#why the fuck does his name so hard to spell

[randomicetea]

OKAY LISTEN if u like neuvithesley u def gonna like Darius x Artem (i don't think they have any ship name if they do let me know) it literally the same vibe a dilf police officer and a stoic lawyer/judge that have been called a cold heart leas machine but actually a soft cutie patootie

[kookinglikeachef]

SKZ members who are most likely and least likely to be loud while getting it on with the members still home.

Loudest: Jisung, Hyunjin and Changbin?

Quietest: Seungmin

kookinglikeachef: Thank you for the first SKZ request. And pls, there is not a quiet member in that group lmao

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MOST

Han

This mf is loud af. Okay. I’m talking sobs, cries, yelping, laughter, whimpering, yes…yes…and more yeses! He does not understand why he should have to be quiet and definitely does not care how embarrassing his sounds are, he’s letting everybody know how good you make him feel, even you when you’re literally the one riding him. If he feels like you didn’t hear him enough the first time, get ready to hear him again.

Changbin

Mans is shamelessly loud even when he knows he shouldn’t be. Just simply cannot stfu. And he especially wants—no—needs you to be loud when he’s going down on you. As he’s literally trying to devour you, he adds a finger and your moans can be heard faintly through the walls. But how many can he add until anyone within a five mile radius can hear you? He adds two and, I mean, what more does he want? You’re crying, begging at this point because you can’t take anymore. Three fingers? Cops at the door. Angry members.

Lee Know

Minho’s selective about when to be quiet but when he’s LOUD ohmygod. If he sees you holding back he becomes annoyed. Makes that ‘tch’ sound of disapproval and his movements become rougher, quicker. Oh, you’re covering your mouth now? Removes your hand and pins both hands down above your head. Think he’s about to let you bite your lip?! Nope. He’s opening your mouth with his own so you’re both making it sang in that bedroom.

Hyunjin

Would be more focused on making you moan louder than he was but when he does, he’s throwing his head back, swallowing hard and unable to contain his excitement (especially when being a sub). A complete mess under your touch, raspily begging for more. Would only moan your name, though. Actually he shouts your name. Like full government. Not only does the members know, now the neighbors do.

Bang Chan

Chan is moderately considerate when it comes to making love to you while the members are still home. CHRISTOPHER, HOWEVER, does not give a flying mother fuck. If it’s been a long day and 7/kids have been stressing him out, they’d better have noise canceling headphones or get ready to sleep at the studio because they are no longer his concern once he’s on top of you. Becomes rabid in bed. The only things loud are your moans screams and his headboard banging a hole through the wall. And sorry honey, cry all you want, he gets to be selfish this time. You know your safe word.

Felix

SO. SO. SO DEEP. Growling, grunting, moaning. Your lungs burning with lack of oxygen from his hard thrusts, turning your moans light and airy. He tries to muffle his sounds against your neck but everyone can clearly hear what sounds like a lion mauling a fairy. Hot right?

Jeongin

Fox is just another way to spell freak. Don’t think too much about it. Seriously. Now look, he doesn’t like to be loud that much but when he can’t help it, he’s groaning/whining. Full on guttural moans maxed volume because this is the best fuck of his life. Does not care if the other members hear. They’re flipping through newspapers like nothings going on, anyway.

Seungmin

Is definitely loud but can control his volume to a certain extent. Mostly curses in his moans like the best damn sailor in the ‘pussea’. Omg, that was cringe but you get it. It’s when he gets close to coming, borderline heavenly, he’s upstaging you. The members just assume you guys are singing karaoke.

LEAST

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (1 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, brief mention of pregnancy, canon-typical swearing, Simon is a girl dad

Word Count: 890

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Filling out a parent questionnaire leads to Simon having to answer a hard question.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad

“Daddy.”

 A small fist curls around the bottom of Simon’s shirt, tugging. He glances down, finding his daughter there holding out a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Simon takes it from her, his gaze shifting to the black ink.

“It’s for school.”

It’s a questionnaire. Simons scans over the questions quickly before returning his gaze to his daughter. “Give me a second, love.”

Simon packs up the files he brought home from work. Grabbing a pencil, he strolls out to the living room, his daughter on his heels. Simon takes a seat in the middle of the sofa, placing the paper and pencil on the coffee table. His daughter snags a pillow off the couch, dropping it on the floor next to his legs. Sitting, she stares at him expectantly.

Simon nods toward the paper. “You need to practice your letters.”

She groans. “But it’s about you!”

Simon slowly slides the paper and pencil over to her. She pouts but takes up the pencil, the graphite tip poised above the first line.

“Name,” she says, glancing up at him.

“You know my name.”

She squints at him and looks back at the paper, taking her time to write each letter. She holds it up and Simon smiles. It’s stilted and a bit sideways, but it’s there. She asks several more questions like favorite food and color. Simon doesn’t understand the point to it but they’re likely doing a project on a parent.

“Job,” she says, expectant.

Job. His occupation. That’s a fucking complicated question.

“Military,” he answers.

She frowns. “How do you spell that?”

“Sound it out.”

She does so slowly, elongating each letter as she writes.

Simon glances over her shoulder and chuckles. “That’s an ‘i,’ darling.” He points and she aggressively erases her mistake.

When she finishes, she looks up at him. “Explain.”

Explain. Explain.

Explain…what?

That he kills people? That he negotiates the release of hostages? That he faces violence every day he’s on the job? That he sees some of the worst in people?

How the bloody hell does he explain all that to a six-year-old girl? How does he summarize the violence into a watered-down version that’s digestible enough for her, her teacher, the other students, and her school.

Simon swallows. “I stop bad people from doing bad things.”

She blinks. “Do I have to write all that?”

Simon barks a laugh. “It’s one sentence.”

She silently mimics him, shaking her little body in annoyance as she begins to write. Simon has no idea where the attitude comes from, but it’s likely from Johnny.

“Next question,” prompts Simon once the sentence is written down.

She hesitates and then turns in his direction. “Can I be like you when I grow up?”

Could she? Yes. But the very idea of her in the line of danger frightens him. It twists his stomach, knowing all the things that could befall her if she were to follow in his footsteps. Simon’s gut-instinct is to tell her “No.”

“Why do you want to be like me?” he asks.

She shrugs. “You’re strong. I want to be strong like you.”

“You don’t need to do what I do to be strong.”

“Uh, no,” she says, matter-of-fact, peering at the next question.

Fucking hell, she’s going to be an absolute hellion when she hits puberty. Sighing, Simon rubs at his temple. For some reason, he glances away from his daughter, his gaze landing on you in the hallway. With your hand cradling your slightly swollen belly, you watch on with an amused expression.

Number two. Will this one be like her? Wanting to do what he does?

“Daddy.”

Simon turns back to his daughter. She points at the paper with the tip of her pencil, head tilted slightly to the side.

He leans forward. “What’s the next question?”

“What does your day look like?” She grins up at him, ready for his answer.

Simon hears your soft laugh from the hall, and then your footsteps across the carpet. Your hand reaches out to cradle the back of Simon’s neck. On instinct, he lifts his arm, resting his hand on the small of your back.

“Go on, Simon. Tell her,” you tease, knowing that he’s struggling to form an answer.

“Do you put your mask on first?” The question is innocent but Simon laughs anyway.

“No,” he chuckles, gently taking the paper and pencil from her. “I kiss your mother first.”

Simon drags you in for a kiss.

“Ugh. Gross.” She makes a face, tiny nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Still want my job?” Simon presents the paper and she snatches up in her little fist.

“No thanks,” she sing-songs, stuffing the paper in her backpack, crinkling it up.

You hide your grin in Simon’s shoulder, and Simon tugs you closer. “Good save,” you murmur.

Simon presses his lips to the top of your head. “She has one of my masks.”

“I know,” you giggle. “Found it under her pillow this morning. I put it in your bag.”

“Was it covered in your makeup this time?”

“Had to wash it.”

Simon shakes his head in exasperation. He’s not annoyed. Just perplexed. He doesn’t understand why his daughter wants to be just like him.

It’s because she doesn’t know.

No. She doesn’t know. But one day she will. She might even change her mind.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

[love44lew]

what turns them on/off

彡drivers lewis hamilton, max verstappen, charles leclerc, sebastian vettel, jenson button

彡genre hcs/scenarios

彡summary what gets their wheels spinning and what makes ‘em dnf ★

彡notes i apologize for the wait my loves i didn’t want any of these to feel rushed </3 thank you for 100 followers ❤️❤️

彡warnings sexual content

————-꧁🪼🦈🐋🐬🦭꧂-————

lewis

pleasuring you lewis loves to satisfy the people he loves. getting them gifts, compliments, paying the bill for any meal, you name it. as long as his special ones are happy, hes happy. so in bed you can expect those same things to apply. he gets pleasure from pleasuring you, he loves it. he enjoys seeing you trembling, blushing and fucked out more than his own pleasure. thats why his favorite thing to do is eat you out. and by life itself, this man can EAT!! its almost like your pussy put a spell on him he gets so lost in the sauce. you physically have to push him off to make him stop and by that time your legs are already shaking. he really touches the ocean floor if you know what i mean!! and the d is fire!! and it will put you to sleep. lewis loves being your personal melatonin.

meaningless sex when lewis was single and needed some pleasure every once in a while, he would just go on raya or hit up one of the six trillion girls who wanted him. he wasn’t satisfied with living that way. lewis is a lover not a player. he’s been through a lot of stuff to make him this way and he learned this the hard way through his late twenties and early thirties. born to be a lover, forced to be a hoe !! fortunately though, he met you and looking back on it, he’s realized how much he hated the shallowness of it all. lewis craves for deep meaningful connections and just having sex with random women didn’t fill that hole in his heart. he had to relearn the true meaning of sex and how magical and special such an experience can be. you helped him rediscover this important aspect of his life and it feels great. being with you has definitely taught him quality over quantity.

max

loss of senses max needs to see you, so darkness is a no no. plus, more unnecessary risk of hurting yourselves. he loves the sound of your voice, weather its your moaning and whining as he works your body in every way you enjoy or its just you rambling about your day while running your soft fingers through his thin silky hair. max needs the stimulation of sight and sound to get himself going. “let me hear you” he’ll whisper into your ear

this may be why he loves his mirrors !! the only solution to this issue is to just fuck u in front of a mirror. most men love to do that for their own pleasure but the only thing max is looking at while fucking you in front of a mirror is the way your face twitches, contorts, and relaxes with every thrust. the way your doe eyes roll back and cross, further showing to him how good he fucks you. he picks you up by your neck forcing you to straighten your back as he whispers sweet praise into your ear. “you look so pretty like this baby” “you want me to keep doing that gorgeous?” “uhuh im fucking you good baby” your legs twitch every time his sweet voice sings into your ear telling you everything you need to hear.

charles

charles loves to see you in lace, latex, and silk. the way the latex hugs your figure so beautifully makes you almost look naked. weather its black, beige, white, or print he loves when you look all sexy just for him. silk is almost like maternal for him. as much as he loves to see your curves he also loves the look of ‘sheets after sex’ the open back with the jewelry and the flowy trim, he loves it. it simply just makes him want to imagine you bloated with your shared creation but still keeping your elegance and beauty along with it. the look of silk makes your skin glow like the sun and you simply look like a greek goddess in his eyes. the beautiful custom embroidery that revolves around your every curve when you wear lace is unmatched. he loves that it shows just enough that he can imagine what hes already seen but also covers enough that others cant. the sexy elegant vibe of lace changes your aura enough to make him want to eat you out through your thin panties. your beautiful skin covered by a thin soft custom embroidery made just for him makes his mind go wild.

waiting charles is very impatient when it comes to his pleasure. weather its the pleasure of winning or reaching tip of his climax so good that he’ll just want to fall asleep after, he’ll work hard to make sure he gets there, for you too. sure, he can do foreplay but only for a certain amount of time until he begins to bore. ‘lets get to the good stuff already’ ((sass)) charles is a gentleman, so he will make sure you finish before him. plus, he has amazing stamina, so don’t feel rushed to reach your climax, he can wait for that. sometimes he’ll slow down just to watch you overstimulate for a little bit longer, just until you start fussing before going rough and slow, just how u like it. “whats wrong mon cœr? don’t you like it slow?” “ahh you want it harder.. yeah, just like that.”

sebastian

cuddling (smirk) the bed creaks as seb adjusts himself to face your back swinging an arm over your waist and the other snaked around your neck. “good morning, der liebling” he greeted in his raspy low morning tone, planting soft kisses on your cheek and shoulder. you turned your head to catch his lips. “good morning sunshine” you teased his nickname. he rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging his lips. he kissed your nose before diving back onto your lips, his hand now squeezing and caressing your waist and hip. you scooted back, carefully grinding your rear on his front. his hand stuck on your hip while his other now holding your neck. you continued grinding your ass back on him. little moans and purrs escaping between kisses.

full attention its important that you fully engage with seb while having relations. if you seem at all uninterested in what you’re doing he simply wont have the means to do anything anymore. its important to always make sure you’re not holding back when it comes to him. he loves when your hands are anywhere they can find groping or caressing his skin as hes burried deep in your core. he needs to feel extra wanted every time. “touch me” he whispers into your ear as he slowly inserts himself. the extra sensory makes him go wild as he resists cumming after just a couple strokes. your nails lightly scratching circles into his scalp as he’s pressing your knees into the cushion below. even when hes fucking you from behind you always reach a hand over to run down his chest and abs and make eye contact as you match his thrust rhythm.

(i might add jenson in the future but im trying to get this out for you guys asap!!)

—-

dm for tags!! plz request more ideas ❤️

[steviewashere]

Take Up Space

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (it is minor, but the themes are there), Implied/Referenced Child Neglect Pairings: Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Parents, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington's Father Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Wants to Be Loved, Steve Harrington Feels Like a Burden, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Moves in With Eddie & Wayne, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, And Gets One

🫂—————🫂 Couldn’t even say it.

Didn’t want to look him in the eyes and just say it.

Steve’s been holding on. He has. Hands to the ground, fingers in the soil, gravel under his nails. Been holding fast to his parents. Claw marks on his mom’s calves and a ring of teeth on his dad’s neck. Fighting for purchase against everything his parents want him to be; the words they have to say when he’s behind his bedroom door and feigning sleep. When he’s ear against the wood, teeth in his bottom lip, holding back cries—“How does our kid get a fucking D in math class? We’re business people!”

He’ll always be absurd to his parents.

To his mom, he is the long lost love of her life. He is the flower nearly wilted in her palms, plucked fresh from the grass, tufts of petals blowing behind her. The thing she always wanted; that she gave name to; that she thought she needed. She knew his name before anything else. Said it her self, holding the remnants of her childhood doll—“I named him Steven,” she had told him, “a mighty little lion with a great, big roar. I held him close every night, just as I will do with you, my little lion.” He was born small, premature, wrinkled and crying. He was placed upon her chest the same way a bouquet is laid on a casket—with love and loss, grieving just begun. It didn’t take long for her to change. For her voice to grow sharp and loud and angry. Disappointed, too.

Just a disappointment to them, that’s what he was. Didn’t win the championships? Disappointment. Got third in the second grade spelling bee? Disappointment. Barely graduated high school? Dis-a-fucking-ppointment.

It was shown in the way he never met his dad’s expectations. Ruler slaps on the wrists, wooden spoon to his bottom, the time out corner. Sometimes, he’d drop his homework on “accident”, to explain why he didn’t have it. Why they couldn’t see the big, fat, red F on his assignments, scrawled dark and heavy, circled with that perfect penmanship his teachers always had—always had for the failures in class. He’d have to get his report cards signed, but he’d forge them. He’d have conferences, but he’d always “forget” to invite his parents.

And it was better when they’d leave for business trips. Always too long, over staying their welcome in out-of-state hotels, in foreign countries they’d never be built for. It was better because he didn’t have to explain. It was better because he could get away with being human. He could show up tired to school, could get a bad grade and feel relief, could fuck up big time on a test and have no repercussions (especially if he went home and deleted voicemails from their answering machine), and he could graduate by the skin of his teeth. Take up the extracurriculars, do the bare minimum, not have to try so hard to be somebody he isn’t.

Of course he didn’t make it into college, not with his skill set. Of course he didn’t try again—not because he didn’t care, but because he simply couldn’t. Of course he worked dead-end retail full time; it’s all his parents could think to do with him—it gave him time away from home for eight hours or more, so it was a win for everybody.

But underneath all of that—beneath the scoldings and the physical punishments and the hot spit in his face—there were absent words, too. Absent gestures.

Steve doesn’t remember the last time he embraced his parents. Doesn’t remember the last time he heard ‘I love you.’ Doesn’t remember the sweetness of growing up. It was all tainted, taken from him, buried under the soil—the soil he grips to, nose deep in it, sniffing for where the bones have been buried.

He’s twenty now. None of it should matter. It shouldn’t matter at all that he can’t get those three words out of his parents’ mouth. Or that he can’t gauge the weight of arms on his shoulders, arms that aren’t his friends, arms that aren’t the ex-chief of police. Yet, of course it all does.

Nearly six months after Vecna, after the earthquake, after he helped save the world like some vigilante superhero, his parents finally come home. They come home with overflowing suitcases and permanent scowls, stomping and clicking through the front door, keys heavy in a bowl, jackets hung firmly, and his name on their tongue: “Steven!”

They come home with a medical bill in their hands. Thousands of dollars “down the drain.”

And Steve greets them with a neck scar visible above the collar of his current blue henley. His hair down to his shoulders, bangs itching to stab his eyeballs. With thin white lines on his knuckles. A gritted smile on his sullen, tired, pasty face.

“What is this?” His dad had hissed, flicking his right wrist, the paper wrinkled and noisy in his hand. “Thousands! You’ve cost us thousands of dollars!”

“I had surgery,” Steve tried to explain—voice meek, small, already timid—“got mauled by some…vicious and frightened dogs during the earthquake that happened. Guess that’s what happens when you try and help out.” He gave a nervous chuckle and stepped side to side. Buy that, he internally plead, just buy it and berate me and we can move on with our day.

His mom didn’t say anything in this. Face hard-set, painted lips flat, eyes sharp. She was unclasping the earrings hanging heavy from her earlobes, fisting them in her palms, bending down to pick up the stilettos she stepped out of, and then she evaded the conversation. Just went up the steps like a ghost, barely making a sound, simply gliding. He wanted her to come back, to stop this, to stand up for him—wanted what they had when he was really little, when she cared. When she held him close. When she promised.

His dad scoffed. “And you didn’t use your own insurance?”

“I don’t…I thought that I was still on the family plan?”

Steve was then leveled with a stare. A familiar stare. One that conveys exactly what his dad won’t say yet, “Disappointment.” His dad sighed. “Well, you aren’t. Which you would know if you listened”—

“Nobody told me! How am I supposed to”—

“Don’t talk back, Steven. You shouldn’t have to be told everything.” The paper had been thrusted forward, right into Steve’s chest. He gripped for it before it fell to the ground—where his heart has already been mushed into the hardwood. His dad stepped around him, around his heart, retreating towards the dining room and kitchen, fiddling with the band of his watch. “Have you found a job yet? Any college acceptance letters? An apartment?”

He huffed and followed. Bitter, “No. I’ve been recovering from surgery. Physical therapy, a couple skin grafts, my antibiotics…I told you about it over the phone the last time you cared to even call and check in on me.” Immediately, Steve had bit his tongue. Too much, too fast.

The Stare.

“That’s no way to talk to people, Steven.”

“But I”—

“When did you become so uncouth?” His dad scoffed a humorless laugh and drifted towards the kitchen sink.

The kitchen had always been too big for just the two of them. Spacious, many cabinets, the best of the best in terms of appliances. Not a single stain on the countertop. No cracks in the tiles. All of it clean, seemingly unused. Maintained to be picture perfect.

Just as Steve had been most of his life.

His dad continued on, “You’re supposed to be in college right now. Making something of yourself. Instead you’re—what—standing in the kitchen, holding a medical bill you cost me because you were trying to save dogs? Dogs, Steven? You could be doing something with your life! Could be going to school to become a doctor like that Hagan boy. Whatever happened to Thomas anyway?”

Steve stayed silent, still biting his tongue—his dad already knew about Tommy. Small in the doorway. Hunched in and looking at the ground, bile risen in his throat, the scars on his back and sides aching.

“But”—a sigh—“nope. Saving dogs. What are we going to do with you? Should’ve sent you to military school like Robert Kelly’s kid, I heard he’s doing great these days. You’ve always been defiant, though, so I’m sure that gig would’ve been drilled straight into the ground.”

The sink turned on, his dad had washed his hands. Wiped away the residual weight of the medical bill from his palms. A medical bill that he never bothered to ask about before. Just like the other ones. Like the other concussions. The fights that put the family name at risk. The bruises and blood that ruined poor Steve’s reputation.

If only he knew the truth.

His dad went to say something else, but instead—

“Why don’t you care?” Steve bit, “you never cared. This isn’t the first bill. Why does it even matter how much you have to spend? You’re my dad; you’re supposed to care about me.”

A different stare this time. Squinted eyes. Furrowed eyebrows.

Are you challenging me, is what this one said, are you doubting me?

“When you’re saving dogs? Why should I bother, Steven?”

“Because I’m your son! Because I—I need your help! It shouldn’t matter what I’ve been doing. It should matter that I almost died.”

He rolled his eyes. “Died,” his dad muttered—a soft, bewildered echo. “Stop being so”—

“Why don’t you just love me? Why won’t you love me just as I am? I need you to care. I need you to…to treat me like I’m your kid. Not some friend. Or some business partner. Your son. But you…you don’t love me?” He shifted again, side to side, boiling and ashamed and ready to puddle into the fine porcelain of the tiles. “You don’t love me enough to call and ask why you need to pay a medical bill. You didn’t bother to even know an ounce.

“It’s like that every time with you. All those stupid concussions. You didn’t want to take me to the hospital. Didn’t want to pay it off. Worried about your stupid last name. About the family image. I almost die and all you care about is the fact my life is costing you money.

“Money is more important than me, that’s all you’ve shown.”

Another scoff. “Don’t be so”—

“Ridiculous? Unreasonable? Dramatic? Stupid?

“Why are you so incapable of loving me? That’s all I want! For you and mom to…to hold me and tell me that you love me! But you…you only care when I cost you money! Why can’t you care?! I want you to—I want you to be my dad! What’s so wrong with that? With loving me? Why am I such a hard person to love? Why can’t I just…just be enough for you?!”

Finally fallen silent, Steve stood still in the kitchen’s entryway. A world between worlds. Tired, heaving, stomach turning. Palms sweating, wetting the dumb bill that ruined this all.

It remained silent. With his dad looking at him.

Those hazel eyes and his square jaw. The same face Steve sees staring back at him in the mirror. And yet his own isn’t enough to love.

There is nothing.

And so he kept standing, empty, words dead to the floor, heart by the front door. He took a deep breath through his nose, remembered the path to his get-away bag—a bag he packed in sophomore year of high school, after a terrible basketball game, when he was slapped on the back of the head for failing to make the winning shot. It has a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, emergency cash, hygiene products, a new wardrobe that coincides with his current size, and all his important documents—nothing of his family’s. He had what he needed packed in his closet.

So, he left. Chose to go. Before his dad had the chance.

Let the possibilities die in the air. What could’ve been if there wasn’t so much space and so many expectations between them.

Who knew saving the world would be the ending of your own?

Who knew love was such a price to pay?

——— Now, he finds himself parked outside of Eddie’s. The backpack in the passenger seat. Leaves it for now, unsure if he’ll be wanted. But he knocks on the door regardless.

There’s a moment where there’s nothing.

Him and the blackness of the trailer park. The rustle of grass in the gentle, autumn breeze. People chattering a few doors down, over cigarettes it smells like. Max’s own bedroom light is out, most likely asleep right now. Chain link fence glinting with the very little moonlight that’s there. Fresh weeds on the outskirts, born from the rain.

Serenity around his turmoil. A constant anger still stewing, bubbling, steaming within him.

What if Eddie can’t handle him right now?

What if he has to crawl through Robin’s window, leave her with words, run for the hills?

What if…what if…what if?

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly, sing-song like he’s tried already.

He whips back around from where he’d been looking out at the grass. Shuffling. “Oh, hey, Eds. Sorry—I—Just…Can I come in, please?”

Eddie steps aside for him. Lets him in without words. Until, “You’re shaking, sweetheart. Is everythin’ alright?”

“Hm? Yeah…yeah, yeah…I think that I—Think I just moved out of my parents’ house?”

A soft, surprised sound behind him. The click of the door closing. “Yeah, you think?” Gentle.

Everything is gentle here.

The amber light in the living room. Rows of hats. Shelves of mugs. Family pictures proud on the fridge, next to yellowed drawings in crayon, all hung up with goofy Garfield magnets. There’s an open box of Honeycomb on the table, a fresh bowl poured. A carton of milk turned so that the missing persons report could be read.

When he was younger, Steve imagined being on one of those panels. What it would be like. To have gone missing. Not a note or a clue or a peep. To have his parents care enough to find him. Now, though…now it feels like they wouldn’t even bat an eye. Maybe it would’ve been the same back then, too.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, “he got mad about a medical bill for that surgery I had. And I just…god, it’s embarrassing.” He lets out a humorless chuckle, too similar to his dad’s—a sound he will always recognize as that, from his father’s chest. Horrid and wretched. Something rotten in him, too, it seems. “I asked him why he doesn’t…doesn’t care about me. Why he doesn’t love me. I mean…who does that?” Steve makes eye contact with Eddie, who must’ve gotten closer, stepped right in front of him. With very little courage, the last dredges of it in his veins, he speaks, “They let me live in their house, eat their food, use their shit. Was that wrong of me? Am I…am I stupid for asking?”

Eddie inhales hard and deep. “Oh, Steve,” he breathes.

“It had to be, right? Of course my parents love me. They’re my parents!”

“Steve, that’s”—

“I get it, y’know. I get that it’s hard to love me. I know that, you know. But I don’t…the way he looked at me, Eddie, I knew he knew that too. I don’t think they—Why am I such a hard person to love? Is it me? Is it something wrong with me?”

He’s unsure if that was rhetorical, if he really wanted that answer. But as it is, he’s aware of the ache in his head, the burn between his eyebrows, the need and want to pinch the bridge of his nose. The tears that rise—ones that won’t fall, not without his permission. Without permission at all.

Instead of an answer, at least not right away, Eddie envelops him with languid movements and a warm body. Heavy arms on his aching back, hands pressing firm to his taut muscles, rubbing up and down his rigid spine. There’s breaths and words and kisses murmured against his eardrum. A chest rising and falling against his own. Tickling hair.

And instead of protesting, Steve clings back hard. Harder than he’s ever held anything.

Digging fingers into a t-shirt—the soil. Not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go. Not when he’s finally getting part of what he wanted, to just be held. Maybe not by his parents, the real dream, but at least it’s something.

Somewhere in it all, in their mess of limbs and their mingled pulses, Steve cries—giving that allowance. Sobbing big, aching, roaring hiccups into the soft spots of Eddie’s neck. Wet breaths and wetter tears. Letting go until he has nothing left to give—and then some. His head is aching already, eyebrows pinching, eyes heavy on his already too heavy face.

He’s tired.

More tired than he thinks he’s ever been.

This must be the adrenaline crash. Makes him realize all the ways he’s hurting. His back and his legs and his fingers. His head and his teeth. His heart. And here he is, screaming all of his pain into the gentle parts of Eddie, where he’s offered and where he’s swaddled.

“Shhh,” Eddie’s whispering, “shh, Stevie, you gotta calm down a little for me. Just a little, I’ve gotcha.” They’re moving somewhere. Shoes scraping and dragging against carpet. Set down on a soft cushion—the couch, then—with words still murmured in his ear. “I’ve gotcha,” Eddie says, “he doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha…I’ve gotcha.”

“Why can’t—I don’t—Love”—he stops himself with a wet, spraying cough-gag onto Eddie’s warm skin.

Hands press into his shoulder blades, dragging firmly down his spine. And then fingers at the ends of his hair, a thumb pressing into the knobs of his neck. Eddie sways them back and forth gently. “You’re gonna choke,” Eddie murmurs, “take a deep breath, baby. Just one breath for me, that’s all.” He obliges, inhaling hard through his nose, trying to release it as slow as possible through his mouth—not incredibly, but just enough. “Good,” Eddie says, “good job. You can cry, sweetheart, but you gotta keep breathing good for me.”

Again, he does what Eddie tells him to do. Wetting his skin more with each deep breath he blows out. And when he’s just a shivering, hiccuping mess in Eddie’s arms, he finally allows himself to relax—to loosen.

Eddie presses a kiss to his left temple. Then he pulls away just enough so they can see each other’s faces. He swipes the hair out of Steve’s face, gentle with every touch he gives. “You’re gonna stay here with me, alright?”

“What about”—

“Wayne’ll understand, I promise. I’ll grab your stuff. I want you to just sit right here, okay? And when I come back in, we’ll just relax for the rest of the night.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then we’ll just go to bed, okay?” Eddie kisses his temple again. He pulls himself off of Steve and gets off of the couch with a, “I’ll be right back.”

Steve only nods at Eddie’s back, now slumped into the couch.

Disappointment rings loud in his head. At least he didn’t let his parents say it this time. But once it’s ingrained in him, he knows the way it should sound. Dripping with ire—red and loud and bass boosted from his dad’s mouth. And yet he doesn’t know what ‘I love you’ sounds like coming from either of them; or at least he doesn’t remember.

He’s gone and unloaded himself here. Not that he intended for that to happen.

There wasn’t really a plan when he drove over to Forest Hills. Maybe the naked branches of one. He’d come over, tell Eddie what happened, maybe get so overworked that he started to cry, and then he’d slip out without another word. Just get back in his car, leave a note or something for Robin, and evade Hawkins all together. Though, now that he’s out of that house, maybe his parents will finally take the initiative on getting out of this town. It’s something they always wanted, something they always threatened they’d do if Steve didn’t shape up. Now would be the time, he supposes, now that he’s left with the last crumbs of his dignity.

A few minutes later, still stuck to the back of the couch, Eddie comes in through the front door. That one backpack in his grip. Fingers tight on one strap, looking at it with confusion.

“Is this all of your stuff?”

He shrugs. “My go bag.”

“Go bag,” Eddie echoes.

“Yeah, I’ve had it packed since sophomore year. Just in case, y’know.”

Eddie inhales in that slow way he does. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah, I get that.” He hefts the bag up and down. “It’s just…just really light, sweetheart. Are you sure you have everything you need?”

He nods resolutely. “Stuff can be replaced. It’s fine.”

The couch dips beside him. His eyes drifting from his lap, up to where Eddie’s looking directly at him. That backpack between his feet—limp and folding in on itself from how empty it is. There’s a question on the tip of Eddie’s tongue. Hesitantly, “What was your plan, sweetheart?”

He shrugs again. “See if I could spend the night here and then…I don’t know? Figure it out as I go, I guess. Didn’t wanna be a burden or anything.”

“You’re not a burden,” Eddie states firmly, “you are never a burden to me or anybody else in our friend group.”

“But”—

Eddie lays his hand on his forearm, squeezing him tight. “I want you to stay right here with me. I want you to eat my food and sleep in my bed and take up space, you got that?”

Steve sniffles. Wetly, “Are you sure? I can get a hotel or some”—

“Stay here.” Eddie squeezes his forearm again. His eyes bounce between Steve’s own. Then, he murmurs, “I love you”—which is the first time he’s said it—“and I hate your parents with the most sincere hate I could send a person. But you…you, Steve, are worth loving and caring for. No matter what.”

“But what if you grow tired of me? I mean…my parents, they”—

“No matter what. Steve, I will always care and love and respect you as a human being even if our relationship fails—for some reason, which I can’t even think of a reason, so we’ll be okay.” Eddie hefts the backpack in his other hand, still light and still collapsing in on itself. “Now, how ‘bout we get ourselves to bed?”

Steve swallows, darts his eyes over Eddie’s face. Nods once, the last of his tears rescinding. “I’m so tired, Eds.” But it sounds like more than that. The weight of those words falling off his tongue, the hollowness of his mouth all that he has left afterwards.

Eddie frowns lightly. His hand goes up to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek gently, wiping his thumb under his left eye. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, “I know.” He sniffs himself, something small, but that’s when Steve notices that Eddie’s eyes are wet, too. “I wish I knew how to completely fix everything for you. I’m sorry your parents won’t be your parents.” Then, he stands up from the couch, hand out for Steve to grasp—which he does. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart. We’ll talk more about this when we’re rested up.”

In the bedroom, Eddie sits Steve’s bag on his dresser. Rifles through it and tutting the entire time he does. Steve probably could’ve packed some pajamas in there, but it’s fine. It’s fine because it needs to be fine. Instead of making some retort, Eddie easily grabs Steve a set of pajamas—some fleece red pants and a white t-shirt—and hands them off.

They change in silence. He brushes his teeth alongside Eddie’s, placing his own toothbrush in the same cup. Even as awful as this day has been, the sight of their toothbrushes together makes him a little giddy—something in him warm.

Once under the covers, Eddie drags Steve into him. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, chin to the top of his head, stroking fingers up and down his spine, connecting the dots of the many moles on his back. Treating him with the same love and reverence as always, as if nothing in their lives has changed. The normal is…nice in the aftermath.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too,” Steve whispers, “thank you for this.” He shuffles in closer, probably too close. Arms bent awkwardly, legs tangled in one another, his cheek pressed flush with Eddie’s chest. His heart is beating strong and hard, Steve turns his head to kiss it. “I’ll figure out a way to make it up”—

“Nope,” Eddie mows over, voice soft, yet firm, “not doing that. No making up that needs to be done.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Okay, fine,” he sighs, relenting. “You’ll regret saying that once you realize how messy I am.”

Eddie snorts. “Have you met me? Think we’ll be a-okay. Go to sleep.”

Steve drags his lips over Eddie’s chest one more time, blowing a raspberry against his skin. Laughing when Eddie squawks.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Fine…fine, I’ll go to sleep. I love you, Eds.”

“Love you, too.” He squeezes Steve’s shoulders. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? But you’re safe here—take up space.”

Tonight doesn’t fix everything. But…but he can learn to be loud. With Eddie guiding him, that shouldn’t be much of a problem at all. Not at all.

🫂—————🫂

[vienssunshine]

That feel good?

pairing: Nanami x fem reader nsfw word count: under 1k author's note: This came to me and I just had to write it down and could not stop until it was done

It’s dangerous how thoughtful Nanami is when he touches you. He exploits any insight your body offers into what drives you wild with ruthless precision.

You’re in his lap, head dizzy from the endless kisses and nips placed intentionally on your weak spots. You’ve only been making out for fifteen minutes and already Nanami has intoxicated you with his touch, evident by the way you're melting into his firm chest.

He's able to put you under some kind of spell, reverting your body to its primal instincts and making it only want one thing: him. It’s why, with his hands and mouth all over you, you can’t help but mindlessly grind into his lap, searching for more contact on your aching cunt. Though, when the big hands on your hips pull you down so you’re pressed against the erection pushing through his slacks, you jolt up and away. 

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” Nanami reacts to your sudden movement, bringing a soothing hand to your face. You stare back, eyes wide and heart pounding. Feeling him there, his length flat against everything your wet underwear cups, was pleasurable and intense in a way you aren’t used to. 

“I didn’t expect…um–that–that felt really good,” you say, still bewildered by the sensation.

“Did it?” he responds. He loves discovering new things about your body, especially if it's by accident. “Then let’s keep doing that.” 

He moves to bring you down to his lap again, but you don't let him. “Kento, it’s…it’s a lot,” you mumble, even though you’re leaning into him, eyes lidded as you place your hands on his large shoulders.

He lets out an uneven breath before pressing a slow, hot kiss to the side of your neck, making your eyes flutter. “I know, darling,” he whispers against your skin, “I know it’s a lot, but I think my pretty girl can do it for me. I think she wants to.”

Eyes shut in bliss, you nod along to the gruff yet calming words he's murmuring into the crook of your neck. They're reminding you of how your body is throbbing with want.

“Okay,” you hum, your voice small.

“Here, let’s go slowly,” he coaxes, “You’re going to do so good.”

Your grip tightens on his broad shoulders as he sits you back down on his lap, your soaked underwear flush against the bulge in his pants. It’s manageable, the feeling of your folds up against his erection, until he starts using your hips to move you.

His name leaves your mouth as a whimper. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, the pleasure folding you in two. He still has his work clothes on, but they do little to buffer the warmth radiating off of his body or the intensity of feeling him against you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “Kento, it’s–ah–”

“I know, pretty girl,” he responds, his voice strained and breath ragged. “Doing so good for me.” 

“I am?” you choke out. It doesn't feel like it, you're having a hard time keeping up with the increasing pace he’s setting; there’s not a second of relief from the stimulation. 

“Yes, darling,” he responds, a big hand coming up to stroke your back in comforting circles, knowing what you need from him to endure the spikes of pleasure sinking into your lower stomach.

“Does it–ah–feel good–for you too?” you ask. The question seems unnecessary with the way he’s bucking his hips against your warm cunt. 

“Feels incredible, love,” he grunts, and pride swells through your chest. You pick your head up and press your lips to his in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He groans into your mouth while his other hand comes up from your side—though you keep grinding against him—to hold your face still so he can deepen the kiss. 

However, when your hips begin to stutter, the pleasure overwhelming your poor body, his hands go back down and lock around them, mercilessly bringing you to your breaking point. "Kento, m'so close," you gasp.

Of course you are, Nanami has learned exactly what your body needs from him. He knows to talk you through the pleasure that's hitting you like punches as you abuse your sensitive clit, to whisper how good you did as you come down from your orgasm, to wrap his arms around you and bring you into his large, warm chest now that you're all fucked-out.

It is dangerous, how he has the ability to have you humping his lap like a desperate animal. Yet, you’re not too worried about it, because when you get up off of him, you realize that you aren’t the only one who came in their pants.

[ninzied]

green things

alex kisses henry to make another guy jealous. that’s it. no other reason. based on a prompt for @onthewaytosomewhere. modern au. 1.9k.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Pez remarks, halfway through one of the worst house parties Alex has been to in his life. Seriously; he’s been to so many, and none of the others even compare. “Something on your mind?”

Yes. “No.” Alex takes a sip of his drink and goes casually back to not looking at Henry.

He’s kind of not really been okay-totally-watching-them all night, and it’s fine. It’s fine, because it doesn’t matter who Henry talks to, what matters is that he looks happy, and animated, and hasn’t stopped smiling.

He hasn’t stopped smiling all night.

“Hey, so, who’s the guy?” Alex asks.

Pez glances over. “Ah—yes, that’s a visiting prof in Henry’s department. Hazza talks about him quite a lot, actually.”

Alex grits his teeth so hard he’s surprised that none of them crack. “Does he.” He refrains from adding under his breath, Well, I’ve never heard of him.

“All the time, as a matter of fact,” Pez continues. He doesn’t even sound like he’s had to exaggerate. “And with good reason. It’s not even that he’s easy on the eyes, though there is that too. He’s already accomplished so much in the field despite being our age, from what I understand.”

“I see,” Alex says as neutrally as possible. He’s starting to see a lot from where he’s standing, actually, and he doesn’t like it. Like, at all.

Pez raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Do I spy something green?”

“No,” Alex says quickly, too quickly this time. “Nope. Definitely not.”

“Well, if you say so.” Pez pops an hors d’oeuvre in his mouth and chews, surveying the room like it’s his own private theatre. Like he’s waiting for something. Like he has a vision. It’s both impressive and disconcerting to see.

As if on cue, someone comes up to Mister Accomplished and claps a hand on his stupid-broad shoulder, drawing his attention away. He flashes Henry a grin—one that’s way too white and with too many teeth, in Alex’s opinion—before walking off and leaving Henry alone in the corner.

Henry, who’s no longer smiling as he closes his eyes and sags at the shoulders. He tilts his glass back and drinks.

Well, fuck. Alex can’t even be glad anymore that the guy has just left because now he wants to punch him for it.

“Douchebag much?” he mutters under his breath.

“Oh, most excellent,” Pez is saying at the same time. “Couldn’t have planned the thing better myself.” He clears his throat, all business-like all of a sudden. “It appears that our poppet is in need of assistance. Are you up to the task, Alexander?”

“Wait.” But Alex finds himself getting pulled along by the sheer force of Pez’s will before he’s even finished speaking. “What task, exactly?”

Pez looks two seconds away from rubbing his hands together like some kind of cartoon villain. “Nothing like making a man jealous to finally spur him into action.”

Alex sputters; didn’t he just say that he wasn’t—? But then he catches the pointed look Pez gives Mister Accomplished again. Oh. That guy. Then: “Wait, that guy?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it,” says Pez.

Alex makes a wild gesture. “You want me to make that guy jealous. Fucking how?”

Pez lets out a long-suffering sigh. “The fact that I must spell it out for you really does explain a lot, actually.”

“A lot about what?”

“One kiss ought to do it, I think,” Pez muses, almost to himself.

Alex swallows. Flirting with Henry every day like he does is one thing. Harmless, mostly, unless you count feeling heartsick that Henry never looks at him the same way.

What Pez is suggesting, though, may be the thing that tips Alex fully over into heartbreak territory.

“I don’t, um.” He clears his throat and glances toward Henry, who’s gazing into his now-empty glass. “What makes you think he’ll be down with this plan?”

“Absolutely nothing, he would never. Which is why we must be quick about it.”

“But,” Alex starts to protest.

“Alex.” Pez says his name like he’s scolding a child who’s being too selfish. “Don’t you want to see Henry happy?”

“More than anything,” says Alex, too honestly. Fuck.

“Then trust me on this,” says Pez, in the voice of a person who’s not to be trusted at all, before opening his arms wide and beaming. “Hazza, darling.”

“Oh, thank God,” says Henry, glancing up as they approach. “I need another one of whatever this was.”

“I have a better idea,” Pez sing-songs, then looks askance at Alex. “Unless, of course, someone’s getting cold feet. I can always ask if dear old Hunter’s available, I think I saw him by the—”

“No, I’ll do it,” Alex says instantly. “I’ll take one for the team.”

“Yes, a big sacrifice on your part,” Pez murmurs, and Alex shoots him a sharp little glare. Henry scrunches his brow, looking between the two of them in something like concerned confusion.

“Alex? What’s going on?” he prompts carefully as Alex marches up to him, taking a breath. He’s determined to do this for Henry, no matter the cost to himself.

“All right. I’m ready,” Alex says solemnly. “Lay it on me, Fox.”

“Sorry,” says Henry, “I still have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“Babe,” and Alex takes Henry’s face in his hands, “Don’t even worry. I’m here to make all your dreams come true.”

Henry stands frozen as Alex presses their mouths firmly together. There’s a second that lasts half a lifetime in which Alex thinks he’s made a terrible mistake.

And then Henry’s lips soften—wow, fuck, they are really soft, actually—and then he’s kissing Alex back and so hard that Alex stagger-steps, almost knocking a chair over as he pulls Henry even closer.

He tries not to totally lose it when he feels Henry’s fingers thread through his hair, or the hitch in Henry’s breath when their lips part and their tongues meet.

It occurs to him that they probably shouldn’t be kissing like this while surrounded by all their work colleagues. Alex doesn’t really care. All he cares about is how devastated he’ll be once it’s over.

Henry is the first to pull back. He’s breathless and smiling, and Alex’s heart hurts like fucking hell but this is what he wanted, right? To see Henry this happy?

Alex puts his hands on Henry’s waist, which, fuck, he shouldn’t have done that; now he thinks he might never let go. His breath comes up short as he gasps into the space between them, “Is he watching?”

Henry blinks. His smile falters a little. “Is who watching, Alex?”

“The guy you were talking to. I was trying to make him jealous.” Alex can’t bring himself to see if he’s noticed. Alex thinks he would rather die than look away from Henry right now. All he wants is to kiss him again even though he probably shouldn’t. “Do you think it worked? Henry?”

Henry has gone very still in his arms. The expression on his face is glazed over, distant. “That’s why you kissed me? To make someone jealous?”

Fuck, they really should’ve talked about this first. Fuck. “Yeah?” Alex winces.

“That man specifically? I didn’t even know you two were acquainted.” Henry heaves out a breath, looking strangely like he might be sick. “So you—you like him, then?”

“What? No, of course I don’t like him. I don’t even know him,” says Alex. Henry isn’t making any sense. “I thought you liked him.” Unless���shit. Unless Henry just doesn’t want them both liking the same guy?

Henry just stares at him for a long time. He’s looking kind of like Alex is the one who’s lost it. “You what?” Henry says finally.

“I thought you liked him,” Alex repeats, but this time it comes out as more of a question.

“You thought I liked him,” Henry says for emphasis. “That man.” Like there’s some other guy Alex could possibly be talking about right now.

“Apparently,” says Alex. He realizes he’s clutched the sides of Henry’s shirt and wills his fingers to loosen a little. It feels like some kind of miracle that Henry hasn’t shoved him away yet. “And then you looked so sad when he went to talk to other people, and I thought, I don’t know, that I’d help? Pez said you talk about him all the time, so…” Wait. Wait a minute.

Henry breathes out. Something solidifies in his expression, like he’s just worked through a math problem of his own. “Hmm,” he says in a weirdly calm tone. “Did he, now.”

“Yeah,” Alex says slowly. “He…” What else was it that Pez had said? Nothing like making a man jealous to finally…

Wow. Okay. Well-played, Okonjo.

“I see.” Henry looks pointedly around for Pez, who’s conveniently nowhere in sight at the moment. “Percy didn’t also happen to mention the fact that the man’s an absolute bellend who’s been gatekeeping my department’s research funding? That I’m thus woefully obligated to kiss the ground he walks on at parties?”

Ah. “He…did not,” Alex allows. “So, just to be clear, you don’t? Like him?”

“Christ, no,” Henry says firmly, and Alex feels something light in his chest flutter and try to take flight.

“Anyway,” Henry goes on, looking all sober now for some reason, “I ought to apologize on Pez’s behalf. He really was only trying to help, in his way. He knows how I feel about—well.” He flushes. “And I’m sorry, too, for kissing you like that. I was under a very different impression as to what it, um. Actually meant.”

“Yeah, hold up.” Alex straightens. “You kissed me back.” Henry looks cautiously on as Alex starts smiling and can’t seem to stop. “You had no idea and you still kissed me back.”

Henry goes a shade pinker each time Alex says the words. “Yes, well,” Henry says faintly. “I believe what you said was something about making all my dreams come true? Which I did take at face value.”

Alex tightens his hold on Henry again. Definitely not letting him go after that. “Henry,” he says. “You’re my fucking dream, are you kidding?”

“I—” Henry gazes at him. His smile is soft with something like wonder. “You’re serious?”

“How do you think Pez got to me?” Alex wants to know. “Do you have any idea how jealous I was of that guy when I thought you were into him?”

“Mm.” Henry tilts his head. “Yet you kissed me fully believing that it would, what, drive him so mad that he’d throw himself into my arms?”

“I did.” Alex takes both of Henry’s hands into his. “I want you. Henry. But I think I want you so much that the only thing I want more is for you to be happy.”

Henry’s eyes are bright and so very, very blue. “And if I told you that they’re one and the same?”

Alex is smiling so hard that it hurts. He never wants to stop feeling like this. “Then I guess that guy can be jealous all he wants,” Alex shrugs, bringing Henry’s hands up to his shoulders. “Because he can’t have your arms now, they’re mine.”

“Noted,” says Henry, mock-seriously. “Anything else you wish to claim while you’re at it?”

“Actually,” says Alex, “yeah, just so we’re clear,” and he pulls Henry back in for a kiss.

[enhas-pov]

enemies by blood

summary: born in a mafia family definitely wasn’t easy. especially when your dad’s enemy’s son, park sunghoon goes to your school. reader and sunghoon grew up hating each other due to their father’s bad past with each other, but what’s gonna happen when they want their kids to finish what they started?

warnings: (gang)violence, lots of fighting, murder, blood, drugs, money laundering, guns, kissing, usage of "oppa", pet names, bad ending

word count: 4.5k

note: i haven’t read through it‼️ ignore spelling mistakes

pt.2

════════════════════════

my whole life i`ve felt like an outsider. people always look at me weird, they give me dirty looks, but at the same time theyre afraid of me. all because of my family.. my dad to be specific. since before i was born, my dad has been a part of this mafia gang thingy where drugs, guns, killing, and all of that stuff was involved. so growing up i was taught most of those things. id say im pretty good at fighting, and using guns. my mom on the other hand died when i was 10, she was killed by some guy that my dad was having problems with.. ive never met someone who can relate to me whatsover, except for park sunghoon.

sunghoon goes to the same school as me and grew up exactly like i did, and when i say exactly i mean EXACTLY. his dad is a part of a mafia gang too, so sunghoon grew up involved with that as well just like i did, and guess what? his mom got killed by a guy his dad was having problems with as well. if you put two and two together.. my dad killed sunghoons mom so sunghoon`s dad killed my mom, which is one of the reasons why sunghoon and i grew up hating each other.

my dad told me that him and mr. park used to be a part of the same gang, they were actually really close friends until something happened between the two of them that ruined their friendship and caused them to turn on each other. basically, my dad and mr. park were planning a huge drug deal, but for some reason mr. park tipped off the cops to make sure all the money made off the drug deal would be his, so when my dad got arrested for it he spent 10 years in prison. and when he got out he killed sunghoons mom as revenge, but when mr. park killed my mom for revenge because of his wife`s death, it made things worse between the two.

i was sat in the backseat of the fancy car i was driven to school with everyday by my dads personal driver, min. i was not allowed to walk to school and especially not alone. my dad told me there are people who know about me and that since im his daughter they kinda want me dead.. which is understandable? i guess, considering the kind of shit my dad does to these people. "were here, miss y/l/n" my driver says, parked right in front of my school. "thank you-" i was two seconds away from getting out of the car before i was stopped by my drivers very concerned voice. "wait, mr. park is right behind us. would you like to wait?" i rolled my eyes at his words, not giving a care in the world about park fucking sunghoon. "i`m okay. thank you, min"

the second i made my way out of the car i was met with sunghoons tall figure stood not too far behind me. he threw a glare at me that i quickly returned which he rolled his eyes at. as we both started walking to the entryway of our school, we were pretty much walking next to each other, obviously, since we were going the same way. "thought the teacher told you to cover up?" he suddenly says, referring to my choice of clothing, his eyes looking straight ahead as hes avoiding any and all eye contact with me.

"you were the one who went complaining to our teacher about it, acting like what i was wearing wasn’t making your dick hard" he only chuckled at my words. once we reached the entryway, he opened the door and stood to the side. he grinned, "ladies first" he said. i gave him a fake smile and walked through the open door. right as he was about to walk in from behind me, i slammed the door shut in his face and locked it so he couldn`t get in no matter what. i watched him banging on the door and yelling at me to open it. "oppa! i think the back door is open" i said loud enough for him to hear, knowing its a good 5 minute walk to get there. i laughed at how furious he was before making my way to class.

i guess you could say me and sunghoon act childish with each other sometimes. we argue a lot over dumb, unnecessary and small shit for no reason. we could choose to ignore each other but since i have it out for him and he has it out for me, its hard not to say anything every time we come across each other. we`re not exactly like our dads. we dont pull a gun on each other every time we cross paths, but do not get me wrong. there are times when our silly little arguments have evolved and turned into something much bigger causing a physical fight ending in blood and injuries. but its always been between just the two of us, we`ve never involved our dads or anything because we seem to just handle it on our own.

"i hope everyone here studied for their exams, you had all week and i will be disappointed in you if you fail" our teacher was walking around and placing the exam papers on each one of our desks. suddenly, at the sound of the door being slammed open, everyone turned their heads just to see sunghoon standing by the door looking pissed. "mr. park! it is one thing to come late to my class to take your exam, but its another thing to slam my door open and interrupt me" watching our teacher yell at sunghoon really made my day, especially the embarassed look on his face which made me smile to myself.

"im sorry, miss. i had to come in through the back door since-" before he could rat me out, he got cut off by our teacher who decided to yell at him once again. "i don`t want to hear it mr. park. take your seat and be quiet" sunghoon glared at me silently before he made his way to his desk which just happened to be right next to mine. i was expecting him to start throwing childish insults at me, but to my surprise he looked down at the piece of paper in front of him in complete silence. odd, but i couldnt be bothered to start anything during our exams.

"you guys have 1 hour to finish your exams starting from now" the room went completely quiet once everyone turned their heads down and started writing down on the piece of paper. i was focused on my exam until i felt something press down on my foot. confused, i look underneath my desk to see that its someone whos pressing down on my foot with their own. of course when i look up to see who it is, its sunghoon. hes not looking at me as his eyes are stuck to the paper in front of him, instead he uses his pen to point at a tiny note right next to his paper. i can see that theres something written on it, but since i couldnt make it out i decided to lean over his table a bit. squinting my eyes, i read the words "shouldn`t have locked me out pretty thing" pretty thing? really? is he referring to me as a thing? what an ass..

"miss. ___ is looking at my papers" wait, what?! i look up at sunghoon whos smirking at me, ew.. before turning to our teacher who looks like shes actually about to kill me.

"miss, i wasn’t-"

"i dont want to hear it! detention now, miss y/l/n"

fucking unbelievable. if im gonna miss my exam and end up in detention, you sure as hell know sunghoon will too. i tried not to lose my shit, grabbing my backpack before "accidentally" tripping over sunghoons desk which kinda revealed a bit of my behind to everyone in class. "miss! sunghoon just tripped me on purpose.." i said, acting all shy and embarrassed about how my skirt flipped over. "shes fucking lying!" sunghoon stood up from his desk and i could tell he was gonna lash out on me.

"am not! you tripped me over that desk on purpose you fucking pervert-"

"watch your mouth you lying piece of shit!"

while me and sunghoon were lashing out on each other, we didn`t notice how our teacher was red in the face like she was about to explode out of anger. "that`s enough! you guys are grown enough to know not to be using that sort of language, nor to be arguing like little kids! you should know to act better. detention for the both of you right now!" she yelled in our faces while everyone else were sat staring at us awkwardly.

both me and sunghoon were now sat in detention. we also just happened to be the only ones here, along with a teacher tho.. sunghoon was sat on the other side of the classroom as he wished to not be near me at all, which i’m glad for. i was scrolling through my phone when the teacher suddenly got up from the chair he was sat on. “alright. i’ve got a wife and kids to get home to, so you two better behave on your own until school is finished” and then he left just like that, leaving me and sunghoon all alone. "cant believe i`m missing my exam because of you.." i spat, breaking the silence. "maybe if you hadn`t locked me out i wouldn`t have done what i did. besides, the stunt you pulled really just proves my point. you really are a slut-" and this is usually how our fights start.

gripping the book in my hands that was on my desk, i quickly threw it in sunghoons direction and his instincts kicked in instantly. he dodged the book which flew right past his head, hitting the wall with a harsh thud that left a noticeable mark. "nice try princess" he pushed his desk to the side and began walking towards me as he was visibly angry. i ducked as fast as i could when he swung his fist at me. i felt a rush of air across my face that his fist had missed. "a man hitting a woman? that`s not very man-like of you" i twisted my body as i attempted to throw a kick at his knee, but sunghoon was quick to jump back which resulted in my foot connecting with the wall instead. "fuck!"

"dont hurt yourself now" sunghoon smirked before his next punch successfully caught me across my cheek, causing a sharp pain which made me stumble backwards. suck it up.. i launched myself forward and managed to tackle him down. with sunghoon on the ground, i was now straddling him with my fists positioned in the air right above his face. we were both breathing heavily as sunghoon struggled to get away from underneath me. "are you getting weaker, park sunghoon?" i asked, lowering my fists before getting back up on my feet. "youre saying that as if you didnt take the most damage" he panted, sitting himself up against the wall. "yet i`m not the one whos out of breath" i grabbed my backpack and made my way out of the classroom as i couldn`t be bothered to deal with his bullshit anymore, and i could feel his eyes on me as i walked out.

"dad! im home" i walked into the kitchen with no sight of my dad. i jumped when i saw my dads personal driver sat at the kitchen table. "min? you scared me. wheres dad?" i sat down next to him, placing my backpack on the floor. "your dad is currently in a meeting, hell be back soon. how did your exam go?" i watched him eat his food as i had no idea what to say to that. "couldnt have gone better.." i lied. he hummed, "if youre wondering, then no, i didn`t tell your dad i saw you and mr. park having a conversation on your way inside" i furrowed my eyebrows at him. why did he think he had to keep something like that away from my dad? we weren`t exactly saying positive things to each other, unless he thinks..

"ew, no! its most definitely not like that. we do talk sometimes, but its just shit talking about each other to each others faces" i said, not missing the way he threw me a look that screamed "i don`t believe you". i rolled my eyes playfully,

"i do not like sunghoon whatsoever-"

"i`d hope so"

i heard a voice say. turning around, i saw my dad walking into the kitchen with a lot of papers in his hands. "min, these are for you" he handed him a few of the papers which min accepted and thanked him for before he got up from his chair. i watched my dad sit down on the chair min was just sat on, "what did i hear you talking about just now?" he questioned, placing the rest of the papers on the table in front of him as he started going through them one by one.

"my exam" i said, which wasn`t completeley a lie. he turned to look at me, raising his eyebrows before looking back at his papers. "i was meaning to talk to you about sunghoon" what? why sunghoon out of all people? "you were..?" i asked, feeling myself getting a little nervous. "you know, sunghoon is no different from his father. he`s just as bad as him" i hummed as i was trying not to show how desperate i was for him to get to the point. "i was originally planning on doing this myself, but i figured that it would be a better for you to do it, since you "do not like sunghoon whatsoever""

"well, ur right about that. what is it that you want me to do dad?" he paused before he took a deep breath. he turned to me slightly and placed his hand on my shoulder, "sweetheart". he finally said as curiosity started taking over me. he hesitated for a second and it kinda freaked me out. was this gonna be some sort of arranged marrige? did he know about our fight today? or maybe- "i want you to kill sunghoon" what?! kill sunghoon..? i’d lie if i say i didn`t hate him, but ive never gone as far as to actually wanting to murder him.. i never have, never will, never wanted to and never planned on taking someone’s life, even if it`s someone who i despise.

“i know i’m asking for a lot-“

“asking for a lot? dad, you’re asking me to take someone’s life..”

“sweetheart, i know. but unfortunately this isn’t a choice” i watched him in horror as no words were able to leave my mouth. “you will do what i’m asking you to do. you wouldn’t want to disappoint your father, right?” he stood up from his chair, looking down on me demanding that i give him an answer. “y-yes dad..” i managed to get out, not bothering to look at him. “very well then” his footsteps were heavy as he walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts. i can’t kill sunghoon.. but i have to? no. i don’t have to, i think? it’s what my dad wants me to do, does that mean i should? murder is wrong, but sunghoon is a bad person. does sunghoon deserve to die? shit..

“you want me to kill ___?” sunghoon’s dad had delivered the exact same news to his son. “that’s right. she’s no different from her father” sunghoon knew that what his father was asking him for was wrong. he couldn’t bring himself to kill ___, even tho he hated her he knew that it wasn’t the right thing to do.

“dad.. i don’t know if i can-“

“don’t start with me son. when i tell you to do something, you do it. don’t act like it’ll be hard, she’s a woman after all”

a woman who could easily beat my ass.. sunghoon thought to himself. “yes father” he said. “very well then” he watched his father walk out of the room, what was he gonna do now? should he kill her just because his father told him to do so? the guilt would be with him for the rest of his life if he did. but he wouldn’t want his dad to be disappointed in him, right?

“we’re here, miss y/l/n” min said, parked in front of my school. “thank you..” i made my way out of the car and prayed to god that i wouldn’t bump into sunghoon. a whole day had gone by and i still needed to process everything. i looked around as i made my way to the entryway with no sign of sunghoon, and i was relieved when i finally reached the door. but before i could open it myself, someone had opened it from the inside. looking up, my heart dropped at the sight of sunghoon stood in front of me. i swallowed nervously as we were both stood staring at each other in complete silence.

i tried to move past him, and so did he which caused our bodies to push up against each other. “sorry..” sorry? why the fuck did i apologize? “it’s alright..” he mumbled, moving to the side so i could walk past him. not wanting to make things even more awkward, i quickly walked past him and hurried my way over to class. wait, but.. why was sunghoon acting weird as well? maybe something happened and he was dealing with a personal matter.. don’t know, don’t care. he’ll be dead soon anyway.

i’m getting ready to start working out in what my dad calls "the den" its basically this underground gym/boxing place where my dad trains along with his men, but i usually show up after they’ve all left since i like being on my own. i had put on some black shorts and a white top that hung off my shoulder on one side. i reached for a hair tie and gathered all of my hair, putting it up in a high ponytail while some strands in the front were left loose. i then carefully started wrapping my hands in hand wraps and flexing my fingers afterwards. turning to the punching bag, i was getting ready to start my usual everyday practising, but that was until i heard footsteps coming from behind me. it was weird since i thought everyone had left, but when i turned around i was at a loss of words.

"how’d you get in here..?" my voice shook, watching sunghoons tall figure leaning against the door to the entryway. "wasn’t that hard. my men took out yours in the front pretty easily" he smirked at me, fidgeting with the gun in his hands. "you can’t bring a gun to a fist fight. thats why my men lost" one by one, i watched his men gather around him; all carrying guns. "this can go two ways" he said as he started walking towards me slowly "either it’ll just be the two of us and i’ll make it quick and painless, or ill have to bring my men on it and i guarantee that it’s gonna hurt" he was stood right in front of me while looking down on me with his head tilted slightly.

was sunghoon planning on killing me too? was he doing this because he somehow found out that i was planning on killing him first? there wasn’t enough time for me to think. right now i had to focus on just one thing, and that was to live. "did your men forget to take out the ones in the back too?" i watched the smirk on his lips disappear as my men started to gather around me as they had come in through the back. all though, they weren`t armed with guns like sunghoons men were which made me really nervous. sunghoon chuckled and began walking backwards until he was stood behind his men. i pulled the same move, which meant that our men were now gonna fight against each other to protect me and sunghoon.

"seems like you can’t face us without your guns" one of my men said who was stood in the very front. sunghoons men laughed, "let’s be fair about it then, shall we?" the sound of guns being thrown on the floor made me feel relieved. suddenly, the den exploded into chaos as our men went at each other with fists flying and bodies colliding. the men’s shouting and grunting filled the entire room while me and sunghoon were stood on each sides of the room watching them.

one of my men collapsed on the ground, but before he could get back up two men tripped over him which added to the pile of bodies that were already sprawled out across the floor. the den was a mess of sweaty, bloody, injured men that had mostly been beaten to death by each other. it went by faster than i expected, and worse than i expected. all that remained were either dead bodies or knocked out bodies with no one left standing except for me and sunghoon.

"what’s the matter princess? is this too much for you?" the sound of sunghoon’s voice brought me back to reality. i was distracted by the violent scene that was right in front of me. i took a deep breath, "nothing is too much for me" i said with my eyes looking straight at him from across the room. sunghoon looked at the gun in his hands before he threw it on the ground. "like my men said, lets be fair about it" he said, placing his hands in his pockets. "you can use the gun you know? i dont mind, since this will be your last fight after all.." the tension between us was heated. sunghoon only laughed at me, "give it all you’ve got baby" with each slow step, he was now walking towards me. "don’t call me that" i spat.

he paused dangerously close to me, our bodies almost making contact. "come on baby, don’t say that" he brought his hand up to my face, but i was quick to slap his hand away with mine. with no warning, sunghoon`s fist landed with a severse thud against my ribs and i felt the force knock my breath out of me. i whimpered when i was sent stumbling into a nearby table, gripping the edge of the table for balance. i wasted no time and launched myself back at him with a kick that grazed his shoulder. he let out a groan, quickly grabbing my leg and twisting it viciously.

i let out a cry as i fell to the floor. when sunghoon tried to get on top of me, i managed to wrench my leg free by kicking at his chest with my other foot. as he stumbled backwards, i got back up on my feet as fast as i could. we were both breathing heavily and our bodies were hot with sweat. "shit princess. you’re getting better at this" he panted, lifting his fists into the air. "thank you. it means a lot coming from you, oppa" i rushed forward, this time going low so i could tackle him. the second we both crashed onto the cold floor we started wrestled fiercly. our bodies were rolling on the floor as we tried to overpower each other.

suddenly, his hands found my neck. i felt his fingers squeezing as he pressed down. my eyes widened in panic and my hands quickly went flying to his wrists; clawing at them, desperate for air. i dug my nails into his skin until it started drawing blood. he hissed in pain and ended up loosening his grip just enough for me to shove him off. i started coughing and gasping for air before kicking him hard in his chest which caused him to also gasp for air when he felt himself not being able to breathe properly.

i charged at him once again, this time aiming my elbow at his face. he barley was able to block it with his forearm before i grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head backwards. "fuck!" he groaned, retaliating by grabbing my own hair and pulling it so hard that tears started forming in my eyes. "a-ah!" i let out a shriek. we were both struggling while using the grip on each others hair to cause each other pain. with a sudden move, sunghoon yanked my head to the side and slammed my head into the wall causing my grip on his hair to loosen. my chest was rising and falling, my body sprawled out on the floor with my hair being a tangled mess. my head was pounding horribly and i couldnt bare the pain i was feeling in my body.

sunghoon took the chance and got on top of me. he leaned down with his face so close to mine that the tip of our noses were touching. i felt his heavy breath against my lips before slightly flinching at the feeling of metal against my temple. his eyes looked into mine, a smirk forming on his lips. "this is the end for you baby" he mumbled before he cocked the gun. sunghoon raised his eyebrows when i sniffled. our eyes were locked in an intense gaze. he clenched his jaw slightly, the gun in his hand shaking when he tried pressing it further into my temple. i stood still, watching every move that he was making.

"kiss me goodbye?" i said, almost sounding like a whisper. he froze like he couldnt believe what had just come out of my mouth. his grip on the gun loosened, just for a second as if he was questioning whether to kill me or not. he stared at me with his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, unsure if i was joking or not. with the way i was looking into his eyes he could tell i was being serious when a tear rolled down my cheek. i leaned forward, my bloodied lips parting before they touched his. the kiss was soft as our lips moved together. i felt him deepening the kiss, parting his mouth as well. and with his lips still on mine, he pulled the trigger.

♡︎♡︎♡︎

i feel horrible i’m so sorry.. should i make it into a series orrr??

[taesanluv3r]

in my daydreams.

han taesan x reader

yn mentally escapes from her physics class, losing herself in the scenarios in her head (in other words, yn is delusional), follow along her train of thoughts as she crushes hard on her classmate. lowercase intended, cuss words. pls ignore any grammar or spelling errors! enjoyy

wc: 1,448

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"the law of the conservation of energy states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. that being said..."

i drowned him out after that - my physics teacher, i mean - i drowned it all out. it wasn't my fault though, it was all on him. it was his fault. no, no! not my physics professor...this is all han taesan's fault.

what did he do exactly? well...nothing. the truth is he never does anything! and that's exactly it. he does absolutely nothing and i still find myself constantly stealing glances at him. at his stupid face, his idiotic light brown eyes, his dumb smile, and his perfectly white pearly teeth...and his honey-like voice...his hair that turned a light brown against the sun...his...ugh!

god fucking dammit

as i sit here, in physics class - which, by the way, i absolutely despise physics class - i can't help but be distracted. just look at him! sitting there, right next to the window...i wouldn't be shocked if a bird distracted itself from it's flock and came flying right through it, if i were a bird i know i would. there was a singular pen in his hand, one of those expensive pens with his name engraved on it - probably a gift from his dad, he's always mentioning his dad. anyways, the pen spun against his fingers, his long and lanky fingers...sometimes i can't help but wonder what they'd feel like between my own; would they warm me up? or would it only feel that way because i'd be blinded by the affection? the pen smacked against his knuckles, they're red now from the friction. then the spinning stopped, and i watched as he began jotting words down in his lined notebook - guess there are notes i should be taking.

my chin rested on the palm of my hands and i look away from him for a moment. i sigh, who turned the air conditioner down? why is it always freezing in physics class? as i pondered, my eyes fell shut - lucky for me, i sat at the very back of the room, a spot the professor's poor eyesight can't reach. i felt my shoulder slouch as i relaxed into the uncomfortable chair, in a second i'm gone.

my mind's blank, but only just for a moment before i'm met with images of him again. seriously, i can't even rest for a moment without his face all up in my business? can't he leave my brain alone? please? i'm saying this like i hate it, but truly i don't - i can't. it's hard for me to hate something i really love more than anything. so, instead of trying to rid of his figure in my mind, my unconscious soul walks towards him.

mmm, i can almost taste him. a sweet smell that i can never put my finger on - i mean, it's woody, like a deep foggy forest...but it almost smells like freshly baked cookies from my grandma's kitchen. it's his scent though, that much i can tell you. he glows in my dreams, like edward cullen - minus the whole vampire thing, my fantasies aren't that weird, he just glowed like one. he looks right at me, this is something that truly only happens in my head. his eyes are so soft, yet there's a cat-like charm to them that makes my stomach turn.

"yn"

he calls out to me, his voice the most hypnotic noise. the figure of myself follows him, an arm linked with mine as he traces his other hand against my face. it wasn't real, but it sure felt like it, i could feel the strange sensation of butterflies in my stomach - it felt so real, i could just throw up. and then he leans in, he never kisses me though. he just pauses there, looking me in the eyes like we were in the middle of some sort of a highly prestigious staring contest. to be honest, if he weren't so insanely gorgeous, i'd think him a creep.

"yn!"

he calls out again, though it's a bit loud for the close proximity that we're in. and he sounded strange...he almost sounds like...my...

physics teacher?

fuck.

"huh? present! um-" i could feel the gazes of my classmates piercing through my skin. "yn, would you like to share with the class what you were daydreaming about?" oh, prof...you know damn fucking well i can't do that...

my teacher said something else, he's probably scolding me or saying something utterly ridiculous to embarrass me in front of my friends, i don't know though, it's not like i listened. i couldn't stop myself from wondering, what if i had just told it straight? what if i had answered my professor's stupid question with an even more dimwitted answer? 'what were you daydreaming about?' and i'd just get up from my seat and scream at the top of my lungs

"taesan"

huh...?

the name that escaped my teacher's tongue brings me back to reality, again. i'm paying full attention now. "taesan...you will be paired with...ah, look at that..." c'mon old man, quit stalling. i don't even know why we're making pairs right now, but i need to know what idiot he has to work with so i can turn them into the enemy in my fantasies and- "our very own daydreamer..." wait, did he say daydreamer? that can only mean one thing...i mean, unless someone else has been referred to as a daydreamer before.

"taesan, your pair is yn. i wish you luck"

ignoring the last bit of the sentence, which was an obvious kick at my lack of physics enthusiasm, i was almost overjoyed. fuck, this might be the actual only time i might like doing something related to this class.

i watched as taesan nodded, his lips were pursed together - i wonder if he was upset...i mean if i were as hot as him, i'd be well over pissed if i was paired with me - no offence. but as i was thinking that, he turned around in his seat to look at me - and i mean actually look at me! and as if this wasn't already a dream come true, he smiled at me! does he know how absolutely insane this drives me?! i mean, quick! somebody pinch me! pinch me and tell me it's fake!

i must've been lost in my head again because the next time i opened my eyes i almost died of shock. low and behold, han taesan right in front of me - like, inches away from me.

"don't know if you know, but we're pairs..." i can't believe it he's actually talking to me! my eyes must've gone wide, and my mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. he laughed at me. he laughed at me. you know that kind of stupid laugh a guy does when he just knows he's causing some sort of chemical reaction in my body right now - or as i like to call it, the absolutely shit-eating asshole laugh.

he's so lucky he's hot.

"lucky for you..." he said, turning the chair from the table in front of mine around to sit and face me. "i actually listened in class, so you don't have to - i know, i know, no need to thank me" asshat, but i can't help the feeling of a fluttering flower blooming in the very depths of my body - lower abdomen, to be specific. i still haven't spoken a word to him - i mean, i'd love to, but i just couldn't seem to.

"so the whole point of this project is to explain everything about motion" i know of other things that could be put into motion...what? ew! yn, get your head out of the gutter! i'm sorry, sir isaac newton definitely did not die for this.

"listen, you're cute and all, but can we save the rest of the daydreaming for later? i kind of need to pass this physics class" he's right, i should stop, this is inappropriate and not very cool of me- wait...did he call me cute?!?!?? ME? CUTE?

"you there?" i finally get myself together. "uh- oh! yeah, sorry about that...what're we doing again?" i just know i looked like an absolute fool. and i swear to whatever being that i was trying to stay professional and calm, but when he laughs and when he smiled at me with that stupid dumbass fucking idiot smile of his, i just can't seem to think straight.

i may not know much about physics, but i know one thing for sure. and it's that for as long as i, yn ln, have to work together with him, han taesan...

i'm completely and utterly so fucking cooked.

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

i never really write in this pov but i kinda love this 🫢 hope u guys did too!! yn is so me when i have a crush on someone - it's always like i almost hate them so much because of how much i like them lmao 😭 tysm for reading! love, kona.

perm taglist (lmk if u wanna be added)

@en-dream

[taylor-titmouse]

When a story has a kink you like, what writing flaws does it take for you to find the portrayal of it unerotic? Is there anything writers should keep in mind while maintaining eroticism, or is that so specific-reader-dependent that it's futile?

everyone's least favorite answer: "it depends". when you get into the specifics of eroticism, what makes one thing erotic or unerotic depends entirely on the context it exists in. let's use bdsm as an example, because most people grasp the basics of it.

you have a dom, a sub, and (if you're responsible) some pre-negotiated rules determining how they both should behave. simple enough.

a good author who wants to include bdsm in their work will take into consideration the way the characters involved are likely to communicate, but also the cultural context in which they exist. two men in regency england do not know what a safeword is, traffic lights aren't a thing, and they may not want to have a difficult conversation spelling out what they want, because they're men in england in a period before therapy. they will talk around it, or come up with something in the moment that suits the need. a real example from kj charles' a seditious affair, which i consider the best use of bdsm in a historical romance: the dom commands the sub to hold onto the bed rail while he fucks him, and if he lets go, he stops. or another example, these characters don't usually refer to each other by name. referring to the top by his name makes him stop. these are things that naturally make sense based on their relationship, and would make sense for two men in their circumstances and point in history. they do have some conversations about it, but only after they've opened up to each other enough that they'd have a real conversation about it at all, and now it's a vehicle to show the growth of their relationship.

a weaker writer who wants to include bdsm in their work might include the rules for safe bdsm without thinking about their context. another real example, which i won't name, is a romantasy between a big gruff laborer and the twinky wizard he works for. they've been antagonizing each other, and it all comes to a head in the stables, and the laborer is finally going to give it to the wizard... when he stops to establish a safeword for spanking him.

folks, i do not believe a curmudgeonly old laborer in a feudal fantasy world understands a safeword. i do not need him to understand safewords, and i don't need that conversation to happen at all. i am ready to see the wizard get spanked, the wizard is horny to get spanked. we are all on the same page. but the author has pulled the brakes for the sake of a conversation they think is necessary, but truly isn't. if your goal is to show that he cares underneath the spanking, show that during the aftercare, show it in how he's considerate of how hard he hits, or where he hits, or have him stop if the wizard says 'stop'. like a normal person would. you only need a safeword if 'stop' is not actually 'stop', and if this is your first time having sex with this person, and you care, you are going to stop if they say stop. and if the characters aren't even going to USE the safe word you make them establish, what are we accomplishing? if this element of the story never comes back, and only exists in this scene, why is it there?

i guess this is a long way around to saying eroticism is intrinsic to context and character, and if your eroticism feels like you layered it on top of the characters, rather than built it from their behavior, you're not doing it right.

[wakeup01]

A Matching Pair

Goddammit. Why does he always have to argue about it. Can’t he ever put himself in my shoes and try and be more understanding.” I mumble to myself as my boyfriend fades out of sight down the empty train car. I sigh and stare out the window of the train, listening to the world outside shudder past.

“This space free?” Comes an excited voice, I look up to see a fit young guy casually drop onto the seat opposite me. He looked no older than 22 and was outfitted for some kind of sports game, with a designer tracksuit sagging off his hips, a red jersey that pressed against his lean stomach and a glossy puffer jacket.

“Uhhh…not really.” I remark, side-eying his trendy permed hair, perfectly styled and faded. I had never really understood the appeal of…‘fuckboys’; rich but devoid of personality - aside from the prepackaged one they adopt. In this case even I had to admit that he was rather attractive, in a blunt, dumb ‘grammer is for losers’ sort of way. There was a casual air of confidence in the way he carried himself, narcissistic? Sure, but maybe a little ego didn’t hurt, especially in the bedroom.

Shame he obviously wouldn’t be a sub - he’d look nice around my cock, although I can picture my boyfriend tripping over himself to placate his every whim. The perks of this ‘open relationship’ we had seemed increasingly one sided. Ugh. I’m quickly reminded of our argument, and my indignation wins out over my misguided lust.

“Mate, you look proper mad.” He chuckles, kicking off his trainers. He stretches out his legs and rests them on the seat next to mine.

“Name’s Dominic and I’m not….mad.” My voice trails off.

“Uh oh. Who is she then blud?” He gestures at me with his hands, rattling the horde of bracelets that buried his wrists.

“He.”

“Pftt. I should ‘av guessed. It’s all the same to me. I’m Trev ‘btw’. You off to the gay convention?” There’s a wry smile that is hard to be angry at, in fact I feel strangely comfortable with him. He seemed like a good listener.

“Funny, but yes. Meeting our friend Nate there.” I cross my arms in a futile attempt to appear more dominant.

“Wait, they have those now?” My eyes squint at him. “Just fucking with you. I got a game the next town over. I’m a player.”

“Wow, you don’t say.”

“Maybe you’ve seen me play on the tele eh?” He puts on a face and flashes his shiny white teeth proudly.

“Sure…” He was in a professional team? Like I’d know.

“So spill, what’s the issue with yuh ‘boy’? His ‘bussy’ too small?” My mouth begins to move before I really get the chance to think about what I’m saying, or why I’m telling him at all.

“Ugh. He just never tries to see things from my perspective, he always expects me to play the ‘top’. About everything. And I don’t share his weird kinks.”

“TMI. Oh. You’re the top? And your name is Dom? ‘Lolz’. Is your boy called SUBastian?” He laughs mischievously. His brazen use of text speech was strangely endearing, something I thought impossible.

“Dominic. And no, his name’s Addy.” I correct, flatly.

“Uh huh. Yeah, and have you tried the same? See things from Addy’s point of view. Find equal ground right. Maybe I can help. It’s like when there’s a disagreement in our footy team.”

“I don’t think it’s quite the same thing…”

“Should give it a try Dom, see how it feels to be the sub. It can be fun to let someone else take charge. Easy too when you don’t overthink it. Go on, just lay back and relax.” Yes, I’m sure this will solve all our problems. I humour him anyway, resting my back against the seat’s cushion. Ten seconds pass in silence, just the hum of the train carriage throbbing rhythmically.

“This is stupid-“

“Shush.” Trev stares at me intently, trapping my eyes into his own. I don’t think to look away, why would I. He continues talking, I hear the words floating past me but don’t register what they are. It feels like minutes until his fingers snap in front of his face, and the spell is broken. He just smiles and waits expectantly for me to reply. His legs move from the seat next to me and I follow their movement.

“I—I guess.” I stutter, unsure of what I’m replying to, feeling slightly dizzy, like waking from a dream. For some reason my eyes seem drawn to his feet, now resting on the edge of my own seat, fidgeting between my thighs. I didn’t notice that they were sockless before… or that they were so big.

“Deeper.” He snaps his fingers again. My eyes are feeling so heavy, it’s becoming harder to keep them open. “Picture your boy sitting in your place. See it in your head.” I think about him, see his dreamy smile, like the one growing on my face. “So easy.” Trev repeats, my head nodding absently to his words. He adjusts and pushes his feet against my groin. Hmmf. I should tell him to stop. To stop…

“Uhh.” The dull sound leaves my lips instead of the words I wanted, the rubbing sensation fraying the edges of my thoughts.

Trev’s fingers fiddle at his pockets. He pulls out a vape stick and blows a huge bubblegum flavoured cloud of smoke into my face. The fumes flow through my open mouth and circle my head. His hands appear to be moving in slow motion, like everything was suddenly at half speed.

“Being in charge is exhausting huh. Much better to just relax and follow along, like your boyfriend would.” Yeah, he would probably do whatever this guy asked him to.

“I bet he’d rub my feet If I told him to.”

“Yeah.” I agree, wrapping my hands around Trev’s chunky feet - he definitely would. I run my fingers up and down his sole, picturing my boyfriend in this situation.

“Eyes up here fam.”

*snap*

I look back up at him, falling into his stare once more, entranced. My hands continue to massage him, passing over the curves and arches of his large feet. The shame of doing this in a public place completely lost on me. “Good foot boy.” I fail to hold back a moan at the validation. Is this what it feels like? It feels…nice, good.

I sense my body start to slowly lean forward of its own volition. Trev loudly exhales, his lips pursing. Another dose of bubblegum mist fogs my view. “What else would your boy do?”

“Don’t know…”

“Bet he’d love to sniff my lush feet hm?”

Probably, I think. He was way more kinky than me about such things. This guy’s feet were quite ripe after all, maybe if I got a bit closer…no—no what am I doing? I begin to pull back when his intense eyes narrow at me.

“It’s okay. I can see you want to take a whiff too. Boy.” His inflection changed on the last word. There was something about the way he said it. Powerful.

“My—my boyfriend will be-“ My voice cracks.

“Put your fucking nose here. And sniff my cheesy feet.” He orders, accentuating each word, dropping all pretence - his finger snapping and pointing down.

It’s like a switch being pressed in my head. The words cut like a knife right through any lingering hesitation. My face lowers and inhales deeply, sucking up his harsh scent.

“Yeah.” I mumble from behind his feet in a daze.

“Yeah what?”

*snap snap*

“Yes sir.” I don’t know why I said it, it just slipped from my lips and then it was too late to take it back. Too late to stop, as my face leans down to his foot like a magnet. Too late to pretend I didn’t want a sniff, my nostrils breathing the thick musky air.

“A good start boy.” I tentatively take a couple more whiffs, a part of me still attempting to hold back, feeling self aware. He rolls his eyes and shoves his feet forcefully into my face, my nose pushed snugly between his big toe. His stench shrouds my head like a cloud. The concept of ‘disgusting’ faded to nothingness.

“Salt and vinegar flavour, your fav.” Trev asserts. It became true the moment the words left his lips. Salty and eye watering. My favourite. My cock liked it too apparently.

“You look so much better under me, worshiping me - where you belong. Keep going.” And I did. Breathing deeply, in and out. In and out. The heat from his foot radiates outwards, travelling down my body, seeping into my skin. “Wouldn’t your boy agree to be at my feet at all times If that’s what I wanted?” He—I would. I want nothing else.

“Of course sir.” I say, unaware that the words would seal my fate.

Something is changing. A shift in weight. My whole body starts to feel lighter, filling with air. My skin itches, a rash forming across it’s surface - bleaching every inch an even, clean white. The rash crawls down my chest, flattening my modest set of abs, leaving everything it touches incredibly soft, absorbent and flexible. Tiny strands of fuzzy cotton fabric poke out from each pore; the changes showed no sign of stopping.

Everything is happening all at once, alarms try and go off in my brain but it’s preoccupied swimming in a musky drunken stupor. My feet seem to leave the floor as my form inexplicably shrinks, the length of my arms folding inwards as my body simplifies.

“Look at you bruv. You were easy as fuck.” I gaze up at him, his smug face towering over me, looking so far away. A puff of vape smoke floats down towards me, particles dissolving on my cushioned skin. The sweet aroma mixes with the smell of his sour feet. “Just one look into my eyes and you were done. Get socked bro.”

Trev started to appear bigger and bigger, his feet dwarfing my new size, now taking up my whole view. It was like my essence was being pulled around his foot. My mouth opens and his toes slip effortlessly inside, stretching me out and making themselves at home. The rest of his foot follows, his ankle resting at my opening. It sets off my gag reflex momentarily, before feeling perfectly natural, like I was tailor made for his foot.

“Sorry bud, they’re a size 13.”

The taste of his potent sole explodes into me. I’m violently shaken out of my trance-like haze, the world around me speeds up. I try and desperately pull away, lucidity returning like a slap to the face. Why am I on the floor? Why is his foot in my mouth?! Oh shit oh shit!

“Get socked!” Trev yells enthusiastically. “Get fucking socked!”

Control is slipping away. My skin pulls taut around his foot, the fabric digging between his toes. It feels as though every part of me is pressed against him, his warmth surrounding me. My new shape settles into place, defined by his smooth curves.

I can’t move my ‘body’ at all, but all my senses still persist…somehow. My blurry vision clears, a sudden shift in view makes me disoriented. It’s as if I have a pov of the room from the bottom of Trev’s foot, he lowers it to the floor and my worldview erratically drops to carpet level before going dark. The material of the carpet brushes against me, the strange sensation is embarrassingly pleasing; bringing attention to the absence of my cock. Relief now seemed impossible.

“Socked. Man, I love that initial freshness. Tbh, it makes the inevitable even more fun.”

He pushes the weight of his foot into me, his sweaty soles sticking to my tight fabric body. It feels humiliating to be literally stuck on the ground. His stench clings to me, soaking me in his foot musk. The imprint of his toes yellowing my surface. It’s like having his foot down my throat, perpetually swallowing his mind numbing sweat.

“Mmm that’s good, you hang so tightly. A perfect fit. Hope you like sucking on my rank fucking toes. Cuz now you’re just my stinky ripe sock. Fucking idiot. Can’t wait to get you worn in.”

That’s not possible, I can’t be a sock…it defies logic. This is a nightmare I’m about to wake up from, any second now…any second…

He pulls at me and stretches my ribbed opening up and over his tracksuit, stuffing the silky material into me.

“So much more… pliable.” Trev wiggles his toes and my body conforms to it’s every movement, lodging in between each one. I try and desperately struggle, do something. I manage to achieve a light wriggle that only helps pull myself tighter against his skin.

Trev lifts his foot and points it towards the window, the dark night air rushing past outside. A clear reflection echoes back. I stare at it in disbelief, wanting to blink the reality from my eyes. A caricature of my shocked face is crudely printed on the underside of the sock - trapped frozen in time, with the word ‘SNIFF’ sewn into the fabric. The material was already beginning to discolour. Logic or not, That’s all I am now - a cheap white sock. His sock. An object.

“Basic as fuck boy makes basic as fuck sock. Lit.” He points out, smirking in the reflection while he checks out his new kit. Trev puts his feet back up on the seat, letting me watch the empty space where I had been sitting - back when I was more than just his property.

“Enjoy the view, while you can cheesy. You’re going to spend most of your time staring at the floor, or the inside of my fumigated sneaker.” What joy. I hadn’t even thought about that, about what comes next. Surely he didn’t plan to keep me like this? “Hmm. I think the name Dominic is a bit too fancy for you now, how about…sock. Simple, to the point.” Trev steps me back against the ground, his heel slightly raised. “Suits you, don’t you think sock?”

Light footsteps thud from down the carriage, getting closer and closer. “Hey babe. I wanted to apologise, Nate thinks—who are you? Umm where’s my boyfriend?” Addy had returned, this was my chance.

I wanted to shout and cry out to him, to get his attention anyway possible. I conjured a barely audible rustle and then nothing. All it did was reinforce how small and subservient I now felt, forced to listen to my owner in silence.

“Oh he’s not gone far, cutie. Sit.”

I hear my boyfriend stammer from above. All it took was one compliment and he turned to putty. In most cases it was endearing, but right now I needed him to be anything but agreeable.

I feel the weight on me shift. I glide through the air again, Addy’s expression coming into view across from me, from us.

“He’s…” Addy looks me over curiously.

“Yep. He got socked.”

“Gosh. That’s…hot.” His cheeks blush.

WHAAT! You’ve got to be kidding me! Damn, why did he have to be so kinky when I need him to rescue me. I can recognise his horny face a mile away.

“Now it’s your turn. Look at my eyes.” Trev’s voice taking on a more serious tone. Addy’s eyes dart up, quickly becoming ensnared by Trev’s hypnotic gaze. No, please snap out of it. “Good, keep looking. Relax. Let me give you the deets. In a few minutes you’re gonna have the privilege of having my foot up your arse, sucking up my sweat as a thin piece of fabric like your bf. You’ll be my sock puppet, controlled completely by my foot. You can already feel my toes pushing at your mind. You want it. Say it.” Trev waves me back and forth, hypnotically.

“But…mmm,”

“Say it.”

*snap*

“I — I want to be your smelly sock puppet. Pleaseee Master.” He moans in a trance.

“Course you do.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Addy’s shorts were noticeably tenting, a wet spot forming at the tip. He was getting off on the idea! “Sock puppet. Look at your boy, read the word sewn into him. You know what to do.”

Addy’s head leans towards me, eclipsing my vision. His huge nose presses up against me, his eyes dilating. I can feel his wavering breath brush at my cotton skin. He did exactly what the sock - me, said to and sniffed. The hesitant whiffs quickly devolve into enthusiastic huffing.

“Babeee. Hmmf. You smell so niceee. Mmmm.”

“That’s an obedient sock sniffing sock puppet.” Trev assured him. ”Now onto the other one.” Addy moves away from my view, I can only see him shuffling at the edge of my narrow locked vision. “Ready to join him?”

“Yes masterrrr.” Addy’s voice slurs monotonously. “Enter me and take control. We’re both yours.” Like hell we are!

“I want you to lick this foot clean like a dirty dog before it becomes your new home.” I hear him start to slobber all over Trev. “Good puppet. Get socked.”

The sound of my boyfriend licking and moaning in heat continued for what felt like an eternity. There was nothing I could do but be suspended in the air like my owner deemed appropriate.

“It’s time to become a puppet. Turn around and spread that cute bubble butt. There we go, feel my foot enter your rear, filling you up, fucking your tiny brain. Ufff. Tight. Fuck. Let’s stretch you out, nice and wide. Ahh that’s better. Your hole clamping around my ankle. Yeah. Becoming soft and flexible. A sock puppet. A sweat guzzling, empty-headed, dirty filthy sock puppet.” I can just about see Addy’s head, craning back in pleasure as he’s foot fucked.

“Butt feels…Hnng my—my body…” Addy pants desperately.

“Now belongs to my fat fucking foot. SOCK. PUPPET.

“Pu—puppet.” Addy’s bobbing head pulls out of sight, compressing around the invader inside him.

“Sock puppet. Surrendered all free will. Sock puppet. Commanded by feet. What are you?”

“I’m a sock… a sock puppet. Mmmmf…I’m a soooommfff.”

His voice goes silent. I can only assume he’s turning into a perfect match for Trev’s other foot. The thought horrifies me, but also gets me a little excited. I glimpse a pristine white shape shudder next to me. Trev sits up and places both feet flat on the ground, in order to admire his new additions to the collection.

“Hell yeah. You two make the cutest pair. Glad I could help bring you ‘together’. And no more worries about disagreements ‘lmao’. Go on, kiss and make up.”

Trev bends his legs and points me at Addy’s new form, his lustful face captured on the socks sole; the word ‘LICK’ was immortalised above. I was for sniffing and he for licking, it made a bizarre kind of sense to my addled brain. He brings his feet together and rubs us both against each other, our ‘faces’ pressed closely. My mind blurs, the friction bringing searing white hot bliss. God it’s amazing. He was so soft! Please more. More! Babe. Don’t stop. Get socked!

Trev eventually pulls us apart, I watch the folds of Addy’s loose fabric pull taut, finalising his transformation. He made a cute sock, just like me. We were now on equal footing. Wait, what am I thinking? This is insane, I don’t want this! Was I stuck like this? Would it be really so bad? No, stop.

I realised that the smell was permeating my thoughts, twisting them. Knowing that didn’t change how good it felt, how good his touch felt, his musk.

“Don’t worry, when I go to replace you I’ll be sure to sell you on as a pair to one of my foot sluts. Let’s be honest, as socks go, you’re kinda ‘mid’ at best.” The comment did nothing to reassure me about turning back to human. “Man you gay nerds are so dumb, none of you can resist my scent. It’s like you want to be part of my fit. Even my sneaks gave more of a struggle than you two lovebirds. All I need now is some new undies to stretch over my ass and hug my fat dong and balls. Know anyone?” Trev pauses and then laughs to himself.

As each minute passed my mind became more subdued, it was relaxing, becoming content. The part that was angry, defiant, was shrinking. A bubbling happiness was slowly expanding within me. I did my best to push it back but with my senses overwhelmed, it was a seemingly losing battle. Addy was probably already loving every second of it.

“Let’s have some fun. Which one of you will make a good cum sock? Who am I kidding, you’ll both be great. But for now…”

He peels me free from his foot, holding me limply in the air. For a moment I feel incredibly empty, already missing his warmth. The disappointment is short lived; I’m quickly filled out as he pulls me over a stiff pole. His cock. His glorious thick shaft. I’m forced to swallow it whole, it’s tip poking at my edges.

With his hand around me he wanks me furiously, using me as sleeve. ‘Don’t enjoy it’, I shout internally. This sucks. This sucks! It’s hard to ignore the pleasure it brings the both of us. Oh god I’m being stretched out by him completely. It sucks. Sucks… this…mmm. Faster. Go faster! Fill me! Cum inside me, mark me as yours!

My sexy owners pumping reaches a crescendo, now with both hands thrusting me up and down. One final tug. A grunt. A twitch. Thick copious splooge unloads right into me, flooding my interior. His fuckboy seed is absorbed into me, my cotton body sucking up every drop. A dark patch spreads across me and crusts over as it dries. The bitter taste lingers, like the cum was sat on my tongue.

“Fuck me, that was sweet. But enough fun.” Trev pulls me off his dick and janks me back over his foot, his toes push against my cum stained dark spot, still damp.

Trev’s phone starts to ring with some loud trap song. “Trev. Yeah. Yeah mate. Course, you fucka. Be arriving soon. Mint, I got me some new gear too. Ace. Uh huh…K, chat tomorrow.”

What would have normally been inane babble to me made a concerning amount of sense, like his identity was somehow rubbing off on me.

He stands up, dragging something over to him with his other foot. I’m lifted high into the air, tauntingly hovering over his beat up shoe. I can’t help but look down at my future smelly prison. I don’t think my mind can take any more…

It didn’t help knowing that the sneaker was once a guy, now heavily used. It was like seeing a glimpse of my own fate. Mmmm.

“Let’s get you acquainted.”

I see the trainer hurtle towards me as I’m lowered to the floor. My edges slide effortlessly into the pungent confines of his sneaker, the thick stale air engulfing me. I’m pressed against the stained sole and squelch against it’s moist surface; the outline of his foot clearly indented into the material. My vision goes pitch black.

The stench is blasted at me from all sides. Fuck me. I don’t stand a chance against it, my mind is drowned beneath its waves. Sinking below as new, more simple desires emerge.

There’s a muffled sound of an announcement playing overhead. “Guess this is where we get off lads. I should probably warn you, me mates and I have a footie match tomorrow. And I don’t plan on removing you, after that I expect you won’t even want to be turned back. Not that I ever planned to. I’m sure you stinkheads don’t object? Sorted.”

I didn’t object, in fact, I— I think I was looking forward to it. My printed face would probably be completely yellow by the end of it, as it should. Mmm.

The weight of his foot lifts as I feel myself rise from the floor and then just as quickly I’m pushed back down to the ground. My boyfriend being subject to the same in tandem. A second later and it happens again and then again, each step the strength of his body squishes me against the shoes insole, which sticks to my surface. And each time, my brain is submerged in a pleasant sweaty haze, scattering whatever dim thoughts I had left. The weight flattening my mind to sodden mush. Rewarding me for fulfilling my role as his smelly, mindless sock, us both huffing at our owners beautiful addictive feet. Together.

“Maybe we should stop off at that gay convention first, see how many noses we can get pressed against you two while you get sucked dry. Plus, we could find that friend of yours to get wrapped around my big sweaty butt.”

Yeahhh…I bet Nate would make a perfect pair of fucking briefs.

[petitemistletoe]

Can you do a sub!Regulus x dom!reader

Rings

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Warnings: smut, dom/sub dynamic

Word Count: 570

A/N: a little smutty blurb about one of our favorite Black brothers :)

“Look at me Reg,” you said softly, tracing Regulus’ jaw line with your finger. Regulus forced his eyes open to look up at you. He tried to grab at your hips to slow your pace on his cock but he was reminded with a painful jerk that he was handcuffed to the headboard. 

“God it hurts so bad,” Regulus moaned, biting his bicep lightly. 

“Do you want me to stop, baby?” You asked, stilling your movements. 

“No, no,” Regulus felt like he was choking, “please don’t stop.” 

“Let’s just assess things.” You climbed off him and took in the state of his cock. It was straining, painfully hard, near purplish as it contrasted against the delicate porcelain colored cock ring. “Oh Reg,” you said, your fingers ghosting over the tip of Regulus’ cock. He moaned loudly and bucked his hips. He tugged his bottom lip into his mouth to suppress a whine and looked at you with teary eyes. 

“I’m so sensitive,” Regulus’ legs were shaking. 

“I know baby. Do you understand why you have the cock ring on?”

“Because I was bad!” Regulus moaned loudly again as your hand came in contact with his cock. 

“Yes you were,” you were stroking his cock languidly, “what did you do?”

“I fingered you under the desk during potions.” Regulus gasped, letting his head lean back and thud gently against the headboard. 

“That’s right. In front of my best friend and your brother, Sirius.” You ran a finger over his slit and he moaned so loud you were beginning to question the efficacy the silencing spell that you had cast over your four poster bed. 

“I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be better.” Regulus begged. 

“Let’s see about that.” You climbed back on top of Regulus and sunk down on him. Regulus’ wrists were going to be bruised with the way he was yanking against the handcuffs. You leaned down and captured his lips in a heated kiss, teeth clashing against each other as he shoved his tongue past your lips, hungrily, needily exploring the caverns of your mouth. Regulus was able to fuck up into you now, faster and more intense. You began moaning as freely as he had been, the position of your pelvis delivering delicious friction to your clit. You had your head in the crook of Regulus’ neck and you bit down on the soft supple skin of his neck as you came, your orgasm washing over your with hot and icy intensity. Regulus wasn’t stopping though and he was babbling almost incoherently in your ear and you couldn’t process it until you heard him yapping, 

“Take it off! Take it off!”

“Oh yes of course!” You immediately reached behind you and unsnapped the cock ring. Regulus came hard and fast, moaning your name like he was praying. You reached up and whispered a tired, 

“Alohomora.” The cuffs immediately unclasped around Regulus wrists and he lay tiredly in the bed, his arms wrapped around you. 

“I should disobey more often,” Regulus chuckled. 

“I do love to punish you.” You smiled back, “But, really, we can’t risk Sirius finding out about us.”

“Yeah, yeah, he would lose his mind.” Regulus shook his head. 

“Hey! Why the hell does it say on the map that Regulus is in your room?” The voice of Sirius through the door to the girls dorm sent an icy shockwave down yours and Reg’s spines. 

[sluttywonwoo]

collision [part two] || h.js

pairing: virgin!fratboy!han jisung x best friend!reader

summary: jisung's fraternity brothers decide to pool their money and surprise him with a stripper for his birthday! nice gesture and all, but that stripper just so happens to be his best friend...

warnings: swearing, feelings, smut (18+ mdni)

additional warnings: m first time, grinding, boob sucking, f masturbation, protected sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3.7k

-> read part one here

Jisung doesn’t know what this means. He doesn’t know if it means anything. You’re horny, he’s horny. Maybe you’re under the impression that you’re using each other as a means to an end. He’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to ruin the moment. What’s happening now is good and he should enjoy it while it’s happening, especially if it’s the only time this is happening. Jisung tries not to think about that (very likely) possibility, though, and focus instead on the feeling of your lips on his neck. 

You’re working his denim jacket off of his shoulders as you kiss your way down the column of his throat. You’re already topless, obviously. Jisung has been trying not to think too much about how he could feel your nipples through his shirt ever since you first sat on his lap and pressed your chest against his.

You’re careful not to drop the jacket on the floor, which Jisung appreciates. You’ve heard him complain about how hard they are to wash and you of all people know how disgusting frat houses can be. You, of course, had just done part of your routine on the floor but Jisung supposes that’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make in your line of work. You’ll shower later anyway. Maybe you’ll ask him to shower with you-

“Can you sit up a little?”

Your voice startles Jisung out of his train of thought. He lifts his head to look at you, blinks twice, and does as instructed, leaning forward so that you can tug his T-shirt over his head. 

“Is this still okay?” you ask. 

“Yeah, yeah this is great,” he breathes out. 

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He expects to feel self-conscious about being shirtless in front of you in this context but he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because he’s been shirtless in front of you in other contexts or maybe it’s because you’re looking at him like you want to devour him. He’s willing to bet that it’s the latter. 

His shirt joins his jacket on an adjacent chair. You run a hand down his torso, then each of his arms, admiring his body with your lips slightly parted like you’re surprised by what you see. All of the lifting he’s been doing with Chris and Changbin must be paying off. 

He shivers under your touch, which seems to break the little spell you’d been under, making you smirk. 

“You can touch me, you know.”

Jisung realizes his hands have been stuck attached to your hips since you first put them there several minutes ago, while yours have been in his hair, cupping his face, feeling him up. Ugh, why was he so bad at this? He nods, sliding one of his hands up your back. His fingers trace your spine, palm resting on one of your shoulders. He isn’t really sure what he should do next. What usually happens next? He’s watched porn, a bunch of porn, what did the actors do after making out? 

Rationally, Jisung knows porn isn’t an accurate reflection of reality. But he doesn’t have much else to go off of. 

You stop kissing his neck and sit up to catch your breath and Jisung realizes the answer is staring him in the face, literally. 

“Can I, uh, can I use my mouth?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes,” you sigh. “You can do whatever you want.”

Jisung gulps and nods absently, eyes transfixed on your chest. He feels kind of silly as he sticks his tongue out and laves it over one of your nipples like he’s trying a new flavor of ice cream but you seem to like it. You gasp and jolt a little which encourages Jisung to keep going. He tests out a couple of different methods to see what you like the best, eventually settling on a pattern of sucking and flicking that has you whimpering his name in his ear. 

He doesn’t want to forget about your other boob so after a minute or so he switches, replicating the motions with his thumb on the first one. He isn’t sure how much time passes. It could be minutes, it could be hours. All he knows is that he could do this forever. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed because he’s the happiest he’s ever been with your tits in his mouth. 

“Ji,” you whisper, getting his attention by tugging on his hair. 

He reluctantly pulls away with a pout. “What?”

“Kiss me again.”

Oh. Well, he could do that too. He melts into you all over again when you press your lips to his. It’s sloppier this time, both of you drunk off the other. When he pulls away, he notices the way your lips shimmer with something sparkly. It’s glitter, he realizes. Body glitter. You always wear it for your shifts. He’d sucked it off of your boobs and now his lips and chin must be covered with it too. Like a reverse vampire. 

“‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella,’” you quote, running your thumb across his lips to collect some of the glitter. It was like you had read his mind. Maybe you really were Edward Cullen. “I hope this is safe to consume,” you add. 

Jisung shrugs. “Something’s gotta kill me someday.”

Instead of telling him off like you usually would, you stick your thumb in your mouth and suck, also swallowing some of the glitter. It was like you were saying if he was going to die, you were going to die with him. He thinks the gesture is very poetic of you, albeit stupid. 

But he figures body glitter has to be relatively harmless so he doesn’t feel too concerned about it. 

You lift yourself off of his lap so that he’s able to unbutton and wriggle out of his jeans. He puts them with his other clothes, leaning over to be able to reach the chair you’d chosen. He’s not sure whether or not you want him to take off his underwear yet so he keeps them on, looking back to you for further instruction. 

“You can take them off,” you say. “I’ll take mine off too but before I do, do you want me to suck your dick?”  you ask, kneeling in front of him. 

“No, no no,” he replies hurriedly, pulling you back to your feet. “I already know I’m not going to last very long. I don’t want to put myself at an even greater disadvantage.”

You snort. “Suit yourself.”

“But can I-” he pauses. 

“What?”

“Can I eat you out, though?”

“You want to eat me out on your birthday?” 

“Well, yeah,” he pushes his bottom lip out into a pout, making you chuckle and kiss him again, sucking on his lip to get him to moan into your mouth. 

“This is supposed to be about you, though,” you point out.

Jisung doesn’t know how to admit that wanting to eat you out is about him. He doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s something he’s fantasized about for years now, that it would be the (second) best birthday present you could ever give him. He can’t say any of that without confessing to his big fat crush on you so he lets it go. 

“Okay,” he concedes. 

“Next time, though?” you suggest as you bend over to take your thong off, making his eyes nearly pop out of his head at both the sight and the words coming out of your mouth.

Next time? There was going to be a next time? Jisung doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making but you must think he’s still sulking because you start to make a deal with him. 

“I’ll tell you what, if you want it that bad, you can eat me out once the clock strikes midnight when it’s not your birthday anymore. We can leave your little party early if that’ll make you happy. But for now, you can have a taste, if you want.”

 Jisung watches you spread your legs and slip two fingers inside of yourself. You sigh in relief and curl them upward, getting yourself even wetter for him. He already has his mouth open, (in shock) waiting, when you sit back on his lap. This time, he can feel your arousal on his bare thigh and it makes his cock twitch against the waistband of his boxers. 

You push your dripping fingers into his mouth, nodding approvingly as he sucks them clean. He moans around them, taking them deeper until your knuckles are brushing his lips. He wishes he could somehow deepthroat them but your fingers are only so long. You retract them far too soon for Jisung’s liking but he knows you need to move on if he’s going to get fucked and make it to his party before it ends. 

“Wow, Ji. You’re a little slutty, aren’t you?”  

“I didn’t know I would be,” he laughs breathlessly. “You bring it out of me.”

You put a hand over your heart. “I’m flattered. Now take your underwear off.”

Right. He had forgotten about that part. He had been distracted. You hover over his thighs as he slips out of his boxer briefs and tosses them to the side. He doesn’t care where they land. Underwear is easy to wash and who knows how many times Jisung has stumbled acros someone else’s boxers in this godforsaken fraternity house. 

“Didn’t know you were so desperate to get in my pants,” he jokes.  

You tilt your head to the side with a small smile he doesn’t know how to read. “Can’t you feel how wet I am?”

To punctuate your point, you grab his dick and lower yourself enough to run the head through your slick folds. It’s a rhetorical question so he knows you aren’t expecting an answer but he gives you one anyway, sputtering out a “y-yes, holy shit!” in response. 

Your hand is so warm and still a little wet from Jisung’s saliva and it feels perfect around his cock. He’s so fucked. You can’t help stroking his dick up and down a few times just to tease him, smirking as he tenses underneath you and grits his teeth in an attempt to stay in control of himself. 

Thankfully, you relent. “I’m going to get a condom now, okay? I’ve always got some in my bag.” 

Jisung doesn’t realize he’d had his eyes closed until he feels your weight disappear from his lap. He wonders when he shut them. 

You’re already on the other side of the room, bent over the bag you had gotten the speaker out of. The fact that you carry condoms in your work bag is interesting to Jisung. A lot of your rules implied that the people you... service don’t interact with you much at all. But they say there are exceptions to every rule... 

There had to have been times when you were just as attracted to the client as they were to you, right? But have you ever acted on that? He shouldn’t ask. It’s none of his business. He is curious, though. 

You return with a foil packet in one of your hands and offer it to him. 

“Would you like to do the honors?”

Jisung takes the condom and rips the packaging open with his teeth. You look impressed, which is a relief because he’s not sure if he’ll put it on correctly and he needs that buffer of you being turned on by something he’s done if he’s about to embarrass himself. He’s practiced putting condoms on before but never with an audience. His hands are shaking as he guides it down the shaft and he can feel you watching intently. It dawns on him that not only are you watching him struggle with something so simple, you’re also looking at his dick. Do you like what you see? Is he smaller than you were expecting? Uglier? He knows dicks aren’t exactly pretty but he didn’t think his was anything remarkable on either side of the spectrum. 

The longer he spends trying to roll it on, the more he feels panic building in his stomach so he decides he needs to say something to ease the tension, to shift your attention away from this pathetic little display. 

“Have you ever fucked one of your clients?”

God damn it. 

You shake your head adamantly. “Never.”

“So I get to be the first one?” he asks happily.

“You’re not my client,” you remind him. “So that rule is still intact.” He pouts. “Unless you want me to call, what’s his name... Chris? In here.”

Jisung narrows his eyes at you as you climb back onto his lap. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Yes, Ji. It’s a joke.”

“You think you’re funny?”

“I know I am,” you scoff, then take him by the shoulders. “Still sure about this?” 

“Yes, yeah, I’m sure,” he assures you, nodding. You take his cock in your hand again and position yourself above it. “Just-”

You freeze, eyes wide. “Just what?”

“Can you kiss me? As you put it in?”

Jisung doesn’t hear how romantic the request sounds until he says it out loud but he had only asked because he’s afraid he’ll make an embarrassing noise or worse, confess his love to you, if his mouth isn’t occupied when you do sink down onto him.

Thankfully, you don’t question it and do as he asked as you, kissing him deeply as you slip the head inside of you. Jisung lifts his hips slightly to push himself into you a bit more. You gasp against his lips.

“Sorry, are you okay?” he asks through grit teeth. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just give me a second to adjust.”

“Shit, sorry. I should have fingered you first or something,” he mutters. 

He feels so stupid. How could he forget something so important? Of course, grinding and your own fingers wouldn’t be enough to prepare you for the real thing. He hadn’t even stretched you out at all. 

“No, I wasn’t thinking,” you laugh. “I just wanted your dick so bad and I’m so wet I thought I’d be fine... but you’re huge.”

“Wha- am I?” 

“Yeah, dude, are you kidding me?” you laugh, still sounding strained. “I knew you had to be big but- stop smirking!”

“I can’t help it!” he cries defensively, covering his mouth with his hand so you can’t see it anymore. “Come on, you’d react the same way.”

You roll your eyes. “I guess.”

“Don’t even lie- god, fuck!” 

You had taken that exact moment to sink down further on his length, probably to get back at him. It worked, obviously. 

“What were you saying?” you taunt, raising yourself momentarily before dropping all the way down this time. 

“I don’t remember,” Jisung groans. 

“That’s what I thought.”

It takes everything in Jisung not to blow the instant he feels your hips flush with his the first time. He’s heard guys complain about condoms before, whining about how they can barely feel anything through the latex, but they must have the smallest dicks in the world because he can feel everything. 

Obviously, he knows fucking raw must feel better to some extent, but this is pretty damn good. 

You must think so too because you can’t keep your eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. You can’t stop kissing him either, pressing your lips against his mouth, then his jaw, his neck, anywhere you could reach. He wishes he could kiss you back but all he can do is sit there and take it. All of his concentration, all of his energy, is being put into lasting as long as possible, lasting long enough to make it good for you too. 

“You feel so good,” you compliment, murmuring the words into his skin. 

“Not as good as you,” he whispers back. 

He’s not sure if he’ll make you cum but he wants to try so he snakes one of his hands between your bodies and starts feeling around for your clit, assuming he’ll know when he finds it. He has to be way off because you grab his wrist and direct him to it after a few seconds of mindless searching. 

“Here?” he asks.

“Mhm, right fucking there. Just rub in gentle circles and you’ll get me to cum in no time. A little less pressure- o-oh fuck...”

Some of the tension leaves your body and you rest more of your weight on Jisung as he moves his fingers in the way you’d told him to. He takes it as a good sign and keeps going. 

You try to maintain some semblance of a rhythm as you bounce on his lap but the added stimulation on your clit makes it difficult. Jisung tries to help but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. 

You’re a little too gone to guide him but he doesn’t mind. He can figure it out. Probably. He’s not any better off, mind completely clouded with thoughts of you, you, you. He’s wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long, that it’s hard to believe it’s actually happening and almost impossible to focus on anything else. 

“You’re going to- Jisung, you’re going to make me cum,” you whimper. 

“I am?”

“Yes, I’m so close please don’t stop!”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop after you cum the first or the second time. He just fucks you until you’re digging your nails into his back and clenching around him so tight that he can’t stave off his own orgasm any longer. It goes on for what feels like forever. His vision goes white and his ears start ringing and he only knows you came again because his back starts stinging with fresh scratches. 

You’re boneless when he regains his sight and feeling in his legs. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

“I’m fantastic.”

Jisung laughs. “I was okay?”

“Okay? You were incredible. Seriously. Best fuck of my life.”

He doesn’t know how true that statement is, figures your judgment is a little lacking in your post-nut haze but he decides not to question it. If you say he was the best fuck of your life he’s going to take your word for it. 

“Was it good for you?” you ask.  

“Oh my god, yeah of course,” he assures you. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first time. Thank you, again, by the way.”

You sit up a little and cup his face with your hands. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s not like I was just doing you a favor. I wanted it too.”

He sighs. “I know but-”

“Jisung. I feel the same way. I’ve wanted this too.”

He stares at you. “What?”

You stare back at him. “When we were...  you know. You said you’ve wanted this for so long?”

“I said that out loud?” he gasps. “Wait, is that... is that what made you cum the first time?”

You duck your head, suddenly shy. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god. You like me too?”

You smack him on the arm. “Yes, idiot. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”

“But you never told me! You dated other people!”

“Because you never made a move!”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship!” he looks away for the next part. “And because I was scared you didn’t feel the same way. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ji, why else would I have stayed and offered to give you a lap dance after figuring out it’s you, my best friend, that I’m supposed to be dancing for? It’s because I like you as more than a best friend!”

“That can totally be a best friend thing!” he argues. 

“In what world?!”

“I don’t know! It’s my birthday, don’t yell at me!”

Your eyes widen with panic and realization. “Oh shit, your party!”

-

“That was the longest thirty minutes ever,” Minho comments loudly as you and Jisung walk into the foyer together. He’s smug as he claps Jisung on the back but is ultimately ignored because everyone else is already swarming the two of you to wish your best friend a happy birthday.

You and Jisung had rushed to get dressed and make yourselves presentable after remembering why you were there in the first place, promising each other that you would talk about the serious stuff later. 

“Yeah, are we getting charged extra for that?” Chris asks you under his breath, having pulled you both aside. He checks his watch and grimaces at how much time has actually passed since he left you with his friend. 

“No, no, it’s on the house,” you assure him with a wink. 

“Thank god. We don’t have the budget for that. Oh, but you know, Felix, another one of our brothers, has a birthday tomorrow. Are you doing anything?”

Jisung interjects before you can answer for yourself. “She’s busy.”

Chris looks back and forth between the two of you, an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Um, yeah, I’m not available tomorrow,” you stutter, giving Jisung a what the fuck side-eye. “Sorry.”

“Okay, well, if your schedule clears up, Jisung should bring you by. Not to work, just as a guest.”

“I’ll try to make it,” you promise.

Chris gives you a thumbs-up and disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with Jisung again. He’s sure his other fraternity brothers will find him soon enough, though, and drag him off to do shots or something. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cockblock a work opportunity,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I don’t think cockblock is the right word to use there,” you scoff. 

“I think it is if I was thinking with my cock,” he shoots back. “I just wanted to have you to myself for twenty-four hours, is that okay?”

And maybe he also didn’t want another one of his brothers getting a birthday lap dance from you so close to his birthday. Sue him. 

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Of course. Anything for my birthday boy.”

Your birthday boy. Jisung likes the sound of that. But to be fair he likes the sound of anything if it means he gets to be yours.

apologies for the delay but lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

[depressopax]

Dating Berlin headcanons

Fandom - La casa de papel/Money Heist

NSFW version

SFW version can be found here

Pairing: Andrés de Fonollosa x gender neutral reader Genre: Smut, headcanons Warning(s): Sexual content. Semi-public, oral, cuss words, degradation, penetration Words: 1.2K Summary: Dating Berlin/Andrés would include…  English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! AO3 link soon

Andrés is a switch… You can’t change my mind

He loves being on top of you, making you beg for him and his cock

…But he also loves being under you, letting you have your way with him while he submits to all of your wishes.

It totally depends on what you like in bed

And what mood he’s in. 

He has much stamina and a high sex drive, but sometimes he just likes being lazy, letting you take control while he lays down.

Basically a bit of a “pillow princess” lmao

When he’s being submissive, you’re all his.

He appreciates you being loving, of course

But he also gets turned on by you being rough, with degradation/insults and moving in a fast pace

Fuck it, he gets turned on by you choking him and “light” slaps on his face.

As long as you don’t leave big marks on his skin, he doesn’t mind. 

When he’s in control, he has two moods: - Passionate and slow - Fast and rough - No in between, usually.

He loves seeing you all helpless underneath him, making you a moaning, whimpering mess with his hard thrusts and fast pace

Just slutting you tf out

Heads up - if you ask him to be rough, homeboy will NOT hold back.

Seriously, when he says: “I’ll fuck you so you can’t walk straight” He means it. 

But of course he also loves to show his love to you with slow, passionate love-making sessions, so he calls them. 

Long strokes, lots of praise and kisses

Sex with Andrés means a lot of foreplay and some damn good aftercare.

He likes to really prepare you before penetrating you.

…Which you probably need. He is bigger than other men.

Which he brags about. ;)

He could (and probably will) tease you for hours.

Foreplay with him is usually cheesy. 

He lights candles, gives you massages, kisses you and rubs you in oils 

He knows what he does with both his hands/fingers and mouth 👀

He takes lot of time to make sure you’re ready

He wants you to beg for his cock before he gives it to you.

He uses condoms, but only if you ask him too.

Otherwise, he probably “forgets”

But sometimes he simply skips the foreplay and goes straight to action.

Usually this is when he’s frustrated, angry or really excited to see you (after being away from you etc)

Where he takes you doesn’t matter

He’ll bend you over anything, at any time, thrusting his cock into you whilst whispering praise

Or while ranting about why he’s in a bad mood - using sex as “therapy”.

When he’s in the mood, he’s a needy/clingy bitch

Sorry not sorry lol

Kissing your neck, playfully spanking your ass… You name it.

Doesn’t matter if you’re around people, he will not hesitate to tell you just how horny he is.

He doesn’t hide his boner from you, either.

Stands behind you, his clothed erection against your ass

You think he’s being annoying? “Do something about it” He’ll murmur with a big ass grin

Won’t stop until he gets to fuck you

OR until YOU fuck him.

He likes riling you up, getting you a bit mad only so you’ll be aggressive with him in bed.

During sex, he is either very serious, but can also crack a joke or two.

He tries to be “funny” especially if you are nervous during sex etc.

Your comfort is his top priority.

Lot of reassurance and questions “You ok?” “Does that feel good, mi amor?” “We’ll stop if you want to.”

He also praises you a lot “Fuck… Taking my cock so well.” “You’re so beautiful. So damn perfect”

When it comes to oral, Andrés doesn’t really have a preference either.

Like I said, this man is a switch.

It’s pretty easy to make him submit to you

Definitely will get on his knees if you ask him too - ready to please your needs

He likes squeezing your thighs, slapping your ass or stroking your stomach and chest when his lips/tongue works down there.

When he gives you oral, he’s very passionate and teasing

But if he’s really turned on tho - he’s messy. 

Sloppy oral sex where he uses a bit too much tongue- (I’m sorry 😭)

He could - probably would too - spend hours between your legs, tasting you

…Talks a bit too much “I could spend hours between your legs” “You taste so sweet, mi amor.” “That’s it… Lay back down and let me take care of you.”

Hot, but sometimes annoying lmao

When he’s the one receiving it? Lord have mercy-

Berlin tries to be nice and wants you to feel comfortable.

But how can he not push your head a bit?

If he feels mean, he pushes his hips up, making you gag on his cock.

He likes hearing you choke on him, and the tears in your eyes is a turn-on.

He likes finishing down your throat, holding your head still and basically fuck your face

But if YOU take charge - he’ll lay back down and let you control everything

Just tell him to “Be still”/”Don’t fucking move” and he’ll obey like a good boy <3

This is also one of the times when he’ll whimper and beg for you.

He thinks you’re so damn good at blowjobs, and legit begs for them all the time.

He’s extra sensitive when your mouth is around his member, and making him whimper and moan is easy peasy. 

He’s very rewarding after you give him heads, too.

Andrés is a bit of a kinky mf.

He def has some kind of daddy kink, wanting you to call him “daddy” in bed.

Honestly? He wouldn’t mind calling you mommy/daddy in bed too (if you’re into that lmao) - or he will do so just to tease you

He’s into light BDSM, and owns some nice pairs of blindfolds, ropes/handcuffs, a gag and some whips- 

The scene where he was tied up? Homeboy enjoyed that a bit too much Iykwim ;)

Sorry, but Andrés is definitely into cockwarming 👀

After finishing, he usually doesn’t pull out but instead keeps his softening member inside of you.

If you are into that too, he suggests for you to cockwarm him during nights.

He just loves being inside of you

When it comes to aftercare, he loves it.

Running you a hot bath, giving massages etc.

He is not the guy that asks for aftercare from you, but he does appreciate you taking care of him after you’ve topped him.

He likes to cuddle you 

Also likes having late night conversations with you, talking about dreams and the future, or just random bullshit.

He is very affectionate afterwards.

He loves and cherishes you and always tries showing it to you.

But after sex he is extra loving, which you can tell by the way he looks into your eyes

Or his smile.

To summarize… This man appreciates you no matter what and doesn’t care if he’s over or under you. He is a very passionate man and loves sex with you.

Did I just spend like 2h straight on writing a very detailed Berlin smut? Yep. No regrets 😭

[sweetheartedbylust]

So cause I’ve been horny as hell, it’s time for some new smut content💗.

💋

Johnnie guilbert NSFW headcannons

* ALSO IK I SPELLED HIS NAME WRONG THE LAST TIME😭😭*

• ALRRR, so I think this man’s a switch, yeah I said it. I just get the vibe yk?.

• is literally so awkward in the beginning but he’ll warm up for sure. Just give him a little trusttt

• probably LOVESS to tease you, like it just gets him hard as fuck. Same as when you do it too him.

• I think he might especially likes when you kinda grip onto him when he’s in you. Like idk why but I just feel it.

• uses his fingers a lot, fingering you, putting them down your throat, etc

• LIVES for ass, like he just does. He’s addicted at this point.

• I think he loves riding, just watching you on top of him is enough to make him just drip.

• I also think he’ll just like randomly kiss you, he’s that type of guy.

• is also pretty damn good at pounding you, like I think he can go just fast enough to make your brain go numb <3.

• “ fuck, I love watching you bounce on my dick, you like that huh?”

• he’s a sweetheart in the end though.

-

That’s all!, hope y’all liked it💗.

[scullysexual]

She’s already in the water when he climbs in, the cold a welcome relief from the heat of the day and the humidity of night. He sits on the ledge, the water coming up to just above her chest, the perfect height. Scully is submerged, the water sitting just below her chin. She doesn’t seem to mind it, however.

Mulder takes her in. He yearns to see her bathing suit, to see the way it hugs her body, cups her breasts. It’s black, he knows, he can see the thin straps, the way they travel up her shoulders and disappear behind her neck.

Her hair is up. Twisted in that way he oftens sees after she’s had her bath. Freshly washed hair kept away from the chlorine and he knows it’s freshly washed because it’s thicker, brighter. The strands that don’t quite reach or stay in their clips float about in the water around her neck . The night air is still humid and the smaller hairs that frame her face curl around.

And her freckles. She is bare faced tonight, a rarity he sees, and the sunshine today has made them pop. He asked her once why she covered them, her response was to pull a face and say, “Because I already look younger than I am, Mulder. I don’t need to be looking like a child as well.”

He didn’t think she looked like a child, she looked carefree. He wanted to reach out and kiss each one, pull her clothes away and discover the hidden ones, kissing and naming as he goes, drawing the constellations between them.

Looking at her now, he is aching for her and he is achingly hard staring at her.

“It’s nice out here, at least,” she says looking around.

“Yeah, it is,” he says back, not referring to the scenery surrounding them at all.

And maybe he’s looking at her a bit too closely, a bit too lovingly, for she turns back to him, eyes narrowing.

“Do we have something to talk about, Mulder?”

Mulder blinks, swallowing, sitting up a little straighter. “I, um…Do we?”

She is suddenly before him, close enough to touch. He can see more of her now, no longer obscured by the water. His gaze falls down, brain short-circuiting, eyes almost popping out of his head.

Cleavage. Lace criss-crossing over her breasts.

“Mulder?”

There’s a note of desperation in her voice. Mulder begrudgingly pulls his eyes away and looks at her. Suddenly the number 36 hits him like a brick.

36 freckles on her face.

“36!” he yells out.

She looks at him puzzled.

“Sorry,” he apologises, looking away, unsure why he said it.

She’s closer to him now, a knee either of his hips, straddling him. He can smell her body lotion and it makes his brain go fuzzy, blood rushing south as he sits in pure torture.

“Mulder?” she asks again. He looks at her so goddamn close.

Her hands touch his shoulders tentatively and he jumps at her touch, heart hammering. He wants to ask her what she is doing but whatever she’s doing is incredible and he doesn’t want the spell to break.

“What is it, Scully?” he asks instead, his voice sounding hoarse. He resists the urge to touch her, clenching his fists instead under the water.

Her eyes briefly flick down to his lips, her own parting slightly, before they return to his eyes.

“Kiss me.”

His body acts quicker than his brain can respond. In an instant his mouth is crashing down onto hers. The hands that fought so hard not to touch her grip her sides. It’s game over when his fingertips touch the bare skin of her back.

Mulder pulls away and is momentarily distracted by how flustered Scully looks: cheeks slightly pink, lips swollen…He’d be impressed with himself if he wasn’t currently pushing her into to him, desperate to see what his hands are touching.

There was clearly a theme going on with this bathing suit she’s chosen. The back criss-crosses in the same way it does at the front, leading all the way down until it reaches the small of her back.

“Fuck, Scully…” His head falls onto her shoulder. He’s hard. So hard it’s painful.

“I was hoping you’d like it,” she says shyly. “I bought it for you.”

He’s died, he thinks. He’s died and gone to heaven because there’s no way Earthling Scully would say something like that.

He starts to press kisses to her collarbones and the base of her neck.

“I love it,” he says though his speech is slightly muffled against her skin. “You should wear it all the time.”

His erection strains against his shorts and so badly does he want to pull her down and grind himself against her but the water is too deep for her and a drowning Scully would be an inconvenience to him right now.

“Can we get out of the pool please?” he asks.

“God, yes.”

She climbs onto the bench and hoists herself out, sitting on the ledge, legs still dangling in the water. He gets a good full look of her bathing suit out of the water now and briefly closes his eyes, committing it to memory before he climbs out of the water himself.

They go the closest room which happens to be hers, forgo any towels or drying off. He kisses her again, letting, his tongue exploring her mouth while his hands explore her body. She sighs and moans while his hands stroke up and down her back, fingers catching on the lace.

“This isn’t a complicated contraption to take off, is it?” he asks against her lips.

Scully takes his hands, placing them off the back of her neck where the straps are tied in a bow.

“Just pull on that,” she says.

Mulder follows her instructions, yanking on the end and the bow breaks apart, straps separating.

They pull apart so she can take it off. The wet suit clings to her body as she forces it off but Mulder can barely focus on that as more and more new Scully is revealed to him. He’s never came just by looking at a naked body before but he can’t be certain it won’t happen now.

She kicks the offending item away and it sits crumpled on the floor, already soaking the carpet below it. Mulder’s eyes remain on her body until her hands go up into her hair and he snaps them up.

“Let me,” he says reaching out to pull on the clip. Her hair, curly from the shower, tumbles down.

Mulder doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful.

He stands there just staring at her, his jaw hanging open.

She smiles shyly. “Like what you see?” Her hands fall in front of her stomach, fingers nervously fidgeting with each other.

“Fuck yeah…” he answers, eyes still roaming, unsure what to linger on.

“Are you…?” she gestures to his shorts.

Why the fuck is he still wearing his shorts?

“Oh yeah.”

He pulls them off and kicks them away as quickly as he can while she sits on the edge of the bed. Her eyes widen slightly when she catches sight of him and it’s her turn to swallow.

“Mulder, it’s…”

He looks down at his own penis and tries to keep the smug smile away. “I know,” he answers. “It’ll fit, Scully.”

She frowns at him. “I know that. Just…go slow, okay?” She looks down at him again looking almost…fearful.

Mulder approaches the bed, his hands circling her thighs before parting them and kneeling between them.

“Hey,” he says, looking a finger under her chin and lifting her head up. “I’d never hurt you, you know that.” She nods and he presses a kiss to her lips and pulls away. “If you don’t want to do this just tell me.”

He waits for her answer, not moving.

“I want to do this,” she says.

Relief spreads through him because he wants to do this too.

He really wants to do this.

He kisses her once more.

“Then budge up a bit, baby.”

She moves, twisting so she’s laying against the pillows. Mulder hovers above her, her kisses her again, allowing the kiss to grow deeper than the last two. His hands start trailing down her body, venturing towards that place both she and him long to touch. He gets so close, just inches away before he trails his fingers back up the opposite way. She groans into the kiss.

“You’re an ass,”

Mulder chuckles. “You know you love it really, baby.”

“Call me baby one more time and I’ll shoot you.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to do this.” He touches a finger to her slit, slowly drawing downwards. Scully sighs, pressing deeper into the pillows.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yeah…” she sighs.

He gathers her wetness, circling her entrance and pushing a finger, then two, inside. She feels incredible, clenching around his fingers, the little sighs and moans exiting her mouth. He uses his thumb to swirl her clit and she jumps a little at the contact. He grinds into the edge of the mattress hoping to relieve some of the tension when she makes a noise, hips stuttering against his fingers.

“Mulder?” she says, her hand trying find him.

“Yeah?” The hand not currently inside her finds hers.

“I need…” He listens. “Inside…please.”

He moans at her request, fingers fucking her harder.

“Fuck, Scully…”

“I’m so close,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I want to come with you inside me.”

He never ever in a billion years think he would hear her say those words to him. He pulls his fingers out of her and puts them into his mouth, eyes closing momentarily at the taste of her. One day, when they’ve got time, he’s going to spend hours tasting her properly. For now, though, both he, she, and his dick want nothing more than to be inside her.

He lines himself up, is about to push in when suddenly—

“Shit, I don’t have a condom,” he exclaims but Scully shakes her head.

“We don’t need one. Please, Mulder,” he begs and how can he say no to a begging Scully.

He ventures in as gently and as slowly as he can manage, remembering his promise not to hurt her as he pushes it way in, feeling her stretch further than she did around his fingers. She’s tight and hot and wet, smelling of body lotion and chlorine and Scully and it’s that final realisation that he think causes him to black out.

He comes to seconds later to Scully pushing on him.

“Mulder, I really need you to get off me and move.”

“Fuck, shit, yeah,” he says, hoisting himself up, still dizzy. Slowly he starts to move. “I think I blacked out for a second.”

She laughs.

A wonderful, belly laugh which is incredible to hear but he is balls deep inside her and she is laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Can’t say I’ve never made a guy black out during sex before.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything, baby.”

He starts moving in and out of her, sliding easily each way. He thought she felt incredible around his fingers but he had no idea what he was missing.

“I will get my gun,” she says but her threat is hindered slightly by the sigh that follows it immediately after.

“What’s stopping you?” he asks.

“You feel so fucking good it’d be a shame to kill you.”

It’s his turn to laugh then.

Soon all laughter dies and Mulder feels the familiar jolt.

“Are you close, Scully?” he asks.

“Yeah, just…”

He touches a finger to her clit once more, circling the bud until he feels her clench around him, her hips rising off the bed, and the fluttering of muscles as she comes all around him.

A orgasming Scully becomes his favourite Scully. It sends him over the edge, spilling into her.

He wants to stay like this forever.

Scully on top of him, covering him like a blanket, sleepy, naked, and soft in his arms.

He never wants to leave this room.

There is something on his mind, however. A question. What happens when they do eventually leave this room?

He spirals.

He can’t go on pretending he’s not been inside her, that he hasn’t sat in the front row hearing her moans, felt her coming around him, felt her skin soft and warm as it is, circling the cluster of freckles on her hip and thigh.

He can’t leave this room like none of it happened.

He won’t.

“I suppose it’s time to have that conversation now.”

“What conversation?” she asks. Her own fingers are making their own circles on his chest.

“This. What just happened.”

Scully sits up, albeit sluggishly, sighing and pushing her hair out of her face. Mulder thinks he should stop touching her but taking her hands off her body requires more strength than he has right now.

“Mulder—”

“I can’t act like this didn’t happen, Scully. I won’t.”

Her hands touch his face like it’s the last time she’ll ever touch him and he holds onto her tighter hoping that it isn’t.

It’s not.

“Later,” she lays back down on his chest, adjusts herself more comfortably. “Later, I promise. I just want to stay like this a little longer.”

Later. He can give her later.

@today-in-fic