#while still giving off straight vibes

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

hi guys, may i introduce you to the concept of ailette/hestio

If hesphael is ephael giving in to hestio with some jibes that have little to no heat behind them, then ailette/hestio is ailette returning hestio's energy even more and hestio not being able to take it. Ephael teases hestio with a ☺️ or 😄 face while ailette is like >:)) and she does not pull punches. she would embarrass him happily and watch him combust. They compete on a bunch of inconsequential things and hestio loses 80% of the time because ailette is just too cool like that.

[sai-int]

TICKET TO PLAY | john price

Sheriff Price has a habit of pulling you over, and you have a habit of seeing how far you can push him. It’s a game you've been playing for years—a harmless one, until he gives you exactly what you’ve been asking for.

⤿ based on this | [ AO3 ]

18+ AU, fem!reader, small town vibes, porn with minimal plot, smut, oral (m receiving), dom!john (back and forth between hard and soft), bratty—sort of pathetic reader, fingering, squirting, public sex, smidge of voyeurism, size kink if you really read the fine print, implied slight age gap [ 6.6k words ]

You weren’t going that fast.

Maybe nudging 35 in a 25, but the road was empty—just you and the soft, golden light of a July evening slipping into dusk. The cicadas hummed their lazy symphony, crickets chirping in harmony, while the air carried the scent of fresh-cut grass and summer warmth. It was the kind of night that wrapped around you like a blanket, slow and sweet, the kind that made you want to roll the windows down and let the world drift by.

But then the sirens sliced through the calm, sharp and jarring, shattering the stillness. Red and blue lights flashed in your rearview, splashing the road ahead in a chaotic swirl of color. Your hands tightened on the wheel, that familiar knot twisting in your gut. You didn’t even need to check the mirror to know who it was.

Sheriff John Price.

The small-town Sheriff (asshole) that had a sixth sense for catching you when you weren’t even doing anything wrong. The guy who’d written you up for a rolling stop at an empty intersection, or a right on red at 2 a.m. when the streets were dead silent. Sure, maybe you were five over on a straight stretch of road, but come on—did he really have nothing better to do than hassle you over that? It was starting to feel like he was just looking for excuses to pull you over.

At this point, you figured you were practically on a first-name basis. Hell, you were probably the most frequent flyer on his ticket roster. But that was the trade-off for living in a town where the sheriff knew everyone’s business—and apparently, yours most of all.

You eased the rickety old Nissan Skyline to a crawl, tires screeching softly as you pulled onto the shoulder and shifted into park. Your fingers moved on autopilot, fishing the registration out of the center console before he even asked. If John Price had one talent, it was knowing where you were before you did—and you’d learned the hard way to keep things within arm’s reach.

The music blared for a second longer before you killed the volume, the sudden silence pressing down on the summer night like a weight. You rolled down the window, letting the warm, sticky air flood the cabin, thick with the scent of grass and distant rain. Leaning back in your seat, one hand resting lazily on the wheel, you waited. Same old song and dance.

First came the slam of his cruiser door, sharp and final, like he was already annoyed at the prospect of dealing with you. Then the crunch of his boots on the asphalt—slow, deliberate, each step dragging out the inevitable. It was almost comical, the way he took his time, like he wasn’t the one who’d flipped on the lights and sirens.

The window hissed as it rolled down, the sound jarring in the quiet, and before you could stop yourself, a smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. You didn’t bother hiding it this time. If you were walking away thirty dollars lighter, you might as well make it entertaining.

"Evenin’, John," you drawl, letting the words hang in the air with a playful edge that makes his jaw tighten.

He leans in, his arms braced against the window frame like he owns the whole damn road. His face is all sharp lines and shadows in the fading light, the faint scent of cigarettes and worn leather wrapping around you, mingling with the heavy, humid air of the summer night.

“Don’t call me John,” he grumbles, his voice rougher than usual, like gravel under tires.

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into a grin. “Why not?” you tease, letting your fingers trail lazily along the steering wheel. “Thought we were friends, John.” You bat your lashes, adding a pout for good measure, laying it on thick just to see how far you can push him this time

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even blink. His eyes narrow, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he leans in closer, his presence crowding you. “We aren’t ‘friends,’” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “You know why I pulled you over?”

It’s not really a question—it’s a challenge, and you can’t help but rise to it. You tilt your head, letting your gaze linger on him, your smirk widening. “Hmm… maybe ‘cause you’re a sucker for a pretty car?” you suggest, your tone dripping with sarcasm, sweet enough to sting.

John’s lips press into a thin line, but the subtle shift in his posture tells you everything you need to know. His gaze is unrelenting, sharp enough to cut through the cool facade you’re trying so hard to maintain. Internally, he’s fighting not to laugh—you can see it in the way his shoulders tense, like he’s holding back a cackle.

“If this—” he steps back, his eyes sweeping over the exterior of your car with deliberate slowness before landing back on you, “—is your idea of a ‘pretty car,’ I might have to issue you a ticket for driving without glasses.”

You lean back in your seat, arms crossing over your chest, your mouth hanging open in mock offense. Just because Fergie was old didn’t mean she was ugly. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an ass?”

He stands there for a moment, just watching you, his expression unreadable. It’s like he’s weighing how much more of this he’s willing to put up with. Finally, he tilts his head, his voice dry as dust. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a brat?”

“Touché.”

You two had been here before. Over and over again. Ever since you’d come back home from college, he’d been hot on your trail—always showing up at the worst possible moments, right when you thought you might’ve gotten away with it.

This was your town. You’d grown up here, knew every road, every corner, every face. It was small, sure, but it was yours. And then John Price showed up. Sparkling, brand new hot-shot sheriff, fresh off the Mayflower. Sworn in by all the touch-starved wives and swooned over by every teenage girl in a fifty-mile radius. Ever since he’d arrived, it was like Elvis all over again

You figured he didn’t have the right to boss the locals around like he owned the place. No shiny badge or gun on his hip was going to earn him any respect from you. This wasn’t some big city where the badge meant everything. Out here? You could be just as stubborn as he was.

Still, he had a knack for showing up when you least expected it, always lurking in the background, keeping an eye on you for reasons you couldn’t quite figure out. No one could explain it, but there he was, always hovering like you were some kind of problem. But you never did anything wrong. Not really.

“I bet you 50 bucks there’s about five disgruntled teens smoking pot under the high school bleachers as we speak,” you say, leaning back in your seat with a grin tugging at your lips. “Surely, they deserve your devotion and attention more than little ol’ me.”

He pauses, clearly weighing your words, and you can see the flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I don’t want your money,” he mutters, his tone dry but with a hint of amusement—and something else you can’t quite place. “Besides, I doubt you’ve got 50 dollars to spare, considering how often you’re in the precinct paying off tickets.” He leans in just a little, his gaze sharp, like he’s daring you to argue.

You shrug, playing the part, even though you know he’s right. “Hey, I’m just saying. You’re wasting your time with me. I’m practically a model citizen. Those kids under the bleachers, though? They could be causing all kinds of trouble.”

You give him a sidelong glance, letting the playful challenge hang in the air between you. “I’m just trying to help you out here, Sheriff.”

Your tone is sweet—too sweet—and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out whether you’re messing with him or just being your usual self.

He takes a slow breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. His hand pinches the bridge of his nose before he exhales, the sound heavy with exasperation. “Oh, I’m sure you are,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Big help, givin’ me that advice.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you, your voice dripping with mock sincerity. “What can I say, Sheriff? Someone’s gotta make your job worthwhile.”

For a moment, the world seems to narrow to just the two of you. The air grows heavy, charged with something you can’t quite name, and the silence stretches taut between you. But then the faint hum of a car engine cuts through the stillness, tires rolling past on the asphalt—a sharp reminder that you’re not alone out here.

“Step out of the car.” His voice is calm, steady, but there’s a flicker of something darker beneath the surface, a low undercurrent that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your jaw tightens, anger flaring hot and sudden in your chest. He’s never asked you to step out of the car before, and the demand catches you off guard. You can’t afford to be arrested—not with a shift at the diner at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning, not with the way your life is already balanced on a knife’s edge. The thought of cuffs, of being hauled into the precinct, makes your stomach churn.

But you don’t move. Not yet. Instead, you meet his gaze, your own sharp and defiant, and for a heartbeat, the two of you are locked in a silent standoff.

You don’t say a word, just reach down to unclick your seatbelt with an indignant sigh, movements slow—like dragging out the inevitable might change the outcome. The latch pops, the sound too loud in the quiet, and you open the door, letting the evening air rush in, cool against the heat prickling at your skin.

You step out, tugging your shorts down where they’ve ridden up, keeping your gaze on the ground, on the cracks in the pavement, anywhere but at him. You try to keep your breathing steady, try to act like this is just another bullshit stop, just another way for him to waste your time and break your wallet. But your heart’s already racing, faster than you want it to.

Then his hand is on your hip.

Firm. Unmoving. Not quite guiding, not quite restraining. Just there. A weight that lingers, like a silent reminder that he’s the one in control here, no matter how much you want to believe otherwise.

For a second, you freeze.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches you. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, charged with something you don’t want to name.

You swallow, still refusing to look at him. “Gonna write me a bullshit ticket, John?” Your voice is casual, flippant—too much so. You know it, and so does he.

He doesn’t answer right away, and that makes it worse.

Because the truth is, you’d rather he just do it. Write the damn ticket, hand you the fine, and send you on your merry way. That would be easy. It’d be normal.

But nothing about him has ever been easy. And this? Whatever this is? It sure as hell isn’t normal.

His fingers tighten—just slightly—but it’s enough. Enough for you to catch it, that flicker of something dark and barely restrained. His jaw tightens, his nostrils flare, and you realize he’s at his limit.

Like he’s weighing his options. Like he’s wondering if he should just give you the damn ticket and walk away. 

You tilt your chin up, finally meeting his gaze, like a challenge. Would he?

His voice is tight when he finally speaks, low and strained, every word biting through the air.

"You think this is a game?"

You pause, letting the question linger as you ponder. Is it a game? Is that what this has always been? This back-and-forth, this constant chase—where you go about your life, minding your business, and he shows up, lurking, watching, like he’s got nothing better to do than make you his personal problem.

Would he really arrest you? Pin you against his cruiser and throw you in the back? Take you downtown like you’re some criminal? The thought sends a slow, involuntary shiver down your spine, but the more you think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. If he was going to do it, it would’ve happened already.

He’s just a big softie. A stubborn, gruff, self-righteous pain in the ass who acts like he’s got the whole town in a chokehold but has spent too many years shadowing you for it to be a coincidence.

And deep down, you reckon he must have some sick, weird crush if the only way he can muster up the courage to see you is by stuffing a white slip of paper under your windshield wiper, like he can’t even be bothered to have a conversation without the safety of bureaucracy to hide behind.

You don’t even have to think about it anymore. 

This is a game.

You keep your gaze steady, watching him. Watching the way he’s fighting to maintain that authority, to keep control. And through the harsh headlights from his car, it’s almost cute—the way his jaw tightens, the way his nostrils flare ever so slightly, the way his fingers twitch against your hip like he’s waging a war with himself. Like he thinks he can win.

But he can’t.

Not really.

His grip on you tightens, fingers pressing deeper, slipping beneath soft flesh to squeeze the bone. Like he’s trying to ground himself. Like he thinks if he just holds on tight enough, he can remind himself who’s in charge here.

But you see it—the shift in his expression, the cracks forming right in front of you. His eyes are darker now, narrowed with something he’s still pretending isn’t there, and his teeth grit like it physically pains him to keep standing here.

You just can’t resist.

You lean in just enough, close enough that your breath tickles his cheek, and with a slow, knowing smirk, you whisper, “You’ve been dying to get your hands on me, haven’t you, John?”

The words hang between you, sharp and saccharine, and for a moment, it’s like the world holds its breath.

His eyes go dark, that flicker of anger flashing through them like a warning. But it’s not just anger anymore. It’s something else, something raw. For a split second, you’re certain he’s off the deep end.

Before you can even blink, his hand moves. It’s fast, and suddenly, he’s grabbing you by the arm, yanking you toward him with a force that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Get over here,” he growls.

The words are rough, guttural, scraping against his throat like he’s been holding them back for too long.

The next thing you know, he’s dragging you to the hood of his cruiser, his grip tight and bruising as his fingers wrap around your wrist, effortlessly dwarfing it. The cold metal of the hood bites against your skin as he shoves you down, bending you over the car.

And then he’s on you.

His chest is solid heat against your back, his weight pressing you into the hood like he’s making sure you stay there. Your breath catches, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven movements as you try to process just how quickly the shift between you has turned into this.

“Talk so fuckin’ much,” he mutters through clenched teeth, his voice a growl of frustration and something deeper, something rougher. His breath fans against your ear, hot and unsteady, sending a shiver down your spine.

One hand clamps over your wrists, holding them firm against the small of your back, while the other tangles in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose the vulnerable line of your throat.

The grip is possessive. Unforgiving, like he’s staking a claim.

“You think you can just keep pushing me? Keep fuckin’ with me like this, hmm?”

A soft whimper tumbles from your lips, and you bite down hard on your bottom lip, the rest of the sound dying in your throat. His hand pulls on your hair, making your neck arch back, and the sharp tug sends a jolt straight to your cunt. You try to choke back the reaction, but it’s impossible—the way he’s holding you, the way he’s pressing into you with every word, every move.

His body presses into yours, the intensity of it all making your pulse race. Despite everything, despite the situation, a shiver runs down your spine. You can tell he’s holding back by the way his teeth grit, the sharpness in his voice. 

You smirk, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze from the side. “By the way John Jr’s more sprung than a rainy day in April, I’d say you like it,” he groans and you chuckle, “You do like it, don’t you, John?”

The words slip from your lips, taunting him, and you can feel the shift in his posture before he even moves. His grip on your hair tightens, pulling you back further, forcing you to arch your neck more as he leans in, his breath hot and heavy against your skin, each exhale brushing over you like a warning.

“Think you’ve got me figured out?” he growls, teeth grazing the curve of your ear, his words a promise and a threat all at once. “Since you’re so fuckin’ knowledgeable, tell me something…”

Your pulse quickens, the anticipation like the loaded gun in his waistband. “Tell you what?” you ask, your voice quiet, almost breathless, but your eyes never leave his.

“Tell me what I do t’dumb girls that don’t know how t’speak only when spoken to,” he murmurs, his grip shifting, pulling you in closer, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it impossible to ignore the growing bulge in his pants. 

You can feel his cock twitch with interest in his jeans, and instinctively, you roll your hips back into his. The firm bulge presses against your pulsating cunt, offering just the smallest bit of reprieve from the ache in your clit and you can’t help but whimper. “You give them a ticket and send them on their way?”

“Nice try, love,” he says, the words dripping with disappointment, like he’s genuinely let down by your guess.

Before you can even react, his hand leaves your hair, and you hear the cold click of the cuffs snapping around your wrists.

You jerk against the restraint, but it’s useless. You turn to look up at him, but the look on his face—hands on his hips, blue eyes locked on you—makes you stop.

No smirk, no joke. Just intensity.

“Get on your knees,” he says, voice low, rough, without hesitation.

You bite your lip, the urge to snap back hitting you. But instead, you swallow it down and push yourself up, kneeling before him on the pavement. The roughness of it bites into your skin, the cuffs digging into your wrists, each pull reminding you of just how much control he has in this situation.

His boot taps lightly against your thigh, the sound sharp in the quiet air, a silent demand for your attention. You glance up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch. It’s a look that makes your pulse quicken, as if he can see right through you, into everything you’re trying to shovel deep..

“Sit,” he commands, the word simple, authoritative.

It takes you a second to realize what he means, but when his boot nudges against your clothed cunt, you get it. 

You lift your hips slow, like you’re not sure but can’t help it, settling atop his boot. The sensation makes a shiver run up your spine. His fingers find your hair again, firm, enough to tilt your head back and make you look up at him.

“This’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it, dove?” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper, like he’s savoring the sight of you—knees to the ground, wrists bound, eyes wide as you stare up at him. He can’t help but palm himself at the sight.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, heat simmering in your cheeks with anticipation. “I’m not gonna beg,” you sneer, defiant like your cunt isn’t already drooling for him. The lie sits thick on your tongue, heavy enough to choke on.

He smirks—slow like he’s amused, but there’s something else there, like he’s already decided how he’ll play with you.

“That’s cute,” his fingers tighten in your hair, tilting your head back just a little further. Your lips part on instinct, a quiet, pained mewl slipping out before you can stop it.

“but you will,” he hums with a smile so saccharine, it makes you want to smack it off his face. His free hand reaches for his belt, fumbling with the leather as he pulls it out of the buckle. You can feel your body buzzing with anticipation, the tension building in every nerve of your body. Everything in your mind is screaming at you, telling you how wrong this is, how this can’t happen. But deep down, you know he’s right. This has been a long time coming.

But fuck, he’s a literal cop, the Sheriff. This has to fall under some public indecency law.

But despite everything, despite all the warnings your mind throws at you, the pull is stronger, too real to ignore. And you can’t stop yourself from leaning into it.

He peels down the zipper of his blue slacks and the sound echoes in your ears. You’re on your knees on the shoulder of a road, the last vestiges of daylight fading, and God help you, your mouth waters when you see the outline of his solid cock through his boxers.

He doesn't break eye contact, his other hand still tight in your hair, daring you to even try to look away. The recklessness, the sheer audacity of him whipping out his cock in the middle of a traffic stop. It’s all so palpable, like a stack of weights on your chest. He tugs down his boxers in one fluid movement, his cock springing free, and you can’t help but try to back away at the sight. 

He's massive in every sense of the word. Dark curls trail from his navel to the base of him, thick but neatly kept. His cock hangs low and heavy between his legs, thick and long with a few veins and just the softest blush of pink at his tip. There’s no way you can take him all, let alone in your mouth. 

He could see the shift in your eyes, the sudden apprehension in your demeanor, and the hand in your hair loosened. He trailed his fingers from your scalp to your cheek, his thumb wandering to the plump flesh of your parted lips.

“You can say no, dove. I won’t hold it against you,” he says softly, giving you an out. His blue eyes soften as they meet yours, and you know he wouldn’t force you. But the way the hard leather of his boot presses through your shorts, firm against your clit, has you fighting the urge to grind against him. You want—No, need him. Badly.

You bow your head to meet his cock, tongue darting out, hungrily swiping up the drop of precum dangling from his tip. He automatically groans and his hands find their way back to your scalp, feeding his cock into your mouth. Your lips tighten around him immediately, suckling as he presses in and stretches you out. 

“Fuck— that’s it, love, so fuckin’ tight,” he babbles as he watches his length disappear in your mouth over and over. His eyes flutter shut as he tips his head back—he knew if he looked at you any longer he’d blow his load too soon. Your tongue is just so hot. He hadn’t expected it to be ice, but God you were sweltering. He nestled himself in the back of your throat so nicely, tickling and toying with your gag reflex each time you bobbed your head. You coat his length with slick spit, the sounds of your gags subconsciously making him push your head down even further. 

You focus on steady breaths through your nose as his grip tightens. Your hands strain against the cuffs, aching to touch, to feel, to at least stroke where your mouth can’t reach. So pretty like this, he thinks. The way you look up at him, defiant yet desperate. The way your breath catches and your throat flutters around his mushroomed tip.

It drives him crazy—how much he wants to break that control, to make you lose it completely. His groans only spur you on further, your tongue moving with purpose, tracing the prominent vein along his underside.

Your hips jerk against his boot as spit gathers at the corners of your mouth, knees grinding into the asphalt, but you barely notice the sting. All you can think about is the way it makes heat pool in your cunt—sends sparks up your spine. 

You can’t help it—your hips keep moving, grinding against his boot, the rough leather driving you wild, and you’re sure you’re leaving a wet spot. The friction is delicious, and you’re so lost in it that you almost miss when he speaks.

 “Look at you,” he says, smirking despite how badly he needs to cum. “Can’t even help yourself, can you? Just a needy little mutt, humpin’ my boot.”

His hand tugs your strands, not rough but firm, just enough to make you gasp. “Just need your pretty pussy touched, that right?” he tuts softly, pulling you off him, a thin strand of saliva connecting your glistening lips to the tip of his cock.  “On your feet, come on.” He guides you up, your legs shaky and chest heaving but his grip steadies you. “There you go, sweetheart.”

The sky’s a deep blue now, the sun long gone, the cruiser’s headlights casting faint shadows. He shoves you back against the hood, the metal cool against the backs of your thighs. His hands are on you immediately, rough and demanding, squeezing your thighs, your tits, like he’s marking his territory. 

You bite your lip, trying to steady your breathing, but it’s useless. His fingers dig into your flesh, and your hips jerk instinctively, craving more. “So quiet now, hm?” he hums, his face centimeters from yours. “What happened to that smart little mouth of yours?”

The way he switches from caring to being so dominant, it makes your head spin. You glare at him, but he doesn’t care. His hand slides under the waistband of your shorts, fingers dancing over your soaked panties, and you can’t stop the way your hips roll into his hand, desperate for any touch he’ll give. “All this for me, sweet girl?” he mutters, middle finger slowly circling your sensitive clit, “All wound up, yeah? Need me to set you straight?”

“Fuck—,” you whine, your hips bucking into his hand, you can feel his breath against your lips as he chuckles. He deftly pulls your panties to the side, groaning when his fingers slide through your folds. His lips find your neck and he mouths at the sensitive patch of skin above your pulse, sucking a dark, red splotch into your skin as if you’re his. 

You instinctively toss your head back, letting him lick hot, wet stripes from your clavicle to your jaw. He slips a single finger into you and your cunt squelches embarrassingly. 

“Feels so good, John—,” you whine into the evening breeze as he pumps his finger in you, curling to hit your g-spot with precision you’ve never experienced. He smiles against your skin before enveloping your lips with his.

It’s hungry, messy, and desperate. His tongue crowds your mouth trying to drink you whole, like he’s been parched, waiting for you to quench his thirst since he first met you. He swallows your whines and pleas for more as he works you open, grinning when he slips in his ring finger alongside the middle and you gasp.

It’s a pathetic attempt, really, to kiss him back—to try to match his fervor. He has you at his mercy and you’re near collapsing into him as he finger fucks you, low heat pooling in your belly as the coil tightens, as you claw at the hood of the car, wishing the cuffs weren’t there—wishing you could claw at him instead.

“Feel you gettin’ all tight ‘round me, dove. Gonna cum? Gonna soak my fingers, doll?” He questions against your lips. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, sucking him in and keeping them there. So greedy, he thinks.

You nod vehemently, biting your lip so you don’t scream—or sob, you aren’t sure how to feel—into the air. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, and that’s all you need to finally break. You near black out when you cum, sparks shooting up your spine and making your vision go black for a moment, his fingers lazily working you through your orgasm as your legs shake and your walls damn near break his fingers. 

“That’s my girl, knew you could do it,” he hums against your temple, wiping away tears you hadn’t known fallen. 

You hadn’t cum that hard in your life. Not by yourself, and most certainly not by any of the lame frat boys you fucked in your college days.

But John isn’t in a frat.

And he certainly isn’t just a boy.

He gently slips  his hand out of your pants, bringing his fingers up to his lips before popping them into his mouth. The way his eyes flutter shut, eyebrows pulling together softly as he groans at the taste of you on his tongue, it’s all fucking sinful. You watch him, mesmerized as he pulls the glistening digits out of his mouth with a pop. 

He dips his head to yours, kissing you again, but much softer this time, less hungry, more savoring. You can taste the subtle tang of your own juices on his tongue, and you’d be a liar if you said it didn’t turn you on further. 

John subtly tugs your shorts and panties down, the fabric whispering against your skin. He fishes for a small key in his pocket, before using them on the cuffs. They open, releasing your raw wrists with a near-silent snick. You feel the moment the cuffs fall away, and your hands move as if drawn by an invisible force, reaching for him, clutching at his jaw, pulling him closer with urgency. Your fingers roam his shoulders, his neck, tracing the hard lines of his body as he spreads your legs, tossing your discarded shorts aside. He settles between them, lazily pumping his cock with his free hand. 

“You want this, love?” he whispers against your lips.

You nod almost imperceptibly before crashing your lips back to his, like you just can’t get enough. 

He kisses you back like a magnet, but just as quickly, he pulls away again.

“Words,” he says sternly.

You huff, ever the impatient brat. “Put your fucking cock in me or I swear to God, I'll get in my car and drive right out of here.”

“That right?” he scoffs, "You gonna drive off?" He brings his angry red tip to your sodden folds, teasing your sensitive clit with each brush, making you jolt, “You want t’act like a brat,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “Then we can do this the hard way.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. “Unless,” he murmurs, ghosting the head of his cock into your hole, “you'd like to ask nicely.”

You bite your lip as you watch him tease you, fighting a groan at the way your cunt squelches and stretches around just his tip. 

“She’s so greedy, already tryin’ to suck me in,” he coos, “don’t want to deprive her, now do we?”

You whine as he notches just the head in. He pauses, waiting for you to speak before he moves any further. ​You open your mouth and your voice just breaks as you leak and drip around him and onto the hood of the car. 

“Please, John, Please, I need you—Please, I’ll be so good,” You break and claw at his shoulders and back, desperate to pull him closer to you, to have you flush against him, chest to chest and full of his cock.

“See how gorgeous you sound when you’re nice? See where that gets you, love?” He coos as he inches his cock into you. Your walls are already fluttering, still all worked up from your last orgasm. He has to fight the urge to cum right then and there, gritting his teeth as his grip tightens on your thighs, fingers dimpling the fat as he spears you open. 

You’re slack jawed, eyes glassy as he bottoms out. You’ve never been so full and stretched in your life. You can feel him in every orifice of your body, you feel him in the pits of your stomach, in the hollows of your lungs, in the cavern of your throat. His tip nudges against your cervix and all you can manage is a strangled sob. 

“Oh none of that, lovie, none of that,” he hums, pecking your lips and wiping the tears from your eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

 “Gonna fuck you real nice,” the thumb he used to wipe your tears away travels south, finding your clit and drawing soft, slow circles that have you gushing and relaxing around him, “Just be a good pet and take it.”

You nod as he cradles your head in his hand. He gently moves his hips, inching his cock out of your cunt before sliding back in, squeezing the air out of you like a fucking balloon. 

Gasps fall from your lips with each stroke, not entirely from discomfort, but from the sheer intensity of the feeling. He repeats the motion, a slow, deliberate push and pull that sends shivers down your spine. He keeps his thumb on your clit steady, making your legs shake, a burning heat already blossoming low in your belly. You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his clothed frame as you try to anchor yourself against the rising tide of sensation.

He continues, his movements becoming more insistent, more demanding. Each thrust is deeper, faster, steady plaps from where his hips repeatedly meet yours. He knocks the breath out of you, each stroke forcing a soft mewl from your lips, your body trembling with anticipation. The world narrows, focusing on the rhythmic movements of his hips, the feel of his skin against yours, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with his.

He leans, his lips brushing against your own. “That's it, doll,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Take it all.”

His words ignite a fire within you, a raw, primal need that surges through your veins. You arch your back, meeting his thrusts with a ferocity that surprises even yourself. His pace quickens, his movements becoming more urgent, more erratic, and you know he’s getting close. The burning in your abdomen intensifies, spreading outwards, and throughout your body.

His name falls from your lips in a litany—John, John, John, john—a prayer, both a plea and a demand as his cock plows into you with staggering precision. Your cunt clenches around him, milking every ounce of pleasure from each stroke. He groans, cursing as his grip tightens on your hips, until you wail, toes curling and clawing at his back, your voice hoarse as you squirt all over him. He continues to move, his rhythm relentless, until he too reaches his peak, groaning as his body shudders, as he spurts hot ropes of cum deep inside your cunt.

You’re breathless, spent, your limbs heavy and relaxed. The dampness of sweat cooled on your skin, a pleasant contrast to the lingering heat between your legs. The world slowly comes back into focus and a soft smile plays on your lips as you trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips.

“That was…” you murmur, your voice still rough.

He nuzzles your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “A lot,” he finishes for you, his voice low.

You hum in agreement, tightening your grip on his jaw just slightly. You don't need to say more. The silence that settles between you is comfortable. He shifts slightly, and it reminds you he's still there, sheathed inside you.

You close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his body against yours, a comforting heat that seeps into your skin. Every nerve ending still fires, buzzing with aftershocks.

Slowly, he inches out of you. It feels weird to not be full of him, a sudden emptiness that makes you instinctively clench. He's out, and the cool air against your skin is a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. Of the fact that you’re literally on the side of the road. John reaches for your discarded clothes, picking them up with a casualness that borders on audacious. 

He starts with your panties, briefly bending down in front of you as you step into them. He pulls them up your legs, snapping the elastic against your hip. “Sheriff’s discretion,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with amusement as he fastens your shorts too. “Wouldn't want you getting a ticket for indecent exposure.” Fucking knew it.

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. “You were just as indecent as I was, if I recall.”

He shrugs as he tugs up his own pants, a picture of nonchalant authority. “Evidence suggests otherwise, doll,” he counters, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Besides,” he adds, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “I'm the one writing the tickets.” He finishes buttoning your shorts, his fingers lingering against your skin. 

The world sways for a moment, your legs still a little shaky. He steadies you, his arm around your waist. He walks you back to your car, the silence between you comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. He stops just short of the driver's side door, his hand resting comfortably on your back.

“Drive safe,” he says, his voice softer than you've ever heard it.

You nod, your eyes meeting his. You stand on your tip toes and kiss him, a soft, lingering peck on his lips that’s got him feeling like a teenager again.. He responds in kind, other hand moving to cup your cheek. Judging by how he holds you close, he’s reluctant to pull away.

But he does, and he turns and walks back to his cruiser. Eventually, You watch his car fade away, a strange mix of emotions swirling within you. Then, with a deep breath, you turn and get into your car. The door shuts and you just exhale, replaying everything that just happened. 

You reach to crank the keys sitting in the ignition and your eyes fall on a small white rectangle tucked under the windshield wiper. You get back out of the car and pull it free. 

It's a ticket. For speeding.

Asshole. 

[honeyedfate]

i'll be here when you're back | 이희승

pairing. lee heeseung x gf!reader

ever since his room was revealed to the world on mbc world, heeseung has not known peace—whether it be from engenes or his very own girlfriend

genre. fluff (they're making out? it's cute)

a/n. it's been months but heeseung's room still gives me the giggles. the title doesn't have anything to do with the fic except that it's the song i was listening to while writing it lol it fits the vibes? (don't ask me what the lyrics are) enjoy x

"what's so funny?" you look up to heeseung turning in his gaming chair, glancing over his shoulder at you with a curious smile, his headphones resting around his neck.

you wave him off, still giggling. "you wouldn't like it."

he cocks his head, standing up. "what do you mean? i always find the stuff you show me funny. we share the same brain cell."

"this is different," you say, scooching over so heeseung can join you on the floor with his back against his bedframe. "no, wait—"

heeseung has your phone in his hands before you can stop him. he swiftly leans back, holding out his arm to keep you away while typing in your password. the phone unlocks to a paused tiktok video of what he immediately recognises as his room.

"why are you watching this?" he glances at you with a sideways grin as you make to grab for your phone again only for him to lean back more and hold his phone above his head. "babe, you're in my room, you don't need to—wait, were you reading the comments again?"

"don't close the app," you plead at his narrowed eyes, practically lying on top of him now that he's fully horizontal. "i don't want to lose my spot in the comments."

heeseung scoffs and shuts off your phone. "it's not that funny, you know."

"oh, but it is."

he lets out a mock gasp. "people making fun of your boyfriend's interior design choices is funny to you? wow, my girlfriend hates me. i knew it."

you snort in his face. "hee, what choices? i saw the video. that singular shoe is not an artistic choice. we both know you've been looking for the other one since march."

he looks to his left, staring at the shoe that's still very much sitting on top of the box it came with. "i wonder if it's having fun and eating well wherever it is in the world," he mumbles wistfully.

you poke his cheek. "can i have my phone back?"

"so you can laugh at me with people on the internet? absolutely not. i'd rather you just make fun of me the old fashioned way—throw tomatoes in my face, pin a note on my back, shove me into a corner and point a finger at me. at least that'll make me feel like i have some dignity left."

you break into laughter. "i would love to, honestly, but the only thing you guys have in the kitchen is ramen. i don't want to break your pretty face with hard noodles, plus it'll probably echo so loud in here, the neighbours will think there's a shooting."

"oh, so you're a comedian now," heeseung says in a mockingly sweet tone before his hands attack your sides without warning. you're squirming as uncontrollable giggles take over, leaving you gasping helplessly while begging for him to stop.

finally, he pulls back when you manage to grab his wrists, holding them in place as you catch your breath. his grin softens. "truce?" he asks, voice low and teasing.

you nod, deflating on his chest while he tightens his arm around your waist to keep you close. "you're the worst," you say into the fabric of his sweater.

heeseung chuckles. "says the one giggling for ten minutes straight over comments teasing her boyfriend."

"i wasn't laughing that hard."

"right," he says with a drawling lilt in his voice. "when i heard you through my headphones, i thought, 'which dude is making you laugh like that under my roof?' only to find out it's engenes. it's an even crueler fate, if you ask me."

you shrug one shoulder, looking away nonchalantly when his gaze drops to your lips. "you'd agree if you read them. someone said, 'this gotta be solitary confinement.' you have to admit, that's funny! i have the right to laugh at their brilliance."

he stares at you blankly. "how is this solitary confinement when you're on top of me?"

"i'm not always here," you reply, raising an eyebrow. "someone else said you're evacuation ready. all you have to do is pick up those keyboards over there and walk out."

the slightest twitch in the corner of his lips spurs you on to keep going. "there was another comment saying you put the room in bedroom."

"okay, get off," heeseung says flatly while making no move to push you off. "that one's not even funny."

"maybe not." you glance at all the free space next to you. "but you could get a rug, babe."

he groans, tipping his head back and exposing the smooth stretch of his throat to you. of course, you lean up and press a brief kiss on his adam's apple. he looks down at you, smiling almost shyly before he shakes his head. "you're cute. but we're not having that conversation again."

pouting, you gesture around you. "you always say you don't spend enough time in your room to bother putting anything in it, but admit it—you were happy when we got that bin from daiso."

heeseung snorts and bobs your nose. "yes, i'm the happiest man alive. every day i wake up and i thank god that i have a girlfriend and a rubbish bin."

"see!" you ignore the amused look on his face and lay your head on his chest. the tension in your shoulders melts the moment you hear the familiar beat of his heart against your ear. "think about how much happier you would be when your room no longer looks like belift uses it for enhypen's dance practices."

he chuckles softly while running his fingers through your hair. "i've seen that one. someone commented that my room could fit the backup dancers, too."

you laugh. "it could."

comfortable silence wraps around you like a warm blanket, neither feeling the need to speak. you eventually lift your head to glance at him, lips curving into a smile when you see that his eyes are closed. you lean down and place a delicate kiss on his lips, light and fleeting, but enough to leave him grinning.

you repeat your action, your lips brushing his in the faintest touch only to feel him kiss you back, so gently it seems like a secret. you pull back when you heeseung's tongue traces your lower lip. his eyes flutter open, a silent question mark reflected in his dark eyes when you don't kiss him again. you tilt your head, mischief glinting in your gaze.

"hee?" you say quietly and he blinks up at you with large, doe-like eyes.

"hm?" he looks ridiculously soft and vulnerable lying underneath you like that. it almost has you changing your mind, but you love a good set-up.

"did you know engenes call you bitchless?"

you let out a surprised laugh when he flips you over. in the blink of an eye, he has you pinned beneath him and his lips are on you, peppering your face with tiny pecks, leaving behind a trail of laughter from you.

you try to push him away by the chest, but heeseung is relentless, placing kiss after kiss on your cheeks, the corner of your lips, your forehead, your jaw. you can feel him smile against your skin and you can't help but giggle deliriously. "what are you doing?"

"proving them wrong," he says while nibbling on the sensitive spot behind your ear, working his way down to the curve where your neck and collarbone meet. "obviously."

"obviously," you mumble back, selfishly enjoying the feeling of his lips on you. heeseung slowly lifts you up, somehow moving you onto the bed and laying your head on his pillow. his warm hand slips under your shirt, happy to roam your skin aimlessly while he kisses you dumb. there's nothing but heeseung on your mind, just him and the muffled groans leaving his lips when you pull on his hair while his knee rests between your legs.

then, the door falls open with a bang and you nearly push him off the bed.

"oh my god, sorry!"

heeseung flails, comically wide-eyed, and whips around to yell at whoever's at the door. you look past him to see riki standing with his back to the room, spewing incoherent apologies while his neck flushes bright red.

you pat your boyfriend's shoulder to catch his attention, silently shooting him a look when he frowns at you, lips pulled in a pout. smiling, you peck them one last time before pushing him aside to lie beside you. "riki, you can turn around."

the younger boy does, looking incredibly sheepish. "sorry for barging in. i didn't know y/n was here."

"it's fine," you say reassuringly. "don't worry about it."

"knock next time," heeseung grumbles before he pulls you up to sit beside him with a sigh. "what's up?"

riki rubs the back of his neck. "i'm going to the department store to get some stuff for my room, just wanted to see if you wanted to come along." in a quieter tone he adds, "the others are busy."

"so was i," heeseung mumbles and you smack him upside the head. gently, of course.

"he's going," you say to riki. "can i come with?"

"yeah, of course!" his face brightens up instantly. "i'll order the taxi, meet me downstairs in five!"

"wait, ni-ki—" heeseung hastily jumps up, but the boy has already left and closed the door behind him, leaving him to stare at it like he's just been bereft of every shred of joy and peace he's ever known. he turns to you with an exasperated look on his face. "seriously? to get things for his room? you planned this."

you shake your head, rising to your knees to be more at his eye level while doing a horrible job at suppressing your giggles. "i wish i did, but the joke wrote itself. now go put on some pants. he said downstairs in five."

[hoshifighting]

Can you please do svt members who eat out their girls because they want to pleasure them vs those who genuinely fucking love the taste of pussy vs those who are so into eating out they might just cum totally untouched while eating you out

why svt like to eat pussy?

WARNINGS: pure putaria and smut, oral (f. receiving), pussy-drunk analogy.

eats you out bc he wants to pleasure you

seungcheol: the type to give you a speech about how he’s a man of duty and literally write essays about making sure you have toe-curling, back-arching, crying-in-pleasure levels of satisfied.

seungkwan: gold star service provider. it’s giving “nothing but the best for my baby.” he type to ask for feedback mid-session like, “is that good? or do you want me to go harder?”

wonwoo: mf reads books about anatomy to perfect his technique. he’s meticulous as hell, but he’s also so quiet and focused while doing it that you’re left wrecked because how does he even know your body better than you??

seokmin: he’s just so happy to make you happy. he’s the king of telling you how good you’re doing while he’s down there, and it’s the most wholesome yet sinful thing ever.

vernon: this man’s lowkey about it. he’s not saying much—he’s just doing it. very intuitive, very chill, but still SO effective. the kind who gives lazy and broad licks but somehow leaves you shaking. and when he’s done, he’s like, “you wan’me to order some food?” like he didn’t just wreck your entire existence. would probably frown at the sight of your legs shaking. (gives this vibe of that one meme: my boyfriend just left me trembling, and now he is playing minecraft)

2. loves the taste of pussy

jeonghan: smirks while wiping his mouth this man will straight-up tell you he loves the way you taste. and the thing is, he’s cocky but he’s earned it. you’re left wondering who’s being pleasured here because he’s moaning like he’s the one getting off.

joshua: sweet, until he’s between your legs like a man possessed, act like you’re a full-course meal, and he is starving. will kiss you after, totally unbothered that you can taste yourself on his lips.

minghao: he’s the type to tell you you’re delicious with the most deadpan sincerity while licking his lips, and it’s lowkey terrifying how good he is at it.

jun: this man is an enthusiast. he’ll legit say, “I could do this all day,” and you believe him. will pause mid-session to kiss your thighs just to prolong his enjoyment. he is is savoring you like the main course you are.

vernon (again, because he’s sneaky like that): listen, once he gets a taste, it’s game over. sure, he acts chill, but he’s obsessed. you’ll hear him humming into you, vibing just like when the waiter put your fav food on your table.

3. so into eating out they might cum untouched (y’all already know these men are problems)

mingyu: he would grind against the mattress and your leg just from how turned on he is. you’d hear him moaning WITH YOU, and suddenly it’s not just about you anymore—he’s a mess, and it’s hot.

hoshi: would put his whole chest into it like it’s a performance. he’s slurping, he’s whining, and he’s holding onto you for dear life while losing himself in the process. will look up at you with those wide, starry eyes like, “did I do good, baby?” (might need a minute after because he is too into it)

woozi: his arms are locked around your thighs so you can’t run. his tongue is completely illegal. you’re sobbing, and he’s just groaning into you like it’s his orgasm. would cum untouched 100% and then smirk about it.

chan: this man is hungry. his whole vibe is;; “you’re my first meal of the day, and I’m starving.” mf has no shame, no chill, and no limits. he’s gripping your thighs like his life depends on it, grinding into the mattress because he’s that turned on. when he cums untouched, he’s shocked AND EMBARASSED like he wasn't literally eating you out seconds ago.

[ohmy-gojo]

ignoring him prank (nanami, modern!sukuna) ෆ

nanami

— you saw this prank idea on tiktok and had to try it on your beloved ken, deciding on not talking to him unless absolutely necessary all day tomorrow

— next day came, he woke you up with a kiss and greeted you good morning

— instinctively you were about to smooch his entire face with a "g'morningggg ken" but you remembered your prank and just nodded at him and got up

— confused baby but he thought that you were still sleepy

— but this behavior continued all throughout the breakfast too. normally you would sit on the kitchen counter chatting his ears off while he made breakfast, or praise his cooking skills while eating his food but today you were so silent :(

— he even tried to start conversations about some random news but all you said was "oh okay" and "mhm"

— finally decided to confront you before going to work, he cant have you being supposedly mad at him. communication is key! also bc he loved hearing you yapping

— when he finally asked if you were mad at him, you really really tried to maintain a straight face but ended up laughing 😭

— nanami immediately understood what you were up to and deadpanned

— "youre such a menace darling" "im sorry!!" youre still laughing btw

— he shook his head fondly and wrapped his arms around you, "silly girl, i should have known. now about my kiss from the morning-"

— too late. youre already all over his face

sukuna

— he was at the gym

— after finishing his workout, he checked his phone for any messages from you (you send him minutely updates, voice messages begging for gym pics and tiktoks)

— but today there were none

— he just shrugged his shoulders as if he dont gaf (he does, he's sad that you didnt send him any messages today)

— drived home a little faster that day (def not bc hes worried)

— he announced "im home", expected you to jump to his arms with a "welcome home kuna!!" while he tried to shove you off (read:pull you closer) bc he was sweaty like always

— but you were just sitting on the couch reading your stupid book, barely looking at him

— so he said "im home" once again with a louder volume. this time you nodded at him. hm progress

— even after many attempts at getting you to talk ( like 'forgetting' to take the towel so you would come and scold him, but you just left it by the door) he was unsuccessful

— you were still sitting in the damn couch reading your damned book while he was pacing in front of you wondering what he did wrong

— finally hes like "arghhh fuck this" and grabbed your shoulders, asking you what the heck is going on

— you were like "what do you mean😇"

— "why are you ignoring me?!?!" "i am not??🙂"

— after a heavy eye contact session with him you finally dropped your prank and softly laughed "sorry i was just prankin' you"

— his forehead popped a vein. "you little shi-"

— you shut him up with a "welcome home kuna!!" and wrapping your arms around him

— he huffed and puffed a lot but still pulled you closer and tighter

— but not before flicking your forehead and calling you a dumbass😭

note : i think megumi would be cute too with this prank :P he also gives silent bf x talkative gf vibes (this is one of my fav tropes everrr)

[wtfsteveharrington]

something new | luca x reader

i was awoken from a dream last night

contents: requested size kink so luca is hung!! basically pwp, slight somnophilia if you squint, unprotected sex, spanking, lots of pet names from Luca, reader receiving fingering, dirty talk, semi-submissive reader vibes, pulling out for backshots but some cum play still whoops

a/n: used a photo of will bc it fit the vibe so well 🌝 can we, as a fandom, decide a last name for this man!! only semi proof read i fear pls ignore any mistakes. also no pronouns or real reader description used.

contents: 2.7k.

the climax right before morning's first light

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your body feels heavy as it’s pulled from a deep sleep. 

There’s warm lips on your shoulder placing soft kisses along your skin, a hand kneading at your ass while you wake up. You hum into the quiet room while burying your face into the pillow desperately not ready to wake up. “S’everything okay?” 

Luca’s chuckling against you, sliding his calloused hand up the back of your thigh while you stay lying on your stomach. He looks down at the sight of you illuminated in the moonlight from his apartment window, soaking in every inch. His hand cups under the bottom of your behind, giving it a little jiggle for his own entertainment. 

“All’s fine, my love. Didn’t mean to wake you so early.”

You turn your head towards the nightstand and it takes a few blinks for your eyes to finally focus on the dim clock. 3:30 AM. Early enough for him to get up to shower, make tea, and leave out a small note of affection on the counter for when you wake up at a much more reasonable time. He typically doesn’t wake you, opting to shimmy out of the bed but not this morning. 

There’s lips on your neck now. “Was dreaming about you and had to make sure you were real.” His hand is sliding in between your thighs now, pulling them apart. Inches away from where you’re starting to crave him. You’re whining in the pillow now while arching your hips up towards his touch. He’s grinning against your skin and rocking himself towards your side. Luca’s hard and heavy against you. “Gonna go take care of this in the bathroom. Just needed a little touch of you before I go.” 

You’re shaking your head now, trying to unpin your arm that’s trapped between the two of you so you can find the waistband of his sweats slung low on his waist. “No, no. Don’t go.” The elastic is tight against your fingers as you slip your hand into his pants, fingertips brushing along his growing length which rewards you with a moan from your boyfriend. His hand gently slaps down on the flesh of your ass before he starts to pull away. You murmur out protests as you stretch your arms out straight ahead of you, fingers curling around the edge of the bed. There’s a rush of cold air as he pulls the blanket from your frame and tosses it to the empty side of the bed. 

He’s grabbing a pillow next and tapping his fingers against your side, grinning as you take the hint and lift your hips for him. “Just lay there, Darling. Let me take care of you.” Luca makes sure you’re comfortable. Taking his time to fluff the pillow just right. Running his wide hands down your back while still lazily waking up. The bed creaks under the two of you as he moves to kneel between your spread legs. He admires your stretched out form. The curve of your ass propped up and his for the taking. You’re wearing an oversized cliche t-shirt from the last trip you took together and this old pair of underwear with a half worn off print. Not the sexiest outfit to ever grace this bedroom to say the least and yet Luca doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

His thumbs slide along the seam of your underwear that’s stretched across your cheeks, warm hands sliding up your backside to your lower back to gently work on your relaxed body. He leans forward to reach up towards your shoulders, the length of him sliding against your ass and eliciting a moan from you. Luca’s taking advantage of this position to rut himself against you, the feeling of your soft body under him working him up even more than he thought was possible. 

“Always so good for me, aren’t you?” You’re nodding against the pillow, turning your head to the side to press a kiss against the hands that are now on your shoulders. “Only yours, Luca.” He’s groaning above you and there’s warm, open mouth kisses being pressed along your spine now. 

There’s a shuffling coming from behind you as Luca makes quick work of kicking his sweatpants off. You feel the warmth of his skin directly on the inside of your thighs now as he sits back up. He’s crooking fingers in the waistband of your underwear and finally, finally pulling them down your thighs and leaving you exposed to him. They’re stuck right above your knees - Both Luca kneeling between your legs and how far spread open you are making it impossible for them to go any lower. “Are you passionate about these?”

You barely shake your head no, because again they’re old and worn and you find it endearing he even asked, before the sound of them being ripped off of you fills the room causing you to gasp out. Luca haphazardly tosses them towards the trash can in the corner and gets to work pulling his own boxes down. You’re needy. Wiggling your hips through the air in slow movements to entice him. As if he needed anymore motivation. You follow his guidance and haphazardly make work taking off your shirt, balling it up and throwing it on his now empty side of the bed.

Since Luca’s doing all the work you allow yourself to stay, essentially, half asleep. Your eyes are still heavy and hooded and your body lax against the bed. He’s delivering one more small smack to the roundest part of your ass before his fingers find their way between your thighs. Normally he’d take more time teasing you, building you up. As much as he yearns to spend the whole day tangled in you, he does have to get to work soon. For now he’s going to be quick but he plans on taking his time with you again tonight. 

There’s fingers sliding up either side of your folds, a slow languid motion to get you used to his touch before his middle fingers slips in. You’re slackjaw against the pillow, letting out a stream of breathy whimpers you can’t control. Luca knows you. Knows every inch of you. So he’s using that knowledge to get you ready for him. His pointer finger slides into you while his thumb finds your clit at the same time. You’re wet, the scissoring and dragging motions Luca’s making causing a slick sound to come from between your thighs. 

“Luca, please.” He grins down at your backside, enjoying the view of his fingers working deep inside of you. “Always so greedy, aren’t you?” You respond by rocking your hips back against his hand and clenching down against his fingers which causes him to chuckle. “Alright, alright.” His hand slides out of you and smacks down against the back of your thigh. Your left behind wetness from his fingers attracts the cold air and causes goosebumps to rise. 

You secretly like when Luca spends a little less time stretching you out then he probably should. The way your boyfriend stretches you out as he first pushes in you has become a piece of heaven. There are nights he spends as long as you’ll allow eating you out and fingering you, toying with your pussy for his own enjoyment. Leaving his chin wet with you and a darken spot on the sheets until he fucks through how sloppy he’s turned you. 

Not tonight. You’re wet, yes. But you know there’s going to be a heavenly burning feeling coming your way. The amount of care your boyfriend puts into you making you comfortable enough to open yourself in that way. Knowing he’d stop the second you asked if needed. 

The head of his cock sits heavy against your entrance and you feel yourself desperately clenching around nothing. He’s pulling you from your train of thought and your body is buzzing in anticipation. The slap of the tip of him against your clit causes your body to jerk which prompts Luca to use his free hand to grip your hip, holding you in place. “Be good, yeah? Let me get us off before I gotta go. Can’t have you wet all day waiting for me to come back home to take care of you.” Luca lines himself up with your hole, sliding just the tip of himself in which pulls a moan from both of you. 

“Baby, please.” Pride swells in Luca’s chest as you start to beg. If he hadn’t been gripping your hips then you would have rolled them back to take more of his length in you. Instead he goes slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth inch by inch. Even after dating for this long, you still weren’t used to him yet. 

There’s a bit of drool coming from the corner of your still parted lips as Luca works his length in. Your boyfriend was well endowed to say the least. A good length, something you could still take to the back of your throat but not so long you couldn’t sink all the way down it. But his girth? That was unmatched. Thick, heavy, and all yours. 

“Feel so amazing, Darling. Was dreaming about this pussy spreading around me.” Luca jerks another inch in without warning, a squelching sound coming from you as the movement causes some wetness to drip out. You can’t form a thought when he’s got you like this. Your body is still relaxed against the bed as Luca stretches you out. 

It takes a moment for him to bottom out and all your mind can focus on is just how deep he feels inside of you. The sensation causes your breath to catch, pathetically letting out whatever whimper you can muster and allowing him to use you to his heart’s content. Luca gives your hip a little squeeze as a warning he’s going to start moving, giving you a second to accept what’s to come before the first roll of his hips hits. 

You’re a mess. Groggy still, already becoming cock drunk. It’s easy to do with him. “S’full, Luc. So, so full.” Even with his brows knitted in concentration as he tries not to instantly cum at the sight of your pussy stretched around him, he’s proud to get you this way. 

But God does the sight of you already have him close. 

Stretched out around him, filled to the max you could be. You look so beautiful like that. Luca fucks through all the wetness you give him, hips building a steady rhythm easily. His eyes flash over towards the clock and something about the pressure of a time constraint is making him a bit more feral than he expected. 

His pace quickens and you’re back to being reduced to a drooling mess under him. Moaning out an incoherent string of pleas, praise, and curses. You couldn’t repeat what’s coming from your mouth even if you tried. His heavy balls slap against your clit which each thrust and Luca’s grabbing your hips with both hands now to get a better grip on you. Fingertips digging in enough that bruises will be left as he starts to fuck into with a firm pace. 

“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy. So wet for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna be sore all day now but you don’t care. Every step’s gonna remind you how good I fuck you.” 

Your head is spinning. 

You allow yourself to be fucked by Luca, hands gripping the edge of the bed as you desperately clutch anything within reach to keep yourself grounded. He’s… Brutal. Fucking you for his own pleasure in a way. He needed to get off and get off quick before work - But arrogantly knew how good you were for him. Knew that him using you like this would get you off too. 

One of his hands gripping your hip loses his grip and there’s another smack being delivered to the fat of your ass. He groans at the sight of you bouncing, the red mark already blooming from his hand. The burning of being stretched out is fading away and being replaced by the pure pleasure of your boyfriend wrecking your body. 

His hand is sliding up from your ass to press down on the small of your back, a comforting touch compared to the brutal pace of his hips. Long forgotten is the sleepy mask of morning, Luca just chasing after pleasure for the both of you now. You purposely flutter yourself around his length, trying to pull him closer as well. 

“Can you come for me, Darling? You can do that, can’t you? Wanna feel this pretty little pussy finish before I do.” You’re squeezing yourself tighter around him now, the soft pillowcase feeling rougher as your face continues to bounce against it. The room is getting hotter by the second around you two. 

Something about the combination of circumstances has you getting close to finishing far faster than normal. You catch yourself biting down on the pillow as Luca drags his nails down the soft skin of your back, his hips not losing pace as the all too familiar sensation starts to coil up deep inside of you. 

You’re crying out at the sensation, pussy tightening around him as your orgasm rocks through your body. Toe curling, back arching, clit throbbing orgasm. You collapse even further into the bed, a mess of breathless whimpers as Luca continues to fuck through your sensitive body. God you sound lewd with how wet you ended up. 

Luca’s quick to follow after watching you come undone around him.  

He’s moaning out your name, giving a few more pumps through your wetness before quickly pulling out. Stroking his soaked length to keep the sensation and then you feel warmth splattering along your ass and back as he cums on you. He’s breathless and whiney, teasing his own overstimulated cock behind you. Thumb swiping along his tip to collect the last droplets before wiping it in-between your folds and pressing it into you. 

As much as he loved cumming in you, he wanted to make sure he had time to get you cleaned up before he had to leave but he still couldn’t leave you without anything left inside of you. 

Luca drags you to the bathroom after he gives you a moment to collect yourself. Normally he’d take his time with aftercare but sadly he’s lacking just that - time. You use the restroom while he draws the two of you a shower and take a good look at yourself in the mirror while he corrects the water temperature. Healing hickies low on your chest, your hair looking crazy from the combination of sleeping and being wrecked. He’s got twenty minutes left before he runs out of time to make his breakfast but he refuses to leave you in a pile in the bed. 

He makes quick work of washing off your over sensitive body, letting you stand there and run your fingers along his chest, his arms, whatever inch of skin you can reach. “You’re so pretty.” 

Now after what just happened in the bedroom? You’d think nothing would phase him. 

But Luca’s cheeks are going bright red at the compliment. He cups your face with his soapy hands, bringing you two together for a kiss as a silent thank you. 

Luca gets you dried off and sends you back to bed with a pat on your ass. He’s rushing to get ready for work while you lay down in a lump on the bed. Towel tight around your body and the covers long forgotten. It takes a few minutes for him to emerge from the bathroom clothed and hair gelled but he can’t help laughing at the sight of you. You feel the towel being tugged away from your body, the previously discarded blanket being tucked around you and a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He leaves everything you need for your morning tea sitting on the counter before running out the door.

[fear-is-truth]

JINGLE BELL ROCK — rodrick heffley

synopsis : you’re performing at the school’s annual holiday show, the only reason rodrick heffley bothered to show up in the first place. warnings : suggestive

THE SCHOOL AUDITORIUM buzzed with holiday cheer, packed with parents, teachers, and students. rodrick heffley, though, was barely paying attention. the only reason he even showed up to this dumb musical was because he knew you’d be performing, and he figured it couldn’t be that bad if you were in it.

still, as rodrick slouched in his seat, he tried to hide how much he was looking forward to it. beside him, his little brother was fiddling with the family’s camcorder.

“gotta get this all on tape,” greg muttered, adjusting the settings.

“yeah, sure,” rodrick scoffed, rolling his eyes. he knew his loser brother had a huge crush on you, though you were way out of greg’s league. not that rodrick was any better—he was down bad too, if not more.

the lights dimmed, and the crowd hushed. music started—a jazzy rendition of “jingle bell rock”—and you stepped into the spotlight. rodrick straightened so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. among a group of girls, there you were, rocking a santa-themed outfit—a short red skirt with fluffy white trim, a cropped top, black knee-high boots, and a tilted santa hat that somehow made you look even sexier.

“whoa…” before greg could settle on his angle, rodrick snatched the camcorder out of his hands. “hey!” greg whisper-yelled, grabbing at it, but rodrick just held it higher, leaning away.

“rodrick, give it back!”

“just shut up,” rodrick hissed, eyes glued to the tiny screen as he focused on you. “i’ve got the better shot, anyway.”

his brother glared, finally giving up and crossing his arms, mumbling, “jerk.” under his breath.

before rodrick could sock the little dweeb, mr. heffley leaned forward, giving them both a stern look. “boys,” he warned, and they exchanged a quick, scathing look before slumping back in silence.

you began with a sassy strut, each step punctuated by the sharp tap of your heels against the stage. the short skirt flared as you twirled, flashing the audience with your lacy black panties before settling into a hip sway. a few parents and teachers exchanged uneasy glances, clearly disapproving of the provocative choreography, but the boys didn’t seem to mind; rodrick’s face was flushed as he leaned forward, white-knuckling the camcorder, while next to him, greg watched with the same awestruck expression.

as the routine continued, you moved into a coordinated dance with the other girls, adding in a series of hip rolls and dips that only amplified the sultry vibe. midway through, you turned, gave the crowd a wink, and broke into a slow, very deliberate twerk, grinning at the audible gasps rippling through the audience. rodrick’s jaw nearly hit the floor, and greg mumbled a quiet “how is this even allowed,” though he as hell wasn’t complaining.

with a smirk, you leaned forward and did a quick, playful shimmy that brought scattered gasps and a few horrified “oh my gods” from the more conservative audience members. meanwhile, rodrick’s grip on the camcorder shook slightly as he adjusted the zoom to capture your boobs, before switching to your ass. all the while the crotch of his jeans was growing increasingly tight as he squirmed in his seat. god, this was straight up jerk-off material.

as you blew a kiss at the audience, but to rodrick, it almost felt like you were looking directly into the lenses, at him. the routine ended with your final pose under the spotlight, and the crowd burst into applause. greg nudged him with his elbow.

“give it back, rodrick.”

rodrick didn’t even look at him, his gaze still glued to the camcorder screen.

“yeah, right… nope.”

before greg could argue, rodrick abruptly stood up, forcing his way out of the row of seats, ignoring the annoyed looks from people he brushed past. he was already making a beeline for the bathroom, gripping the camcorder tightly as he moved.

 fear-is-truth

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 5

September 2022 (Part 1/2)

The first piece on top summarised my cosplay rush for Tracon 2022! The second is an old idea for a charm.

"SURPRISE!!"

Back in 2022 I hosted an art raffle for reaching 777 followers on Twitter! The winner would get their submas themed idea realised (which was their friends throwing a surprise party for the twins!). I wanted to make a little comic and have the bosses walk in their office where depot agents, Elesa, Drayden, Skyla, Clay etc. would be waiting with decorations and treats and games.

Emmet is all smiles of course while Ingo gets so emotional he could only whisper a "super bravo".

Not really headcanons anymore but still funny ideas.

1. Emmet gets clumsy when off-rhythm! He starts walking in curves if there is nobody else around to match his rhythm with.

2. Emmet spaces out/forgets to say things aloud when someone speaks too long or when things go off-script! His thinking gets interrupted easily.

3. Ingo sometimes bumps into doors because he is too used to automatic doors!

4. When things go off-script Ingo speaks too much and rushes in straight lines"

Also my little inexpensive sketchbook & my trusty tools! Mechanical pencil and eraser pen are life when scribbling my skrimblos smaller than a postage stamp!

More Ingo~ I utilise a wide range of sources for references, including CSP's poseable 3D models, they can come really handy with perspectives and proportions!

The second piece is my very first attempt at cosplay in Tracon 2022: Blingo! I walked in with a sequin hat, leather jacket, leather pants and high heel patent leather boots.

The hardest part of cosplaying Ingo is remembering NOT to smile ahaha!

Some hairstyle tests

I drew these for a huge submas art collaboration over Twitter hosted by @/mimizukeii!! It was technically my first art collab before I started arranging them myself with Aggie/Magma.

While looking for train related songs I found this cute nursery rhyme to go with the marching:

"Over the mountains,

Over the plains,

Over the rivers,

Here come the trains.

Carrying passengers,

Carrying mail,

Bringing their precious loads In without fail"

I wanted to compare these silly twins, planning to do something more silly with them later. Also a sketch of @/fukurow's butler designs I never finished.. The capes compliment them so well, I love them!!

Prequel to this piece! Emmet is so confident in himself he thinks Pierce wants to learn from him but is invited for a duet on the stage instead!!

Emmet has really great voice actors in Pokemas! I especially love how his english VA gives him that bri'ish/posh/sophisticated vibe while also soft and melodic! I know for SURE this VA/Emmet can sing, I can show you later!

One of my favourite sketches!! I wanted to add a bunch of characters in the BG reacting to this sonic blast of emotion over a performance!

Heyyy it's the smile buddies comic!! I really hope Ingo gets to interact with Marnie in Pokemas one day!!

I feel Ingo's eyes in the mirror panel is a little off in the final comic, I meant to keep it softer like in the sketch!

It's Nimbasa trio!! Idea inspired by submas EX uniform colors. Might continue this later!

Some BG tests for this piece! Compositing is hard but absolutely worth the effort, it can make a huge difference in the appeal of your piece!!

Practise piece drawing over a photo I thought was cool! I want to get more experimental with lighting and perspective!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway??

Sketch for this arguing scene! Something REALLY BAD needs to happen for them to end up that tense! Even if I want to present them close to the canon material I still want to put them in really challenging situations to see how far I can push their emotions!

Thank you so much for coming all the way down here!! This set was pretty loaded, I hope you enjoyed scrolling through all this ahah!

Previous posts:

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 4: July 2022 Part 2

[daechwitatamic]

What are the Vibes? || CSC

(banner and title by @sailorrhansol lol thanks bestie)

What are the Vibes? Seungcheol x afab!reader || pwp || established relationship kind of implied NSFW - minors DNI

wc: 1.2k warnings: language, kissing, fingering (f. receiving), vibrator use (f. receiving), piv sex, bossy seungcheol makes a frustrating rule in bed but it's all in fun

summary: Seungcheol always gives you what you need. Today, he's gonna make you ask for it first.

author's note: once every two years i blink and a pwp appears. this one is a gift to hali, who writes what i ask for every time and deserves to receive nice things too <3 the babygirl is just for you, babygirl. ily and thank you for typo check!!!! <3

Straight into smut, so putting the whole thing below a read more!

When Seungcheol presses your favorite purple vibrator against your already nearly-shaky fingers, your intuition sparks, warning you that you’re in for it. Maybe it isn’t intuition. Maybe you just know him - know what kind of mood he’s in from the set of his jaw and the flash in his eyes.

You’re already one round in; he’s already made you come on his fingers once and then again on his cock, your ankles on his shoulders. You were ready for him to come deep inside you, leaning over you far enough to make your hamstrings sting with the stretch, but he’d backed away, slipped out of you, left you whining and empty.

“You do it,” he tells you, as your fingers close around the silicone. “Give yourself one for me.”

He stretched out next to you, stroking himself lazily, like it didn’t bother him at all to stop in the middle. You’re caught for a second on all his rounded places - the swell of his shoulder, his biceps flexing as he works his cock slowly, the rise of his cheek with that smirk that means trouble, the ass that could launch a thousand ships.

“Go on,” he tells you, and you take a shuddering breath as your thumb finds the familiar button by muscle memory. The first setting barely registers - you’re already overstimulated and it just feels like the physical representation of noise when you’re going to need a melody if you’re going to come like this. But when you dip the fingers of your spare hand towards your opening, already sore in the best way and still messy and slick from earlier, Seungcheol’s hand whips out and grabs your wrist lightning-quick.

“Nope,” he murmurs darkly, rolling so he’s halfway over you. He releases your wrist and uses his new proximity to kiss you sweetly, lingering lovingly, at odds with his entire demeanor. When his lips leave yours, he whispers, “Outside only. Inside is mine.”

You let out a huff - part frustration, part amusement. But Seungcheol doesn’t often play games like this with you, and it’s thrilling in its novelty. You obey, sliding the toy closer to your clit, trying to work yourself back up slowly. Satisfied and trusting you to follow his rules - whims, really - Seungcheol moves back to his spot next to you, eyes combing over your prone body.

You try all your normal tricks, but long minutes pass and while it feels good you can tell it’s not climbing - the pleasure isn’t tightening or spooling or triggering that snap that you always know is a warning sign. You huff again, this time all frustration. It isn’t going to happen - not with only external stimulation.

“What is it?” Seungcheol asks, low, and there’s something teasing in it. It’s like he expected this, and now he’s pleased to be right.

“I can’t,” you complain. “I need…” You trail off, shy, even after all this time.

He knows what you need. He’s going to make you say it anyway. He waits you out, like a saint with all the patience in the world.

“Need you,” you try pitifully, hoping he’ll let you get away with it.

“I’m here,” he says innocently, and you make a noise of complaint, nudging at his shins with your toes in protest. His smile grows; he’s enjoying teasing you.

“You know what I mean,” you protest. The toy buzzes valiantly in your hand, but you’re barely even pressing it against yourself anymore - it isn’t doing much for you at this point. Your body knows what it wants. Nothing but Seungcheol will do.

“I guess if you want something, you’ll have to ask for it,” he pretends to muse, trying to fight off a satisfied smile.

You whine wordlessly, frustrated. “Seungcheol,” you scold.

His smile only grows, dimples deepening. “What do you need, babygirl?”

You want to stomp your feet and bang your fists in protest. “I need you, please, this isn’t enough - I’m not gonna -”

“What do you need?” he asks again. You nearly sob with frustration; it’s clear he won’t be giving you anything unless you ask.

Frustration and desperation dance together behind your ribs, and you hear yourself beg, “Anything, Cheol, even a finger, please - just something, I need you.”

This must be the magic phrase that Seungcheol needed to hear today, I need you, because his smile splits across his face. “Just a finger?” he teases, but he’s circling the tip of his pointer around your spasming hole and it’s already six billion times better than it was a second ago, your body responding with a hearty clench and a new rush of fluid. “That’s all you want? Are you sure?”

“I mean,” you gulp, trying to breathe at your body chases that tantalizing fingertip, hips canting like you might catch him off-guard and slip him inside, “That’s not all I want, but if that’s all you want to give me right now, then I’ll take it.”

He coos annoyingly, but rolls closer, pushing that single digit into your heat. It’s barely anything but your eyes nearly roll back just from sheer relief - this is what your body wanted, this is what it will take to push you over the edge.

“That’s not all I want to give you,” he promises, barely louder than a whisper, and then adds a second finger, wasting no time in curling them into that spot on your front wall that he knows so well.

It takes only seconds for your body to respond, clamping down on his fingers, the muddled buzzing from the vibrator suddenly coming into perfect focus - sharp and targeted. You hear yourself wail, but the room’s gone fuzzy as his fingers piston into the spot that keeps your muscles clenched for so long that you think you sail right past a first orgasm straight into a second one. You click off the vibrator and toss it to the side, reveling in the feel of his fingers stroking along your sensitive walls, pushing lightly against that spot that makes your toes curl.

Seungcheol whispers praises into your ear, fingers finally slowing, ending with a nearly-awed, “You just got so wet.”

You can feel it, inside and out, but the orgasm has chased away any shyness and now you can finally say what you mean:

“Hurry up,” you tell him, tugging at his arms to get him in motion faster. “Get up here and fuck me.”

He lets out a sound that’s partly a laugh and partly disbelief, but he doesn’t hesitate at all before rolling over top of you and pressing his tip against your entrance, pushing to the hilt slowly but without pause. When he bottoms out, a soft sound of satisfaction rumbling from his chest, you clutch at him, holding tight to his shoulders, wanting to keep him here - right where you wanted him all along.

He nips at your jaw playfully before pulling nearly all the way out, then sheathing himself smoothly once again.

“Yes, please, just like that,” you breathe, eyes fluttering closed.

He gives you a devilish smile and repeats the motion. “All you had to do was ask,” he says with a grin.

--

thank you for reading!!

[euphoricfilter]

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober day 8

[day eight: size kink]

pairing: jungkook x f. reader

warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, he’s hung okay? whatever you’re thinking make it bigger— he has a fat cock, belly bulge

notes: smut straight under the cut!! you’ll never guess what song i was listening to while writing this, i just want you guys to know that the music i write to, never fits the vibe of the story

kinktober masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“Gonna ruin you” Jungkook murmurs, hand wrapped around his cock.

He pushes your legs a little higher up his shoulders, tongue running over his bottom lip when he watches your cunt clench around nothing. It was almost a feral need that consumed him in moments like these, rough hand fisting his cock, thick cockhead ready to spear you open. Precum leaking down his length, raw need to watch him mould your cunt for his cock only.

You watch down the length of your body as he presses the tip of his cock over your entrance, thumb pressing under the head, sinking the first inch of his length into you.

Your pussy clenches around the mushroom head, Jungkook’s thumb pressing over your clit to try and help loosen you up a bit.

“Such a small pussy” he braces a hand beside your head, body caging you beneath him as he ruts another inch into you.

You swallow down a moan, fingers tugging at the sheets below you.

Jungkook watches as his cock splits you open, pussy swallowing down everything he has to offer. Clenching ever so deliciously around him. His cock is shiny when he pulls back to his cockhead, watching you stretch around the widest part of him before he presses back into you, feeding you each agonizing inch so slowly you start to rut your hips upwards.

“Hold on baby” his hands spread over your hips, sinking into your flesh, “Be a good little thing and take what I give you… yeah?” he presses a wet kiss to your jaw.

A chesty laugh claws up his throat when he feels you clench at his words, pitiful whimper slipping off your tongue when he snaps his hips forward. Thick cock pressing against your sweet spot.

“Shit—Jungkook” you whine when he leans down a little, your legs still hooked over his shoulder pulling the bottom half of your body off the bed.

“Yeah? You like that?” he laughs, “Like me moulding your little pussy for my cock, and my cock only?”

You nod, hand splaying over your stomach when he sinks the rest of his length inside of you. Barely letting you feel all of him before he’s pulling his hips backwards, snapping forward, desperate to sink himself back inside of you.

Your back arches, wet squelch accompanying a moan as he starts to thrust into you, erratic. His eyes stay trained om where the both of you connect, base of his cock messy with your creamy arousal, pussy split, likely gaping if he slipped out of you.

“Fuck—that’s it baby” he groans, finding his rhythm, angling his hips where he knows he’s pressing against all the little spots that you love.

Your hand slips down your stomach, mouth falling open in a moan when you feel it.

“Jungkook” you moan, his name fogging your mind, “can feel you here” you slip one of his hands from your hip, pressing it over your stomach.

His hand presses down, deep rumble of a moan catching in his throat when he feels himself inside of you. His hand slips over your mound, both your eyes stuck on your stomach as you watch him beneath your skin; buldge of his cock pressing from within you.

“Shit” you cry, hips stuttering upwards.

“Fuck, you really are small, aren’t you, baby” his hand slips over your stomach, pressing down on the bulge.

He moans when he feels you constrict around him, cock twitching as he staves off his own orgasm when he can feel his hand pressing down on his cock.

“So small my cock is all the way in your tummy” it comes out as a breathless laugh, your mind barely processing what he was saying as you slip headfirst into your orgasm.

Barely able to warn him, words entirely broken, more a mantra of his name. Though Jungkook seems to know, pace slowing as he snaps his hips harder into you, cockhead pressing against your sweet spot, onslaught of pleasure bringing you over the edge.

Your cum coats his cock, world turning white for a moment before you get a glimpse of Jungkook’s body curled over your own. His eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as your cunt continues to pulse around him, slowly inching towards the bubbly sort of overstimulation that would no doubt send you reeling into a second orgasm.

You feel his cock twitch between your walls, hips losing their rhythm, thrusts turning sloppy as he nears his own release. His eyes slip open, holding himself up by one arm as he presses his hand over your stomach again. A long drawn moan falls past his lips as he cums, thought of his release coating so far into your cunt pulling another wave of cum out of him.

He barely ruts into you, hips pressed against your thighs as you clench around him, milking everything out of his spent cock. His eyes stay trained on the bulge of your stomach, thumb brushing over where he assumes his cockhead to be.

“Such a good girl, letting me ruin your insides” he leans down, pressing a kiss to your sweat tacky skin, “little pussy all mine, so greedy swallowing my cock”

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

[deadghosy]

Hey!! I have a request! Could you do the hazbin hotel characters and fem! CatNap reader! I know CatNap is a boy but I would like to see what kind of head canons they would have for a female version of CatNap. Also maybe reader would love chasing things around since cats do that?

HAZBIN HOTEL X FEM CATNAP!READER HEADCANNONS

prompt: you are female resident who helps sinners with insomnia

OKAY FIRST OFF! YOU DEFINITELY STILL SMELL LIKE VANILLA AND LAVENDER!🦆 NO ONE CAN ARGUE ABOUT THIS TO ME 😭

What I headcannon is kinda cartoony as reader has her legs cross as she just nods listening to a sinner’s sleep problem as she is just wearing glasses and a vest. Dead ass she just knocks them out like. “Problem solved!”

Charlie made you a room so residents and sinners could come in and have you help them sleep. Like either you knock them out and walk away. Or you actually stop being a lazy mofo and help them personally.

I headcannon based on the fluffy plush bodies that reader is still flat like the male catnap, cause obviously she doesn’t have a chest just like the plush body of Bobby bearhug. That’s basically how I imagine reader’s body is with her being like a little more skinny but definitely having trouble with people asking what her gender is.

“I’m a fucking cat, that’s what I am.” Is what reader would say irritated as it’s obvious in her feminine/decent voice.

Sassy catnap!reader is a goal as you would literally just do shit for shits and giggles😭✨🔥

Headcannon you have a purple vest with a white dress shirt and a black or white skirt with a few moon patterns on it while the color of your dress shirt as a moon pendent💗🦆

You straight up knocked a person out with your red smoke because they had sexualized you during the session and all you had to say was. “Oh really? Count to three…” “count to wh-” immediate knocked out as they fell face first from the chair as you smile with a full grin.

You used your claws to cut open a piece of candy for nifty as she hugs you and walked away happy. You love helping….

Alastor ran from you as you were chasing after him like a predator because he said he doesn’t need sleep…okay so imagine this….

You are sneaking like a lion behind Alastor as he drinks tea and he is like “I feel watched” with a sweatdropped and next thing people see in the halls is you grinning as you drag a motionless Alastor who still holds his tea up.

You wrapped your tail around Charlie to help her put up a banner as you file your claws as it was time to trim them. Like I imagine that as vaggie is like “What.” With a blank confused face seeing her girlfriend get lifted by a 8ft tall female cat

I can see reader having those teas that help people to sleep just incase they don’t like being passed out “force”. So you just make them tea as you listen to them rant as they fall asleep

Imagine reader reading a book as Lucifer is having a hyper moment behind her as she just peacefully reads….

It gives off “calm friend x hyper friend” vibes

Lucifer had one time patted you, and kept petting you until you purred so he can feel relaxed. He likes your purrs.

The duck king definitely has a picture of you purring on his lap…he even has it as his wallpaper kinda because of how soft and good smelling your fur is

OOOH IMAGINE YOU AND ANGEL HAVING A FASHION SHOW IN HIS ROOM💗🦆

Angel definitely gets you some nice clothes to match your aesthetic or purple clothing with white and cream.

You carry nifty in your mouth as if she was your kit….its cute okay…like niffty straight up smile as you hold her like your own kitten.

“This is ma mom now!” Nifty says happily as you just walk around with the back of her dress in your mouth.

Cherri bomb was good about you by Angel dust as Angel had put an image of how cool and badass you are at not following the rules. She always tries to persuade you into giving her your red smoke to make bombs out of it. SHE ONLY WANTS TO CAUSE DESTRUCTION!!!🦆‼️

Sir Pentious brings his egg boiz to you when they can’t sleep so you can use your red smoke on them. They snuggle in your purple fur as you just play a lullaby for them

I imagine you and husk purring by each other out of no where confused…but it’s because of your peaceful scent installed in your fur and body.

You still have your signature cocky smile before you knock a bitch out with the gas coming from your mouth.

I can see how you have a moon ring as [favorite hazbin hotel character] has a sun ring to show off your friendship with them

Imagine how reader gets groomed by the whole hazbin hotel crew because of their 8ft tall frame…there’s a lot of extra work in grooming your fur.

You definitely have those candles as well with that lavender smell with hint of vanilla. You have so much aromatherapy stuff for people. You might as well be the aroma goddess-

I headcannon you using your demon form (basically that form where the player sees catnap as a skinny monster) to scare people 😭 you’re an asshole as I imagine Angel getting ready for his morning to only see you behind the shower curtain with a creepy smile

Angel screamed and ran out the room looking crazy…..😭 Charlie found out and made you apologize to Angel as he was locked in his room..

He’s definitely not going to the bathroom alone-

Just like my other catnap! Reader, you definitely walk around slowly but stealthy releasing that poppy gas just incase a resident or your friends try sneaking out. “It’s time for bed…” you says quietly as you move smoothly around the hotel hallways

Just like before, Lucifer was scared of you until you showed him you can be quite the loving person you can be. Like Lucifer will lay on your body for comfort if he was getting busy from paper work in his office.

I can imagine Angel trying to get you to use your gas on Valentino and you’re like “sure” as you put a jar to your mouth and release it and give it to Angel.

[10byten]

Old habits die hard

Jaehyun and you share a messy, complicated past — a whirlwind of rushed goodbyes and fiery reunions. By chance, you find yourselves face-to-face again, caught in a pull neither of you can escape. But is there still light in this story, or will it burn out under the weight of everything left unsaid? -

Words : 4k

WARNING : smoking cigarette, Smut.

You excuse yourself from your convo host for a sec, making a beeline for the drink table. Johnny’s apartment is packed—obviously, it’s his birthday, and no one’s missing that.

You’re about to hit up Jungwoo to suggest sneaking downstairs for a smoke—because, duh, Johnny’s place has been smoke-free ever since he got that “cool uncle” title. But as you’re weaving toward the door, it swings open.

And… he’s there. Jaehyun. It’s been months since you saw him—months of staying away like you both agreed. Everything—the noise, the people, the lights—fades when he walks in. You feel it all at once: the tightness in your throat, the knot in your stomach. It’s like the universe is laughing in your face, and tonight? Extra cruel.

You specifically checked before coming to this party—Jaehyun was supposed to be visiting his parents.

“What the hell is he doing here?” you hiss at Johnny, grabbing his arm.

“Ow—” Johnny follows your line of sight. “Oh, right. His parents canceled, so he skipped the trip. My bad, maybe I forgot to mention?”

“Forgot? Seriously, Johnny?” You pinch him hard.

“Anyway,” he says, brushing it off, “aren’t you seeing Lucas right now?”

You stammer. “Uh, yeah. I mean, no. He’s heading back to Hong Kong—long-distance? Not my thing.”

The last time you and Jaehyun broke it off, it felt… final. Like, no casual makeups this time, no easy resets. It was all or nothing—building a future together or walking away for good. And guess what? Option two won. But even though you knew you’d run into him again, some kind of heads-up would’ve been nice, y’know? A little mental prep.

You hug the wall, sliding toward the kitchen. Grabbing your glass, you spin around—and there he is, catching your eye from the hallway. How long has he been watching you? His gaze, those piercing eyes—it’s like they burn straight into your chest. You quickly look away, pretending you didn’t notice, but your heart’s racing. Seeing Jaehyun again stirs something deep, something warm, something dangerously familiar.

You spend the rest of the evening holed up in the kitchen, clinging to the safety of Ten, Yangyang, and Kun’s hilarious banter. For a while, it works—the knot in your stomach loosens, and you almost forget Jaehyun’s here.

But then you see him. Leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you. His lips curve into a knowing smile—because of course you’re making him laugh. You always do.

God, that smile. You missed it. For a second, you can’t help but mirror it, a tiny grin sneaking onto your face. You shrug like, What can I say? I’m naturally hilarious.

He hesitates, then starts toward you as the spot next to you opens up. Every step seems calculated, deliberate.

“You’re still the same clown, huh?”

“What can I say?” You flash a smirk. “Old habits die hard.”

You both start with small talk—classic avoidance of the giant emotional elephant in the room. You laugh at everything he says, a laugh that’s just a little too nervous. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, studying your face like it’s a map he’s trying to remember. Every curve, every line—he’s looking for signs of change since the last time he saw you.

You think to yourself: He hasn’t changed. Same calm, detached vibe, like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders but pretending it’s no big deal. But his eyes? Oh, they’re a whole other story. They give away what his words never will.

Meanwhile, he’s thinking about how different you seem. A little colder, maybe. But that spark in your eyes? It’s still there, and it could still destroy him if he’s not careful.

The silence that falls between you is loaded. Your eyes meet, and honestly? Words are unnecessary. Your history is in the room with you—your love, your heartbreak, all the messy, raw intensity of it. It floods the space, making it hard to breathe.

You remember the nights you spent talking until the sun came up, building this fragile, glowing little world for just the two of you. And the crushing disappointment when you hit that same wall over and over again—Jaehyun’s habit of running the second things got too real.

He remembers the fights where words were weapons, and the way he couldn’t stop himself from ruining everything good. He remembers you walking out for the last time, leaving him alone in an apartment that suddenly felt way too big.

He tilts his head, breaking the silence. “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, and he leads the way, weaving through the crowded living room. He grabs your hand to guide you, and the feeling of his fingers laced with yours sends a shiver down your spine. Like your whole body remembers him in a way your mind’s trying to forget.

At the door, he picks up his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. His Ford Mustang II King Cobra is parked outside—brown, classic, and way too familiar.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you feel a wave of déjà vu so strong it nearly knocks the breath out of you. The music hums softly in the background as the car starts, and you stare out the window at the passing lights, wondering if following him was a mistake. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. A black lock falls over his eyes, his long lashes fluttering to shake it off. His face is flawless, he’s the kind of guy that’s hard to look at without wanting to taste him.

“So… you seeing anyone?” Jaehyun’s voice cuts through the silence.

You smirk, not buying his casual tone. “Is that a question, or are you fishing for confirmation?”

He clicks his tongue, letting out a low laugh. Leaning one arm against the open window, he runs his fingers through his hair in mock exasperation. The thought of you with someone else? It’s enough to make him sick. He can’t focus on the road; he’s too busy stealing glances at you. The wind gently ruffles his hair, a few more strands falling over his eyes, you can see the muscles in his neck tense up. Jeong, why the hell are you so hot? You dream of diving into the back of his neck and devouring him with kisses. But he's not yours anymore.

“Word on the street says you’re seeing other girls too,” you fire back, throwing in a little jab.

His laugh is sharp and sarcastic. “Oh, so you’re confirming then? - A couple of lame setups from Doyoung. Nothing worth mentioning.”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. That godamn hands that have sent you to heaven so many times. “Can’t stop thinking ‘bout you and I.” His voice drops to a murmur, the words barely audible.

You pretend not to hear him, staring out the window, trying to avoid your desire. He knows the way to your place by heart.

When you arrive, he steps out of the car at the same time as you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Smoke?”

You nod. “Sure.”

Leaning against the hood of the car, Jaehyun lights your cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s like you can hear his thoughts, feel his emotions radiating off him. He looks away, gazing into the distance.

He’s tried to forget you, to fill the emptiness with other faces. But none of them shine like you. You’re etched into him, a scar that refuses to fade.

And you? You tried to move on, but the silence he left behind was louder than his presence ever was.

“I thought you quit,” you say, your tone teasing.

He chuckles, the cigarette dangling from his lips. “I did.”

You snort, gesturing to the smoke curling in the air. “Sure looks like it.” 

“Guess old habits die hard.”

You smirk. “Tragic loss for the Olympics. Michael Phelps can rest easy.”

“Hmm, truly devastating for the world of sports.”

He exhales, the smoke curling lazily in the air. “This was our thing, y’know? Sneaking off to smoke at every party, everytime we were together. It’s a bad habit, but it’s ours. Guess I’m scared to change that.”

You glance at him, your voice quieter. “Some things just stick with you, no matter how much you try to shake them.”

He leans in, his face close enough that you can feel his breath. “I like the things we share. Even the bad ones.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you forget. Forget that he’s not yours anymore. That you can’t just close the distance and kiss him like you used to.

You snap out of it, standing abruptly. “Thanks for the cigarette, Jeong. See you around.”

Shrugging off his jacket, you hold it out to him. He doesn’t take it right away, his gaze lingering on your hand before he finally brushes his fingers against yours, just enough to send sparks up your arm.

He smirks as he takes the jacket, and you return it with a soft smile before walking away.

Back in your apartment, your skin still tingles where he touched you. Jaehyun.

When you wake up the next morning, there’s a message waiting for you on your phone. Simple, almost cold: “Can we talk?”

You hesitate, your fingers trembling slightly over the screen. You know that replying means reopening a door you worked so hard to close. But you also know you can’t say no to him—you never could.

The two of you meet at your usual coffee shop. It’s been a while since you’ve been here. Everything looks the same, yet everything feels different.

Jaehyun is sitting there, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and blue Levi’s, paired with boots. The look is effortless, but on him, it’s like no one else could wear it better. The black of his hair contrasts so perfectly that he looks like he stepped out of an old James Dean movie. And all you can think about is how badly you want to slide your hands under that shirt.

He sees you and smiles, his eyes lighting up like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

You know you look good—you’re wearing the black mini skirt you two bought together ages ago, and your signature crimson lipstick that drives him crazy. As you walk closer, his gaze rakes over you, devouring every detail. The flicker of excitement in your chest feels like a tiny victory.

You sit down, and the conversation starts politely, almost mechanically. Like you’re dancing an old, familiar routine. But the air between you is thick with everything unsaid—last night, the months before that—it’s too much. Too heavy for small talk.

Jaehyun finally breaks the silence, his voice quiet and unsteady, like it’s coming from somewhere deep and vulnerable.

“I always thought I’d eventually get over thinking about you. But here you are, and I’m still the same idiot who wants you more than anything. When you left, I really thought my world stopped turning. I built my life around you. It’s like you took a piece of me when you walked away, and I’ve been chasing it ever since, trying to find it in all the wrong places.”

You didn’t expect him to say this. To be this open about the pain he felt when you left—the pain he never knew how to put into words before.

You listen in silence, but the way your hands tighten around your coffee cup betrays your nerves.

Barely above a whisper, you respond, “And I thought you’d be the one I could remember without pain. But I can’t even breathe normally when you’re around. I can’t sit across from you for ten minutes without falling apart.”

The truth between you is undeniable now: you’ve always loved each other, but your love has always been poisoned by your fears and insecurities.

“I was scared,” Jaehyun admits. “Scared you’d leave for someone better. I’ve never felt like I was enough for you, like I could give you what you needed. You always seemed so sure of yourself, so put-together. And me? I was just… me. So I let you go. Cowardly, I know, but it felt easier than telling you how I felt. You told me that you love me but you never want to see me again..”

“I know,” you say softly. “And I know I’m not innocent in all this. I made you feel that way. I never trusted you, not fully. I was so sure you’d leave eventually, that you’d get scared of commitment. But in the end, I was the one who walked away. Because I felt so empty, Jae. Being with you, it started to hurt.”

Jaehyun’s voice drops lower, but there’s a determination in it now. “So what? We just let our insecurities keep running the show? Let them ruin us for good? Or do we forget all that and rebuild? I don’t want to pretend anyone else could ever be you. No one’s you.”

You look away, staring at the traffic outside the window.

It hits you—this is the exact spot where you broke up for the first time. Back in high school, when you were still kids fumbling through love and heartbreak. It feels like some kind of cruel deja vu, like the universe loves throwing you into the same cycle over and over.

And yet, a few months ago, you promised yourself something. That you’d protect yourself first, no matter what. Even if it meant walking away from love.

“Look, I know, trust me I understand, I deserve less, If I was you I wouldn't take me back. But Y/n…I don't wanna see you- I can’t see you with anyone but me. How am I supposed to accept it, I love me so much more when you’re around and I know that you do too. Us, together, is something else.”

“It just goes round and round every time. I’m done with this.” You stand to leave, the chair scraping against the floor with finality.

Before you can take another step, his hand catches your wrist.

“If you walk away again, I won’t stop you this time,” he murmurs, his voice low and trembling. “But if you stay... I promise, this time, I won’t let anything come between us. I’ll be the man you need. Someone you can trust, someone who’s by your side. Always.”

His words sound raw, almost desperate, and for a moment, you freeze.

You want to leave, but his eyes—those eyes—you’re powerless against them. The way he looks at you wraps you up, as if you’re already in his arms, as if he’s touching every part of you without even making contact.

And he’s different now. You can feel it in the way he speaks, in the way his vulnerability lays bare between you. Jaehyun looks like he’s finally grown, like he’s learned to open up in ways he couldn’t before. He’s not just asking for another chance—he’s begging to be the person you’ve always needed him to be.

So, just this once? Why not give him that chance? After everything you’ve shared, doesn’t he at least deserve that?

“Take me home,” you whisper.

His smile is immediate, radiant, and you can see the relief in his shining eyes. It feels so bittersweet—how deeply you love him, even after everything. Even after running, even after months apart, even after you tried to leave him behind. Your heart has never learned to be quiet about him, and it frustrates you to no end. He has this undeniable power over you, and you hate it almost as much as you love it.

As you step out of the coffee shop, Jaehyun pulls you to the wall outside, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist. He holds you there for a moment, looking into your eyes like he’s trying to say something his words can’t reach: This is it. This is the last time. This time, it’s forever.

And then he kisses you.

It’s deep, consuming, his velvet lips brushing against yours with an urgency that makes your knees weak. His mouth moves over yours like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time, for every second he’s gone without you. When his tongue meets yours, you let out a soft moan, your body melting into his as his hand presses against the small of your back.

No one else could ever be him. No one else could kiss you like this.

Because with Jaehyun, it’s not just a kiss—it’s everything. 

The air between you grows heavier, filled with passion and the raw intensity of everything you’ve been holding back.

“Let’s go home babe. Or I'll behave badly in public.” 

“You miss me this much ?”

“You really ask the question.” He narrows his eyes, studying you. Oh, he knows that look. You’re playing with him, and he’s more than ready to join the game.

“Why the mini skirt, then?” he asks, his voice low, teasing, as his lips curve into a smirk. “Just to torture me, huh?” He slides his hands down your hips and takes a firm grip on your butt. 

You let out a small gasp of surprise, your eyes widening for just a moment. Jaehyun’s smile grows—it’s that sound, the one he’s always loved. It tells him everything he needs to know. You haven’t gotten over him. He still has the same effect on you.

“Maybe..”

“Tell me, did you have sex with him?” You pretend not to know who he’s talking about, tilting your head slightly as you widen your eyes in mock innocence.

“Who, exactly?” you ask, your voice light and teasing, the perfect picture of feigned cluelessness.

“This Honk-Kong guy, don’t mess up with me right now.” he presses his hips against yours, you feel the bone in his jeans. 

“He never took what was yours, if that's what you're asking for”

He exhales in relief, his shoulders relaxing as his eyes light up with renewed energy. “And what’s mine?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with a quiet intensity. He needs to hear you say it, to let the words come from your lips.

You bite your lower lip, feeling your heart tighten. This guy loves you so much, you can feel it in every fiber of your being. It’s overwhelming, undeniable.

“Me.”

“So let's see, show me how much you belong to me.” He grabs your hand and pulls you along, urgency in his steps as he leads you to the car. Before you know it, you’re climbing into the backseat with him, your heart pounding in sync with his.

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. His hands grip your waist as his lips crash against yours, this time with a wild, unrestrained intensity. The kiss is deeper, hungrier, as if he’s been holding back for far too long and can’t anymore.

“I can’t wait.” he undoes his belt and unzips his jeans.

“Someone could catch us.” You say this as you lift your skirt and take off your jacket. You burn too much for him, you can't reason with yourself.

He lifts you slightly to free his cock from his jeans. Moving your thong to the side, he aligns himself with your entrance and penetrates you in one smooth movement. You cry out as you feel the tip of it touch the bottom of your pussy. You grab his shoulders, Jaehyun is going to take the lead this time, that's for sure. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. His movements are quick and dry at first, he moans at length, it's such a relief for him. “Finally home.”

Your fingers weave into his hair, wrapping a strand around them as you tighten your grip, pulling him even closer. In his arms, you feel weightless, like a doll being held with a mix of tenderness and raw intensity.

His warm breath brushes against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. And in that moment, as his touch grounds you and his presence surrounds you, it hits you—this is what home feels like. He’s your home.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. They’re dark, filled with lust and raw pleasure, a haze of emotion that makes your breath hitch. He looks almost dazed, like someone taking a long-awaited hit after years of restraint.

Unable to resist, you lean in and kiss him passionately, pouring everything into it. The intensity of your connection shifts something in him. His movements slow, becoming more deliberate, more intimate. It’s not just hunger anymore—it’s something deeper, something that lingers in the space between desire and devotion. You were fucking and suddenly you're making love. He intertwine his fingers with yours and caress your hips with his other hand. He can't take his eyes off you. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmurs, his voice steady and deep, carrying the weight of all the time you’ve spent apart.

“I’m here now,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close until your forehead rests against his.

“Don’t ever leave again,” he mumbles, his voice breaking slightly. “No matter what we go through. Never again.”

You cup his face gently, your voice soft but resolute. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Jaehyun.”

His movements are regular, and you feel his cock rubbing your walls in the same rhythm. He lightly pinches your ass and you moan. He knows you love it. He gently caress your other hole to stimulate you. You can feel your orgasm rising. He doesn't let go of your neck, which he's working hard on. You'll probably have a bruise by tonight, or several. 

You pull on his hair to signal that your climax is coming. He lifts his head to see you moaning.

“Say my name.” he murmurs.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun, oh my god Jae yes, yes…” you shout his name until the end of your climax. He closes his eyes and enjoys the moment, his name sounding so good in your mouth.

“Yeah baby, ‘m right here.” He picks up the pace again, his movements becoming urgent and demanding, as if he’s making up for all the lost time.

“Tell me I’m the man of your life, say it,” he commands, his eyes dark and intense. He needs to know where he stands in your heart, in your life, what place he occupies in your eyes.

“You’re the man of my life, there’s only you,” you whisper, gently running your fingers through his hair, wanting him to feel every ounce of love you have for him. You know Jaehyun needs reassurance, to feel cherished and cared for. You’ll say everything he wants to hear.

“We’ll never be apart again,” he murmurs, his eyes now filled with sadness and a quiet desperation.

“No, never again—ah, Jae…” you moan softly, your breath hitching as his touch overwhelms you.

You feel his dick tense up inside you, you know he's close to orgasm. 

“I'm yours, I love you so much.” Jaehyun likes to feel loved and reassured it helps him reach his climax. “You're the man in my life Jae. No one can be you, no one can love me like you and no one can fuck me like you.”

He moans loudly, finally relaxing into you, he's always done it, so why change your habits. He remains in ecstasy for a moment. His forehead is moist. His breathing calms and so does yours, your head resting against his chest. 

"I meant it, you know," you murmur against him, your hand still intertwined with his.

"I know... and so do I. You're the woman of my life. I want everything with you. I want us to get married, I want kids, I want a dog, and the beautiful country house that comes with it."

You look at him, Jaehyun is so much more mature and confident now.

"Why don't we pick up where we left off a few months ago, let's move in together."

"Leave your place tonight, and come stay at mine."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely. I don’t want to wake up a single morning without you. Last night I was going crazy coming home without you. You can bring your stuff gradually, but I’m warning you, you’re not sleeping there unless I’m with you."

You smile and kiss him. "Okay, Mr. Possessive."

"You’re mine, remember? You’re the one who said it."

-

[fluffylino]

minho is felix's bestfriend and also happens to be your sworn enemy. he comes over one evening.

whats the worst that could happen...

-contains mature themes

frustration.

pure frustration was what you were feeling. was it really this difficult to operate a toy?!

a damn vibrator that too. a simple little vibrator. internally embarassed by your lack of 'skills' in using it.

maybe you were pressing down on the wrong setting. cause everytime it reached the highest vibrations, it would go back to the lowest setting, a few seconds after.

you didn't even feel like continuing because of how pissed of you were. what a bad way to ruin your fun.

it had been month since you last felt like you should treat yourself. get yourself off to be very specific.

and when you decide to finally try out your very first vibrator, the universe decides its not your day.

stepping out of the bathroom, still uncomfortable with the sensitivity between your legs. unintentionally edging yourself and eventually giving up entirely on trying to make yourself cum.

you blamed it on the vibrator. that darned cursed object.

flinging it on the bed in annoyance.

a small little sticky note is placed on the lamp on your bedside table. its from felix.

he had yelled goodbye while you were still showering (more like struggling). and you had yelled back, acknowledging him.

i'll be going out with chris for an hour or so. minho-hyung will be coming to our room in 20 minutes. im sowwy but he really needed a place to chill at...seungmin is studying and needs no disturbances....so i told minho he could stay in our room for a couple hours.

don't worry, bubssss i'll be back soon so things don't get awkward between yall!!!

MAYBE TRY AND GET ALONG?!

- lixie ☆

now this pisses you off even more. why the hell was everything going exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

lee minho was the last person you'd want in your shared dorm room. minho was literally gonna be coming here.

it had been almost 15 minutes since felix left. that means he'd be here anytime soon. before you even get the chance to hang your towel on the back of your chair, someone knocks on the door.

"fuckin minho of all people"

its real frustration at this point. nevertheless you open the door for him. taken aback by the attire he's in.

it was the very first time you'd ever seen him so...put together? dressed up?

what you meant was he was in semi formal attire ; a mixture of badboy or rather biker boy vibes.

"whats up with the outfit" you say, gesturing to him entirely. pointing out the leather jacket he had thrown on. it fitted him well. a bit too well.

the ripped jeans hugged his thighs. thick and muscular. a reminder that he works out and is a dancer.

"do i need a reason to wear what i feel like wearing?"

his cockiness has your fists itching to punch him straight in the nose. he huffs out a deep breath, walking right into the room. as if he owned the place. he had been here a number of times with felix. but it still pissed you off.

"fuck off" you mutter under your breath. closing the door and walking back to your bed.

that is until you see him plopping himself down on your bed. YOUR BED.

"what'd you say?" minho repeats. he has a few raspberries in his hand.

did he carry them all across campus..to eat them here ? you sometimes question his questionable habits and ways of thinking.

"don't feel like telling you" you cock back. placing your hands on your face and sighing.

were you that needy that for some reason his cologne made your breath fasten-

"what's gotten you so..." his voice trails off, beginning to question why you were so irritable. "...hot and bothered."

"i am not hot and bothered so kindly shut up"

you blurt out, blinking at him and thats when you realise.

where had you thrown the vibrator? did you put it back in your hiding spot or was it still in the bathroom...

"this says otherwise." and to your worst nightmare, minho is holding up the toy.

its like your blood runs cold. theres nothing you can say. or do. except go speechless and motionless.

"pretty cheap, don't you think?" observing it so casually. you feel yourself get wetter. his fingers catching it mindlessly.

"s-stop playing around with it" you stutter, suddenly feeling shyer than ever.

minho smirks and you unconciously press your thighs together.

"it doesn't work properly, does it."

switching it on. it buzzes loudly in the silence of the room. its vibrations are hardly anything.

you've had enough and you grab his wrist. pausing in shock when the buzzing becomes louder. you can feel it vibrating.

he presses down on it harder and it nearly vibrates out of his grip.

how had he managed to get it to its highest setting-

"did you cum? or are you just staining your panties right now as we speak." he snorts out, manspreading.

"cause this wasn't even switched on properly"

☆

you find yourself laying on your back. his hand slithered past the waistband of your pants. pressing it right over your cunt. teasingly moving the rounded tip up and down.

"needy pussy"

he's on top of you. smirking and observing every single change in your expressions.

"min-hho-" squirming under him. your hands flying down to weakly tug on his wrist. eyes struggling to stay focused.

"i must admit. hearing you say my name like that makes me want to see how you'll be if I fuck you"

sadistically keeping his pressure firm. nudging it under your panties.

"you're so much better like this, baby"

minho smirks. chuckling at the way you push yourself deeper into the bed. hips bucking upwards to escape his teasing. its cold when it comes in contact with your clit. the tips of his fingers rubbing into your folds everytime he played around with the toy.

"lee.minho a-ah" you writhe out, voice turning whiny. the familiar sensation builds up. except its more intense than ever.

he purposely turns the setting lower and you whimper in disappointment.

"maybe if i rub this..." pushing the vibrator all over your folds. a breathy gasp escaping his lips at how slicked up your cunt was.

"...or maybe if i touch this soaked cunt" dropping the vibrator and slipping his index finger through your slippery swollen lips.

"shit baby, did i get you this wet." and you know he's going to tease you for days if not months.

"you hate me, d-don't you" you whisper,shooting him a glare when he traces a digit over your clit.

eyes widening and breath quickening with how he maintains eye contact with you. bringing his head down to grunt in your ear. his fingers slapping your pussy meanly.

you whine, gripping his biceps. the leather jacket thrown on the edge of your bed.

"i hate you alright." he whispers, rubbing into your wetness slowly. minho chuckles. "filthy girl. you're throbbing on my fingers"

"i hate you so much that i jerk off to your pictures or that tone you use when you're pissed at me...i hate you to the point I cum so hard just picturing you taking my dick"

you can't control the fluttering feeling. coating his fingers even more so.

"i h-hate you more"

theres no heat in your words. gasping and legs quivering against his thicker thighs. keeping you open, unable to close your legs around his hand.

"hm, you do? tell me how much you hate me, kitten"

"i d-do...f-fuck" eyes rolling back in pleasure. desperately trying to chase your orgasm but he doesn't let you.

"yeah? you hate me so much that you're letting me touch you." minho says, voice going deeper. his ears are a shade of red and his lips parted.

"you're wet and begging for more under me. is that cause you hate me, sweetheart. or is that just you being you"

he quickens his pace. circling hard over your swollen and aching clit.

till you're throwing your hands around his neck. pulling him onto you entirely while you cum. its the hardest you've ever orgasmed.

maybe it was cause it had been so long...or you were sure it was because of him.

"there we go, good kitty" riding your high.

taking you by surprise when he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. so you push a few strands of hair out of his face. not letting go of him just yet.

"don't call me that" you whisper, struggling to hold in your smile. his lips curve upwards into a subtle smirk. kissing your neck slowly..

"but now that I know you're so pliant, i claim you as one of my cats"

your legs giving in when he gets up. wiping his coated fingers on his jeans. it leaves a wet stain.

"again as I said." you lift your head up, confused.

"this thing is useless!" grabbing the vibrator like he had personal beef with it. flinging it casually somewhere behind you.

"choose me. customize, personal talk, boyfriend material, protection...all in one package, baby"

pointing to himself.

he reaches over to the abandoned raspberries on the counter. walking back to stuff one small red berry in your mouth. smiling when you savour it.

"good kitty"

.

.

"is that minho hyung's jacket you're wearing?" felix' eyes widen. wondering why you were wearing the leather jacket.

"yeah and he told me i could wear it when i meet him for dinner tonight" you reply, lacing your boots up.

"YOU'RE HAVING DINNER WITH HIM?!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

I wanna be his dinner- GOD HE'S SO ARGHSBSJAKJW HAHAHAHIWHEHSHS

[hannieehaee]

you said in your svt with an older s/o that mingyu gives the vibe to be with milfs so,,,,, mingyu with a milf maybe? with her cute baby (p.s. stepdad!gyu!!!)

18+ / mdi

content: youngerbf!mingyu, stepdad!mingyu, you have an infant from a previous pregnancy, cute fluff with the baby, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 1364

a/n: i know nothing about babies but i hope i did well with this hehe<3

masterlist

"babe, have you seen lola's pacifier? i swear i've looked everywhere! she won't fall asleep tonight if she doesn't get at least half an hour with it before bed," you huffed, continuing to search at every nook and cranny if your apartment.

but you received no response from mingyu. and strangely enough, there was no noise in your apartment at all, opposed to the usual babbles or cries of the tiny resident of your home.

this would worry many others, but you knew the very logical explanation for this. you knew that the moment you walked into your baby's nursery, you'd find the dreamy image any woman would kill to have in their home.

and surely enough, as soon as you opened the half-closed door, you came face to face (or more so face to back) with mingyu's frame as he cradled your baby in his arms.

his gigantic arms dwarfed the tiny baby more than you thought possible, but his hold was nothing but delicate. the swaying of his arms provided her with the perfect motion to ensure she remained calm as she fell asleep. it was when he turned slightly that you managed to see that she was not fully asleep, but instead on her way there as she suckled on the pacifier you'd been searching for earlier.

"she's almost asleep, i think," he whispered when he sensed your presence. he turned to you then, baby still in motion in his arms, "am i doing this right?"

his time with the baby was not a new thing, but he still often worried about messing up. mingyu loved kids, but he had never loved one as he loved your lola. he was also slightly intimidated by the difference in experience between you. despite this being your first and only child, he believed your age simply made you wiser when it came to taking care of lola.

you continuously assured him that he was more than perfect with her, but mingyu, being mingyu, would still chuckle and deny it.

it was sometimes hard to decide whether lola or mingyu was the most adorable.

"you're doing perfect," you reassured, "here, let me take her so i can put her to sleep," you went to take her from him, feeling bad that he'd been taking of her on his own while you cleaned up dinner.

"can i- uh, can i do it?", he asked.

it made you smile. and of course, you concurred.

it took a few minutes, sneakily removing the pacifier and setting her to sleep on her crib. you remained at a close distance, but still allowed mingyu to do all the work on his own. the visual was one that went straight to your heart. your appreciation for mingyu grew impossibly bigger every time he showed his selfless love for your daughter.

your steps were quiet as you left the room, setting up the baby monitor before exiting with quiet hums of affection towards your daughter. once in the living room, you couldn't help but give gyu a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek to reward him for being so good.

in response, he held your hand as he led you to your bedroom, closing the door behind him as he sat you on the bed.

it wasn't done with any implications in mind, but they still invaded you when he began to casually change into his pajamas in your presence. you simply sat there and watched as he did so.

"you're amazing with lola, you know that? watching you makes me wanna pull out a ring," you joked.

mingyu chuckled in return, shirt off momentarily as he grabbed for a tank top, "don't. i already have plans for that."

"oh?," you stood up, walking over to him and halting him as he attempted to pull up some pajama pants, "you've got plans?"

he caught onto your drift immediately, "can't tell you, or else i'll ruin the surprise."

"can you give me a sneak peek, then?"

your hands wrapped around his shoulders while his let go of his pants and locked on the small of your back, a wolfish smile invading his lips.

"well, no, but i can give you a sneak peek of something else."

and then he kissed you, teasing completely thrown out the window.

it was soft in nature, the way in which he kissed you. you could tell he was tired, holding you in a way that screamed exhaustion mixed in with some neediness. his lips invaded yours in languid smacks until he led you back to the bed, sitting you as you'd been before.

before you could say anything, he knelt, pleading eyes betraying his large frame as he silently asked you to make space for him between your legs.

once they were opened, his hands pushed them even further apart, mouth leaning down to kiss at the skin revealed by your loose pajama shorts.

"'m tired, baby. but i still really really wanna make you feel good," he mumbled after a few pecks to the skin, "i'll probably wake up horny, but that's a problem for tomorrow.

"i'll take care of your problem, angel, don't worry. now just keep doing that ..." your words trailed off when his hands snuck under both layers of clothing, blindly finding their way to your sensitive bits.

"fuck, so wet, baby. were you expecting this?", he teased, "lemme get these shorts off, okay? wanna see it up close."

you lifted your hips to aid him, soon finding yourself unclothed from the bottom half and deciding to throw off your shirt to match. mingyu smiled from under you, biting his lip at the sight.

"you make it hard not to fuck you."

"then do it," you challenged.

"first thing tomorrow, i'll have you on your hands and knees, baby. but for now, i have something else i need," and those were his last words before his head lowered and joined the circling of his fingers, opting to sneak in a finger while his tongue took over in playing with your clit.

you gasped, hands digging into the duvet under you as an almost automatic reaction. but mingyu whined at this. something about wanting you to pull his hair instead. and who were you to deny him?

"taste so good after a long day, shit," he mumbled between swipes of his lips, "need to do this every night."

you encouraged him as your legs attempted to close around him and your hips begged to cant into his face. he was good at warding these things off, but more often than not, he welcomed them. it showed him how desperate you were for him even as he gave into you, he'd once said.

"shit, baby, keep going. gonna cum, fuck," your breath hitched and sped up at the same time. your body felt like it was on fire. everything was on edge.

"i know, baby, just, fuck, don't scream this time, okay? don't wanna wake up my baby," he said so naturally, knowing that you truly saw her as his own.

it was a strange dichotomy of emotions, both awe and arousal, but it made your orgasm all the better. your love for mingyu combined with your need for him made you see stars. your body didn't pay any mind to the boy beneath you, taking what it needed from him as he kept attacking at your cunt, knowing the sensitive sensations afterwards always made your eyes roll back.

it took a few moments after the fact for you to catch your breath, but your boyfriend had already managed to find a damp rag to clean you with in the meantime.

"knocked you out again, huh? i'm pretty good at putting people to sleep, i've been told," he snickered when you swatted your hand at him jokingly.

"suddenly he's the expert."

"hey, your words, not mine."

within a few minutes, he managed to get you tucked under the covers and into his arms with the same ease as he'd done with lola less than half an hour ago, providing you with a kiss to your temple as he adored doing to her too.

[xiaowhore]

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)