized its scent.”

“So you couldn’t break out.” Or use his fire to stay warm.

“I was more valuable as their prisoner,” he said, his voice as hollow as a pebble skittering down into a well. “They did not want to kill me. If they did, they would have done it long ago, before even making me their emissary. They were more interested in what I could tell them. Or do for them. Or who I could bring them. They wanted you most of all.” He smiled. “I knew that. So it was worth it to have you escape somewhere I didn’t know, so no matter what they did to me, you were out of their reach.”

She nodded, slow and steady. Coiling like a fist within her, the grinding of the rocks that silted into soil and reached towards the sun with vines and leaves and trees.

Find them. Punish them.

She went to the window, where the sun had grown bright as they spoke. It spilled over her. She felt her skin tingle, the warmth of the sun stoking the fire inside her.

“It will heal,” he said, husky and sad. “It will scar, but it will heal eventually.”

She had to get out, before this white-hot anger striated with cold revenge burst out of her and harmed him, he who she so wished to protect it was like shielding her own heart. She turned back to him and knelt, swiftly, next to the cot. He wound his hand into her hair, cupping her cheek, her jaw. She felt the strands of her hair catch against the grit of the scab on his wrist. Her heart raced, stuttering with affection and sorrow and the dark pulse of vengeance.

“It will heal,” he repeated. “I will heal.”

“You can only heal if you’ve been hurt,” she murmured. “And that’s what I don’t want to happen any more.”

He smiled, and kissed her hairline, so softly that she ached with it, in the pit of her belly and the cleft beneath her ribs that held her heart, squeezing it between her lungs with each agonizing breath.

She helped him to lie back, tucking the sheepskin over him, and with a wave of her hand, leaves clustered over the window to filter the sunlight. It would be gentle, would carry the scent of jasmine to soothe him as he slept. As his skin knit back together.

Pay. They would pay, and pay again, and beg forgiveness.

She would make sure of it.

———————————

He had fallen asleep at last, heat beating out of him as the fever raged. He had spoken, fretful and miserable, in his sleep, wept with pleas of stop, take me, kill me instead and Tam, help me Tam, I can’t see, it hurts. She could do nothing but lay a cool cloth on his brow. She dared not touch him at those times; knew that if she did, she would be immersed in his fever dreams, or worse, steal his past from him with her imperfect visions of what had happened. Better to let him awaken, to ask him later and let him tell her himself. Her sister might not know the difference, would sweep in with daemati might and root around with dirty fingers in a mind that wasn’t her own, but she would not. She would be different.

Her sister.

Feyre was still here. As soon as it occurred to her, the truth of it squeezed her heart with cold tendrils.

She stood up, skirts whispering, and slipped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her so softly that the latch didn’t even click.

The hallway yawned into shadow ahead of her. It was twilight, just after the dinner hour, and she knew where Feyre would be: eating with Helion and the attachés, perhaps in the Solarium, or the conservatory. Her steps matched the pace of her heart as she sped along the white marble floor, gleaming with gold and rosy specks of quartz. She did not see the darkness. It was hard to appreciate it when her vision was red at the edges and star-bright with rage.

The long night is ending. They will wake from the dream and find it rebuilt.

Perhaps it was time for a wake-up call, then.

She felt the stones begin to tremble beneath her as she walked, a low rumble from deep in the earth. She cast her eyes down and saw the curls of vines swimming around her arms, tangling in eager threads, tiny leaves unfurling, stained black with the ash of her anger.

She heard the dinner conversation as a merry buzz before she even saw the spill of light onto the floor…and by that time, there was a dull roar in her ears, her arms were corded with thorns and leaves, and death was coming to all, to all who had failed him and starved him and imprisoned him. She was vengeance, and he was her mate, and they were going to pay.

She burst into the lamplight like the heat from an opened oven door. All the faces turned to her, smiles draining from their lips like waves receding on the beach.

There was barely a moment to register the screams that bounced off the walls before the table heaved and cracked as six inch thorns spiked through it from beneath. Half of it sagged down; the other half toppled with a deafening crash, and through the middle burst the vines, reaching up to seize the chandelier and twist, pulling it from the ceiling with a screech of metal and timber. The candles sputtered against the ruined food. Her eyes were on her sister, dressed in glimmering silver and blue, eyes wide with horror and…what was that, underneath the surprise? Could it be fear?

Good, Elain thought with satisfaction as she leapt over the rubble, her vines sweeping everything away into chaos, coming up behind her in massive gnarled hands scaled with bark and stippled with thorns. She regarded Feyre for a moment. As her sister’s eyes narrowed and went dark, and the daemati talons scratched at her mind, she swung one of her arms in a massive arc. The vines followed it in a deadly sweep, choking with the scent of petrichor and leaves. Feyre was thrown against the wall of the room in one movement, immobilized, her head dragged backward as the vines grasped her hair, her pale throat exposed, arms akimbo and sealed to the wall. Elain let out a wild cry and leapt forward, her fingers closing around her sister’s neck and squeezing with all her strength.

Feyre struggled in silence, her air cut off — but then went deadly still. Her face flushed scarlet. The vines had pushed thorns against both the arteries in her neck, had pierced the skin under her left breast. If she moved it would stab her. Elain hissed into her face, aware that she looked completely unhinged, “You bound him.”

Feyre shook her head, as much as she was able. Elain released her throat and slapped her with all her strength across the face. “You drenched him in faebane and bound him with stone, and what, you thought I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t strip the skin off your bones?” She matched word to deed, scoring her nails along Feyre’s arm.

Tears streamed from Feyre’s eyes and scratches bloomed across her cheek, carved there by the thorns that had turned Elain’s fingers into claws. “I didn’t,” she rasped. “I didn’t do that to him.”

A second slap cracked across her face and this time the outline of Elain’s hand remained, bright red. “Your demon mate, then. He would say the same, wouldn’t he, if he was here? I didn’t do it, I knew nothing of it. Bullshit.” The curse tasted sour in her mouth, and she spat into the tangle of vines that had immobilized the other dinner guests into helpless writhing heaps on the floor. Only Helion was still upright, wrestling against the grip of the leaves that had encircled his legs and arms. She let him be. Her quarrel was not with him. “The pair of you are the same, always the same. Using him —using us — for your own —“ the vines tightened around Feyre’s wrists and ankles and wrenched a scream from between her clenched teeth “—wretched—“ the thorn pushed against the bottom of her chin “—ends. There were others in that prison. How many more did you do this to, besides him? Besides my mate?” Red spots swam in her vision. She wanted to kill her. “You turned a blind eye.”

“You turned a blind eye to me…” gasped Feyre, then let out a groan of frustration as the thorn pushed harder against her chin, forcing her jaw closed.

“Talk about yourself for one more moment and you’ll never talk again,” Elain whispered into her sister’s ear. A tremor went through Feyre, and she was still. Elain savored the victory for a moment. It was terrifying, nauseating to be this angry…it made her feel like an animal. It was this part of being Fae that had called to her like a dark song, that coursed through her veins like electricity, like the storms she’d watched batter the Eastern Channel: but to a small part of her, caught in the swirl of adrenaline and anger, it felt right. To defend Lucien when he couldn’t defend himself. When he was sick and raving with fever, when her sister’s court had painted him with poison and thrown him in prison, to suffer in darkness.

Human Elain would not have done this.

But she was Human Elain no longer.

Why be a girl, when you could be a terror? the voice of the void whispered to her.

So she seized her sister‘s head in both her hands, and let the True Sight boil into them both, and felt Feyre scream and scream as she showed her everything she had ever feared.

Mother of mercy, how good it felt to punish.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #pro elucien #anti inner circle

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crimeronan · 4 months

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Would love so so much for you to elaborate on the happiest looks for the oc quartet and what took you by surprise about them and what you think each of them conveys/implies. Sol I'm seeing longer hair and more comfortable less exposing clothing, etc, but can you talk a little about what each of their happiest option looks means and how it took you by surprise and how it contrasts with the reality and why it would be them at their best? thank you!! if you do

oh this is so sweet 🥺 thank u for permission to infodump about my guys.....

reference images here!

i often joke that devin and i have the same gender feelings in opposite directions, which basically boil down to, "i know i'd be a lot happier with my body on prescription hormones, but i am Way too sick right now to give a fuck."

so like. a happier devin is one who's been on E for years and grown her hair out for just as long. i was taken by surprise by Just How Femme she was (...similar to me having some weird masc revelations doing the same exercise for my idealized self).

also was mildly surprised that her clothing remained exactly the same as in the main verse. i played around with all the other clothing options, but a black tank top + ratty pants + bare feet are all Quintessential Devin Items.

the very visible scarring is bc she's never cared if people see that her body is fucked up & i want that to be true in the happy timeline too.

ruby's surprised me in that i didn't have to change much at all to get her Idealized External Self. she's already pretty true to what brings her joy. in professional environments, her clothes are much more muted, but everything she's wearing could come out of her non-work wardrobe.

her hair is worn fluffy instead of in box braids because she would Love to dye her natural hair like this. however she does Not love the need to carve out time and motivation to maintain it every damn day for the rest of fucking eternity, so. box braids it is!

also important is that ruby isn't wearing anything practical. those sandals aren't safe for difficult hikes/on-your-feet labor. that skirt is a massive mound of fabric. that jewelry gets in the way, that shirt has no armoring or support, she hasn't prioritized pockets or a practical bag or hidden defense weapons or anything. this ruby is free of basically all of the responsibility and weight dragging her main timeline self down

sol's long hair surprised me -- she had long hair when she was much younger & she has not wanted to grow it out again for trauma reasons. but she likes it better long. so a long-haired sol is one who's overcome at least some of her trauma. her hair has been silver since birth but the white streaks signify that she's aging gracefully & older than she ever expected to become

as for her clothes, it's comfy athletic wear that she's wearing for the sake of mobility and comfort. (with the red-and-black shoes to sneak in a little of her murder aesthetic.) in the main timeline, she'd SAY that she dresses for herself, but the amount of sharp & tailored & restrictive clothing she wears is.... Definitely for other people. or at least, it's for preserving her own image toward other people.

and then transmasc butch nova. LMAO. GOD.

main timeline nova puts an insane amount of effort into "i'm a pretty barbie girl <333" and has sunk So Much of her self-worth into being blonde and blue-eyed and glowing and gorgeous. she also has watercolor sleeve tattoos, but when i did her full-body picrew tats, black ink felt..... more correct. like. what would your tats look like if you weren't a Rainbow Goddess of Light

and then the rest of it is also very. what would you be if you weren't a Rainbow Goddess of Light. if you take away all the Rainbow Goddess of Light features, nova is.... desperately unhappy. and desperately compensating for something. and i think having top surgery and working as a butch car mechanic somewhere would fix her.

as for the pink shoes and hot topic jewelry, that's just bc i think nova would find it fun to do gnc nonsense. nova-without-divinity isn't A Man or fully married to doing Man Things... i feel like it would be wrong for her to just go as gung-ho for performative masculinity as her main timeline self does for performative femininity. nova-without-divinity is wearing whatever she wants and looking however she wants and being hilarious and delightful while she does it <3 god bless.

#replies #long post #original fiction #original fiction quartet #i started writing this reply yesterday and then fell asleep for almost 24 hours because i had a knife in my eye #still have a slight knife in my eye but it's mostly resolved now. hopefully this is coherent.

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catt-leya · 2 years

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Hey lovely!

Could I request a fic that happens when they get attacked by the Claimers and Rick bites the neck of the leader of.

I’m curious about how you will portray readers reaction! Like shocked or scared ( or turned on, I mean nobody can deny that he’s hot full of blood)

Take your time babe!

Thannks💖

Surrender (18+) || Rick Grimes

Thank you so much for motivating me to write this because I think it's one of my favorite fics I've EVER written💗

For me personally, it's a little highlight and I'm proud of how it turned out 💗

It's a good dose of pain, fluff and angst with my well known smut 👀

Have fun sweeties 💗💗💗

Trigger: Mention of rape and my smutty stuff

For the hundredth time, I brush my long hair out of my face and curse the hair band that gave up this morning.

My fidgeting draws the attention of my fiancé to me.

He walks a few steps ahead of me through the woods with Michonne in an attempt to lead us to a place called 'Terminus' and now looks back over his shoulder at me, "Come here, babe."

Michonne and he stop and I walk up to him grumbling, "What is it?"

This whole situation annoys me beyond belief. Just a little while ago we could call a prison home and now that it's all been razed to the ground, all of our friends are either dead or scattered elsewhere and we're traipsing around after some tracks for hours AND I want to shave my head bald right now.

As soon as I'm near him, he grabs my arm and pulls me to him.

Annoyed, I roll my eyes, "Rick, unless you have a razor blade and you're going to cut my hair off, let's just keep walking."

Normally I love it, when he touches me, but right now I don't feel like doing anything at all and just want a roof over my head.

Instead of letting go of me, he turns my back to him, "I think I have a better idea."

Frowning, I look at Michonne, who looks at us like we're the cutest thing in the whole world. I've long gotten used to being looked at like that by our friends and I'm proud of it.

I met Rick at the very beginning when we were still stuck in Atlanta and over time we've gotten closer and closer. At first it was just about sex, but that night at the C.D.C. when Rick was drunk and sleeping with me, the first 'I love you' slipped from his lips and when we both realized how we felt about each other, it didn't stop at that one 'I love you'.

We became a committed couple and to be honest I didn't expect more because I already had everything I could want. But one night when I was on a shift at the guard tower with Rick, he pulled a ring out of his pocket and asked me if I wanted to be his wife.

We both realized that in this world, wearing a ring doesn't mean much anymore, but Rick admitted that he liked the thought of me wearing a ring and others seeing that I was taken. That I belong to him.

How could I have said 'no' to that?

I love him so much I didn't have to think any further and now here I am, impatiently twirling the ring on my finger, "And what would that glorious idea be? I know you love my long hair. I do too, but it's annoying."

Gently, he takes my hair back down my back and says softly, "Wait a minute."

I still look at Michonne questioningly because she's the only one who sees what he's up to, but I can't read anything in her face.

So I sigh softly and wince when I hear something snap, "What are you doing?"

Rick doesn't answer me and instead takes my hair and ties it up with something so it finally stops falling in my face.

I hold still until he says, "Done," his voice dripping with pride.

Surprised, I turn to him and reach behind me at the same time to find out what he used to tie my hair up.

My gaze slides over his body and lingers on the hem of his shirt, which now doesn't look intact.

I reach for it and shake my head in disbelief, "This was your plan?"

He shrugs, "I don't want you to be unhappy and it's just a shirt. I'm sure we'll find some new clothes soon."

In thanks, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him softly on the lips, "Thank you."

I move my face a little away from him to release my lips from his, but he leans down and follows me to intensify the kiss.

Giggling, I slide my hand between us and press a finger to his mouth to stop him from sliding his tongue between my lips, "We have an audience."

Behind me, I hear Michonne murmur, "At least one who has consideration for me."

Moaning softly, Rick closes his bright eyes and murmurs, so softly that only I can hear, "I'm underfucked, babe. I'm starting to lose it, and your tight jeans aren't really helping."

In fact, it also feels like it's been forever since we last had sex, but so far there just hasn't been an opportunity to change that and I whisper back softly, "Sorry, but I quite like the jeans."

He gives a pained laugh and then says to Michonne as well, "We should get on the road. Maybe we can find a car there."

With the makeshift hair band, I'm in a much better mood and reach for Rick's hand.

It's so natural that he automatically slips his fingers through mine and we make our way hand in hand to the street.

In fact, we don't even have to walk far, and a car appears in the middle of the road.

Unfortunately it doesn't look like it will start, but with the car we would at least have some kind of roof over our heads now that the sun is setting and the trees around us are casting longer shadows.

We build a makeshift camp with a small campfire, which is slowly but steadily burning down and I crawl inside the car.

The old car seats are the most comfortable surface I've been allowed to place my butt on in a long time and I look at Rick and Michonne with half-closed eyes.

The last glow caresses his face immensely and my heart warms all over at the thought that I was so lucky that he chose me.

That in this world where everything is terrible, I was given the luck to meet the love of my life.

Who knows if we would have even met before if everything had gone differently.

Maybe I would still be trapped in my job that I hated and dating the same idiotic men who never respected me, let alone loved me as genuinely as Rick does.

Smiling, I look down at the ring on my finger and daydream when I hear a strange voice.

Alarmed, I look up and my heart slips into my pants.

A guy I've never seen before is holding a gun to my fiancé's head and Michonne is also being targeted by another.

I briefly think about sliding under the seat to figure out a way to get them out of there, but before I can finish the thought, the car door is yanked open and a guy grabs me.

I try to get away from him, but the guy lifts me out of the car, unfazed, and I hear Rick hiss, "Let her go."

The guy's paws dig into my hip and I try to kick at him.

He loses his balance and with me in his arms, he goes down.

As soon as we hit the ground, I try to get away from him, oblivious to the pain.

But he spins me around to face him and pushes me to the ground with all his weight.

Afraid of missing something and making the situation worse, I don't dare look in Rick's direction and I don't dare taking my eyes off the guy above me, which is why I only hear Rick's menacing voice: "It was me. It was me alone. They had nothing to do with it."

I have no idea what Rick is actually talking about, but I'm also way too busy trying to stop the asshole from pushing my legs apart and growling, "Let go of me."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Daryl appear out of nowhere and I don't care where he came from so suddenly, I just want him to talk these guys into letting us go.

I snap along something about "take mine", that's when the asshole leans over me and whispers with hellish breath, "I bet you'll be a really good fuck."

Pure adrenaline pumps through my veins and I try to push him away.

All I can think of is, please don't.

But he just grabs my arms and presses them against the floor above my head.

I barely register two men going at Daryl and realize how hopeless my situation is.

Every now and then Rick would also hold my hands above my head during sex and not even with all his strength.

Still, I could never budge and was forced to stay put.

The guy above me probably weighs twice as much as Rick and there I see no chance of getting away from him.

Again I hear Rick, "Let her go."

Tears unintentionally come to my eyes and I let go.

The more I struggle, the worse it gets and I immediately hear the guy unzip his pants, "You might even like it."

I think about Rick getting shot and me getting raped and then dying too.

The guy moves his hand a little and comes up against the ring, which draws his attention to it and he calls out to the man holding the gun against Rick's head, "The little bitch is wearing an engagement ring."

The asshole with Rick laughs, "Is that your little girl? This just gets better and better. First we kill Daryl, then we kill the bitch next to you, then we share your whore. Only then I'll shoot you. But don't worry, maybe we'll keep the chick. She's hot."

Tears run down my cheeks and I look that first to Rick.

His gaze is firmly fixed on me and I make up my mind that I will not break eye contact, no matter what should happen.

I feel the hard cock of the asshole above me against my thigh and silently form with my lips, "I love you."

Something in Rick's gaze changes and before I can even blink, he throws his head back and hits the guy behind him in the gut.

The shot that goes off passes and suddenly everything happens so fast.

Rick is on his feet, then gets knocked down and then somehow gets back to his feet.

Everyone stares at the two men and the brief hope I had is washed away as the asshole grabs Rick and won't let him go.

I wonder if I'm going to lose my fiancé now and the guy is going to rape me in the pool of Rick's blood.

Suddenly something happens that I didn't see coming.

Something no one saw coming.

Rick bites the guy's throat and rips it out with his teeth.

The guy above me freezes and I'm too perplexed to free myself.

Michonne and Daryl, however, use the moment to kill the others and I stare down at my fiancé, who spits out his throat and turns in my direction, covered in blood.

I can't take my eyes off him as he takes the hunting knife from his victim and fixes the guy above me, "He's mine."

That's the moment the guy wakes up from his stupor and stands up frantically. He takes a step backward, and Rick is already on him, stabbing.

Not just once, no, he stabs again and again, gutting my potential rapist.

Rick lets him fall to the ground and turns directly to me.

I can claim never to have been afraid of him, but the moment his eyes meet mine and I see that insane look, I flinch and it's a reflex as I begin to crawl backwards away from him.

The threatening rape and what I saw, make me back away from him more and more and only then he blinks several times.

Surprised, he drops the knife carelessly and his voice is harsher than it's ever been before, "Babe?"

He takes a step toward me and I slide back even further.

You could call it self-preservation instinct that I'm backing away from a much larger bloodied man who just a few seconds ago looked like he would just kill everything and everyone.

Slowly he drops to his knees and when he is no longer towering over me, my brain slowly picks up on what he is saying softly, "You know I would never hurt you right?"

I stare at his beard, normally streaked with gray and now glowing the deepest red.

No words escape my lips and he reaches out his bloody hand to me, "Babe, please. I would never hurt you. I love you."

Slowly his words get through to me and I push forward a little to reach for his with a shaky hand.

The relief in his eyes is impossible to miss as I let him pull me to my feet and he tries to speak to me as calmly as possible, "You're scared of me."

It's not a question, but a simple statement.

As soon as he realizes I'm standing securely, he immediately lets go of me and again says incredibly gently, "Please don't be afraid of me."

Now that I'm standing, I finally get my breath back and I can think reasonably clearly again.

I see the worry in his gaze and how tense his body is because he has to restrain himself from touching me and giving me the space I need.

I know he would never hurt me and I know he saved me and the others.

It's just the way he did it that I've never seen him do before, and in fact, I didn't think he was capable of such savage violence.

Slowly but steadily, my heart calms and I quietly clear my throat, "I know."

Rick looks like I've lifted a weight of a thousand tons off his shoulders and asks, "Can I give you a hug? I…I just want to hold you."

I don't even care that I'm soaking myself with blood as I fall into his arms, and that's when all the dams break on me and I shuffle against his chest.

My whole body shakes and Rick strokes my back reassuringly, "It's all right. I won't let anything happen to you."

I dig my fingers into his shirt and push myself even closer to him. Shorting, I breathe, "I thought he was going to shoot you. Oh my god. I thought we were all going to die."

Again and again he strokes my head and I hear him talking to Daryl and Michonne.

A short time later, turning to me, he murmurs, "Daryl and Michonne are moving the bodies and looking for something edible. Let me take you to the car."

Gently, he lifts my head and brushes the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, "It's all right."

Slowly I nod and let him lead me to the back seat of the car.

Rick opens the door for me and I quietly slide into the seat. As I look at him, I still can't believe we're all alive and that he really bit that guy's throat out.

It's starting to hit just how much the world can change you and what one person in need can be capable of.

What Rick did for me and the others is incredible and in a very morbid way it turned me on a little bit too.

Seeing him blow his last fuse is extremely scary and irritatingly, extremely hot.

It may be that it's the panic slowly subsiding and giving way to other feelings, but as he takes a step back, I reach for his hand, "Come here."

Because he would do anything for me, he approaches me again and I try to pull him to the back seat and thus to me, but he stops and says, "I need to wash up and you're still in shock, babe" in a soft voice.

Despite his words, I pull him towards me in a more determined way and he loses his balance at least enough to have to brace himself to the left and right of my legs to keep his face from landing on my stomach.

I grab his face with both hands and whisper, "I don't care and I'm fine. I need you now, Rick."

He takes a faltering breath, "I…Babe…You can't really want this right now. Not after that asshole almost…I mean and after what I did…I could understand if I disgusted you and you didn't want to let me touch you anymore."

I stroke his still damp beard, "I want you to touch me though, Rick."

The uncertainty in his eyes almost hurts me and when he says, "I saw how scared you were of me" my heart breaks.

Without thinking, I open my lips to explain, but he shakes his head, "I'm so sorry I scared you and I'm not sure how I'm going to make it up to you by burying you under me in this little car and you'll probably barely be able to move."

I release my hands from his face and reach for the button of my jeans instead and have to smile when he fixes his gaze on it and mumbles hoarsely, "Babe, please. I don't want you to feel constricted."

I lift my hips and pull my pants over my butt, "You won't hurt me or make me do anything. I'm not afraid of not being able to move under you either. I trust you and now I'm asking you to trust me too when I say I love you and want to feel you on top of me."

Unsure, he looks up at me and I reach for his chin, "Please, Rick."

For a brief moment I think he's going to get up, but he does carefully push himself over me.

He was also right that the car is pretty small and once he's completely over me, he can just barely brace himself without hitting the back of his head against the ceiling and his hip stays heavily on top of me.

Skeptically he looks me in the eye and I give in to the impulse I have and brush the curls that frame his face out of his face.

He closes his eyes and murmurs, "Is that okay?"

Gently, I move my hip against his and breathe, "More than okay."

When he looks at me again, his eyes light up and he reaches for my hand to breathe a kiss on my ring, "I love you. I love you so much. When I saw that asshole touch you and you looked at me, I lost it. I stopped thinking and wanted you to be safe."

I release my hand from his and reach for his face again to pull it to me and before I kiss him I whisper, "I know."

Just the first touch of our lips makes Rick groan and he can't hold himself up properly.

With a soft gasp, he lowers his torso further down on me and murmurs against my lips, "If it gets too much for you, I'll stop. I promise"

I know that too and put my head to the side so that he has access to my neck.

His lips glide over my heated skin and with every second I forget what got us into this situation in the first place.

I forget what Rick did and I forget what was almost done to me.

All I can think about are Rick's lips at the base of my breasts and his cock pressing hard against me.

He tries to balance on one arm to get my panties off, but the back seat is too narrow and he loses his balance, causing him to slip away and lie on top of me with his full weight.

Instead of panicking, though, I have to laugh and when Rick sees this, life returns to his eyes, "Sorry, babe."

Chuckling, I push him up by the shoulders, "Let me do it."

While I more or less blindly try to undress us enough for Rick to fuck me, he spreads little kisses all over my skin.

From my nose to my jaw, down to my neck, causing a strange mixture of amusement and arousal in me.

Awkwardly, I slide his pants, including boxers, over his butt and somehow try to arrange my legs so he can push himself inside me.

When his cock presses against my pussy, I moan softly and Rick smothers the sound with a kiss.

This time I don't stop him either as he presses his tongue between my lips and sinks into me at the same time.

Feeling him inside me after all this time is all I need to gasp his name and jerk myself tighter around him.

I'm trying to loosen my muscles and get used to his thickness when Rick hisses, "Holy shit. I can't take this for long."

I manage a quiet, "Sorry" and relax more with each passing second as he just waits motionless inside me.

I adjust myself as best I can under him and feel him twitch inside me before I kiss him gently and whisper, "Okay."

His blue eyes dance over my face as he pulls back and then sinks back into me.

Lovingly, I reach into his hair and pull him down to me so that my lips touch his ear, "You don't have to hold back."

I feel him tremble and press his hips harder against mine so I can feel everything of him.

Every little movement and twitch.

Instead of looking at me again, he buries his face against my neck, and there's something so intimate about the gesture that my abdomen starts to glow.

I feel his heavy breathing and how he is trying to give me what I need and not come himself already before me.

It's unusual to see him struggling for self-control like this, and the fact that he has to struggle like this himself turns me on beyond belief.

I bury my fingers in his curls and moan softly, "Harder. Please."

Just like always, he does what I ask and I hear him gasp muffled, "You are my world. I can't live without you."

I can't believe, his words make me rebel, causing my clit to bump against him and without warning the knot in my abdomen loosens and my pussy pulses around his cock.

He can't stand that either and I hear him almost whimper "Oh God" and he comes jerking inside me and lifts his face to kiss me messily.

When he takes a quick breath, I seize the moment and press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, making him laugh softly, "I really should get out of this small car."

I playfully nudge him in the side, "I have to admit, this is starting to make me feel like a truck is parked on top of me."

Shaking his head he tries to get out of the car, "Well thank you very much."

He looks at me and the problem with that is he can't see when the car roof stops and he straightens up way too soon.

Before I can warn him his head is already banging against the roof and he hisses, "Shit car" while rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

Sighing, he gets dressed again and I also peel myself back into my clothes, which isn't much easier than undressing in the back seat.

Decently dressed, Rick reaches out his hand and helps me back out of the car, "You okay?"

Smiling, I shake my head, "Stop it already. I'm fine," and take his hands in mine.

The way the blue in his eyes grows warm never gets old and I know I will love him forever no matter what he does.

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes imagine #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead #request

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world0fmadness · 9 days

Text

I WANT LOVE

ivar “ zephyrous ” enger x reader

♡ general dating headcanons for zephyrous!

୨୧ still have a lot of other requests in the works! just trying very hard to not burn myself out and taking it slowly which seems to be working <3

♡ requested by anon | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: i want love by akira yamaoka - burial by ghost bath

♡ i can see zephyrous being quite selfless when in a relationship with you!

୨୧ he just wants you to always be happy with him, he can’t ever bare the thought of you being unhappy or unsatisfied with him…

♡ he’s always looking to please you and he seems like quite a bit of a goofball at times so whenever you’re feeling a little down? he’s always cracking jokes, even making jokes at his own expense and making strange faces if they make you perk up a bit and laugh <3

୨୧ you know that one jacket he had? the purple, kind of vapourware windbreaker one?

♡ yeah, he lets you wear that all the time! even when it’s not that cold out and you haven’t asked him for it, he just likes seeing you wear his things! even if his clothes aren’t particularly oversized on you at all

୨୧ because let’s be honest, i think we all know he isn’t the biggest or most built dude…

♡ as handsome and beautiful as this man is, we have all seen his arms…

୨୧ the man is a twig! this is not me body shaming him, not at all, i’m just making an observation that he was very string bean built and didn’t have the most muscles at all

♡ this is something i can see him being kind of insecure about when being in a relationship with you!

୨୧ he kind of really wishes he was able to pick you bridal style or give you piggy backs when you’re drunk or your feet hurt…

♡ but unfortunately he just kind of can’t, no matter how skinny you are too, he just doesn’t have the arm muscles to hold up the weight of another human

୨୧ but that’s not to say he hadn’t tried! most likely when he’s half drunk or something, he’s came up to you from behind and attempted to pick you up bridal style to carry you off into a room or something but literally right after slipping his arms under your knees and pulling you up, he’s tumbling right over you and crashing into the ground, taking you down with him as you both let out drunken giggles

“ fuck… oh, fuck… ‘m sorry, are you okay? fucking dropped you… ” ( you’re both just giggling so hard about what just happened, he can barely even get the words out in between his laughing )

♡ so yes, when he’s a little drunk he’s much less insecure about it but when sober? that’s when you might have to love up on him quite a bit and tell you it’s really not a big deal at all and you love as he is <3

୨୧ honestly, from some pictures i’ve seen of him, some of his shirts look like a small!

♡ so if you’re actually built a little bigger than him, wether it be more muscular, busty, a little chubby or just generally bigger and his shirts fit you tight, hugging your chest and waist?

୨୧ i will not lie right now, he’s kind of into it… especially when you wear them with nothing but underwear… he thinks you look crazy hot with the shirt hugging and showing off your body, nipples poking against the fabric as the hem of the shirt continuously rides up to just above your belly button

♡ i’m not exactly sure why i think this but i feel like zephyrous is very fragile and soft, kind of insecure :(

୨୧ he needs a lot of reassurance and comfort kisses from you, please just tell him you love him and tell him how talented you think he is!

♡ it’s one of the reasons he enjoys playing his guitar around you so much, he gets praise from you and that just makes his heart flutter and his face redden

୨୧ seriously, he loves when you praise his guitar playing! he’ll often sit on the edge of the bed as he plays whilst you sit behind him with your head resting on his shoulder or you’ll stand in the doorway watching! he cannot look up at you though, he gets so red and shy when he sees the look of love and admiration in your eyes… if you give a quiet applause afterwards? he’s so so so smiley and bashful! pulling you to him by your hand before placing a soft kiss on your lips, mumbling against your lips

“ thank you… for listening to me play, love you so much, y’know that? y’mean so much to me ” ( no but you really do, i feel like within the first week of meeting you or dating you, zephyrous just knew you were the one for him, you are his eternal love )

♡ when zephyrous goes through some issues with alcohol, you would probably be one of the things that really helps him pull through to the other side, you’re what really helps him escape the downward spiral

୨୧ most likely, it’s not even for himself! he couldn’t care any less about his health and whatever at the time but he cares about you and he loves you so so so much! if you ever threatened to end things with him due to not being able to just watch as he destroys himself, it slaps him with reality really fast… it’s seeing you be so upset and distraught at his drinking problems that makes him want to quit and he does, for you <3

♡ whenever he comes home from band practice or whatever else with darkthrone, sometimes he’s just so tired and worn down, wanting to do nothing more than collapse into your arms and sleep…

୨୧ often times he’ll rant to you about how he feels just a bit left out from darkthrone and whatever else, just stroke his hair and let him get it out! some loving and reassurance from you makes him feel better, you always make him feel better

♡ just before drifting off to sleep in your arms, he’ll usually mumble some kind of apology into your chest, as if he needs to apologise for anything

“ sorry… know it’s not a big deal… thanks… for listening, and loving me, i mean… ” ( he is such a sweet guy who needs some loving )

୨୧ when he wakes up, still nestled in your arms, he always lets out the quietest yet loudest sigh of relief… he’s just so scared that one day you’ll get tired of him being whiny and always so upset after band practice, one day he’ll wake up and you’ll have packed up and left him :(

♡ he won’t ever tell you about these fears though, never! he’ll just lay back down and fall back to sleep on your chest, savouring the feeling of love and peace he feels in your arms, just in case…

୨୧ i don’t know, maybe i’m wrong but i just feel like he’d have a major fear of losing you! you’re the best thing to ever come into his life, he cannot even imagine waking up in the morning without you being beside him

♡ speaking of him being nestled in your arms, zephyrous is such a cuddle bug! but i actually can’t see him being the big spoon, he seems like a little spoon to me!

୨୧ he just likes laying on your chest as you stroke his hair too, he nearly purrs like a cat when you gently scratch his scalp and kiss his head

♡ zephyrous is not a huge morning guy, if it was up to him, he’d stay cuddled up in bed with you all damn day, just talking and sharing kisses, maybe getting a little down and dirty if you feel up to it <3

#requested ✩#ivar enger x reader #zephyrous x reader #darkthrone x reader #darkthrone headcanons #dating headcanons

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 days

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me 🤝 this anon:

https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfluffandfuck/758477144418664448/i-know-that-the-richard-armitage-gifs-arent-of

this is so real, like i'm just bombarded of thoughts where chris has been feeling needy and horny (celebrity long-distance is just what they're used to) because he only got a a small taste of his busy baby so he still wants craves more 🥴

now i'm imagining a scenario just after the met gala where they have a quick meetup before seb dashes off to another press con or whatever in the morning and chris being too sleepy and groggy to give him a proper goodbye, only fully wakes up with a bundle of seb's clothes from the night before. a physical reminder of their lovemaking, the way they were so desperate to have each other that this expensive piece of clothing got left behind and discarded so they can have each other skin to skin.

...anyway this is the part where chris jerks off to the thoughts of what they did yesterday as those memories sear into his head and fuel him until the next time they can see each other again 😌

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

related to this ask, which goes back to these gifs

An excuse to look at Seb's Met Gala look again, lol

But, OKAY, you said "a bundle of seb's clothes" and my brain went into pure fucking static mode. I have one thought about what Chris does with those expensive, left-behind clothes...

So, jerking off/masturbating, fantasizing, bed/clothes humping, etc.

The second time Chris wakes up the morning after the Met, he's alone in the hotel room booked underneath Sebastian's personal assistant's name. The first time he woke, it was earlier and it was because Sebastian's alarm was going off and Seb was sleeping next to him, their bodies curled together, clinging and hot beneath the sleep-mused sheets. And they had slotted their lips together to trade kisses carelessly before Sebastian even bothered to reach over and silence his damn phone. It didn't matter. They were going to milk every last minute they could get together, dammnit, even if the last little bit they had together involved morning breath, squinty eyes, and one very unhappy, blaring alarm on the nightstand. Whatever. So be it. They'll take what they can get.

Now, the second time around, Chris has none of that but the heat. His own body heat, of course. He runs hot in his sleep and is a morning shower-er because of it. But, also, he's left with just the heat because... well... it's all centered between his legs, if you know what he means.

He's hard as shit this morning.

Jesus Christ.

Chris blows a frustrated breath out of his slightly-open mouth, shifting enough to spread wider on the queen mattress that felt too small last night. It's too large this morning, he needs another body. He wants another body.

Sebastian's body specifically.

The thing is, he's not surprised by the fact of his dick being ready to fucking go, he's surprised by the sheer intensity of it--he's hard-hard. Like. Teeth grinding, jaw clenching, throbbing hard. Feel in his balls hard. The kind of hard that tells him he either was dreaming up filthy shit as he slept or he rolled over onto his stomach at some point and started humping the mattress in his sleep.

Although, with sweat gathering under his arms and between his back and the sheets, Chris doesn't really give a fuck why he's so hard, how he got so hard, or if it's shocking or not. Instead, Chris' energy is on how he just fuckin' needs to do something about it. He's gotta. It's a crying shame that Seb isn't still here, his body offset by just a few measly hours. He had some of Sebastian last night after the Met but not enough. He can never get enough of Sebastian. He can have him again and again all in one night and it still isn't enough, he's waking up hard and wanting even if he's pretty sure last night he was fucking out of cum, it was that good. He's fucking insatiable when it comes to Sebastian. How could he not be?

Just as Chris is bemoaning his morning wood, debating on what he wants--should he roll over and luxuriate in the hotel soft sheet that smells like Sebastian, fucking his hips down into the plush bed? Should he prop himself up against the headboard of the bed and jerk off slow and tight like how it felt for Sebastian to ride him last night? Should he get into the shower and let the steam carry him back to a different memory, when they foolishly believed they were done and could finally rest, cleaning up but... not? Should he trust his legs and stumble to the front door to press himself against the door, one hand around his dick and the other on his own chest, pretending it's Sebastian groping his chest and using his wicked mouth to tell him about his tits? Should he just say fuck it and roll onto the floor where they fell before managing to make it to the bed? Options, options, options. All of them sound good, none of them as great as it was last night, making filthy, desecrating memories, but that's because they lack Sebastian.

Before Chris can lazily make any real decision, his hand uselessly cupping himself through his tented, worn-thin sweatpants, his body makes it for him. A breathy moan has him turning his head to the side, getting more comfortable, and his eyes fall on the open closet next to the bed. Sebastian's lengthy, heavy, dramatic coat from last night is still hanging there. His equally jeweled, heavy slacks are thrown over the rod holding clothes hangers (and subsequently the hanger with his jacket). And... his shirt is missing in action.

Chris spares half of his single brain cell to look down and around the floor, vaguely curious. Where the hell could it have ended up? Chris doesn't even remember how Seb got out of his clothes without shredding them, the way they were going at each other last night, much less remembering how any part of his outfit got hung up. But, he finds the deceptively simple, exorbitantly priced black shirt just over the side of the bed, rumbled on the floor.

If Chris is kidding himself, he picks it up thinking about how it can't be good for the expensive fabric to be wrinkled and heaped into a lump like that. But, if he isn't kidding... he picks it up because, fuck, he needs a piece of Sebastian. Anything he can touch. He was here and then gone and he isn't coping well. He wants Seb like his lungs burn for oxygen at the end of a drawn-out, full-chested moan.

The fabric quickly warms to his body temperature, soft and light in his hands. Chris likes sensation. Velvet and crushed corduroy and silk and--

This.

Sebastian's shirt squeezed in one hand, making a fist around as much of it as he can fit, feeling it desperately, intensely, trying to recall how it felt draped over Sebastian's body meanwhile his other hand gropes and squeezes his own cock.

There's something about it, lying back on the bed, kicking his legs wider apart, touching himself through his sleep pants, and bringing that black shirt that he knows was pressed tightly up against Seb's chest up to his own chest, leaving it in a heap against his bare, hairy, inked chest that gets to him. It wears him down. He throbs harder, grunting as his arousal works its way into his heart, stabbing him with its heated insistence. Chris leaves that shirt on his chest, close to him, reminding him of his lover who he's desperate to feel, for a pathetically short amount of time before scooping it back up and moving it. This time, not holding it in only one hand but two.

He cups Sebastian's shirt in two hands and imagines that it's hot from Seb's body, freshly stripped off of him, smelling strongly of his dark, alluring cologne, and not wrinkled from a night of abandonment on the floor but still molded to his shape. He pretends fantasizes. Chris yearns. He wants. And he drags that poor, innocent shirt down, down, down to hold it against the blazing, aching throb of his cock through his sweatpants.

Chris groans.

He's barreling forward now, he doesn't have time to wonder what the fuck he's doing or investigate how strange and perverse it is, he's just going. Thumping his head back against the pillows, arching his neck, and thrusting up against the shirt balled up around his cock. It's good. The friction. The build-up that started in his sleep burning hotter now that he's conscious. The overflowing way he misses Sebastian yet has his touch fresh in his mind to draw back on and make this feel even stronger. It's all enough to make him moan to himself, getting off alone in this hotel room, carried on waves of lust that want to wash him out to sea.

He's gonna drown.

He wants it.

"Seb," falls breathily off his lips and stains his neck as the sound drips down slowly like thick, hot honey. He's flushing so badly. Blushing across his cheeks, of course, but also pink from his hairline all the way to his chest--his hard nipples--because he can't help but imagine if Sebastian somehow was here, if he forgot something and had to rush back from the airport to the hotel, missing his flight because of it, scrambling, knowing he needs to hop on the next flight out, only to burst through the door and find his boyfriend not sleeping sweetly and soundly as he'd expect still so early in the morning, but squirming on the bed they shared last night, rutting against his shirt and moaning his name, getting off so hard on fucking nothing. Somehow still horny despite how they went at it like animals last night. What the fuck is this? Sebastian would be instantly distracted from all else, faltering with his eyes wide and dark and his tongue drawing across his bottom lip as he forces himself to keep silent, watching intently from the entryway as Chris can't take it anymore and peels his sweatpants down and gets his cock out. Bluntly. Brazenly. Foolishly thinking he's still alone while really putting on quite the fucking show--grinding urgently, desperately, rutting his bare, leaking, embarrassingly hard cock against Sebastian's worn shirt as if it's some fucking stroker or sex doll not just a shirt.

Chris swears to himself, broken open by how debauched his thoughts and actions are. Still, he can't help himself.

He keeps fucking going, going, and going. Each drag of his cock against Sebastian's shirt is better than the last. His sweat is building up and layering over itself, getting him wet, making him feel like butter melted in a pan over the stovetop--sizzling. He can't stop.

Oh, god.

It's good. It's hot. It's, it's--

It reminds him, suddenly, guttingly, of whispered rumors of dirty, bad men told in private. Words pressed into ears, raising goosebumps, hidden behind cupped hands. Gossip that drips down your spine and pools inside you, wrong but... helplessly intriguing at the same time. Intoxicating. A fly caught in a honey trap.

He feels like a dirty, bad man taking--thieving--some poor lady's worn panties and smothering himself in them, burying his face in the tiny, pretty, white-cotton underpants and fantasizing about her body, not her clothes. Picturing, filthily, how sweet and sensitive she'd be. How she'd moan and squeal and take it in a tight fit, pinned down. And as horrifyingly arousing as the nasty, vile comparison is--appealing only with his inhibitions lowered to the fucking ground, stupidly turned on and horny, not in his right state of mind--he can't quit. And, further, he makes it worse. He makes the comparison all the more real as he tilts his head to the head, thrashing side to side for a helpless, breathless moment before settling and pressing his blushing, burning face into Sebastian's pillow. He shamelessly inhales a chestful of his scent and leans that much more into it. He doesn't just rut against Sebastian's shirt as if it's a pillow conveniently held between his legs then. No. It's even more crude. Worse. He wraps Sebastian's worn shirt around his cock and defiles it.

He can't stop moaning and rutting--fucking the shirt, too dry and hot and hurting but so good--not until he's splattering his tight, clenching stomach and that goddamn shirt with his own cum, gasping, chest heaving hugely.

Jesus fuck.

Immediately, as he barely keeps his head above water between the waves of orgasm, Chris feels like he's never going to recover from this. It's so dirty. It's depraved. He... he's so shocked he just did that.

What the fuck got into him?

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #bottom sebastian #bottom seb #top chris

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