#Help Idk how to do multiple images

[sweetcalebb]

Brat tamer Zayne ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 3.2k

a/n: for my pookster (@ohshitcindylou) also, i don't write a lot of smut for zayne, so i wasn't sure if he was ooc. i hope it's okay!

content: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, soft dom (?), desperate reader, you drive zayne crazy but he loves you, praise kink, (idk guys)

—

Nudes. 

That's what you did when you wanted attention—sent nudes in the middle of the workday. 

"Zayne?"

He blinked, swallowing harshly before looking up at Dr.Greyson. "Yes?"

"Are you all right? You look a bit flushed."

Zayne's lips pressed into a thin line, trying to will the heat creeping up his neck back down. 

"I'm fine. I just need a minute," he murmured, shoving his phone in his pocket and handing Greyson the charts he was holding.

"Oh—okay? If you're feeling unwell you should—"

"I'm fine." Then he was gone, his coat rustling as he rushed to his office. What were you trying to do to him, sending him such provocative pictures in broad daylight? 

When Zayne reached his office, he shut the door with a sigh and locked it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he slowly stalked over to his desk and sank into his chair. 

He sat there for a moment, hand hovering over the phone in his pocket, contemplating whether or not to take a second look. 

Zayne shouldn't. He was already half-hard. He wasn't proud of it, but he couldn't help the way his body responded to you and seeing you all posed and naked again definitely wasn't going to help.

Then, like you already knew he was spiraling, another text came in.

His chest tightened, his hand hesitantly curling around his check the message. Zayne glanced down at his screen, and there was your text. 

Zayne exhaled, awkwardly shifting in his seat. 

You: You saw my pictures. 

Simple. Yet so teasing. 

You: Did I get my Zayne all cute and flustered?? <3

Very teasing. You knew what you were doing, didn't you? And worse, it was working. 

Zayne shifted in his seat again, his thighs tensing as he subtly tried to find some relief. Then quickly, he groaned, pressing back into his chair like that might keep him still. 

Because no. No, he wasn't doing this. 

Zayne: During my shift?

Zayne: You know better. 

You: Do I?

You: [1 image attached]

Against his better judgment, he tapped on the picture and nearly forgot how to breathe. You were a vision. Even when you were sending the most teasing pictures known to man—God, you were gorgeous. 

You: I just can't help it

You: I miss you so much 

I miss you. 

Zayne's eyes narrowed, tilting his head in his hand. Teasing or not, those three little words would always undo him. 

He missed you too—always did—but he couldn't let you off so easily. No, not after those crude pictures.

Zayne: You miss me

You: Mhmm

Zayne: Then you'll be good tonight. No games. 

You: And in the meantime? You're not here to stop me...

You: [1 image attached]

Zayne's jaw clenched, rolling his hips and sighing when he found nothing but the fabric of his jeans that were suddenly too tight. 

Christ.

The things you did to him. 

Zayne: Take that off. 

Zayne: Sit on your hands.

Zayne: And don't touch yourself.

Zayne: I'll know if you do.

He watched as three bubbles popped up, disappeared, popped up again, then disappeared once more.

After a minute, you finally typed back with proof of just how good you were being.

You: Yes, Zayne.

You: [1 image attached]

He twitched in his jeans. You were going to ruin him if you kept sending pictures like that. The only reason he'd let this one slide was because you were listening.

He typed back.  

Zayne: Good girl.

Then he huffed, his dick giving another traitorous twitch at the praise. He could imagine how riled up it would get you. How you would squirm and pout because you couldn't do anything after that. 

Zayne stood up, his cheeks a shameful red as he slid his phone back in his pocket.

What was he doing, humoring his girlfriend's sexting while he was at work? 

He stopped at his door, taking a steady breath. He had to calm down. Had to will his painful erection away before anyone saw him like this. 

Zayne adjusted his coat, making sure it covered the obvious tent in his pants before stepping out and shutting the door behind him. 

He nodded politely at a passing nurse, hoping she didn't see the furious blush coloring his face.

God. You were going to pay when he got home.

 

°❀.ೃ࿔*

Zayne glanced at the clock as he stepped into your shared apartment. 1:43 a.m. He sighed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

It was late. 

But he knew you. Knew that you'd still be up, waiting for him.

He washed his hands in the sink—thorough but tired. It was his routine. He always had to wash his hands first thing when he got him.

When he finished drying off his hands, he started stalking toward your shared bedroom. 

He quietly stepped in, glancing around. The room was quiet, lights dimly lit, and then there you were, curled under the blankets. 

Zayne moved closer, his chest squeezing when he saw the way you sat up and turned to him the minute you heard his footsteps. Your eyes were tired with sleep, your hair mussed from the pillows, and—when the sheets spilled down around your hips—still naked. 

"Hi," you breathed, a sheepish smile pulling at your lips as he padded closer. 

Zayne stopped in front of you, then slowly, he leaned down and captured your lips in a long, reverent kiss. He cupped your cheek and held you firmly, like you might slip away otherwise. But you both knew you weren't going anywhere.

You eagerly kissed back, bringing your hand up to his. Just when you gently swiped your tongue across his bottom lip, Zayne pulled back.

You frowned, but you didn't say anything.

Zayne eyed you carefully. He noticed it then—you nervous. The look made him narrow his gaze and tilt his head. 

You didn't behave, did you?

He studied you a second longer, then quietly, he asked, "Did you behave?"

"Yes, I did," you breathed, squirming in your spot as you watched Zayne's gaze drift over you. 

"Are you being honest?"

You paused at that. "I... I didn't touch myself."

Zayne nodded, slow. "So something else did. What was it?" His voice was deceptively gentle. 

You didn't answer at first. You didn't want to answer, but your hand subconsciously drifted toward your bedsheets and tugged it close. You should've kept still though.

Zayne took the sheets from your grip and examined them. Then, he found it. A damp patch, like the fabric had been stuff between your legs. 

Zayne stared at it, his mere scrutiny making your stomach flutter. "I.. I didn't—I mean, I didn't finish."

Zayne gently dropped the fabric and met your gaze again. "That wasn't the point, love."

You whimpered at the pet name. 

"I'm sorry. I just missed you so much and I—"

Zayne cupped your jaw and kissed you again, harder this time, but not cruel. Never cruel. 

"Lie down," he murmured as he pulled back.

You blinked up at him, eyes already glossy. "Zayne, I'm—"

"Shh. Lie down."

You didn't argue. You simply lied flat on your back and brought your hands over your stomach, heart beating so fast you thought Zayne might've heard it. 

Zayne nodded in approval before stepping away with the bed. He didn't speak. Didn't look at you, just quietly shrugged his coat off and draped it over the hanger behind your door. Then he loosened his tie to finally take it off.

Meanwhile, you sat there and watched the. The over-confident brat from earlier was long gone. Now, all you were left with was a desperate need.

When Zayne finally undid his shoe laces and nudged them off, he made his way back over to you. You stared, your body drumming with anticipation as he calmly settled into bed next to you.

"What are you doing?"

"Lying down beside you," he replied, carefully grabbing your hips and turning you over so your back was facing him before pulling you into his chest. 

Zayne sighed, pressing his lips to your shoulder like he'd been waiting all day to do this. "You made me hard in the middle of shift today," he murmured, dragging his fingers over your stomach. 

Your breath caught in your throat, your body instinctively arching into his touch.

"I had to keep a straight face and pretend I wasn't losing it," he added, kissing up your neck. 

At the same time, he brought his hand lower, easing toward the cleft between your thighs. He nudged you, softly, letting you think he might actually touch you before pulling away. "And you knew what you were doing. Didn't you?"

Your hips bucked in protest, but Zayne only clicked his tongue as a warning. 

You sighed. "Yes. I knew."

Zayne's breath fanned against your skin as he let out a shudder. "I thought about you all day," he whispered, his fingers sliding up to graze the underside of your boob. "Thought about how warm you'd be under these sheets... How pretty and pouty you'd look when I told you not to touch yourself."

Your whole body burned with desperation. You wanted him to touch you—needed him to touch you. Really touch you. Not just brush his fingertips over your skin with that teasing cool.

"What am I supposed to do when I miss you?" you asked, shifting against him. 

Zayne's hand traveled tantalizingly close to your sweetest spot. He so, so close, just not quite there. He teased his fingers down your inner thigh, the touch pulling a light shudder from your body. 

"You wait, or entertain yourself with the resources I got you. You don't send me nudes while I'm at work." 

You gasped when you finally felt his fingers slide through your slick folds. 

"And if I tell you to behave, you certainly don't rub yourself on the blankets."

You jerked your hips against his hand, but Zayne gave another low click. "Be good."

His other hand curled around your chest and cupped your pillowy breast. "Tell me what you did. Walk me through it." 

Your mouth parted, but all that came out was a breath. You couldn't speak. You were shaking and he'd barely even touched you. 

Zayne hummed, pressing an open mouthed kiss against your shoulder. "If that's too much, then show me."

He firmly cupped your mound, fingers pressing deliciously against your needy flesh. "Go on. Show me what you did when you were too desperate to wait."

"W-what?" you managed. 

"Pretend my fingers are the blanket. What did you do?"

Your cheeks burned from embarrassment. "Zayne..."

"[❀]," he replied, gently shifting his fingers. 

Your lips opened in a silent gasp. You were so pent up. Any little movement had you reeling. Had you fighting everything in you not to rut against his hand like a woman possessed. 

You rolled your hips once, your body shaking with the effort of holding back. 

"Is that all?" Zayne mused, his mouth still working over the skin of your back. "I find that hard to believe given the mess you left on our sheets."

You bit your lip as you gave another weak roll. God. It was too good. You nudged your hips back, moaning when you found the perfect angle. 

Then you started again, slow, shaky. You'd occasionally stop and squeeze around his hand—just keep him there for a little. And when you couldn't hold back anymore, you started over. 

And Zayne never moved. Just patiently kept his hand between your legs as he watched—felt—reenact what you'd done earlier. 

When you felt your stomach coil a little too tightly, you stopped with a stuttered movement. "And then—and then I stopped."

Zayne was still kissing you, his lips practically melted against your back. "You were close."

You bit your lip and nodded.

"Finish."

Your hips almost moved on instinct. You turned your head over your shoulder, trying to look at him. "You'll let me?"

Zayne hummed in assurance. "Go on."

You didn't hesitate. You ground yourself against his fingers, curling one hand against his (the one on your breast), while you fisted your other hand in the sheets. 

You should've been embarrassed, but you weren't. All you were was a girl chasing down her orgasm like her life depended on it.

"That's it," Zayne whispered, feeling every broken little thrust as you got closer and closer to the edge. 

Then, with a raspy gasp, you were coming undone, spilling yourself down his hand, down your thighs. You sunk your nails in his hand, but he didn't pull away, didn't even wince.

Just let out a quiet groan and reflexively squeezed around your breast tighter. 

"Is that what you needed?" Zayne murmured.

You gave a lazy nod. "Mhmmm."

You thought that was it. That he would kiss you and forgive you for misbehaving the way he always did. But then you felt him rubbing firm, languid circles over your clit. Again.

You squeezed your legs around him, whining. 

"Z-zayne! What are you—!" Your sentence trailed off on a desperate mewl as he moved faster. 

He knew your body better than you did, and he was using that to his advantage. He avoided all your perfect spots before, now he was hitting them over and over and over again. 

"You didn't think I was going to let you off that easy after today, did you?" Zayne asked, eyes fluttered shut with concentration. "You wanted attention. Now you have it."

Your stomach curled tight, limbs tingling at the way he wrung out every drop of pleasure you had to give.

"Mmnn..! It's too soon!"

Zayne moved faster at your protest. "You earned this, remember?" he murmured, his words ghosting over your shoulder. "This is what happens when my sweet girl can't behave."

You squirmed, pressing the side of your face into your pillow and whimpering quietly. "Z-Zayne!"

Zayne hummed quietly, slipping his hand away from your breast to cup your jaw and tilt your face. His eyes roved over yours, drinking in every twist of pleasure. 

"You're doing so good," he muttered, pressing his lips to yours and tensing when he felt your moans spill into his mouth. 

It was addicting. 

He wanted to swallow every last sound. But he was never one for self-indulgence, so grudgingly, he pulled away. 

"Will you give me another one?"

You shook your head no, even as your body screamed yes. 

Zayne furrowed his brows. "That wasn't a question," he murmured, his voice so soft you might've thought he was coaxing a nervous animal into his hands. "You'll give me another one because you couldn't seem to resist the urge to send me nudes today."

He worked his fingers over your throbbing clit with expert precision. He used the perfect pressure. The perfect strokes. The perfect speed. It was the kind of skill that made your vision blur. 

"Isn't this what you wanted?" 

Your lips parted with a guttural cry. You could feel the heat in your stomach curling tight.

"For me to touch you?"

"Yes! But—! Hhnn'but—"

You bit your lips to try and keep your sounds down, but it was pointless. Your hips jerked forward as they chased the friction of his fingers like he wasn't already making you lose your mind. 

You didn't think you could come so soon, but you were getting achingly close again. 

"Then I'm going to touch you until you can't take it anymore," he husked, his cock twitching painfully in his jeans. But this was all about you. About how pretty you fell apart. "Just like you wanted."

Your body seized as your second orgasm ripped through you, your hand shooting down to wrap around his wrist. You weren't even sure if you just wanted to hold him or push him away. 

"Good girl."

Oh, God. Any thoughts of pushing him away melted the instant you heard those two words. You'd do anything to hear that. 

"Th-thank.. you.." you breathed out. 

Zayne let out a sharp breath. He carefully drew his hand away from your face, instead curling it around your chest again. 

For a second, you relaxed. 

Zayne seemed to relax too, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. It was so sweet and gentle. 

Then you felt him moving again, the slick sound filling your ears and making you clench around nothing.

God. You couldn't possible be capable of another orgasm.

You dug your fingers in his wrist. "Nnnh—Wait!"

"You're not done."

You whined, desperately trying to twist away, but Zayne only curled his arm around you tighter and pulled you flush against his chest. "You have one more in you," he breathed. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes. "I-I don't—I can't—" you choked out, trying to push his wrist away even as your hips helplessly rolled into his touch. 

"Yes you can," he said, his words quiet and full of awe. It was less like a demand and more like a fact. "Look at yourself." His breath warmed your already flushed skin. 

"You're still moving. Still so beautiful."

You trembled. He was right. You were still moving—still torn between squirming away from him and grounding yourself on him like you couldn't breathe without it.  

You let out a quiet little cry, your thighs and stomach burning with the effort of processing the overstimulation. 

Zayne bit back a soft growl. "I've got you."

You couldn't stay still. You were a mess—toes curling, hips jerking, nails digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks, breath ragged. 

And Zayne never stopped. He couldn't. 

Because you deserved this. Every last touch and word.

He continued to work your clit with aching accuracy, his fingers slick with your arousal.  

"You're doing so well," Zayne praised, his wrist burning from the repeated motion. 

You bit your lip to stop the whiny cries from slipping past, but it barely helped. They'd just come out in low hums.

You couldn't come again, you just couldn't. But your body said otherwise. It was soft—needy—and you could feel that familiar heat curl low in your belly again. 

You couldn't tell whether to cry or moan. 

It was too much, too fast. 

"Wait—I'm—"

A breathless moan tore from your throat as you came again, your body trying to curl in on itself. But Zayne didn't let it. He held you tight, his fingers finally slowing as he worked you through your third orgasm. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed, his body never leaving yours.

When the final twitches of your aftershock washed over you, Zayne carefully turned you around and hugged you to his chest. Didn't wait or tease. Just quickly tugged you toward him.

And you melted into him. You wrapped your arms around him and held onto him as tightly as you possibly could (which wasn't that tight). 

Zayne stroked your head, gently messing with the ends of your hair, the feeling making you tingle. 

"I'm very proud of you," Zayne finally whispered, a subtle smile tugging at his lips when he felt you hum against him. "I hope you learned something today."

You nuzzled into his chest and murmured a soft, "I did."

Zayne kissed the top of your head. "Good girl. I'll start the shower for you."

You smiled lazily against him. "Thank you."

Zayne grudgingly peeled himself away and stepped toward the bathroom. He let out a stuttered huff and ran a hand through his hair. 

He was throbbing in his jeans. Precum had soaked through his boxers and dampened his jeans, but it was all worth it. 

You were always worth it.

—

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[haetrack]

"girl who is going to be okay" back with the hard hour!

i know you tend to write more dominant and sexier y/ns (which i think are chef's kiss, esp the doms) but when it comes to jaemin for some reason i always imagine him with a less experienced y/n.

he wants to be oh so sweet to you, taking his time by slowly dragging his cock through your warm walls, his head nuzzled in your neck, but you just won't stop squeezing around him out of nervousness. idk why but the image of a man trying his hardest to restrain himself from going the pace that he wants, having to come to a still multiple times while all the way inside you to just take a breather and calm down, is just so hot?

jaemin x afab!reader

wc: 6.4k

warnings: pwop LOL, established relationship, inexperienced reader, desperate jaemin, dry humping, fingering, praise, oral, protected sex, soft dom!jaemin, sub!reader

a/n: don't ask me what happened... i lost the fight against jaemin brainrot...

-

jaemin has been trying to control himself recently.

he’s always been more cautious with you knowing that you still get shy around him. he asks if he can kiss you, softly placing his lips on yours. his hands never grip too tight around your waist, and they never wander down too far. unless it’s you who’s initiating the touching, he’ll keep his hands to himself to stop the need to hold you tight against him.

even if he wants to.

it’s been an ongoing struggle recently. he doesn’t know why, but he’s been filled with the need to have your warm walls around his length. on the late nights where you’re not there with him, he’s left alone to fuck his fist, imagining it’s you wrapped around him. he’d be so good to you, taking care of your every need.

he knows that he’s supposed to take it slow with you. you opened up to him saying that you were more inexperienced and that you were open to trying things with him. you just wanted to take it slow, you weren’t in a rush. he obviously respected your opinion, but he can’t help the thoughts that flooded his mind.

all he could manage was a soft smile and a press of his lips onto yours. he couldn’t wait to have you how you wanted.

-

jaemin wants you to come onto him. he doesn’t want to pressure you into something you’re not ready for yet. 

it’s one night where you’re both watching a movie. you’re cuddled up into his side, trying hard to pay attention to the movie playing in front of you. you’re not sure what’s gotten into you, but you can’t stop thinking about jaemin. he’s not doing anything, his hand is smoothing over your side as he watches the movie. 

you keep thinking of your words from the other day. you were the one who suggested going slow, but as you’re sitting next to him now, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to hold up your words. you don’t know how to bring it up. you’re not even sure what exactly it is that you want.

you can feel heat building up in your body, your cheeks growing hot the more time you spend at jaemin’s side. you bury your head into his shoulder, and jaemin coos at the sight of you. you almost feel guilty for feeling so… like this while he has no idea. you can feel frustration build up inside you, tears threatening to prick at your eyes as you want something you’re not even used to.

you accidentally let out a soft whine, immediately slapping a hand around your mouth. you pull away from jaemin, your shocked eyes looking into his. he looks more worried than anything, his eyes scanning all across your face as he asks, “are you alright, angel? is anything wrong?”

he watches as you shake your head no. for a moment, he’s worried for you, his hands moving to hold yours as he checks over you. he’s quick to realize how your thighs are squeezing together. it’s easy for him to pick up what’s wrong with you. there’s a small smile on his face when he puts one of his hands on your cheek, “you feel hot. you need to tell me what’s wrong so i can help you.”

judging by how he’s looking at you, you can tell he probably already knows what’s wrong. you let out a shaky breath, unable to come up with any words. his thumb rubs softly into the skin of your cheek as you nuzzle into his touch. you take a deep breath before you speak, “i… i need your help, jaemin.”

he tilts his head, “with what?”

“w-want you to… touch me.” before he can do anything, you reach for his hand, placing it softly onto your thigh. he stares at it, squeezing lightly as he feels around. he’s touched you before, but there’s a difference between now and the quick, soft touches that he usually lays onto you. you’re asking him to touch you in a voice he’s never heard from you before.

he calls out your name, getting your attention as he stares into your eyes. you slowly move toward him, softly placing your lips onto his. that’s all he needs, your confirmation as he molds his lips against you. his hands hold your face, keeping you still as your hands stay on the couch. one eventually makes it to his thigh, lightly touching it like he touched you earlier.

he lets you pull away from the kiss to take a breath. he finds himself slightly out of breath, too caught up with the feeling of your lips. he wants to feel you closer to him, despite you sitting right by him. he clears his throat, “can i try something?”

you whisper out a yes. he tells you to stand up as you watch him get more comfortable on the couch, spreading his legs apart. he looks up at you, patting his thighs, “come and sit down.”

the initial nervousness comes back as you feel more heat bloom in your face. your hands squeeze into fists as you debate on what you should do. it doesn’t last long, though. there’s a need for you to be close to him, to have him hold you as you kiss him. you want to feel the heat of his body against you as he kisses you.

you move slowly as you settle yourself on top of his thighs. it’s not uncomfortable, but you’re nervous to have him this close to you. he’s smiling at you, his hands sliding up on your thighs, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. he bats his eyelashes at you, “do you still want to kiss?”

nodding, you learn forward to press your lips onto his. you’re mindful of how you’re sitting on him, not wanting to put all your weight down on him. he’s quick to run his hands down your sides, getting you to fully sit down on him. 

he hums against you, gripping down onto your waist. he has you so close, and he can feel how warm you are against him. his tongue darts out, licking at your bottom lip. you open up slightly, letting his tongue lick into your mouth. it’s different from the soft kisses he gives you, and you welcome it as you move your tongue against his.

a soft whine escapes you, and before jaemin can try to get you to make that sound again, you instinctively roll your hips down onto his thigh. jaemin lets out an internal groan, swearing that he could feel you clench on top of him. all he’s done is kiss you and you’re already worked up. you move to get closer to him, your chest against his as he presses a hand to your back.

you roll your hips down, small noises escaping your mouth as you chase any type of friction you can get. your hands make it onto his shoulders for support as you mindlessly grind against him. 

jaemin can feel himself getting hard from the way you’re moving on top of him and from the way you’re whimpering in his mouth. he grabs your hips, shifting you right on top of his clothed cock. you don’t seem to notice at first, but when his cock twitches against your thigh, you pull away from him, staring down.

jaemin starts, “when you move like that on top of me…”

“it feels good for you, too?” 

he nods, smoothing his hand over your back, “i think i could cum just like this. whatever you do, angel, i like.”

you gasp at his words, feeling his hands snake around to your back, moving you forward against him. he lets out a swear at the feeling, moving his hands to your waist as you grind down. there’s a newfound desperation in your movements knowing that jaemin feels just as good as you feel, that you’re making him feel this way. 

you’re on top of him, rolling down your hips in a way that seems too out of character for you. the shy, reserved self that you show to him is gone, replaced with the need to get yourself off with him. you’re using him, pants of his name fan across the skin on his neck as his hands wander a little further down.

he’s no better than you. he’s letting out low grunts as his hips roll up to meet yours. his hands finally make it to your ass, giving it a light squeeze as he lets out a curse. there’s been too many times he’s had to stop himself from doing this, his hands moving a little rougher against you. he helps you roll your hips down onto him, grinding you down onto his tip.

he could easily flip you over, could pull down your shorts and panties and rut against your leaking pussy. but he can’t, choosing to be content with how he has you now. he grits his teeth, pushing away the thoughts as he hears you let out a whimper of his name. he asks with a low voice, “angel, do you feel like you might cum?”

you don’t answer right away, your whines and whimpers filling the air as you try to process what he said. you can feel him twitching under you, rolling his hips up against yours. your head falls to his shoulder, “jaemin, i need… i need to cum!”

his hands grip your hips, setting a pace for you as he grinds you harder against him. it doesn’t take long for you to cum, not when he’s holding you and letting out groans of your name. seeing you so desperate to cum pushes him over the edge, cum staining his boxers as he ruts his hips up.

there’s a comfortable silence between the two of you, heavy breaths filling the air as you collect yourselves. his arms wrap around your back, pulling you into a hug. you smile against his shoulder, your arms trying their best to wrap around his slumped figure on the couch.

it doesn’t take you long to start whining, “i’m hot and sticky all at the same time, jaemin. i think we might need to move.”

he murmurs against you, “let me hold you a little longer, angel. i liked this so much.”

“i did, too,” you press a kiss to his skin, “and as much as i did, i need to shower.”

a laugh fills the space between the two of you, “of course.” he pulls away from you, watching as you stand up on wobbly legs. to your embarrassment, he moves to walk you to the restroom, ignoring your complaints. 

-

jaemin thought that maybe just that once, you would act out on your instincts.

he noticed that you let him be a bit more touchier. he didn’t want to push anything, but he let his hands linger on you a lot longer than they used to. you didn’t even shy away when he would, you’d let his hands stay where they want to be. you’re the same, you kiss him more openly; you try teasing him a bit more, too. 

he likes seeing you be more open with him, likes seeing you feel more confident in your love. he’ll do anything you want him to if it means he can make you feel more comfortable. 

it’s another day that he’s at his apartment with you. you’ve had more time to come over, more time to spend with your boyfriend. he doesn’t expect anything because he has to remind himself: you want to take it slow. he doesn’t mind, he loves spending time with you regardless.

he doesn’t really expect you to come to him that day while he moves you both to his bedroom, a shy look as you approach him, “jaemin…”

he smiles at you, “hey, angel. what is it?’

“can we… can we do what we did the other day again?’

“what do you mean? what did we do exactly?”

you’re not dumb to not notice his sly smirk, a cat-like grin growing on his face. he knows exactly what you mean, but he’s trying to get you to say it. your face heats up, murmuring out words that you can’t even understand.

he moves to sit on the corner of the bed, his head tilting at your mumbled words. he reaches his arms out towards you, “you’re gonna have to tell me what it is that you want, baby. can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

without much thinking, you move to sit down on jaemin’s thighs. he didn’t expect you to move like that on your own, shown by how his breath hitches in his throat. his hands don’t hesitate to move to your waist, bringing you closer to him before they drop to your thighs. his thumbs move to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, causing you to shiver on top of him.

he chuckles at the sight of you, likes how your shorts have ridden up, giving him all access to your thighs. he pushes you right on top of his bulge, and slowly grinds you down on top of him, “i had my baby waiting for too long, hm? i should’ve known you needed me, right?”

you’re already feeling dizzy from his words, trying to grind down on him already, trying to chase the feeling from before. his hands stop you, though, keeping you in place. he bites back a groan when he feels you squirm on top of him, “won’t you tell me how much you needed me?”

your voice comes out breathy, “i- couldn’t stop thinking about you. i tried touching myself, but… it just didn’t feel right without you.”

jaemin’s grip on you gets tighter, his eyes shutting at the thought. imagining you stuffing your hands in your shorts, trying to make yourself feel just as good as he made you feel. he lurches forward, caging you in a heated kiss. he can feel you try to keep up with him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you do.

he can feel how desperate you are, no restraint shown in how you moan into his mouth. you’re more unrestrained, and he loves it, loves how he’s made you like this. he’s just as needy as you are, probably even more than you are. he’s the first one to start moving, his hips grinding up into yours. he’s practically using you like a toy, groaning in your ear at the feeling.

his grip loosens, allowing you to move with him. you drag your clit along his hardening cock, clenching around nothing as jaemin peppers kisses along your shoulder. it feels just as good as last time, but you can't help but feel like you’re missing something. you want him, you need him to help you make you feel good. “jaemin, i-” you whimper, “i w-want more, please.”

he has to forcibly stop himself from grinding up to you, focusing on your words, “what do you want me to do?”

you grab one of his hands, looking at his fingers before placing it back at your inner thigh, “i-i want you to touch me. like how i tried touching myself.”

jaemin’s head tilts back, eyes shutting at your words. you can feel him twitch under you, his hands balling at his sides. he takes a breath before refocusing on you, “can you stand up for me?”

you do, moving off of him, immediately whining when you’re not close to him. he shushes you lightly when he rests against the headboard of his bed, his legs spread, eyes filled with need as he looks at you. “come here, angel. i’ll make you feel good.”

you crawl over to him, and as you’re about to face him, he turns you around so that your back is towards him. he pulls you against his chest, his head resting on your shoulder as he coos at you, “can you take off your shorts for me, baby?”

you’re a bit shy, but do so nonetheless. you struggle, too eager for him to continue. he watches you, eyes zeroing in on the expanse of skin being exposed to him. this is the most he’s ever seen of you, and you’re not even fully undressed. without thinking, he says, “you’re so pretty, angel. so pretty, just for me, hm?”

you’re quick to agree, your back pressing against his chest. you can feel his cock twitch under you, and it makes you more eager. his fingers leave featherlight touches along your thighs, inching close to where you need him most. he hums in your ear, “needed me to feel good, couldn’t touch yourself without my help. you’ll let me help you, right?”

you let out a whine at his words, squirming on top of his lap to get him to continue. he lets out a low chuckle, “my eager baby, i’ll make you feel good. just be patient.”

his fingers trace circles on your inner thighs, enjoying the small noises you let out at his teasing. you don’t try to rush him anymore, trying your best to stay still on his lap. you’re biting down on your lip when his fingers rest on the edge of your panties. he’s sitting there, so close to your heat while pressing kisses to your neck, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“jaemin, please touch me. i wanna know how it feels.”

he traces his fingers along your clothed slit. he immediately lets out a shaky breath when he does, realizing just how wet you are from the little touches he’s offered you. you’re like this because of him, and he knows you’ve never felt like this for anyone else. he’ll make sure you’ll never want anyone to do this to you.

“you’re dripping, angel,” his fingers press against your clit, “is it all for me?”

you gasp, hips twitch at the feeling, “y-yes! all for you, please keep going.”

he can’t say no when you ask so nicely, your sweet voice taking over all of his thoughts. his middle finger makes slow circles on your clit, enjoying the way whimpers easily begin slipping out of you. you hold onto his arm for support, your hips trying to rut up in his touch, unknowingly trying to gain more stimulation.

his other hand that’s not touching you pries your leg open, keeping it from trying to shut around his hand. you’re so sensitive, responding to the light touches with high pitched moans, whimpers of his name rolling off of your tongue. he has to forcibly stop himself from grinding into your ass, biting the inside of his cheek when he can feel himself twitching. 

he knows you need more when your nails begin to dig into the skin of his arms. his arm has a hard time trying to keep your legs open for him, caught up in all the sensitivity of his touches. you break when he speeds up the circles on your clit, “j-jaemin, hold on! i might- i might cum!”

“isn’t that what my angel wants?”

you feel embarrassed asking, but if you don’t tell him, he’ll never know, “can we… i wanna feel your fingers on me- or in me.”

jaemin’s head tilts back onto the headboard, all of his restraint lost at your words. “i’ll help you, wanna show you just how good you can feel. is that okay with you?”

“yes… please, jaemin.”

his fingers move to pull your panties to the side, exposing your dripping pussy to him. he bites down on his lip again to contain the moan that threatens to slip out. he can look over and see how wet you are for him, how you’re on display for him. “my angel has the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen,” he lets out a breath at the whimper that comes from you, “so needy just for my fingers.”

you let out a whine, your hips bucking into the air as you try to search for any friction. he finally gives in, two fingers moving to circle at your clit. you melt immediately, head lolling onto his shoulder, loud whimpers filling the air. he mumbles in your ear, “wanna get you all wet for me before i try fingering you, okay?”

“please keep going.”

he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, fingers speeding up on your clit. he can feel you begin twitching on top of him, legs threatening to close on his hand. you try to keep yourself spread open for him. jaemin’s other hand slowly trails up your body, reaching under your shirt to one of your boobs. he groans when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra, fingers meeting a hard nipple.

with jaemin’s fingers on your clit and tugging on your nipple, it doesn’t take long for you to begin dripping all over the sheets. your moans have raised in pitch, calling out to him, begging him for more. “you’re ready for my fingers, angel? wanna feel them inside you?”

a moan of his name slips out of you, pleading for him. he plants a kiss on your shoulder, licking at the spot right after, “of course, baby. gonna take it slow for you.”

his hand slides down, his middle finger making it to your entrance. he shushes you when you start squirming, his finger slowly sliding inside you. it feels different, but good. your legs shut around his hand, and he lets it happen as he watches in awe. you’re so tight, he thinks. he wonders how he’s gonna fit himself inside of your tight pussy.

the thought makes him twitch in his pants, bringing himself back to the task at hand. your legs slowly open back up, your hips rolling in time with the movements of his finger. he didn’t expect to see the sight of you like this this fast. you let out a moan, “wan’ another finger, jaemin.”

“angel’s ready for another?” his ring finger moves to your entrance, slowly entering inside along with his middle finger. he can feel you tightly clench around his fingers, letting out a cry when his palm rubs against your clit. it’s too much, the sensation bringing you quickly to the edge. it’s only intensified when jaemin curls his fingers inside you, finding a spot inside you the sends shocks along your spine.

“feel good, baby?”

you can barely hear him, thighs beginning to shake as he presses he continues presses his fingers against your sweet spot. you’re falling apart quickly, his fingers plunging deep inside you as his other hand moves back to your boob, groping at the flesh. you let out a sob, “gonna cum, jaemin. wanna cum so bad!”

“yeah, gonna cum all over my fingers? go ahead and cum, pretty.”

your head falls back onto his shoulders, a wail leaving you as you cum, clenching on his fingers. his watches you intensely, watches how you’re left a mess because of him. he gives up on keeping your legs open, liking just how much you show how good he’s making you feel. 

he leaves kisses along your neck, his hand thumbing over your nipple and his palm slowly rubbing into your clit. you ride out your orgasm, letting out a squeak when the stimulation feels a little too much. he removes his hands from you, choosing to wrap them around you as he whispers in your ear, “did so good for me, angel. loved watching you fall apart because of me.”

while you’re coming down from your high, jaemin subtly brings his fingers that are wet with your slick to his mouth. he almost wants to moan around his fingers, realizing that you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. he likes the taste of you on his tongue so much, realizing he might just have to do more than finger you next time.

your breaths begin to even out, your mind becoming clear from the haze you were in. you can feel jaemin nuzzle into your neck, but more importantly, you can feel his dick press into your backside. he’s still hard, and you realize he hasn’t cum yet.

jaemin watches as you slowly turn your body to face him, sliding down to your knees. he moves to sit at the edge of the bed, your dazed eyes following his every move. your head moves to rest on his knee, looking up at him with a pretty smile on your face, “are you gonna teach me how to make you feel good?”

he follows your hand that trails up his thigh, dangerously close to his bulge. his angel wants to make him feel good. his hand cups your cheek, thumb sliding across your skin, “gonna be good for me, baby?”

-

over the course of a few weeks, jaemin has been seeing a change in you.

you’re more touchy now, easing into his side as you cuddle on the couch. you don’t shy away when he touches you either, choosing to go along with his antics. you tease him, a playful smile on your face when you let yourself sit on his lap.

now, you try to initiate more intimate acts with him. you’re still a little nervous, jaemin helping you along the way as you lay back onto his bed, fingers moving inside you. you always return the favor, jaemin liking the way you look with his cock in your mouth way too much.  he’s also had the time to eat you out, easily folding when you ask him to use his mouth one day.

which is how he finds himself today, harshly sucking on your clit while his fingers plunge into your dripping cunt. your whimpers and moans fill the air, almost covering up the lewd sounds of jaemin eating you out. every time he does this, he acts like a man starved, licking at your entrance just to get a taste of your slick.

one of his hands makes it to your boob, kneading at the flesh just to get you to moan out for him, just to feel you clench harder around his fingers. you whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, his tongue moving to lap at your hole. what’s different is that his tongue slips in, pressing into your hole.

your hips jut into his face, his nose rubbing against your clit. it feels so new, and it sets off a desire in you. your mind is now needing to be filled up with something more, something that jaemin can easily provide to you.

one of your hands wraps around the one on your boob, moving to interlock his fingers with yours. you can feel him smile against you, speeding up his movements. you call out to him weakly, getting his attention as he hesitantly moves away from your pussy. you try to ignore how his mouth and chin are wet, his low voice asking, “what is it, baby?”

you try to put yourself together, your voice coming out shaky when his other thumb rubs against your clit, “i-i’m ready.”

“ready to cum? i’ll make sure you do.”

before he can plunge back to your cunt, you call him once more, “not for that! well, to cum, but… i think i’m ready to have sex with you.”

at lightning speed, he sits up, eyes bulging out of his head, “really? are- are you sure? it’s not too soon?”

“no,” you smile, “i-i mean, i trust you. i trust you to, um, take care of me.”

he watches as shyness takes over you, avoiding eye contact as you talk. there’s a soft smile on your face, your words being genuine. “you should’ve told me so i could’ve made today more special,” he nags, “i could’ve had a whole day with you, angel.”

you let out an airy laugh, “any time i get to spend with you is special, jaemin.”

he huffs, “if you say you’re ready, then you’re ready. if at any point in time you want me to stop, i’ll stop. we can do anything you want, just say the word.”

“want this, jaemin. want you.”

he lets out an affirming okay, quickly sliding off of the bed in order to take his sweats off, choosing to leave his boxers on for now. he quickly rejoins you, “i’m gonna finger you some more, alright, baby? wanna make sure that you’ll be nice and ready for me.”

you nod, choosing to sit up a little more as you watch two of his fingers slide into you. you’re still so wet, his fingers easily plunging inside you. he scissors his fingers inside you, stretching you out for him. his thumb hooks around to your clit, rubbing in tight circles that has your head lolling back. 

“doesn’t take long for you to get ready for me, hm? my baby just needs my help, right?’ his words shoot straight to your core, pushing you close to cumming. he can feel you clench tightly, adding a third finger as he continues. 

you tell him that you’re close, whining that you want to cum with him instead. he smiles at you, cooing, “want you to cum now, then i’ll know that you’re ready to take my cock.”

you immediately let go, cumming all over his fingers. he knows what sets you off now, how to get you to cum quickly with just a few motions. he grins at the sight of you, “so good for me, my baby is so good for me.”

you swat him away when he tries continuing, a small laugh leaving him as you do. his hand smoothing over your thigh calms you, bringing you back to look up at him with a certain look. he bites down on his lip when you speak, “i think i’m ready- think i’m ready for you, jaemin.”

“yeah?” jaemin tries not to sound nervous himself, “my baby needs me already?”

you nod, covering your face in embarrassment at his words. it’s even more embarrassing when you ask, “you have c-condoms, right?”

he reaches over to his nightstand, fishing one out from the bottom of his drawer. since he started dating you, he hasn’t found the need to buy anymore. he thanks his past self for leaving just a few behind, he would’ve died if he had to say no to you now. a bright smile shines on his face when he shows it to you, laughing at you when you look at it weirdly.

“wanna watch me put it on?”

you laugh at his words, thanking him internally for trying to lighten the mood.

as jaemin slides the condom on, he realizes he wants this just as bad as you do. he notices how his chest is heaving with every breath he takes, and he’s not even inside you yet. his eyes glance up towards yours, looking back at him, pleading for him to just do something. “i’m gonna start moving. angel, need you to tell me if i need to slow down or stop moving.”

you nod sweetly at him, hand moving to cup his cheek, thumb smoothing over his skin. “i love you, jaemin. you can start.”

your sweet words and action has his skin burning up, his cheeks turning red as he lines himself up at your entrance. he can feel how warm you are, his tip sliding over your slit a few times, working the both of you up. his body hovers over yours, moving to press kisses on your neck when he slides in.

your nails dig into his shoulders when he presses in. he lets out a grunt, “s-so tight, need you to relax, baby. can’t move if you’re not relaxed.”

“s-sorry! i just- you’re so big.”

he groans at your words, his head falling to your shoulder again. he slips out of you, giving you a second to relax before you give him the go ahead again. he slowly slips his tip in, wincing when he feels you clamp down on him. he bites down on his lip to stop any embarrassing sounds from coming out, hand soothing your side as he pushes more of his length in.

it’s a weird feeling for you, it doesn’t exactly hurt, but he is stretching you open. nothing this big has been inside you, so used to his fingers. you let out broken whines, asking him to stop at certain points. your nails lightly scratch down his back, 

his hips finally are flush against yours, his cock buried deep inside you. you can feel him twitch, slightly shaking on top of you. he’s trying to calm you down, soft words being whispered into your ear, followed by soft kisses. his thumb snakes between your bodies, tracing light circles on your clit.

if only you knew how much he was struggling not to buck his hips into your cunt. you’re so tight, so warm, clenching down on his cock. your walls are getting used to the intrusion, soft pants fanning across his face. you call out his name, his hips accidentally pushing closer to you as you clench around him. he quickly apologies, eyebrows furrowing at the feeling.

“i-” you let out a breath, “i want you to s-start moving. s-slowly, please.”

“of course, angel. like i said, tell me if i need to stop, if i need to slow down, or anything, okay?”

you nod quickly, jaemin leaning back up, his eyes staring down at where you two are connected. you spare a look, getting embarrassed at the sight. he starts slowly moving, pulling slowly out of you before pushing back in. you can feel every inch of him, your warm walls inviting him in. it’s so easy for you to just let him take over, the feeling slowly bleeding into pleasure as he gets a rhythm.

while you’re getting used to the feeling, jaemin seems to be losing himself in you. every time he moves his hips, he can feel how wet you are. it’s like you try to suck him back in when he tries pulling out, like you need him to keep on fucking you. your arms are wrapped around his shoulder, bringing him closer to you. he’s surrounded by all of you, your scent, your cunt, the pretty sounds you’re making.

when you start moaning his name, he has to stop, head falling to your shoulder as he tries to keep his composure. he knows he can’t just yet, but he wants to fuck into your cunt, wants to have you fucked stupid just because of his cock. the thought makes him twitch inside you, the feeling of his orgasm already bubbling up in his abdomen.

he lets out a shaky exhale before he starts moving again, a little faster than before. “how’re you feeling, baby? tell me how it f-feels for you.”

“feels so good, jaemin! your cock feels so good inside me!”

you clench down on him, your hips rolling up into his. you’re moving in time with his thrusts, your nails raking down his back, leaving trails of red marks for later. he doesn’t care though, not when you’re wrapped tightly around him, not when he gets to hear you moan his name. all he can think about is you, and how badly he wants to flip you over and really fuck you.

“so tight, you keep clenching so tight around me, wanna make this pussy mine. tell me it’s mine, angel.”

“please! ‘s all yours, i’m all yours!”

he lets out a growl, he’s quickening his pace, hands gripping onto the sheets near your head. he needs to kiss you or else he might think about how bad you need him, how he’s been the one to show you all this. you kiss him back, whining into his mouth as your chest arches into his. he can feel your hard nipples against his chest, letting out a low fuck.

he can feel himself getting close, his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit. he can start feeling you clench around him, your voice rising in volume as you start babbling out to him. he prays that your close, too. he doesn’t think he can last much longer, not with the way you’re wrapping around him.

“gonna cum, angel? you wanna cum, gonna cum with me?”

he sounds so needy, just as fucked out as you are. you can barely register his words, but you know you need to cum just as bad as he does. he picks up his pace, his hands gripping onto your hips as he pounds into you. his low moans join your whines and whimpers, jumbled praises leaving his mouth as he gets closer, “s-so good for me, angel. pussy made just for me, only for me. no one else will ever have you like this.”

you nod, tears pricking your eyes as you come undone, cumming all over his cock. he’s quick to follow, unable to stop himself from cumming when you clench down on his cock. he’s groaning in your ear, quickly moving to messily kiss you. he licks into your mouth, moaning when you start milking his cock.

he slows down, quickly sliding out of you. he sits back on his knees, eyes staring at your spent pussy. he’s broken from his trance when you let out an embarrassed whine of his name. he chuckles when you shut your legs, sliding the condom off before tossing it in the trash.

you’re so tired, all of your energy being used up. jaemin rejoins you in bed, hand smoothing over your thigh, admiring the glow emanating off of you, almost wishing he could take a picture. maybe for another time, he thinks, he’ll bring it up later.

it’s quiet, enjoying the presence of your boyfriend as his light touches move all over. before you can fall asleep, his voice calls out to you, “angel, we gotta get you cleaned up.”

you whine, “but ‘m too tired, you did this to me.”

he laughs, hand moving to hold yours, “i know, i know. let me make it up to you, let me take care of my baby, hm?”

you sigh contentedly, “in five minutes.”

he can’t ever argue with you, easily giving up when he lays right by your side, “five minutes, baby.”

[lowkeyerror]

Help With The Curriculum pt 2

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Notes: Smut, strap, dry humping, choking, fingering, 2x use of daddy in non-sexually explicity context, dirty talk, lap-sitting, mentions of edging, mentions of exhibitionlism, mentions of overstimulation, Rio Vidal 😩

Summary: You sit in on one of Agatha’s lectures and enjoy some time with her during passing period... however that time with Agatha might have attracted the attention of someone else.

An: Not promising a fully fledged fic but ill keep posting parts of this until I lose interest. Also couldn't help but add Rio... eventual Rio x Agatha x Reader smut but idk if it'll just be one part or permanent in this fic 🙇‍♀️

Previous Part | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You end up spending Saturday and Sunday at Agatha’s. It wasn’t planned, but it was hard to leave. You already felt so comfortable with the woman. The only reason you found yourself back at home had to do with the papers you were supposed to grade Friday.

You spent most of your Monday grading the work. Images and thoughts of the other professor poked at the back of your mind, but you tried to stay focused. You figured that you could text her as a reward for finishing the grading.

Your phone dings as you’re on the final paper. You think about letting it wait, considering you’re almost done, but it dings again. The impulses get the better of you and you pick it up.

Agatha: I have an 8am tomorrow

Agatha: If you want to sit in on my lecture

You smile, knowing that you’d be in her classroom bright and early to watch her teach.

Y/n: I’ll be there

Agatha: Your class starts 15 after mine ends. It’d probably take you 5 mins to walk over…

Y/n: Probably, why?

Agatha: Well you said you wanted to fuck me in the lecture hall. You think you can get me off in 10 mins?

Y/n: I can do it in 5 ;-)

Agatha: We'll see about that professor

You now had a better reason to look forward to your Tuesday. After those messages you didn't have it in you to further grade the last assignment. You opted to just give that one lucky student an A.

For the rest of the day your mind wandered to how you were going to use those 5 minutes to get Agatha off. You couldn’t help but smile as dirty thoughts filled your head.

You’d be playing mind games from the second you stepped inside of her classroom. Your usual casual classroom attire was being quickly abandoned for something that better fit your title of professor. A grey 3-piece Herringbone suit. You wore your hair back, out of your face.

You had a pocket chain clipped to your pants, while a watch sat on your wrist. There was something special packed in your pants that you planned on using to tease the other professor.

You filed into her classroom with the other students. Opposite to her approach in your classroom, you sat in the back corner of her lecture hall. You wanted her to see you. With your legs spread open and a hand tentatively resting high up on your thigh.

Your other hand held up your head as you locked your eyes on her. When her eyes met yours, you could see them narrow at your appearance. You sent her a polite smile, which you could tell she was fighting not to return.

She briefly welcomed her students back and then  immediately got into the lecture. There was an assertive flip to her character that intrigued you. You could get lost in her tone of speaking. She hardly looked at you, but when she did, you were always readjusting the crotch of your pants.

“Your exam is tomorrow; multiple choice and 3 short answer questions. All of the answers should be in your notes, I’d study them thoroughly. You are dismissed.”

Her classroom cleared much faster than yours had the previous Friday. You had waited for the last student to leave before rising from your seat. You took your time locking the doors to the room, before heading down to Agatha.

You could tell that she had a sly remark on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t get a chance to speak as your lips attacked hers. You were rough as you kissed her, complete disregard for pleasantries.

You pressed her up against the desk. Enough to where she could feel the strap through your pants, she moaned as you slowly rocked your hips. No words were necessary, only the sounds of your breathing.

Your hand reached around her front, eager to plunge into her wetness. Once you make it past her waistband, you have to hold yourself back from taking her bottoms completely off. Her panties are ruined.

“Fuck, I made you this wet, just sitting there? You saw my hand on this big fake cock, and couldn’t help but make a mess of yourself, professor?”

She throws her head back as you rub her clit, “Look so sexy baby, I want you inside me.”

You chuckle darkly into her ear, “All weekend wasn’t enough huh? You just want me to fill you up every day.”

You keep your thumb on her clit and easily push 2 fingers inside of her. Your free hand loops around to rest on her neck. She tilts her head back to be able to meet your lips. You can feel her clenching around your fingers already.

“Desperate fucking slut, so needy for me. I’d take you like this for hours, till that puddle in your panties becomes a fucking ocean. Make you cum enough to coat my strap in your juices. Have your filthy mouth suck it off, just to spread you open and shove it in that hungry hole. The way you’re sucking up my fingers, fuck I know you need my cock buried inside of you.”

She begins to pant, “I want it. I want your cock, please. Please I’ll do anything, just let me have it.”

You pout, “Aww we don’t have time right now Aggie. I need you to cum on fingers so I can shove them in your mouth and go teach my class.”

She whines and starts moving with your fingers, “Y/n.”

You kiss her forehead, “I know baby, I know. You have to be good for me. Do what I say and I’ll make it worth your while, professor.”

You squeeze her throat a little tighter and pick up the pace with your fingers. Agatha lets out a shrill scream, causing you to cover her mouth quickly. You feel her slump against you, causing you to slow your pace before fully removing your fingers from her.

Before you can move away from her, she grabs your wrist, guiding your fingers into her mouth. She allows the tips to hit the back of her throat while keeping eye contact with you.

Your fingers fall out of her mouth and you delicately grab her by the chin. You peck her lips sweetly.

“You owe me one hell of a reward, Professor L/n,” she mumbles.

Her hand trails down the front of your suit pants until she finds what she’s looking for. She squeezes the toy lightly, palming it with her hand.

“I keep my promises, Professor Harkness. I still have a few to make good on, but in the meantime, I have a lecture to teach,” you wink at her.

She steals on last kiss from you, “Don’t be late.”

Agatha playfully smacks your ass when you turn around and you laugh at her antics. As you reach the exit of her classroom you turn back for a second, “Oh, and Professor Harkness. I really enjoyed your lesson.”

You leave her lecture room with a smile on your face. On the way to your own class, you find yourself walking in stride with fellow history professor, Rio Vidal.

“You’re getting awfully cozy with Professor Harkness.”

You shrug, “She needed some help with the curriculum, wanted a fresh new perspective.”

The brown eyed woman hums, “Hmm, I’ve never known her to ask for help.”

“Well, maybe you just don’t have much help to offer her these days,” you match her tone.

“I heard she sat in on your lecture, mind if I do the same?” She disregards your last statement.

Again you shrug, “Feel free, Professor Vidal.”

You feel her gaze trail up your side profile. It lingers on your pants, and you have to stop yourself from readjusting.

“You can call me Rio.”

“Y/n,” you say curtly.

Once at your classroom, you already have a few students waiting outside. You let them in and head to the front of the class. Rio takes a seat in the front corner of the lecture.

As promised before break you spend the whole class reviewing. The last thing you do is hand out the assignments you graded yesterday. You sit at your desk, eyes drifting over to Rio.

“Well, I can see now why everyone is so enticed by you. You’re charming, smart, and well-dressed. No wonder students and professors alike are always muttering about you,” she walks to stand in front of your desk.

Your face heats under her gaze, “I’m hearing about my  reputation more now than ever before.”

She stares at you like she could devour you. Her hands rest wide on your desk and her head drops to look at you.

“I don’t think she could handle what you have to offer, cupcake,” Rio leans into the desk.

“What are you talking about?” You sit back straight in your chair, keeping a calm attitude.

“Oh, now you want to play dumb professor,” she leans in further to whisper in your ear, “I heard you two early. Trust me kid, I know what Agatha sounds like. There’s only one reason I’d hear her making those kind of noises.”

“Jealous or something?”

She smiles widely shaking her head. She walks around to the side of the desk, “Not of you. Like I said, I’m very familiar with Agatha. I’m less familiar with you."

She gets on her knees and crawls over to you. Her hands wrap around your leg to rest on your knees, “ I need to know you better.”

“Don’t even think about it Vidal,” you scoot back away from her.

“I'd listen to her if I were you, Rio,” Agatha’s voice echoes across the room.

Rio only smirks and stand to her feet, “Hello, my love. Long time, no chat.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way,” Agatha quickly makes her way to the desk. Her hands rest on your shoulders as she stares at Rio.

The brown eyed woman frowns, “How long are we going to play this game, Agatha?”

“Play time is over Rio” Agatha says.

Rio shakes her head, “You fucking some hot, younger, girl, doesn't mean shit. She only fucked you as a rebound Y/n.”

“You’re only saying that because you wished you fucked her first,” Agatha shoots back at Rio.

“If I had 5 minutes alone with her, she would’ve taken me over the desk,” Rio glares at Agatha.

“You always did have a thing for sloppy seconds,” Agatha returns.

“I take it you two have a past,” you interject.

“Present, and a future, cupcake,” Rio winks at you.

You stand up, “I’m not your cupcake, Professor Vidal. I only plan on saying this one time, so I hope you’re a good listener. I. Don’t. Like. Sharing.”

“Oooo daddy runs a little hot I see,” Rio teases you.

You can feel your jaw twitch, “You’re a fucking brat.”

Rio bats her eyelashes at you, “You going to tame me, daddy?”

Agatha cuts in her tone stern, “Rio, leave now.”

Rio whines the blue-eyed woman’s name, “Agatha.”

“Out,” Agatha reinforces.

The woman huffs out an air of irritation before leaving the classroom.

“You know I figured you hooked up with Professor Vidal, but I didn’t picture her being such a brat,” you sit back down when you address Agatha.

The woman sits in your lap, facing you. Her hands play with the hairs on the back of your neck. She can feel the dildo pressing against her, but refrains from moving.

“She’s untamable,” Agatha says dismissively.

You scoff, “No one is untamable.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, “Trust me, Rio lives for the thrill of the punishment.”

“You punish her a lot?”

“I suppose I did,” Agatha meets your eyes.

“Tell me about it.”

Your hands found purchase on her hips. You guided her slowly back and forth across the length of the strap in your pants.

“One time I made go out with a toy inside of her and no panties. I spanked her for every wet spot she left when she was sitting,” Agatha says and you guide her a little faster.

“More.”

“I slapped her cunt until it was nice and tender and then I made her bounce on my strap until she came 7 times.”

You press Agatha down firmer on you, “Another.”

You were pulsing at the thought of Agatha dominating Professor Vidal. Her bratty attitude had upset you, but it had also turned you on. You wish you could put her in her place.

“I edged her for 2 hours until she nearly collapsed after squirting harder than I've ever seen anyone squirt in my life. Seeing her face down in her own juices, eyes fluttering, tongue out trying to taste herself on the floor. God, that was my favorite.”

You groan wanting more than fuck Agatha right here on your desk. She’s about to cum again while haven't came once today. It feels you are torturing yourself.

It's as if Agatha had read your thoughts. She sticks on of her hands down your pants. She slips it past the harness to feel your clit.

“You want to cum with me, professor,” Agatha smirks as she rubs your clit.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, laying your head on her chest.

It didn't take much more for you to cum together. Your breath was ragged, and your hunger for each other was only partially satiated.

“Listen up, ‘Mrs. I don’t like sharing’ if you’re going to try to become brat tamer of the year, you aren’t doing it without me,” Agatha says placing a kiss on your cheek.

She attempts to get up, but you hold her place, “Fine, when she comes to see you,  call me. I want us both to have fun with her.”

Agatha laughs, “She’s irritating in the way you just want to fuck it out of her, isn’t she?”

You nod, “But you can’t let her know that. Her ego is too big, that’s why she’s bratty now.”

Agatha agrees with you, “Good point, I have to go teach my next class, but I’ll see you tonight. Your place, for my reward.”

She kisses you sweetly, once more  before exiting your classroom.

Now you had two things on your mind. Agatha’s reward and your opportunity to punish Rio. Both things that you were very much looking forward too.

Next part

[koqabear]

hiii this is for the 2k event, i wanted to ask if u write hybrid!au cause yeonjun dressing up as nick wilde has got me feeling a little delusional. if u don’t completely ignore this but if u do, can i request fox yj and maybe bunny reader?

[2K Masterlist]

"Yeonjun is adamant that you’re a pretty, porcelain doll. You’re more than ready to shatter that idea and show him that you’re stronger than he thinks."

fox hybrid! yeonjun x bunny hybrid! reader // wc: 1.9K // genre: hybrid au, pwp. this is just straight filth im sorry. MDNI.

warnings dom!yeonjun, sub!mc, somnophilia (consensual), oral (f rec.) pet names (bunny, good girl), degrading, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degrading, kitchen sex, manhandling, dacryphilia, begging, scratching, possessiveness, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, aftercare kinda, girl idk i literally just dissociated when i wrote this i forget how exhausting this all is!!

Notes: the healthcare system is fucked even in fanfiction, you can’t escape. 

Every decision you’ve made throughout your relationship with Yeonjun has led to where you are now:

Face down, ass up, tears in your eyes and words muddled through the drool that spills through your lips. 

You’ve told him countless times that you’re not fragile; that the sweet, docile image he has of bunny hybrids is nothing but a sham, and that you can take anything he offers with a confident stride— and though he simply laughed in endearment and shook his head at your claims, you insisted. You insisted throughout all the sugary sweet times he made love to you, during all the moments where you felt his hands hesitate to hold you, as though he was afraid that putting pressure on your body would be enough to make you shatter. 

The words were tiring to both his and your ears at some point: the petulant whines asking for more, your pathetic attempts to try and take control and change the pace entirely— Yeonjun’s sharp, narrowed eyes that flickered at you in warning was the harshest thing you received from him— but judging by the shivers that flowed down your spine like water, your fluffy tail twitching in attention, you knew that your body only craved for more and your brain wouldn’t settle down until you got your way.

You could say that he warned you. He really did, technically, sitting you down for a serious talk about something you two never really discussed in detail. You watched with wide, slightly confused eyes as he explained to you that his heat was approaching, and that you definitely shouldn’t be around for it— when you perked up to interrupt, he merely shook his head to shut you down and continue his explanation. 

“I usually take medication, but my insurance no longer covers my usual prescription.” he told you, his ginger ears twitching in annoyance from the mere memory, “I’m taking a leave from work for it, and… I want to spend this time alone.”

“It gets intense… I don’t want to hurt you.”

A bruised ego and terribly confrontational personality was truly a god awful combination. Though you suppose it helped you for the better, considering that after a good argument with your ever-so loving and doting boyfriend, he finally gave up. 

You can remember the sight so vividly; his ruffled hair, the fluffy tail that whipped from side to side as he finally slumped back against the couch, out of breath and exhausted— his ears pinned against his head in defeat the moment he took a good look at you, in all your still fired up and energetic glory. 

He knew it was a losing battle the moment you cocked a challenging brow at him, as though begging for him to continue.

The word okay has never sounded better from your boyfriend's mouth. 

••••

That all leads you back to today. It’s been— oh, you really can’t remember. A day? Maybe two? You don’t think it matters at this point, since the only thing that fills your mind now is the feeling of being full, stuffed, and warm. 

Yeonjun gave you a chance to back out the second he opened the door for you. He spoke to you calmly, softly, nervously, watching you hop around his living room and throw your overnight bag on his couch, overjoyed to be taking such a monumental step forward in your relationship. You dismissed every slow, anxious sway of his tail as you ate dinner together, listening intently as he told you about how he’s gotten with his previous partners. 

It was too much for many of them. He gets aggressive. He gets insanely needy, it goes on for hours, even throughout the night. 

You prayed that he didn’t notice the pathetic clench of your thighs and slight arousal as he told you about his details, nodding sweetly when he asked if you were okay with doing the things he mentioned. 

You established a safeword, coddled him the moment you noticed his temperature beginning to rise, and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead as you murmured your goodnights. 

About six hours passed when you first felt it; you’ve always been a light sleeper, so you were doomed the second your sensitive ears picked up on the sound of restless rustling behind you. You tried your best to ignore it, your drowsy mind eager to go back to sleep, but the white noise of sheets moving around was quickly accompanied by something else— breathy, desperate gasps.

“Bunny…” Yeonjun’s raspy whine was enough to have your ear twitching slightly; more rustling, and suddenly, a scorching heat hovers behind you. “Bunny, need… need you s’bad…”

His hands are heavy on your skin, almost scorching with the way he restlessly makes his way up your shirt, groping at your tits before they slide down your stomach, feeling you up all the way down before they stop at your thighs— without warning, he presses flat against you, a hand snaking beneath your body to wrap around your stomach and pull you flush into him. He was so hard, so needy that the very feeling of your soft ass pressing against him was enough to rip out a broken sob from him.

“Let me fuck you,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, words that slurred together showing that he was also half-awake, probably not too aware of his actions and the way he rutted into you helplessly, “C’mon bunny, lemme use you.” 

Your ass that pressed back into him and the sleepy whine that left you was enough for him.

You can only remember drifting in and out of consciousness that night; the sloppy, wet sounds of skin against skin and desperate grunts was nothing but white noise to you at that point— Yeonjun was glued to you for hours on end, fat cock thrusting harshly into your poor, abused cunt, filled with so much cum that it could only smear onto your inner thighs and his balls, leaving a mess you wouldn’t be able to clean anytime soon. 

When you woke up, you were on your back— your pussy was sore and a whine bubbled up uncontrollably from your throat, hips canting up and against Yeonjun’s face— your hands were shaky as you fisted the sheets, tears pricking your eyes as you listened to Yeonjun’s sweet nothings against your skin, leaving bites and kisses against your thighs as he promised you that he’d be quick, that he just needed to eat your sweet cunt— you’d get cleaned up nicely after. 

Yeonjun was a liar, of course— because none of his sweet promises included his burning desire to fuck you after you came, cleaning you up only to push his cock back in and fuck you right into the mattress; legs pressed against your stomach, wails leaving you as he plunged into you with abandon, frantic hands scratching down his back as you cried from the overstimulation— it only ended with him pressing deeply into you and emptying yet another load into your tired cunt. 

The semblance of normalcy that followed after didn’t last very long, either— yeah, getting carried to the shower and having him clean you up and scrub you down was nice, and sitting at the counter as you watched him make a quick breakfast was nice too, a heartwarming glimpse into a domestic future with him— but you were only able to get halfway through your meal before Yeonjun decided that he’d much rather bend you over the kitchen counter and have you there instead— moaning wantonly as he watched your trembling legs fail to keep up, buckling under his pace and forcing him to hold you up with his insane strength— and just when you thought he was getting tired, he simply flipped you on your back and laid you on the counter instead; he always did think you looked really pretty when you were totally fucked out, anyway. 

Maybe that’s when hours started blending together— he was sweet and caring when he needed to be, cleaning you up with a feather-like touch and kisses that warmed your heart— only to give you the whiplash of the century when his pupils dilated and the only thing he honed in on was you. 

You. You you you. 

His ears would press against his head and his tail would flicker dangerously, narrowed, focused eyes meeting your bleary ones with ease; you could only sit there and let him maneuver you however he liked, shivering and falling limp with each time he’d slide his cock into you, as though you finally felt complete. 

You looked so breathtaking to him— under him, over him, whatever position he suddenly found himself needing you in— teary eyes and swollen lips calling his name like a mantra, a prayer, a plea for him to use your body until he got his fill.

There was something so addicting about the way you trembled from the overstimulation, sobbing and writhing yet never saying your safe word. It had Yeonjun fascinated, the guilty part of his mind berating him for trying to see how far he could take things— yet, no matter what he did or what he said, you only seemed to beg for more, like you’d been waiting for this moment for ages.

“Take it, T-take it like a good toy,” Yeonjun hissed, fingers digging into your hips as his cock battered into you ruthlessly. You merely cried and moaned, cotton tail wiggling with every drag against your walls, the soft fur coated with dried cum, “said you could handle it, right? Stupid fucking bunny— nothing but a cumdump for me, hmm?”

Your squeals and chants of yes! Yes yes yes! only spur Yeonjun on even more— his body feels as though it’s on fire, bright hair sticking to his sweaty skin as he merely pushes himself further— you can practically feel his back hover over your own, able to tell that he’s close from his faltering pace and shaky breaths that fan across your skin. 

“Want me to breed you?” he asks, though there’s no need to ask anymore if the previous loads he’s dumped into you are any indication of your answer. Yet he still does, almost like instinct; it’s much more satisfying to hear you beg for it, anyway. 

And you do— your begging is so cute, how could he ever resist? Yeonjun’s nails might break your skin with how tightly he’s holding you, teeth digging into his pouty lip as he pumps himself into you, once, twice, then empties out everything he has to offer— your back arches and your hips move back to try and glue yourself to him, crying out his name in satisfaction as he fills you for the nth time of the night. 

The way you keen out, the sight of your ears that are pinned to your head along with your tail that shivers with satisfaction is like drugs to him; he’s hopelessly addicted to you, to all of you, from your stuffed cunt that continues to suck him in to your soft voice that whimpers out at every sensation you offer him.

Such a good girl, Yeonjun thinks to himself, butterfly kisses spanning along your sweaty skin, your barely conscious form curling into him for more, how did he get so lucky?

Even after he’s given you a moment to rest, laying down with you on top of him, you still cling onto him, sighing in content as you allow him to cockwarm you, already bracing yourself for the moment he feels himself needing you again. And as you both drift into a much needed nap, Yeonjun can only find himself thinking one thing. 

Thank god for you and your argumentative nature.

[lunatf-ao3]

HORNY DAY

[TFP] Optimus Prime/Human!Reader

[⚠︎]: nsfw, masturbation, human porn

Really happy with your love! idk why I put that title

-

Your hand moves up and down Optimus's spike, traveling the firm length in a wet path from base to tip. Your touch is quick, seeking to touch every sensitive sensor you can.

"Well?" You purr, hugging his side as you look into his eyes, giving him a pleasant view of your small hand masturbating him. "Come on, look a little!"

"No... I do not like it." Optimus growled, staring at the high ceiling and avoiding the vibrating TV on the wall.

You had put on a porn video.

"Come on, it's not that bad! Why?" You insist with a happiness that baffles him. The moans coming from the screen echoed loudly, making him grimace.

"I think it is disrespectful to watch... this." He growled, as you squeezed the warm tip of his length. A few drops of transfluid began to emerge.

"Disrespectful?"

"Disrespectful to you. Besides, I do not want to see another woman, naked specially." His optics, warm, filled with a vulnerability he only allows himself to show you, focus on you while still avoiding the device in front of them.

"I do not want to see anyone but you."

You smile. "You're so sweet!" And you kiss his cheek, increasing the speed of your hand. Optimus moaned, softly and deeply. "But come on~ she looks a little like me. Isn't that exciting?"

At your words, almost against his will, Optimus glanced briefly at the video. Yes, the girl looked a lot like you, thoroughly enjoying two men between her.

And he didn't like that at all.

"It is not exciting to see someone similar to you with a... stranger." He narrowed his eyes, looking back at you.

You kiss him again, sighing. "Understood... But don't you want to try another video?" You play.

"No."

You laugh. "Do you think I disrespected you?" You squeeze, earning a gasp.

"I... No." He murmurs, too weak for his liking, too in love with you. "If this helps you... get excited, I do not have a problem with it."

"...Oh, I love you." You grunt happily, increasing the speed and squeezing with all your strength. The soft metal bends under your small fingers, and the biolights pulse intensely.

"Ah—" Optimus sighs heavily, clutching the sheets. His hips rise, seeking more of your touch, and he feels his tanks slowly filling.

"That is." Pressing your face against his side, you stroke the tip, pressing the small wet crevice, feeling the boiling transfluid on your fingers. The wetness heightened the sensation.

The sight also delights you.

The Prime murmurs your name, sinking deeper into the multiple pillows he's lying on. He's letting you do all the work, and you're doing it very well. "Y-You are going to make me overload."

"So fast." You tease. "You haven't even seen the best video yet."

Optimus growls. "I told you to—"

"Shhhhhhhhh!!! Sh, sh." You hiss dramatically, silencing him with the same hand you were using to work on him.

He could feel his own transfluid in the dermas.

You change the image on the TV, trying to stream something different from your cell phone. "How about... this?" In a second, there was now a video of you and Optimus on the screen.

He raised an optical crest. "When did you record those videos?"

"That doesn't matter. Isn't it better?"

Optimus just sighed, feeling your hand go back to work on him. "It is so much better."

[pupyuj]

Please do g!p biker wonyoung I’M BEGGING YOU🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️

working on drabbles that were due months ago and wow this is like a whole ass trip to feb-march 😭😭😭 longer than i wanted it to be but hey that’s more for you guys!! 😛💕

[cw: g!p wonyoung, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, creampie, other freaky shit but this list would be half the post so “etc.” be upon ye!!]

oh preppy popular campus princess you who has not stopped making crazy bedroom eyes towards the beautiful and mysterious wonyoung after having a conversation with her at some random mixer many months ago… what was the conversation about? fuck if you remember—you were not at all listening to whatever fell from wonyoung’s mouth! you were, in fact, more focused on how she looked so damn good in that leather jacket she either a) have multiple pairs of, or b) wears on herself just 24/7 😍

you couldn’t believe that such a gorgeous girl would be riding a cool ass bike to campus, and have loud, greaser guy (and girl!) friends but somehow that added like 20 times to the charm and you made sure to let wonyoung know! from snarky but genuine, passing compliments to full-on flirting in the hallways and parking lots… you’ve certainly got her attention now 🤭🤭

she looks at you like how the others do—like they want to eat you whole but since it’s wonyoung and not some unflattering, mumbling dork from some arts department, you appreciate it a whole fucking lot! 😋 wonyoung likes to look at you up and down so shamelessly, most of the time right in front of you and other people too!! her favorite interactions are when she finds you trapped between herself and her bike, where you’d be twirling your hair in your fingers while wonyoung takes her sweet ass time staring at you in the most perverse way possible.. 😛 looking at the two of you makes everyone uncomfortable, but that’s the way you both like it 😚

all that pushing and pulling (mostly pushing) eventually leads to a visit to wonyoung’s garage where she finally, finally kisses you while you sat on her bike, clad with only a miniskirt and her jacket 🥰 it’s obvious in the way in which she kissed you that she just wanted to fuck your brains out but oh, she just had to savour this moment! 🫣

wony very boldly demanding you to ride and grind on the seat of her bike.. quickly saying that she doesn’t care when you express your concern with getting it dirty… so ofc you get to work quickly 🤭 now what you didn’t know is wonyoung’s perverted ass has dreamt of this for months now—having you moan and whine on her bike under her watchful eye… naturally she was going to treat this like she did every other night that she thought about this exact scenario: by pulling out her cock and jerking off! 😋💕

wony cumming a bit earlier than she intended bcs your noises sounded so sweet in her ears and you looked too pretty on her bike… big fan of the idea of her being so messy that it gets her all shy and embarrassed looking at her hand, but luckily you were there to help her clean up after your own orgasm! 🥺 baby being red-faced and everything until she locks tf in and grabs you by your (her) jacket and forces her fingers inside your mouth… and ofc you knew exactly what to do, you dirty dog 😞😞😞

she doesn’t even wait until you’ve finished cleaning up her hand before she pulls you down from her bike and bends you over the seat, and she doesn’t remove her fingers from your mouth while she pounded you from behind, relishing in the sound of you gagging and choking on her fingers, your saliva, and her cum all at the same time 😩 judging by the way you arched your back and slurred wony’s name every time she hit a spot right, she knew you really, really liked what she was doing to you and that in return did something to her 😵‍💫😵‍💫 pussy so good it changes her brain chemistry or something idk. 🫩

but ugh, wony’s definitely imprinting the image of her, well, sperm and your slick mingling as you both came at the same time in her brain forever! man she’s so completely enthralled by you that she might just let you keep that stupid jacket!! 🤭 and she doesn’t complain one bit when you personally drag her upstairs to her room and show her just how good you can ride 😛

[stvrrlau]

𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

⤷⤷ 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 sunghoon can't help but be drawn to you.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.ᐟ obsessed!stalkerish!sunghoon⋆muse!fem!reader

𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.ᐟ crazily obsessed sunghoon—like girl go file a warrent alr smh, sunghoon literally just glazing u, borderline freaky stuff???? idk man, making out, yn ignores all red flags (tbh fair enough) sunghoon has glasses (😈) written all from sunghoon's pov idk if it ruins it 4 u 💔

𝘴𝘵𝘷𝘳𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴.ᐟ OMG GUYS ????????? (≧ᗜ≦) TYSM 4 SO MUCH ATTENTION ON MY FIRST POST!!! my ao3 is also getting popular ily u all sm <333 wrd count۶ৎ 4 455

​🇭​​🇴​​🇲​​🇪​ , ​🇱​​🇮​​🇧​​🇷​​🇦​​🇷​​🇾​ .

SUNGHOON

          𝐈𝐓 was the same. all the same.

all day, everyday, day in, day out, models, all doing the same things, striking the same poses, making same expressions, they were all the same.

the models may have been pretty, but none of them had that spark. none of them had what she had.

———

“sunghoon—i don’t understand. you’re so skilled with a camera but some of these photos came out looking—eh.” the director said, his tone almost distant as he flipped around the same photo multiple times, squinting at the photo, like it had personally wronged him.

“maybe the photos are so “eh”, because the models are “eh”.” i muttered, flicking through the images on my camera, scrolling past image after image of plastic smiles and glassy eyes.

my camera felt heavier with every shoot. stuffed with faces i couldn’t care less about. faces that blurred together the second the lights went off.

my precious camera, filled to the brim with the same prissy models who stand there and bark orders at the staff. god. i almost felt physically repulsed. i needed a new camera, my own personal camera, but unless the pay for this job drastically increased, i was stuck with my work and their work mixing—bleeding into one.

“well sunghoon—you’re going to have to at least pretend to enjoy your job because most of these images will not work.” he said, tossing the picture he finished scrutinizing aside, turning to face me with a glint in his eye. something dangerous.

“because if you can’t get it right next time—i’ll make you keep re-doing it. again. and again. and again.”

and with that he left, the echo of his polished shoes clicking on the ground a stark reminder of what i had gotten myself into. hell.

i exhaled harshly, sitting up in my chair. how was any of that mess out there, considered beautiful? my work. that—that was art.

art was supposed to be real: staring lifelessly into a camera, pouting and flailing your limbs around like a mad man, that wasn’t real. it was fake. all fake.

i sat silently, flicking through my photos, finally feeling at peace. my photos weren’t fake. they were real. a hell of a lot realer than whatever was going on outside.

speaking of which, the familiar echo of stiletto heels clicked down the corridor, followed by an endless amount of high pitched squawking and complaints.

finally. i could leave.

i waited for the studio to empty out, flicking off the last switch and silently leaving the hell-hole—also known as the company i worked for.

finally. finally, i could take pictures of what i truly wanted—pictures of real art.

the city.

———

the city was different after dark.

gone were the hollow poses, the forced perfection. the streets didn’t need a filter, didn’t need retouching. the neon lights flickered like open veins, bleeding soft pinks and electric blues across the cracked pavement. the air was cold, sharp, alive.

i took a deep breath, a shiver running through my body as i did so. even so, i grasped my camera tightly, my hands already turning red from the cold, and went on my mission. 

take pictures of what i want. not what others want.

———

windows glowed like little stories waiting to be captured. strangers passed by in fleeting glances, faces half-hidden beneath streetlights, cigarette smoke swirling like halos around their heads.

the strangers.

my favourite.

out in the city, no one cared what designer bag you had stored away in your twenty meter by twenty meter wardrobe. no—out in the city, people had places to be, they didn’t have time to dilly-dally, people had an aim to complete.

just like me.

i aimed to take pictures of art.

out here, i didn’t need perfect lighting. i didn’t need a director breathing down my neck. all i needed was the click of my shutter, the hum of the city, and the darkness that wrapped around me like an old friend.

———

the rain had stopped hours ago, yet the silver streets still glistened like it was a few moments ago. puddles littered the ground wherever i went, small pools of mirrors stealing my attention wherever i went.

i found myself pausing, crouched down on the sidewalk, camera hanging loose around my neck as i stared at a puddle.

the moon was perfectly reflected, in all it’s glory, in that small mirror.

my fingers twitched as i reached for my camera, my touch already on the shutter, capturing the moment, saving it, for me, forever.

slowly, i released the camera from my grasp, letting it hang from my neck again, as something else caught my attention.

a tall lamppost, old, rusty, crooked, its light flickering like a dying star, stretching long and thin across the puddle’s surface.

the shot was perfect. 

my hands quickly scrambled for the camera, quickly capturing the sight before me, before it disappeared right before my eyes.

quickly, my hands frantically pressed every button so i could check the shot. just as i thought: it was perfect.

too perfect.

i glanced up for a moment, before noticing the reason why. it wasn’t the scene. it was her.

her.

there she stood, in my camera, the light of the lamppost cast down on her, creating a sort of halo around her, her own little world. she wasn’t even posing: simply walking, from what i assumed work, her hand delicately wrapped around her bag, her coat framing her figure, falling just above her ankles.

she was what i was missing. she was my spark. she was my art. my muse.

my head whipped up from staring down at my camera, just to catch a glimpse of her disappearing into the shadows. and just like that she was gone. gone before i could do anything else.

but i’d make sure i’d see her again. she was my spark. she was my muse. she was what i needed. i need to make her mine.

because art like her doesn’t belong to the streets. it belongs to someone who can capture it. preserve it. own it. someone like me.

———

i sat in the studio, staring at my camera.

this time i wasn’t flicking through my pictures though, no—this time i was only looking at one. the one with her.

the longer i looked, analyzed, the more i had to find her again.

i felt my breathing come in short gasps, my heart pound wildly in my chest, my body suddenly feeling warmer, hotter. but why was this happening to me? because of her. my muse. my spark.

today. i will find her.

———

as soon as work was over i rushed out of the studio, not giving a damn about the models that screeched loudly as i pushed through the crowded corridors.

without another thought, i headed to where i first saw her. where my camera first got a glimpse of her beauty.

i panted, leaning against a nearby wall but always on the look-out, my eyes scanning anyone that dared walk past.

i waited. and waited. and waited.

i waited for my muse, hoping, pleading with the city, to bring her to me. bring her back to me.

my hands hovered above the camera, practically shaking with excitement: i could feel it. she was close.

just as i expected, there she was.

there she was, a slight skip in her step, walking home, as if it meant nothing at all. to me, it meant the world.

i didn’t hesitate. my hands firmly held the camera, producing picture after picture, until, just like the fateful night yesterday, she disappeared out of my sight. she’ll be back though. i know she will.

with shaky hands, i began to go through the photos, licking my lips nervously.

i bit back a gasp that threatened to escape my mouth, each photo more beautiful than the last. that coat, that bag, those shoes, that hat, that girl. she was a model like no other. and she was all mine.

———

days blurred into nights. and nights blurred into her.

the first time wasn’t enough. not even close. after that second encounter, i knew the city wasn’t just luck. it was fate.

our fate. we were meant for each other.

so i began studying her. studied her hobbies, what routes she took, what she liked, disliked, everything. i knew things about her that she herself probably didn’t know.

i learned everything.

her favorite stores. her favorite corners. the little flower shop she always passed but never entered. the crosswalk where she always stopped, even when the streets were empty. the café table she chose without fail, always second from the window, always her back to the world.

my camera became my weapon. and her? she was still the masterpiece i hadn’t finished capturing.

my camera never left my side. and neither did she.

whether she knew it or not, her life had already been printed onto film. captured, frozen, sealed away for me. for my eyes. for my keeping. sd cards filled with photographs of her—only her.

the first photograph didn’t satisfy me—no. it only fed the hunger—the monster inside of me, the monster that was desperate to steal her away from all of humanity and keep her for myself.

and every new photo, every new angle, every new fleeting moment caught on camera—it all provided that same feeling. that short high, that short burst of pleasure that shook me to my core.

she was perfect.

she was mine.

even if she didn’t know it yet.

———

my shoulders slumped as i held my breath, eyes drinking in the countless photos stored away inside my camera.

her smile, her side profile, the tilt of her head as she waited for her morning coffee. every angle was perfection, every shot proof that she belonged to me, even if the world hadn’t caught up yet.

my thumb hovered over the trackpad, shifting from photo to photo, heart pounding in sync with every click.

i could stare at her forever.

i would.

the soft click of the studio door opening and the distant sound of people talking quickly snapped me out of my trance, making me jump, nearly dropping my camera and forcing me to tear away my gaze from the beauty on my screen.

but it was worth it because stood in front of me, her hands clasped together politely, a small smile on her face, was her.

her.

i felt the air in my lungs disappear in an instant, fumbling with the power off button before my secrets were on display to the whole world.

“sunghoon.”

i coughed awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of my posture.

“this is your new apprentice. be kind, or at least pretend. teach her well—who knows, maybe you’ll finally earn that raise.” and with that he left, leaving me alone—with her.

fuck she was even more prettier in person.

the way her hair perfectly framed her face, the way her clothes were perfectly suited to highlight her curves, the way her face looked at me with an expression i only wanted to keep to myself.

“i’m yn,” she smiled, her voice soft and innocent, like a blossoming flower in spring, “i hope we can get along with each other.”

she extended her hand slowly, almost shy at first, but then confidently continuing.

i extended my hand to shake hers, and the moment her palm pressed to mine, i felt it. the same way i felt it that night.

she was perfect. 

she was here.

here for me and only me.

i couldn’t stop the smile that made it’s way onto my face, one of those stupid grins you get when you’re tired but still happy. i licked my lips, my fangs peeking out for a moment before i spoke, trying to calm down.

“sunghoon. i’m sure we’ll get along just fine, don’t worry about it yn.” i replied, my voice far steadier than the storm brewing inside me. her name tasted sweet on my tongue, like sugar laced with poison—addictive, dangerous, and entirely mine.

———

i should’ve been teaching her about lighting. angles. exposure. but the way her brows furrowed in concentration was more artistic than any photo i’d ever taken.

“am i doing it right sunghoon?”

shit, even the way she says my name is perfect. the way my name fell from her mouth—soft, sweet, like honey melting on the tip of her tongue.

i didn’t answer right away. i couldn’t. not when i was too busy memorizing every inch of her face.

“y-yeah—but you should move your hand further up so you don’t accidentally delete anything.” i said.

confused, she moved her hand, still covering the wrong buttons. unsure, she looked at me for reassurance.

“no.” i murmured, shaking my head.

slowly, like a predator approaching its prey, i moved closer, suddenly stood behind her, so close close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin, to smell the soft floral perfume that clung to her wherever she went.

my hands found hers, fingers grazing her knuckles, slow, lingering, guiding.

“like this.” i whispered, my breath ghosting along the back of her neck.

i saw the subtle shiver that ran through her body and i bit my lip in an attempt to hold back a groan. fuck, this was bad. she wasn’t moving away, wasn’t screaming at me, calling me a creep, she just stayed in the same position.

like she didn’t want to move.

so close, that her hair tickled my face as she spoke.

her hair brushed against my cheek as she tilted her head slightly, voice light as ever, like the tension wasn’t making my pulse pound out of my chest.

“okay, but what if i want to compare multiple photos?”

“then you want to,” i spoke but i couldn’t hear myself, all i could think about was how her hands would feel without a camera, how she would feel pressed against the nearest wall, what she would taste like, how it would feel to crash my lips against hers right this moment—

“sunghoon! yn!”

i practically jumped, cursing whoever interrupted this sacred moment between me and her.

“you’re needed outside! come on!” someone shouted from the chaos outside.

reluctantly i stepped away from yn, immediately missing the feeling of having her so close to me.

i stared down at the ground, muttering something under my breath, feeling my fingers twitch in annoyance.

“i guess we should go.”

yn’s voice weaved into my mind like silk. as i looked up i was met with that inviting smile she always wore—the one that made me want to kiss her senseless.

“yeah..” i replied, that same stupid smile, the one she only ever saw, on my face.

“let’s go.”

———

silently, i gathered my things, my mind wandering back to the days earlier moments. the fact she didn’t move. the fact her scent still lingered even after all these hours. the fact she was all i could think about.

i slung my bag over my shoulder, camera hanging loosely around my neck as i walked casually towards the exit.

that was until i saw yn. stood at the exit. turning to face me. smiling at me.

fuck, i could already feel the heat spread throughout my body as i approached her, stopping a couple centimeters away from her.

“hey yn. you waiting for anyone?”

say no. say you aren’t. she couldn’t say yes. she was mine.

“yes actually!”

what bastard gets to keep her waiting? who was he? who did he think he was to keep my precious yn waiting?

“i was waiting for you! i figured we could walk home together.” she said, shyly looking away as she mentioned we could walk together.

my eyes widened, just for a moment, and i had to take a moment to gather myself.

“you’re waiting…for me?” i asked, still in disbelief.

she nodded.

“and you want to walk home with me?”

“that’s the goal.”

i was silent for a moment before i pulled myself together.

“yes, okay let’s go.” i nodded, clearing my throat awkwardly.

———

normally, the city at night was my haven, my sanctuary, my safe space. normally all i could focus on was the glow of the moon, the distant lights that twinkled from the cities windows, the hum of the engine from every car that passed by. normally i couldn’t tear my gaze away from the city. today, i couldn’t tear my gaze away from her.

her shoulder brushed mine, occasionally, and every single time i felt it, it sent a thrill through me so sharp it was almost painful. i’d memorized these streets. i’d memorized her steps. but tonight was different. tonight she was by my side, willingly.

she chose me to walk home with.

i stole glances when she wasn’t looking, watching the way the moonlight glowed against her skin, soft and silver like it had chosen only her to shine on, like she was under the night’s spotlight. the way her nose crinkled when she talked about something she was passionate about.

my camera swung around my neck with every step i took, my fingers aching to hold the weight of it in my hands, desperate to capture her in this perfect moment—but i didn’t need a photograph, it was already engraved into my memory, stored away for later use.

“sunghoon?” her voice pulled me out of my dazed thoughts, “you okay?”

i nodded, swallowing hard. i wasn’t okay—i was never okay when it came to her.

“you know,” i started, my voice lower than usual, “you shouldn’t walk home alone at night. it’s dangerous.”

she laughed lightly, kicking a loose pebble on the pavement, “that’s why i’m walking with you, isn’t it?”

it was quiet for a moment before she nodded.

“i suppose. there can be some creepy people around at this time.”

“creepy?” i said, raising an eyebrow, “sure. but no one would ever dare hurt you. not when i’m watching. they wouldn’t touch you. they wouldn’t even look at you.”

i paused, tilting my head slightly, letting the weight of my words settle.

“i wouldn’t let them.”

her grin only made it worse. the way she nudged me like it was some harmless joke.

“my hero,” she giggled.

if only she knew. i wasn’t saving her from the world. i was saving the world from her.

because she was mine. and i don’t share.

———

the studio was a mess the moment we walked in. lights half-assembled, makeup artists pacing in circles, and the frantic buzz of staff voices overlapping one another like a broken radio.

me and yn glanced at each other, weary eyes already tired and we don’t even know the reason for the mess.

i looked around, eyebrows twitching in mild annoyance—until i overheard the reason for the chaos.

“the model canceled last minute,” one of the assistants rushed by, nearly knocking into me, “we’re one short, sunghoon. the shoot can’t start without her.”

i sighed. of course she cancelled.

“she cancelled?” yn repeated in a hushed voice, speaking only to me, “does this happen often?”

“only when the models feel petty.” i groaned, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“is there anyway we could help?” she asked.

before she spoke again, she swallowed nervously, like she was scared of what she was about to say.

“what is it?”

“do you think—i could replace the model?” she said hesitantly, looking up at me with those wide eyes that made me crazy.

before i could respond, another assistant rushed past us and then abruptly turned around.

“you!” she said, pointing at yn. my gaze hardened. what did she want with my yn?

“can you replace our model!? please! you look similar measurements and if i’m not too honest here, you look prettier, alright come on, you need to get changed!” the assistant rambled, quickly snatching yn out of my sight and into the modelling world.

i stood there, chewing my lip.

i had lost my apprentice, my yn, to a bunch of snobs who wanted to change her, try make her fit their ridiculous outfits like she wasn’t beautiful already.

but all of my thoughts disappeared when she appeared.

i felt as if time had stopped.

the dress. the fucking dress.

it wrapped around her like it was designed with her body in mind—clinging to every curve, slipping off one shoulder in a way that wasn’t accidental. her hair was slightly tousled, her lips tinted pink, her eyes soft but sharp as they flicked around, the once chaotic and now stunned, room. towards me.

i could barely swallow. my throat felt like sandpaper.

my fingers curled around the camera, knuckles turning white, chest tightening as the heat clawed its way through me, pooling in places i couldn’t control.

i stepped back, fast, clearing my throat.

“i’ll be back. i need... to check the light settings.”

a lie. the light was fine. everything was fine. except me.

i rushed out and fled to the nearest bathroom. in there i quickly splashed cold water onto my face, desperately trying to calm down. it was too late though as when i looked down there was already clear evidence of my arousal.

i groaned into my hands, rubbing at my face, feeling the heat throughout my body get only stronger.

fuck, fuck, fuck!

what was i going to do?

i couldn’t just go out there so everyone could see how hard i was, like a fucking animal in heat! what could i do?

“sunghoon! are you in there? we need you back out here!”

what was there to do?

i adjusted my jeans as much as possible, trying to hide my evident arousal, dried my face and took a deep breath. 

forcing my expression blank, i walked back into the studio, trying to mask every inch of the storm raging inside me.

i should have run. the second i stepped back into the studio it was game over.

 there she stood, under the lights, posing, the dress hugging her like sin, her eyes glancing toward the camera—toward me. like she already knew.

i shakily walked over and began instructing her, how to pose, her facial expressions, but i didn’t even have to. she looked beautiful either way.

i raised the camera, fingers shaking slightly, the weight of it grounding me for the smallest second.

click.

and then another.

click.

and another.

click.

each shot burned more than the last.

she didn’t know. but she was mine.

———

the studio finally emptied, the silence ringing in my ears louder than the chaos that happened less than two hours ago.

“yn.” i called her name, soft but firm.

she looked up, tilting her head slightly, strands of hair falling loose from behind her ear. god, even the way she looked at me made my thoughts spiral.

“do you mind staying a little longer?” i asked, trying to sound casual, even though my pulse was betraying me. “i still need to process the photos. dark room’s better when you’ve got an extra pair of hands.”

i waited, my heart heavy as she considered my words.

she nodded with a small smile, “sure.”

the two of us slipped into the dark room, the soft red light bathing her face in this surreal glow. the hum of the ancient lights above us filled the silence, sometimes broken by the occasional drip of developer fluid or the rustling of photographs.

i complied the photographs, treating them all with the same amount of care as the last, and gently placed them in the chemical trays, watching them bloom to life.

i could feel her beside me, close enough that her warmth radiated against my skin.

and then—her voice broke the quiet.

“...this one wasn’t part of the shoot.”

my stomach dropped. i turned, following her gaze to the photo she held between her fingers. the one i didn’t mean to leave out. the one i shouldn’t have printed.

it was her.

off-guard. smiling at an assistant.  head tilted slightly. lips parted. eyes soft and distant—caught in a moment i couldn’t resist stealing during the shoot.

a moment only i had ever seen.

she stared at me, her expression unreadable as she opened her mouth to speak again.

“you kept this?” her voice came out quieter, more fragile.

i swallowed but my throat felt tight.

“why?” she whispered.

i couldn’t lie. not anymore.

“because you looked beautiful. you always do.” i murmured, taking a hesitant step forward. when she didn’t move, i took it as a sign to continue.

“i’ve taken a lot of pictures, yn. but none of them—not a single one—ever felt right. until you.”

i licked my lips, my gaze still focused on the ground.

“you were different. you made the photo more alive. you weren’t just my muse—you were the spark inside me that caused this.”

she blinked, lips trembling slightly, and her voice barely came out as a whisper, “why me?”

i let out a soft breath, fingers twitching at my side, resisting the urge to just touch her, pull her in.

“i don’t know. i never did, and i’ll probably never know. but i do know, that you yn, have ignited something inside of me, and i don’t think it’ll ever stop burning.”

he room felt smaller, her heartbeat syncing with mine, the air electric and heavy and impossibly intimate.

her fingers loosened around the photo, letting it fall back onto the table, before she slowly looked up at me—eyes dark, unreadable, but soft at the edges.

“sunghoon.” she whispered. my name had never sounded sweeter.

she took a step forward, closing the gap between us. “do you mean it? this isn’t some sick joke?”

“of course i mean it.”

“then kiss me sunghoon.”

the space between us disappeared before either of us could think. my hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in, and the second her lips met mine—i knew there was no going back.

the kiss wasn’t soft. it was desperate, hungry, full of every second i’d spent trying to resist her. my hands tangled into her hair, hers fisting the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, closer, until i could feel the way her chest pressed against mine, the way her lips parted for me so naturally like she was always meant to.

i pressed her against the closest wall, groaning against her lips, swallowing her little gasps and sighs.

as i pulled away, both panting for air, breath hot and heavy against each other, my hand instinctively clutched my camera, taking a picture of her.

breathless, lips swollen from my attack, perfect.

“mine.” i whispered, quickly forgetting about the camera and immediately pressing my lips against hers again.

[ddarker-dreams]

BRILLIANT fucking idea: SR reader insinuating/offhandedly admitting… she has never been intimate. everyone hearing it like 🧍🏾‍♀️ how do you mean. idk j the flustered bashfulness of suddenly being like “wajt wait if im her bf ,,, im her first love”

SCREAMINGGGGG

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno

Giorno is a bit strange because he almost wishes he had a predecessor to analyze (and completely outshine). He isn’t disappointed per se, he’s not that weird, but having more study material never hurts. Positive relationships are foreign to him, since he’s been distant from others most of his life. He got along with people well enough — he just preferred his own company. Now that he’s had a taste of your company, he’s keen on making it a lifelong occurrence. Overhearing this admission has him wondering if traditional courting methods don’t do much for you. Or, more realistically, that they go over your pretty head. He's witnessed you interpreting the gang's flirtations as platonic. Consequently, he gives considerable thought to ensuring this isn't a fate that befalls him. Corny as it sounds, his new dream is to stand beside you as your husband. He's chasing this goal without abandon.

Bruno

Bruno feels immensely guilty for eavesdropping on a conversation involving something so personal, but he couldn't help himself. An immense weight feels like it's been lifted from his shoulders upon learning you haven't gotten romantically involved with anyone before. This relief is followed up with sharp self-condemnation — as your leader, he shouldn't get involved with your personal affairs. Maintaining any professional distance is difficult though, especially when you're so likable. People are naturally drawn to you and he's no different. That's why this revelation comes as a surprise, albeit a good one. He tells himself he'd be happy for you if you loved someone else... however, deep down, he knows the regret would eat him alive. He struggles to concentrate the rest of the day. His mind keeps wandering back to thoughts of you, specifically, finding solace in one another’s warmth. The most innocent thoughts make his heart flutter, the man is smitten.

Fugo

Fugo almost renounces his atheism — perhaps there is a God after all. Then he's reminded that you're completely out of his league, submersing him back into the Nietzsche headspace. His self-esteem isn't the best, so the way he looks at it is if no one else was good enough to catch your attention, what chance did he have? It's a miracle you even put him with him. He's blunt, stubborn, and easy to agitate, yet you're one of the few people alive who don't treat him like a ticking time bomb. When his initial pessimism dies down, he fantasizes about you getting flustered by things like a first kiss. It's a cute mental image. Would you fidget? Accidentally bump heads and apologize? Get sweaty palms? Before he knows it, he's invented an entire storyline in his head. It's mushy enough that he struggles to look you in the eye the next time he sees you.

Mista

Mista pretends he knew it all along, as if the Pistols hadn't kept him awake multiple nights, speculating over your relationship status. The little fellas held full-blown debates. Since he's a chill, go-with-the-flow type of guy, he wouldn't have turned green with envy had he learned you former lovers. If they brought you happiness, who is he to hold it against them? Regardless, he can't deny his budding excitement. Should you reciprocate his feelings, you'll experience all your firsts with him. Those initial milestones are the moments that stick with people throughout their life. It's your first kiss in particular that he'd like to have for himself. He intends to sweep you off your feet — literally. It's got to be like those old Hollywood flicks he grew up watching, or what's the point?

Narancia

Narancia has to stop himself from audibly cheering. The multiple abandonments he underwent in the past has him latching onto the few people remaining in his life. This includes you, naturally. You've brought him so much joy, the risk of losing that, losing you, it's a fear that eats away at him. He worries that if you had exes, you might compare him to them and determine he's subpar. Then he'd be cast aside like trash as he had been multiple times before. These insecurities nourish his possessive tendencies. Learning that he has no exes to fend off is a great relief because he would've defended you viciously. It isn't until later that he daydreams over the more innocent implications, like being your first (and only!) boyfriend. He gets so preoccupied by the thought that he walks into a few walls.

Abbacchio

He's actually surprised to learn about this. He considers using Moody Blues so he can hear the entire conversation, but decides against it, believing it to be an intrusion of your privacy. Abbacchio's of the opinion that to maximize your happiness, you should find love outside of Passione. He wants that for you, and yet... his heart physically aches whenever the possibility crosses his mind. What's the alternative, then? Would he make for a suitable partner? He finds the mere possibility laughable. Your brightness would be engulfed by the gaping maw that is his existence. He considers this an empirical truth, not some 'woe is me' sentiment. Ultimately, anytime your love life (or lack of one) is brought up, he distracts himself, so as not to fixate on his shortcomings.

[cometblaster2070]

so i'm going to go fucking insane because for a while this aspect of malenia's character design has been bothering me and making me think I'm seeing things and going fucking crazy.

the aspect in question is malenia's left arm:

when i first saw malenia's arm my first thought was oh okay they're probably just bandages or some sort of wraps.

but then you look a bit closer and like

idk about you (because i might be losing it) but it seems like the mesh of whatever the fuck that is very clearly melded with her skin in a way/it looks like it's going into and then emerging out of her skin (which is HORRIFYING to think of I won't lie).

and once again i thought i was going crazy and seeing things because surely these were just meant to be wraps or bandages like the ones we see in the scene of her fighting radahn right?

and then the thought of the needle came to my mind. along with something malenia says in her cutscene before we fight her.

"my flesh was dull gold"

huh. now isn't that interesting.

this would imply that in order to stall the rot from consuming his sister, miquella made a plan to sew unalloyed gold into malenia's skin using his needle in a last-ditch attempt to save her arm.

(granted it's funnier to imagine he just sticks it in her arm and goes okay great all done! and that's probably the canon way it went but)

the thought of the sheer pain malenia must've gone through during this process, to be honest, and the thought of the guilt miquella must've felt at having to force his sister to endure even more agony just to help her is just sad.

and all of it is done just in an attempt to salvage what they can of her and hope that more can't be taken.

like idk man it is just. haunting me ig??? to think about the fact that this woman, for all her strength and pride and tenacity and sheer determination, is literally slowly, painfully but surely, ROTTING away and her brother, who cares for her and loves her so much, can do nothing else but prolong her pain and misery in an attempt to keep her together to the best of his ability.

he has to take a fucking needle and STITCH her back together, he has to sew unalloyed gold into her flesh to keep her from falling apart because he is so desperate to help her. but he is just. he is never enough. his efforts are never enough and his sister continues to be in pain, and continues to rot despite how he tries and plans and invents. and despite his failed efforts and attempts and plans, she still loves him. she still chooses to follow him. to believe in him and his cause and his promises. no matter what happens to her.

edit: btw when looking at malenia pre-bloom and pre-losing her needle it looks like there's a proper layer/cover/whatever it is around her arm up till her knuckles making it seem like an actual covering or layer on top of her skin and what not, but when we fight her post-bloom and post-losing needle it appears like some of the layers have either flaked or fallen away and that reveals that it's actually meshed with/into her skin, which is an interesting note that she has multiple layers of unalloyed gold caked onto her skin on top of it being sewn into her.

EDIT EDIT: THE FACT THAT IN THE SECOND IMAGE IT LOOKS LIKE PIECES OF FLESH HAVE LITERALLY BEEN GOUGED OUT FROM HER HAND LIKE??? it's better seen (the missing flesh <3) when you get a good look at her eyesockets but like. holy shit man.

[deathtokillian]

How do you do the stencils? I want to do diys but idk where to start without a printer

I'm sorry this took me two days to answer, I didn't really have the time to properly answer this until now.

You don't need a printer, I don't have one.

What you will need is

-Exacto knife

-Paper (funny enough I use printer paper)

- Masking tape

-Pencil

Can be optional but highly recommend

-Letter stencils

I got these letter stencils from a hardware store in two different sizes and I recommend ones like these

So, there are multiple different ways to get your stencil design. One of them is straight up just drawing what you want and then cutting it out. Using lettering to make whatever saying. If you want something more detailed or like a logo, you can use the computer. I just save whatever image I want, put it to the correct size I want, i then tape it to the screen (with masking tape), and then LIGHTLY trace it. (Here is an example)

So I put down whatever I want to make a stencil

After I have what I want, I cover the front and back of the paper with masking tape. This makes it stronger and stiff.

Then take my exacto knife and cut it out

And BAM easy stencil!

I do recommend taking a washable glue stick and gluing the stencil to the fabric before you paint. Helps it not move. But I hope this was helpful, happy crafting 👋

[insanelyadd]

I was a firm Papyrus knight truther and still have a hint of hope but I feel like so much doesn't fit from the new chapters :(

We DID get to see the ribcage of the knight and Papyrus is absent now that the knight is active— two things that help the case.

But the knight seems cold. I can't see Papyrus running away, refusing to speak, and the line on the phone— that's the knight, right? Not only is it not like his speech but Carol comes home soon after the voice says they'll arrive.

But if he's not the knight that's even more confusing??? Idk. What do you think about all this?

No the voice on the phone is definitely Carol (confirmed in snowgrave), but the phone person is not For Sure the Knight. The Knight never speaks at all (perhaps because of a notorious font). There's another thing, where "you" (Kris) don't watch Susie in chapter 4 and you get this dialog instead:

Which like. If the Knight was meant to be confirmed without a doubt to be one (or only one of two) people, then there's no need to maintain the mystery. In universe this makes sense because Kris is obviously hiding things from us, but out of universe, there is no reason for Toby to write the line like this unless the implication is that the Knight is not so obvious.

I DO think Dess has to be involved with the Knight, and I DO think Carol is also doing something shady, but I also have a new theory. So if you'll excuse me real quick-

So basically, a Holiday has to be strongly Connected to the Knight, because while I don't think the Knight's identity is so clear cut as everyone makes it out to be (ah, memories of immediately after chapter 2) I also think Toby wouldn't pull a cheap ass move like giving the Knight antlers, a baseball bat looking sword, and when they dodge, the ball they turn into vaguely resembles a baseball, and then NOT make the Knight have a strong connection to Dess somehow, or to be Dess. But that's the thing.

The Knight's appearance is fucked up and unnatural, even darkner's bodies could be easily mistaken as normal monsters, but the Knight is so much more horrifying in appearance, there is something WRONG with it. If someone saw that walking around town, they would be right to freak out and call the police. But if in the light world the Knight is Just Dess then. Well. People in town will recognize her, and freak out and call the police. Again. So in the Light World the Knight can't look anything like Dess and they can't look anything like The Knight.

I would also like to point out that if the Knight didn't have antlers do you know who people would INSTEAD say is now Totally Confirmed?

A related thing to this overarching tirade of madness is how multiple times, characters warn you not to stay in Darkworlds overnight. What happens to lightners if they stay in the dark for too long? Why is it a concern to have?

What is the danger?

It's likely that Dess got stuck in a darkworld, because I believe the person speaking to us in the code-

[Credit to autisriel on twitter]

Is Dess. The dialog in the third image especially, builds onto my theory. That there's a dark world in the bunker, but it works like Ralsei's dark world. You walk into a dark room and the door slams behind you, sending you into the darkworld when before it behaved almost like a normal room that was just impossibly dark. I think that Ralsei's world functions different from the other dark worlds, even beyond everyone from the other worlds being able to safely exist there, where the world will selectively allow lightners in. Because there's no way in hell that Toriel, Alphys, or the school custodian haven't needed to enter that closet since that fountain was made (whenever that was, and btw I don't think the Knight made Ralsei's fountain, I think he would have mentioned it).

My theory is that another force entirely (probably Gaster since this whole world seems to be some sort of project that he fucking around with with our assistance) made a fountain in the bunker and in the supply closet which is why they behave so oddly. Dess went into the bunker (maybe she ran away? This ties into a point I'll have further in) and the door slammed behind her, she was transported into a darkworld that would accept no further visitors, which is why no one ever found her.

I think the warnings against staying in the dark worlds for too long are because when you stay there, your body starts to change, you're still a lightner but you begin to become a darkner in a way. I think Dess' body dissipated/transformed/transmuted her consciousness into an object, likely one she took with her, probably baseball related, and Papyrus also entered the bunker (maybe he learned the code, maybe he was told, maybe the door mysteriously opened for him) and found that object, which he now has equipped like how you can equip Jevil and Spamton. Dess' body has been (possibly permanently) altered by being in the dark world, and her and Papyrus are working in conjunction with each other as the Knight. There is not multiple Knights, just one Knight, but the Knight is two people.

In chapter 4 I saw people discussing Kris' reaction to the end of the chapter, how they come home to find Toriel drunk and dancing with Sans (who is probably also drunk). Some people take Kris' reaction to be one that indicates that this is potentially commonplace while also mentioning how it's odd that Toriel didn't seem concerned that Kris didn't come home until late, and they most certainly would not be reachable by phone, and her lack of acknowledgement that she couldn't reach them means she didn't even try to.

I also have to point out now that in chapter 4 you don't even get to ask Sans about his mystery brother, and he doesn't voluntarily bring him up either. This is in addition to the fact that, as you said, after we see the Knight for the first time, we can't even HEAR Papyrus in his house anymore. We see Sans outside every single day and we haven't seen Papyrus once, haven't even heard his voice, and Sans brings him up less and less. This is a large contrast to UT where Sans is very focused on getting the human to befriend his brother, and talks about him a lot.

I feel like at this point there's too much evidence to deny that Sans and Papyrus Undertale are actually Sans and Papyrus Deltarune. There was a lot of implications through the total void of Papyrus' life before coming to Snowdin, and the weird shit Sans says about never being able to go back, but that was all contained to UT. Now we have the companion song for "It's Raining Somewhere Else", a companion song that sounds almost exactly the same (but it is different) named "The Place Where It Rained". Now there are connections on both sides.

My point with bringing this up, is maybe in UT Sans feels like he failed Papyrus by not trying harder for him in DR. I think we're watching this arc play out in real time. And I must once more reiterate that since it seems to be true that the skelebros are from DR, then there HAS to be a reason why that it only happens to them. Something BIG is going to happen and they're going to be at the epicenter of it, and they will face exile on the cosmic scale for it.

So Papyrus is home alone all day long, likely being tasked with unpacking everything by himself, because Sans has a Job. Sans can tell Papyrus is lonely, that's why he asks Someone to try to hang out with him, but Sans is also not putting in as much effort as he should, which is why he asked a child to hang out with his adult brother, and why he hasn't really asked to again in a follow up. Maybe Sans just doesn't know how to approach what Papyrus is dealing with.

Bringing it back around to the familial structures we look at in chapter 4, we meet Carol. Possibly Carol, still no direct confirmation I don't think? My #1 pick for an alternate name for her is Cupid because:

Irony

The heart pillows? What's up with that, that's Valentine's not Christmas

Cupid is one of Santa's reindeer so even though the connection is stronger to a different holiday there is still a connection to Christmas

Carol is very cold and hostile and I think is so OBVIOUSLY manipulating Kris, and IMO I think she's abusive to Noelle, like emotionally and verbally at the least. Normal kids with parents who are just strict but still loving don't freak the fuck out and shut down like people are going to get seriously harmed when their parent shows up back at home when they weren't expecting it. Noelle is afraid to ask her mom for the spare key to their house so she just stands outside, locked out. I think a strict but loving parent would rather be bothered at work than allow their ONLY REMAINING CHILD to just be STUCK OUTSIDE ALL DAY. The fact that Noelle prefers waiting for her mom to be done at work, which is likely late into the evening, to going to get a spare key from her, tells us that her MOM also prefers it this way. The reaction is less severe. It's Better that she stands outside the front gate of her own home and wait until it gets dark out by herself.

I would find it harder to say more straightforwardly that what Sans is doing to Papyrus is abusive. I maintain it is consistent across both games for Sans to be pretty emotionally closed off from people. He's good at reading the room, but that doesn't mean he has a magical solution to all of your social problems and it doesn't mean he wants to talk about feelings, he appears to have a very low tolerance for awkward encounters and vulnerability. And I additionally think that Toriel isn't abusive towards Kris. Kris probably is very uncomfortable with Toriel drinking, especially the way she doesn't show concern for where they were, especially how she seems to be perfectly happy being distracted by bringing a strange man into their home (this is something Kris and I have in common with our mothers while we were in high school).

I think the theme in this chapter is how Family is so important to young people, young people who are lonely like Papyrus, young people who might not have many friends like Kris up until recently, young people who don't have many people they can be completely open with, like Noelle. And it's also about how sometimes even when you Need your family, you need them to be there for you, to protect you, to look out for you, to worry about you, they fail to be enough, to be what you need.

Dess might have tried to run away, even if it was only temporary in her mind, and ends up trapped. Maybe Papyrus got fed up and needed to get out of the house for a bit. He ended up in the bunker, he meets Dess there. Dess isn't able to exist in the light world like how she used to by this point. They talk and feel like they have things in common, Dess tells Papyrus about dark worlds, possibly gaining knowledge the same way Ralsei has gotten his knowledge. And together they become the Knight.

I'm still working on this theory tbh. This is only the beginning, before I've gotten a chance to watch videos going over secrets in these last two chapters, which I need to do because my play style with DR is very sloppy, I'm just awful at finding secrets. I didn't know about ANY of the secret areas in chapter 3 before I saw one video going over them. Needless to say, the theory will improve as I learn more. So this is a rough draft.

[purplesannnieee]

Hi! Mine if I request? Can you do Reader who lost a bet and had to dress up as a dog? She has a cute and but flimsy maid outfit with the doggy ears and tail. I want this to be NSFW if you can, or you can make it where Jin likes it and he ends up demanding her to do a bunch of chores in his room. I choose a dog maid for her because dogs are known to be loyal and listens easily to their masters/owners.

Good luck with college though! I’m sure you’ll do great ❤️

Wolf Girl and Black Prince

18+, DO NOT INTERACT MINORS

A/n: yk what's crazy? the fact that someone I'm friends with literally is doing art of Jin with a dog leash, so I'm so on board with writing this 😭 (ALSO THANK YOU, I'LL BE NEEDING IT :D), also, if ya'll get the title reference, ifykyk ;), as it turns out, I think I just struggle with writing smut (considering that this is my first time writing one), 2.3k words, I gave up on why tumblr is formatting the images weird

summary: who the fuck told you this was going to be a good idea? it didn't help the fact that jin called you a servant. and yet, you had way too much confidence into making a bet with him, where if he didn't had to intervene in the next mission, he would no longer call you a servant. unfortunately, you lost, leading you to being a dog maid, while the tension between you and jin has rather...increased higher than usual warnings: this isn't in order, despite of the title, I promise you this isn't toxic (aka no angst!!), erm, a bit of bdsm? jin's a kinky mfer, i'm not going to make jin command reader to bark lol (it's funny tho), that mf's the type to do orgasm deny, and then fucking make you cum multiple times, creampie (please make sure to wrap it and use contraception :D, safe sex ya'll), idk why, he seems like the spanking type, that shithead degrades you, he'll call you names like, "my queen" (how romantic while you get fucked), aftercare king, I feel like this is going to be a bit messy, OH, mf's definitely a pussy sucker, mf's so fucking rough, oh yeah, that mf has a dick piercing too (it's canon), jin asks reader to light his cigarette in a rather intimate way (ifykyk), reverse prince albert(?) and standard ampallang(?), your writer was in fact sleepy asf when she asked this to her friend when asking what type of piercings Jin has 😭, I'm gonna be silly and let's just say Jin's revoking reader's v card, ig in this vers, reader's mc, but with ✨personality✨, SIZE KINK

Stupid fucking Jin. If you weren't walking around eggshells by now, you sure fucking failed at it. The two of you had recently made a bet, that if you were to succeed in your current mission without any intervention from him, then he would no longer call you a servant. Compared to if he did intervene, he would win, and you would have to do whatever he asked for a week without the intervention of Tohma. God, you were way too naive, as you were close to finishing, before fucking Jin intervened. While you did catch the anomaly…, that motherfucker gave you a smirk for only you to see, before walking away. What made it worse was that Tohma wouldn't be able to help you at all; so really, you were screwed.

Before you knew it, you were at your room for a moment, before hearing it rang. Picking it up, you groaned at the name, realizing that Jin was calling you. Not wanting to make a fuss about it, you sighed, before answering. "Good, you answered," he said, as you swore you could see him smirking, even despite not being in the same room. "In five minutes, meet me in my room, and make sure to knock five times," he added, before hanging up. You moved your phone away, baffled, before flopping onto your pillow, screaming into it. What the genuine fuck? You sighed, as you frowned, before walking out of your room and going to Jin's room. Arriving there, you knocked on the door five times, before hearing him say "Come in."

"You're fucking early," he gruffed from the same fucking couch he normally laid on. You could smell the hint of that rich classy ass cigarette he smoked on a basis. "Well, might as well get this over," you said, looking at his figure. You watched his arm move, and before you knew it, you could see him throw something at you, gasping, as you had to move forward to grab it. Looking at it, you noticed that it was a box, perhaps with something in there. "You have a minute to change into it," Jin said, as your eye twitched, being more annoyed. "You've got to be--," "Bianerus." Seriously? What the fuck Jin? "Change, now."

Almost immediately, your body reacted, as you started to take off your uniform. You frowned, as you would've preferred having your uniform on. Regardless, after leaving you to just your garments, you opened the box, only to turn red. It was…a fucking maid outfit? And dog ears too? Normally, you would've yelled at Jin, however, because he had to use his stigma, instead-- you changed into the rather flimsy maid uniform, along with putting the dog ear headband on. This almost reminded you of that anonymous dress you were sent (though you were sure it was Jin who sent it). The measurements were too accurate, granted, the uniform was a bit tighter around your curves.

"Wake me up when the paperwork's been organized," Jin said (practically ordered) before returning to sleep. You couldn't help but want to curse him out. However, instead, you looked towards the amount of paperwork, as you frowned, before sighing. You truly were going to regret this. What made it worse was that you probably wouldn't get any new missions, so this was a bad situation for you. You couldn't help but groan, as you started organizing the papers. You truly wondered how Tohma managed to deal with him sometimes. And yet, regardless, you continued.

Well, despite being mostly done with it. You were tired, way more than you would've preferred. "Fuck me," you muttered to yourself, at this point, annoyed. And well, despite how pissed off you were in the situation you were currently dealing with, part of you did care about Jin. Even with whatever potential weird fetish of his, sure, you might've complained a few times, but you were willing for him. Just him only. Unfortunately for you, while you were in deep thinking, you hadn't noticed Jin wake up and walk behind you, before hugging you.

"Jin!?" You became surprised, as you could feel his body being…surprisingly a bit warm compared to the dorms. However, that didn't help the fact that your face became flustered. Slowly, you could feel his hand tangle with your hand. While you weren't sure of what to make of this, this was rather--

"Bianerus." Jin used his stigma, as your body jolted against his. What did he want now? "Do you really want me to fuck you?" He whispered in your ear, his mouth close to yours. You couldn't help but shiver, your pussy clenching against nothing, before you said it. "Yes." Okay yeah no, you really were fucked. The two of you stood for a few minutes before you could feel him suddenly pick you up, as you were now carried again. Just like the last mission, he was holding you like his bride out of all things.

"W-Wait!" You yelled, flustered, and before you knew it, you were placed on the bed, before hearing another command of his. "On your knees," he said, without using his stigma. And yet, you still listened to him, getting on your knees and elbows, before he hummed. You could hear his steps farther away from you, as he seemed to grab something. Before long, you gasped, as you were immediately flipped onto your back, as Jin tied your wrists with one of your ties. You couldn't help but stay quiet, unsure what he would do now. You watched Jin disappear for a moment, before feeling your legs split apart. "What are you doing--," "Shut up," Jin said, as before you knew it, you gasped, as you could feel something warm and wet on your underwear. Before you could say anything, you let out a moan, as you could feel Jin sucking through your underwear, as his hands gripped your thighs tightly.

You tried to close your legs, as a mix of embarrassment and pleasure rose. However, Jin was firm with you keeping them open. "Don't you dare," he muttered between his laps, as you could feel your pussy clenching over nothing. "Jin….! You fucker…!" You whined, your hands writhed against the tie. He stopped momentarily, only to look up at you, smirking. "That's what I intend on doing," he teased, before moving your underwear onto the side. "I'm going to make you fucking beg me to fuck you until you cry," he said, before letting out a chuckle, noticing how you were reacting. "Such a pretty cunt…" Jin mumbled to himself, as he gave it a kiss, before lapping it. You couldn't help but moan, as you wanted to move, yet you knew if you did, he would probably command you to stop doing so.

You were too embarrassed to moan, the pleasure that coursed your body was too much. Your legs still trembled regardless, as you bit down your lip, though not enough to leave any blood. And yet, Jin stopped momentarily, as he moved up, holding your hand with his. "My room's fuckin' soundproof, so stop holding those pretty moans of yours back. Be loud as you can, my queen," he said, before looking at the uniform (that he totally forgot he told you to put on), his hands instantly ripping it. "I'll make sure to find a tailor later...," he muttered, though too quiet for you to catch what he said.

You couldn't help but cry out in pleasure as Jin ended up going back to sucking on your pussy. "Fuck fuck fuck— please...!" You let out a whine, throwing your head back against the pillow (funny enough, your headband fell off), as you desperately moved your body closer to his face. And yet, Jin suddenly stopped when you were getting close to your high, as you panted. "Why the fuck did you—," "Now I have to punish you," Jin let out a tsk, as he pulled your body toward his, while he sat up. To your realization, he placed you on his lap, your ass out. Goddamnit.

"Count," he said, and before you knew it, you gasped, as he slapped your ass. "One," you muttered, before receiving another. "Louder," he muttered, slapping it again before he gave you another chance. "Fuck—ONE!" You yelled as Jin smoothed over your lower cheeks, before slapping it again. "TWO!" You screamed as he continued until he reached ten. By then, your ass was red, your eyes tearing up, and yet, you enjoyed it? "So fuckin' wet..., are you into being spanked?" Jin teased, as two of his fingers spread your folds, as you were too stimulated to try and close your legs. "Jin...," you whined, as he hummed. "Wanna get fucked, please...!" That was probably the last thing you consciously remembered before you overdid yourself.

Next thing you knew, your back was back on the bed, as your binded wrists were above your head. You watched as Jin pulled his necktie off, stripping the rest of whatever clothes he had on the top off. His hands trailed down to the edge of his pants, unzipping them, as you noticed how hard he already was from his boxers. You could feel yourself clenching again, as he smirked at you. "Seems like my dear queen can't take her eyes off me," he teased, his hands slowly taking off his boxers, his cock sprung to his stomach. The only thought to yourself was, 'Oh my God, that's a big fucking dick with piercings!'

Of course, you were too focused on Jin's cock to notice your legs being moved onto his shoulders, only for the sudden surge of embarrassment to rise. "Wait! Please...be gentle?" You asked, though while you weren't planning on telling him, he would become your first. Jin looked at you for a moment, before he started rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds. "Only because you asked," he agreed, as the both of you could hear the lewd sounds your wet folds and his tip were making. "As long as you keep your eyes on me," he said, as he didn't give you a chance to respond, slowly thrusting his cock in, splitting you whole.

Your body tensed, trying to comprehend the fact that you were being penetrated right now. While you didn't feel much pain, you felt rather...stuffed. "Ya, tryin' to keep me inside of you forever...?" Jin groaned as he could feel your gummy walls clinging to his cock. "It's...not my fuckin' fault you're so big!" You whined, your hands desperate to at least hold on to something. You could feel how warm his hands were, as they caressed your body, before undoing the tie, your hands being free. Your hands immediately grasped his, as they intertwined. Thankfully, despite Jin struggling, he was patiently waiting for you. It took a few minutes, as while you hadn't noticed, he was only partially inside of you, and while he did want to ruin you; Jin would never forgive himself if you ever got hurt.

A few minutes passed by, as you slowly adjusted to his size. Jin did his best to stay still for your own sake, only to let out a groan, feeling yourself moving slowly. "Jin~!" You let out a whine, as his gaze softened. "Kiss me, please?" Without a second to waste, his lips immediately pressed against yours, as he gently bit your lip, asking your permission. You let your mouth open, granting him access to it, his tongue exploring yours. You could still taste a hint of your own juices, as you let out a moan. The way he was kissing you was surprisingly sweet, and definitely hungry (not like he wasn't sucking your pussy like a starved man just a few minutes ago).

Slowly, Jin started to thrust into you, experimenting with where your sweet spots were. Granted, the position you were in definitely helped him. Your moans sounded so sweet to him, he almost wanted to keep you like this for a while. But for now? He would make you a pretty mess— all for him. "Fuck! Jin…please…!" How your wanton moans sounded like music, and Jin would be the only one who would be able to listen to such beautiful sounds. It felt better, as you were feeling so good, and he knew you were feeling perhaps more pleasure than he was having now.

"Fuck it," Jin muttered to himself, as you were too dumbed to understand what he said. All you knew was that he slowly pulled out until the only thing that was in was the tip, before thrusting sharply. You let out a gasp, as Jin soon enough started to thrust at a fastened pace, your walls clenching from the sudden movement, and your hand's grip tightened around his hands. Before you knew it, you could feel a knot forming, as you broke the kiss, panting. "Fuck fuck fuck— I feel something weird…!" You whined as Jin chuckled. "Go on, cum my pretty slut," he groaned, as before you knew it, you felt yourself climaxing, your body trembling from orgasming.

The thing was? Jin quite wasn't done. "Don't hold it back, my queen," he said, slowing down a bit to let you recover before fastening his pace again. You let out a mix of moans and whines, as Jin's cock began hitting your cervix; which led to you orgasming more. Before you knew it, Jin's pace became irrational, as he was trying to thrust as possible as he could. "Fuck— gonna cum in ya and let you have my kids," he groaned, as you teared up from how overstimulated you were. It didn't take long before you came one last time, as Jin filled you up; you felt so warm and full, as Jin let go of your legs, before hugging you. "I love you," he muttered, as you simply hummed in response, before kissing him back. "Love ya too," you muttered, before poking him. "I'm never going to wear whatever the fuck that was that you told me to put on though." After that, Jin did not accept any advice about you from Tohma.

[marioandluigigi]

Love love loved the drunk van hcs. Could you write a fic about the morning after, like the reader rushing to get her a trashcan, pulling back her hair, helping her drink Gatorade, helping her shower (which could turn into smut idk if you write for that tho) or lots of snuggling

Hangovers

Van Palmer x fem!reader

Taking care of your very hangover gf

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking , vomiting, headaches and minor smut.

You wake up as the sun hits your eyes you look down and feel your girlfriend’s arms draped around as if she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You vaguely remember last night’s events, Jackie’s party drinking way too much shitty bear and driving your girlfriend to your place so she could sleep it off.

You try to recall what landed you both in this mess sure you drank but you were sober for the most part, you didn’t drink much more than the occasional beer, being the designated driver in your relationship because your girlfriend didn’t have a license or a car.

You faintly remember Van and Natalie playing beer pong together, the latter being brutal at the game, meant your girlfriend lost miserably but in an attempt to redeem herself and impress you she decided to play again losing again meaning she had to drink most of the beer on the table. You reassured that you were very impressed as a way to calm her drunk mind kissing her face as you dragged her to your car before she embarrassed herself further.

As you’re lost in thought you feel the culprit stirring next to you mumbling something you can’t quite make out. Before she sits up briskly looking rather pale. You immediately get up and grab the trashcan near your desk and hand it to her.

“Don’t look at me” she says as you hold her red hair and rub her back as she empties the contents of her stomach into the trash can.

“You’re acting like I’ve never seen you throw up before” you retaliate unfazed by her sudden insecurity.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? What kind of girlfriend are you?”

“The kind that’s putting up with your ass despite the fact that I warned you multiple times to not drink that much.”

“Fair.” She mumbles as she puts the trash can on the ground and looks at you with the best puppy dog eyes she can muster.

She stares at you for a while before protesting.

“My head is killing me man.” She complains as she rubs her forehead and her hair falls framing her face.

She falls back on the bed staring at you through her eyelashes

“Why would you let me drink that much” she asks annoyed more at herself than at you really.

“Me? You’re the one who decided to play beer pong with Nat. Twice.” You tell her.

“She totally cheated.”

“How do you cheat at beer pong?” You ask her not falling for her excuses.

“Idk but she did I can feel it.” She huffs annoyed.

You roll your eyes affectionately at her before pulling her to your side stroking her back.

“You know you should really go shower and brush your teeth.” You say softly.

“You’re coming with?” She asks with that smirk of hers you never manage to resist.

“Fine.” You tell her.

You lead her to your bathroom giggling on the way as she stumbles into the door. Once inside the locked room you help her undress, undressing yourself in the process and helping her into the shower.

You feel the water cascading down your body until you feel something else lips on your neck making their way down to your chest.

“Van.” You protest, attempting to remain quiet as her tongue circles your nipple.

“What.” She asks ever so innocently. “I brushed my teeth.” She adds as her lips latch onto your other breast.

“My parents are literally asleep in the next room.” You complain unable to stop the soft moans that escape your lips.

“Well than your gonna have to be quiet won’t you princess?” She says as her lips make their way down your body. “Unless you wanna bust our very believable friendship.” She quips as her mouth makes contact with your center.

You cringe at the mental image of your parents finding out about you and Vans relationship in such a way.

She keeps lapping at your center like a woman starved and you have to bite your hand in order to remain silent, suddenly feeling very grateful for the running water for muffling the obscene sounds you two are making.

You cum with a muffled scream against your hand and she keeps lapping at you until you physically have to pull her away she comes up grins at you and pulls you into an embrace while the water hits you both. “So good for me so perfect.” She says with her face in the crook of your neck.

You both go back to your room still half wet and you lay on the bed with your head on her chest as she strokes your hair. You get up straddle her and start to kiss her neck.

“What are you doing?” She asks bewildered but smiling amused nonetheless.

“Returning the favor.” You tease as your hands make their way down her body.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! For context this character is, like most characters in this world, an animal/human sort of mix/hybrid.

I was wondering how visible a one sided facial paralysis would look on say, scales? Or maybe, how to show/draw it? It's quite obvious on human skin, what with the sagging/lack of movement compared to the non paralyzed side, but with scaled animals (thinking lizards here) they're not exactly super physically expressive to begin with/scales don't exactly act the same as human skin.. And while they do have an odd sort of mix, I don't really know how to simulate paralysis on the scales part? And there isn't much information I can find, so I figured I'd ask for y'alls opinion!

I can't give much more information, the character is very WIP but this is how far I've gotten :']

(quickly adding, they do have (a?) strabismus, which will help I guess with conveying a facial difference in general but yeah.. still stumped on drawing the paralysis)

Thanks in advance!

Hello!

Interesting question! Doing research for this ask I actually learned that reptiles apparently have the same cranial nerves as humans which is pretty cool. I mostly referenced this paper for context.

So first thing you can do is to choose which condition specifically they have/which nerves are actually paralyzed. Because of the "one sided facial paralysis" I'm assuming you mean a reptile equivalent of CN VII palsy (commonly caused by Bell's palsy in people) but if they have strabismus then they would need to have CN III/IV/VI palsy (or just have it for a non-paralytic reason).

I tried to make a short list of how the all the possible CN [insert Roman numeral] palsies could present in a lizard. If you want the equivalent of Bell's palsy, skip to CN VII. The other ones also cause paralysis, just different kinds. All of these can be either on one or both sides.

CN I/II/VIII/IX/X/XI: not visible. CN XI technically affects the muscles (which is visible) but not of the face. CN III/IV/VI: yeah just strabismus. You can look at this image to see what the difference between them is since it's convoluted to explain via text. CN V: the CN V nerve has three branches. 2 of the 3 (V1+V2) are irrelevant here because they're purely sensory but something to consider for the non-visual stuff. TLDR you can have paralysis of 1 (any of them), 2, or all 3. For visible paralysis: mouth being asymmetrical i.e. doesn't open as much as the other half (the V3 branch). As a sidenote, CN V dysfunction also can cause one of, if not the most severe kind of pain called trigeminal neuralgia, at least among humans. IDK if that's the case for non-mammals since I wasn't able to find much about it. CN VII (the one you probably want to know about): "in general, the only parts of the face of reptiles that moves are the eyelids in species that have them." according to the paper linked above. So scientifically speaking it just doesn't show up* on scales. If your lizard has eyelids then they'd probably have ptosis. CN XII: tongue not moving properly maybe? In a lizard or a snake I guess that would count as a facial difference since it's usually out.

*-not all kinds of paralysis on the face are visible. In both humans and reptiles most aren't visible. If you give your lizard CN VII palsy and it doesn't show up like it does in humans, that's not erasure, that's a different species. If you want to show the non-motor part, then it's also responsible for taste. But you can't emote with scales, it is what it is.

You can also obviously give your lizard other kinds of paralysis, but they aren't visible, just sensory/functional. I'd also encourage you to look up the invisible effects of nerve paralysis, because there are a lot and they can affect functioning just as much (if not more) than the visible part.

Since all of these palsies are very only-one-part-looks-affected you can give them a condition that causes multiple of these for a more 'obvious' effect if that's what you're looking for. Traumatic injuries, stroke, nerve infections, multiple sclerosis, idiopathic congenital, CHARGE syndrome, Moebius syndrome, Guillain–Barré syndrome, etc. can all cause multiple cranial nerve dysfunctions (as a note, some syndromes are more likely to cause one over the other).

I was able to find one photo of a lizard with strabismus but not literally anything else. If any followers have any awesome photos feel free to share.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[fawniswriting]

Dagger and Thread

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

This is Chapter 03 of the Faithfully Yours series.

The above image does not indicate the reader’s physical appearance.

Summary: Your journey continues, though multiple unexpected hindrances force you and Sir Barnes to keep changing course. After one of you finds yourself in trouble, an intimate moment is shared.

Word Count: 5800-ish

Warning(s): historical royal AU. forbidden love (princess x knight/royal guard). slowburn. fake marriage. talks of war and occupation. profanities. degrading nicknames. threats of bodily harm. physical assault. violence. blood and injury. possibly an incorrect medical procedure for treating a wound.

Hi lovelies! Here's the third chapter of Faithfully Yours, as promised xx Idk why I'm not feeling this one as I did the first two chapters, but I've done my best and this is exactly where I always intended the story to go, sooo oh well. Please comment, like, and reblog to support, thank youu!

The entire town of Maltea is brimming with shops and street stalls. A vibrant maze of wooden stands and makeshift carts line either side of the town’s main road, where merchants call out their wares in competing voices, their cries mingling with the chatter of townsfolk haggling over dyed linen, fresh produce, and trinkets of silver and brass. 

You ride slowly through the mass of people, evading children as they dart between stalls, their hands sticky with honeyed pastries. Behind you, Sir Barnes follows. Although you cannot see him from your position at the lead, the weight of his stare swelters on the back of your neck, his vigilant eyes ensuring your safety at every moment in time. It takes a substantial amount of strength for you to ignore his intimidating presence, especially considering what has transpired between the two of you this morning.

This morning.

After you finished breakfast, you left the room in search of Sir Barnes, telling him to have his meal while you went to explore the vicinity of the inn. When you returned from your morning stroll, Sir Barnes was waiting for you at the inn’s entrance, your belongings all packed and secured to the saddles, ready for the road.

There has not been a single utterance about the incident. 

As you now traverse through the streets of Maltea, you figure out that it’s for the best. The journey ahead of you is long, possibly even more demanding than what you have endured thus far. The last thing you need is to tarnish the air with unnecessary tension. Some things are better left unsaid, and you are more than happy to let this particular one fester without ever seeing the light of day.

Tugging on the reins, you slow Sparrow to a stop when you spot a jewelry shop on the side of the road. Sir Barnes dismounts and takes Sparrow from your hand, securing both horses as you tell him, “I will be right back.”

The metallic smell of brass welcomes you as soon as you walk into the shop. An elderly man rises to his feet upon your entrance, smiling in greetings although it ends up looking more like a sneer.

“Welcome, My Lady! How may I help you today? Are you looking for anything in particular? I have a necklace that will suit you just fine. Or do you prefer something for your hair? A brooch, perhaps?”

The man’s eagerness tugs a smile in the corner of your lips. Approaching closer, you drop the pouch of jewelry on the counter where it lands with a soft thud, eliciting a curious arch of the man’s eyebrow.

“Actually, I was looking to sell these.”

Skepticism flickers across the shopkeeper’s face as he pulls the pouch closer. With methodical hands, he loosens the strings and empties its content onto the counter. A cascade of glinting gold and precious stones spills forth, each piece a relic of the life you left behind.

“I will need to inspect everything first,” the man says, already reaching for a magnifying glass.

“You are welcome to.”

You wait in silence as he studies each piece, tilting them towards the light, scrutinizing the cut of every gem and the craftsmanship of every clasp. Eventually, he puts the magnifying glass down, finding your expectant gaze as he informs, “I will give you fifty gold for everything.”

Your stomach folds. “Fifty?” 

Your gaze sweeps over the array of jewelry spread across the counter. These pieces are not mere trinkets; they are echoes of your past, tokens that once held whispers of love, legacy, and home. Parting with them is already an ache deep within your ribs, but to have their worth so carelessly reduced to a sum that barely scratches their value makes something inside you twist and splinter.

“Are you certain you cannot offer a higher price?” you ask. “I assure you, these jewels are worth a lot more than what you suggest. Each piece is one of a kind.”

The man shrugs, his expression indifferent. “Take it or leave it.”

“Please, Sir—”

“It’s fifty gold. No more, no less.”

“Sir, if you would only—”

“If you do not like the price, you may take your business elsewhere.” The shopkeeper scoops all of the jewelry back into the pouch and shoves it into your hands. He waves a dismissive palm, his gesture coarse and final. “Out with you, then! Get on, Lady, out!”

“But, Sir—”

“Is everything alright?”

The sudden voice startles you. Turning around, you lock eyes with Sir Barnes, his gaze flicking back and forth between you and the shopkeeper, face darkening as he takes in the situation.

“Who the hell are you?” the shopkeeper snaps.

Sir Barnes steps forward, positioning himself as a shield between you and the angry merchant. “I’m her husband.”

Your heart stumbles. For the briefest of moments, his choice of words have caught you off guard, until you remember that he is only maintaining the charade that you both have promised to uphold for the remainder of this journey.

“Is there a problem here, my love?” 

The words roll from his tongue so effortlessly, yet he barely casts you a glance as he utters them. Heat coils within your chest. You wonder how often he gets the chance to use the term of endearment for it to have fallen from his lips as easily as breathing. Your heart craves to hear it again, to have him call you with no other name but my love for as long as time should allow.

Clearing your throat, you summon your composure, willing your voice to steady before answering, “Everything is alright. I was just asking the kind gentleman if he might consider his offer for the jewelry.”

“And I have told you, I shall give you fifty or nothing at all!” the shopkeeper screeches.

Before you can muster a response, Sir Barnes takes the pouch of jewelry from your grasp, and approaches the old man with slow, deliberate strides. The wooden floor creaks beneath the weight of his steps, each footfall measured and resounding. The shopkeeper—older, shorter, and frailer—instinctively shrinks back as your knight looms before him, the broad expanse of his shoulders casting an imposing shadow across the counter. 

“Everything in this pouch is worth no less than three-hundred gold,” Sir Barnes says, his voice a quiet rumble through the room. “Offering us a mere fifty is beyond insult. It is theft. Surely, you do not mean to cheat us, do you?”

The shopkeeper swallows hard, his fingers twitching atop the counter. His gaze flickers between the pouch and Sir Barnes’ face, confidence crumbling beneath the weight of your guard’s presence. “I will pay one-hundred for everything.”

“Two-hundred,” Sir Barnes counters.

“One-hundred fifty.” 

“Did you fail to hear me? I said two-hundred.”

“One-eighty,” the man sputters. “It’s my final offer. I cannot go higher.”

Sir Barnes turns to you, the faintest hint of amusement curving at the corner of his lips. “Very well. You have a deal.”

The shopkeeper collects the pouch with a tremble in his fingers, storing the jewelry safely inside a worn wooden chest. He refills the pouch with gold coins before returning it to Sir Barnes who proceeds to quietly count the sum.

“Are you folks just passing through?” the old man suddenly asks, his voice still fraying with remnants of fright.

“We are,” you respond. “We plan to journey west towards the Kingdom of Asgard.”

The shopkeeper frowns. “You are heading for Asgard? Are you certain?”

The shopkeeper’s brows knit together, his fingers hovering hesitantly in front of him. Sir Barnes stiffens at his position by the counter, sensing the shift in the air as acutely as you do.

“Yes,” you say carefully, your heart quickening. “Is there a reason we should not be?”

The man exhales sharply, shaking his head as if struggling to find the right words to say. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, edged with something that sounds eerily similar to sorrow.

“My Lady…” His gaze flickers between you and Sir Barnes, hesitant and unsure. “Have you not heard? Asgard has fallen.”

The words hit like a strike of iron against stone. 

You blink, convinced that your ears must have played a trick on you somehow.

“What?” The question barely makes it past your lips.

The shopkeeper leans in, dropping his voice into a low murmur. “The Titan Empire has seized it. Emperor Thanos has taken Asgard, just as he did Sokovia. And just last week, he conquered a kingdom in the north.”

The blood in your veins turns to ice. The kingdom in the north—your kingdom.

Sir Barnes is the first to react. “When?” His voice is grave, heavy, but the simmer of tension beneath is not entirely lost on you.

“We received word about Asgard a fortnight past. When our routine shipment of medicines from Sokovia failed to arrive, we knew that the land had suffered the same fate,” the shopkeeper replies. “The Titan banners now hang over the castle in the northern kingdom.”

A chill runs down your spine, cold and merciless. You know your kingdom has fallen. You saw it burn, heard the cries of your people swallowed by the night. But to learn that Asgard has suffered the same fate—your sole chance of salvation now lost to the flames—makes your stomach churn in dread.

You and Sir Barnes leave the jewelry shop in grim silence. For the first time in days, you are unsure of what the next course of action should be. Asgard was the plan, your only hope of survival, and now when that path is no longer available for you to traverse, you do not have the slightest clue on how to move forward. 

Sir Barnes helps you mount Sparrow, the quietness stretching as the two of you cruise the length of Maltea’s main road. 

“We can continue heading south,” he propounds.

You spare him a glance, exhaustion suddenly wearing down your bones. “Where, Barnes? We need a destination. We cannot possibly spend the rest of our lives on the run.”

Your mind spins under the heat of the sun, the noises of the city scrambling your head into mush. You attempt to rummage your brain for a solution, a place where you and Sir Barnes can seek support and asylum. But in these dire times, uncertainty is your greatest enemy, and without knowing which nations are friend or foe, every potential decision threatens to push your life at stake.

A squealing child runs past, your body staggering as you swerve Sparrow out of the impending crash.

The movement nearly jerks you off your horse, but before you can fall to the ground, Sir Barnes is at your side. His strong hand encircles your waist, offering a formidable support as he repositions you atop the saddle. 

“We should take a rest, Your Highness,” Sir Barnes suggests. Your mouth parts in the beginning of a refusal, but he cuts you off with a singular, urgent word, “Please.”

You allow him to lead you towards a more deserted part of the path, making sure that the large tree would provide the two of you with ample shade. He fastens the reins of both horses to a branch once you dismount, handing you a jug of water as you sit down against the tree trunk.

Closing your eyes, you welcome the bustling symphony of Maltea to wash over your being. Somewhere in the distance, a butcher’s cleaver thuds rhythmically against his worn wooden block. A bard strums his lute near the town square, his melody nearly swallowed by the clamor of bartering and the distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer forging steel into shape. Each thread of sounds dulls the chaos floundering in your head, a brief respite from the trepidation eating at your bones. 

Above the low rumble of the town, Sir Barnes’ voice emits, “There is a land across the Southern Sea, people call it La Sarvas City. They claim it is a safe haven for people who have nowhere else to turn to.”

“La Sarvas City?” Your head lifts. “I thought that place was a myth.”

“Most believe it is, but myths are not born without at least a fraction of truth,” Sir Barnes proclaims. “We can travel south, find people who are willing to guide us there. Someone is bound to know the way, ones who have tread the path we have yet to walk.”

“And if we do not find it?” Your voice quivers. “If it is nothing more than a fable whispered to comfort the lost, what happens then?”

“Then we will find another path.”

A wry sigh falls from your lips, and from the low droop of your shoulders, Sir Barnes knows you are not yet assured. 

“Your Highness.” His voice is gentle, placating. 

Sir Barnes takes several calculated strides forward, stepping over a protruding root on the ground before stooping down on one knee, right next to where you are sitting. His eyes shine with invincible conviction as he declares, “Even if La Sarvas is nothing more than a tale whispered in the wind, I will find a way, no matter where fate leads us. I will see to it that you are safe, that you have what you need.” He exhales, his gaze lingering. “I will take care of you with everything I have. We can build a new life together, you and I.”

Your breath catches. 

You and I.

The words settle deep within your bones, threading through the cracks left by loss and grief. Something about the way Sir Barnes made that utterance—the weight of his voice, the quiet determination—compels your blood to simmer through your veins. He speaks as if he has already made the choice for himself, as if no force in the world could sway him otherwise.

The space between you feels impossibly small, every ticking moment a disruption to the fragile balance of your bond, something that does not necessarily fit in the hierarchical relation between a princess and her subject. Sir Barnes swallows, his fingers flexing at his sides as if holding back the urge to reach forward—to reach for you. The proximity alone is enough to sear your skin.

But then, before you can muster a response, something flutters across Sir Barnes’ face. He straightens back almost imperceptibly, as if rolling away from the edge of a precipice, and murmurs, “After all, I must uphold the vow I made to your brother.” 

The moment splinters.

You bite your lip in an attempt to hide the disappointment that is gnawing at your throat. In front of you, Sir Barnes rises to his feet, darting towards the horses as though it burns him to be in your immediate vicinity. His earlier declaration echoes in your mind, stubborn and loud, forcing you to wonder if any of his words held any extent of sincerity.

For the following days, you and Sir Barnes continue to travel south. The coins you earned from selling your jewelry are stowed safely inside the pouch attached to your kirtle. So far, they have been more than enough to sustain you both—securing warm meals, lodging for two at each night’s rest, and new kirtles laced at the front rather than the back.

As you now depart from yet another stop at a small village in the middle of nowhere, you brace yourself for the journey ahead. With each clatter of hooves, the village begins to shrink out of view, giving way to enormous trees and dirt roads that seemingly stretch for miles. If your estimations prove true, the two of you should reach the Southern Coast in no more than two fortnights. There, you will be able to secure passage across the Southern Sea, where the voyage will hopefully carry you to the enigmatic city of La Sarvas.

The surrounding woods grow denser with each perch you travel, the scent of damp earth thickening in the air. As the sun glides further west, the clouds overhead slowly darken in shade, unfurling a sheet of gray over the delicate streaks of sunlight.

“Barnes, wait.” You pull at the reins to slow Sparrow down to a halt, feeling an urgent discomfort pressing at your lower belly. The jug of water you downed earlier seemingly has found its way through your system far too quickly. “I need to excuse myself for a moment.”

Sir Barnes scans your entire surroundings. “You must not stray too far. I’ll be right here.”

You weave through the thick cover of underbush until you are out of sight, the forest humming with distant chirps of unseen creatures. You manage to finish your business in a timely manner, turning around to retrace the path that will reunite you once again with Sir Barnes.

But before you can take another step, something shifts.

A breeze stirs the branches overhead, yet the rustling you hear is different. It is deliberate, too heavy to be mistaken as a wild hare, taking shape in the form of an unknown presence lurking just beyond the trees. Your pulse kicks up, breath hitching as your fingers curl instinctively at your sides. The silence that follows is deafening, an unnatural hush settling over the forest as if the very earth under your feet is withholding its breath.

The realization crashes into you like the first plunge into freezing water—you are not alone.

Before you can react, a rough hand clamps over your mouth.

“Not a sound, whore,” he snarls.

Between the strange man’s obscene choice of words and the stench coming off his body, you cannot decide which one makes you recoil the most. You struggle against the hand across your rib cage, attempting to escape his hold, but the man only presses harder until your lungs constrict around a choked breath.

“I said, quiet,” he hisses. “If you still want to live, hand over your coin and jewels. Now.”

Your pulse thrums in dread. With a tremoring rate, your hand glides downward, reaching for the pouch dangling at your hip. The man’s breath is hot against your cheek, smelling of cheap ale and something acrid. You shut your eyes in repulsion as your fingers finally grab ahold of the pouch, reaching for the bundles of coins inside.

You went through a great sacrifice to acquire these coins.

With such a thought in mind, you release your fingers from the pouch and summon every last bit of strength flowing in your bones, thrashing and twisting your body with frantic desperation. His hold loosens just enough for you to drive an elbow into his ribs. A startled grunt escapes him, and in that fleeting moment of freedom, you throw yourself forward, stumbling out of his reach.

“Help! Help me! Barnes!” you cry, your voice ringing through the trees, raw with fear and urgency. “James, help!”

You do not get a chance to go far, barely dashing two paces forth before the man grabs you back into his arms, this time with a force that gives you no room for escape. Before your eyes, the rustling of trees soon give way to despairing footsteps, and relief instantly falls from your lips once Sir Barnes emerges from the thick cover of trees, his toned chest heaving as his fingers curl around the handle of his sword. 

However, your relief proves to be short-lived when you feel it—the press of a blade digging against your side.

“Do not come closer,” the man behind you warns, piercing the dagger deeper until you feel the fabric of your kirtle surrender underneath. “You take a step closer, and I will plunge this blade straight into her.”

The line on Sir Barnes’ forehead tenses, his eyes darkening. “You are making a grave mistake. Let her go, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Skewer me?” The man laughs. “Not unless you want her to bleed first.”

Sir Barnes’ entire form trembles with fury, his grip flexing around the hilt of his sword. “If you harm her, I promise you—you won’t leave these woods alive.”

Your guard takes a step forward, but the bandit jerks you tighter against him, forcing the blade deeper until you can feel its prickly edge cutting your skin. You visibly wince, making Sir Barnes halt instantly in place.

Your pulse drums wildly in your ears, drowning out the hum of the other noises in the forest. The air is thick, stifling, every second stretching sickeningly as the steel at your waist presses closer. You catch the flicker of something dark in Sir Barnes' eyes—rage, fear, or something else entirely. The tension in his shoulders coil like a predator ready to strike. But he does not move, his body refusing to leap forth for a reckless attack that could potentially put your life at risk.

And in that moment, you decide that you have had enough.

With a muffled groan, you grapple inside the man’s rough arms, flailing your limbs around and hitting his body wherever you can reach. The bandit refuses to let you go just as easily and retaliate with the same ferocity. You can feel his nails digging into your skin, his arms pressing vigorously as if he will break every inch of bones in your body. Summoning a guttural scream, you channel all of your strength forward, wrenching yourself free at last.

In all of the mayhem and confusion, your pouch of coins drops to the ground.

Your heart is hammering wildly as you stumble forward, sucking in a deep breath. Sir Barnes is at your side in the blink of an eye, catching your frame before your face can plummet against the earth. You watch as the bandit swipes the coin pouch and runs, his figure immediately disappearing into the dense cover of the forest. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Sir Barnes asks when you start wriggling in his arms, tightening his hold until you are unable to slip free.

Although his harshness is startling, you brush it off and exclaim, “He has the coins, Barnes! We cannot let him get away. We have to catch him!”

“No, we do not. Princess, listen to me. Hey!” Suddenly, Sir Barnes turns you in his arms, grasping your shoulders and forcing you to look into his eyes. “By the blood of Christ, will you stop?!”

The air halts in your throat. In all of the years you have known him, never—not even once—has Sir Barnes spoken to you in such a way, with such a crass choice of words. Your mind hurls, stunned by the sheer force of his voice, your face contorting in irritation. You are a breath away from demanding an explanation for his behavior when something stops you in your tracks.

His face.

Gone is the stoic, strapping knight you have come to rely on. In his place stands a man with a composure completely shattered, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated terror. His lips part ever so slightly, as if to speak, to utter something, but no sound ever seems to come through.

When he finally does find his voice, it shudders, raw and helpless.

“You’re bleeding.”

The words barely make sense at first. 

Bleeding? No, that cannot be right. The bandit’s dagger barely even touched you. How can you be bleeding?

Then, you feel it.

A slow, creeping warmth that spreads across your ribs, seeping into the fabric of your dress. A dull ache pulses beneath your skin, growing sharper by each inhale of breath, as if your body is only now registering that it has been wounded. When you lower your gaze, your kirtle—once an unremarkable, muted gray—is darkening. The stain spreads outward in uneven tendrils, a deep, menacing red blooming against the cloth like ink spilled upon parchment.

Oh.

The realization looms over your head in an intolerable weight, and the pain—by Gods, the pain—strikes you all at once. It claws on your side like a tiger mauling its prey, heinous and unforgiving, pumping the air right out of your lungs. A fog of haze descends upon your brain, shrouding your vision and clarity, dulling the other senses until the only thing your body is able to feel is agony.

Underneath you, your knees buckle, forcing you to desperately clutch at Sir Barnes’ shirt to remain standing. His arms are around you in an instant, his presence steadying, although his breathing—ragged and trembling—is anything but.

Your vision begins to blur. In front of you, Sir Barnes’ face, taut with panic and helplessness, has started to melt. You try to say something, to tell him that everything is fine, that you are fine and that nothing will happen; but the lie never reaches your lips. Instead, all that escapes is a single, fragile whisper of his name.

“James.”

Before you can inhale another breath, the world dims to dark.

Every single night until you were five, your father never failed to soothe you to sleep. 

Despite his duties—the pressing obligations he must bear as the head of your kingdom—your father rarely missed a single moment of bedtime. A few sparse minutes was all he could give, but it was a few sparse minutes that you looked forward to each day of your childhood. He would visit your chambers with his whole entourage, still clad in his formal attire, and he would sit on the bed to recite stories and legends of far-off kingdoms. Meanwhile, his hands would encompass your much smaller one, never letting go until he was sure you had succumbed to the depths of slumber.

As your body stirs, the warmth that is currently surrounding your hand reminds you a tad too much of the times when you were little. You instinctively grip it tighter, letting the warmth sink deeper into your skin. 

“Princess?”

Blurry lights dance in your vision once you flutter your eyes open, your neck turning to see Sir Barnes kneeling by your side. His broad frame is tense, his face drawn in exhaustion. His eyes, a raging storm at sea, never stray far from your wandering gaze.

Blinking past the haze, your eyes find the wooden ceilings above, its beams weathered with age. Slowly, they begin to roam, taking in the modest space of your surroundings—the rough-hewn stone walls, the two rickety chairs in the center of the room, and the table bearing an assortment of unfamiliar belongings between them. The air is thick with dust, the kind that lingers untouched for years, seemingly forgotten in time.

“Where are we?” you croak out.

“Someone’s cabin. It looks to have been abandoned for months,” Sir Barnes replies.

Then, your gaze lowers.

Sir Barnes moves faster than the shift of your eyes, retracting his hands as if flamed. It is only then that you realize the warmth that has been encircling your hand is him, and now without his own hands on top of yours, your fingers contract in grief.

You move to rise, but a sharp sting immediately attacks your abdomen. Sir Barnes is quick, taking your shoulders and gently maneuvering you down on your back.

“You would do well to keep still,” he advises. “We do not wish for your wound to worsen any further.”

With that, the memories of the incident flood your brain—the memory of how you were stabbed. In the middle of your scuffle, the bandit in the woods had thrusted his knife into you, moments before he disappeared into the forest like a shadow shrouded by the night.

Once the memory is intact, a wretched gasp escapes your lips. “Barnes, the coins—”

“Should be the least of your concerns right now,” Sir Barnes interrupts, his jaw tightening.

You move to protest, but a sharp hissing noise draws your attention away from him. Your gaze ambles towards the hearth, where a pot of water has begun to boil, steam curling toward the rafters of the small cabin. The soft crackle of firewood fills the silence, broken only by the quiet rustle of Sir Barnes rising to his feet.

You shift slightly, attempting to sit up, only for a fierce, searing pain to lance through your side. A strangled breath catches in your throat as you press a trembling hand over your wound. Beneath your fingertips, you feel the damp fabric pressed against your dress, a strip of linen torn from Sir Barnes’ own shirt, its once pristine weave now soaked through with crimson.

It does not take long for Sir Barnes to return, carrying a small bundle of cloth—a clean shirt, by the looks of it—a pot of cold water, along with a needle and a spool of thread, still faintly gleaming from their recent submersion in the boiling water. He frowns in disapproval when he catches you struggling to remain upright.

“I told you to stop moving about,” he mutters, setting his things down onto a makeshift table with an audible thud.

“What are these for?”

Sir Barnes reaches for the needle and thread. “I need to close your wound.”

The needle glints ominously in the dim firelight, the mere sight of it is enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your throat tightens. “You have done this before?”

Sir Barnes’ forehead furrows. He does not look at you when he answers, “Not on a woman.”

There is a weight in his words, one that presses against your ribs like a phantom force. You realize, with a strange clarity, that this is a man who has seen much bloodshed, who has mended the wounds of his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, yet still hesitates now, as though the very thought of causing you pain unsettles him.

“Where did you even manage to find these items?”

“I found the needle on that table over there—” he gestures towards the center of the room, “—and the thread, I pulled from my shirt.”

“This one?” You lift the bundle of fabric Sir Barnes brought, flinching when the movement inevitably tugs at your injury. Your eyes inspect the line where the thread has been pulled, a conspicuous snag nearly fraying the fabric apart. “The shirt is ruined. I do not think you shall be able to wear it from now on.”

“Frankly, Your Highness, I care very little about whether or not I can wear a bloody shirt.” 

Sir Barnes finishes threading the needle with a practiced hand, his fingers deft despite their size. The firelight casts long shadows over his face, sharpening the severity of his features as he turns his gaze back to you. 

“I need to inspect your wound before I stitch it,” he says, his throat bobbing with the weight of his words. “The dress—” he hesitates for a fleeting moment, “—I have to tear it.”

A shiver bolts down your spine, though whether from anticipation or the chill creeping through the air, you cannot be certain. All you can do is give Sir Barnes a tentative nod, fingers tightening around the bundle of his ruined shirt in your lap. 

Your guard moves in silence, evading your eyes completely as he hooks his fingers beneath the torn fabric at your waist. The cabin is deathly silent, save for the faint, slow rip of linen as it gives way beneath his hands. His fingertips brush your side, barely there, but it is enough to send your heart stumbling in its rhythm. He is careful in the most unbearable way, as though you are something fragile and sacred, a rare gemstone in need of the most precious and attentive care.

You know he is merely going out of his way to tend to your unfortunate injury, and yet, a traitorous heat blooms in your cheeks. You wonder if he, too, feels the same pull, the searing intimacy that crackles between you like fire on dry wood.

“This will hurt,” Sir Barnes warns, his voice hesitant and sheer. “I need you to bite down on something.”

Wordlessly, you lift the shirt in your lap and clamp your teeth down on the fabric. The scent of Sir Barnes still lingers there, something akin to leather and steel, the faintest trace of musk that obliges you to briefly shut your eyes in its embrace.

Meanwhile, Sir Barnes takes the pot of cooled, boiled water, his knuckles white and tense around the handle. His jaw locks as he finds your eyes. “I am sorry.”

With a deep breath, he tips the pot, allowing the water to pour over your open wound.

Blinding, searing pain is all you can feel. An agonized whine rips from your throat, your body jolting violently as your hands scramble for support around the sheets beneath you. The pain is unlike anything you have ever felt, cruel and ravenous as it burns through your side, and for a moment, you swear your vision blurs at the edges.

Through the haze of your suffering, you catch a glimpse of Sir Barnes’ face. His expression is stricken, mouth set in a hard line, eyes burning with something raw and wretched as if he feels every bit of your pain himself. His hand trembles as he presses a clean cloth to your wound, staunching the blood from spilling too freely.

“I know,” he says hoarsely, his free hand finding your arm, grounding you to earth. Grounding himself. “I know it hurts. Just a little longer, Princess.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, biting down harder on the shirt until your jaw aches. The pain does not subside. If anything, it only multiplies in magnitude when Sir Barnes finally pierces the needle through your skin, stitching the wound close. You lose perception of how long the torment lasts, your mind already slipping in and out of consciousness by the time Sir Barnes secures the suture with a knot. His eyes storm with pain and concern when he finally lifts his gaze to yours.

“It is done now, Princess. You did so well,” he murmurs, voice rough and fractured as if seeing you in such torment has done irreparable damage to his sanity.

Sir Barnes pries the shirt from your hands, his own impossibly tender as they run along the length of your arm, soothing away what he cannot take from you. His palm lands on your cheek, and for the first time in your agonized haze, you realize that you have been crying. Silent tears slip down your skin, only to be wiped away by the rough pad of his unbearably gentle thumb. He does not speak at first, only whispers quiet reassurances between each swipe, as if willing your pain to lessen by the force of his voice alone.

“You must rest,” he suggests after a while, noticing the way your eyelids flutter, too heavy to keep open for much longer. “Come, lie down. I shall help you.”

You do not resist as he guides you back against the mattress, tucking the blanket securely around your trembling form. His hand lingers at your face, fingers brushing stray hairs from your eyes with a tenderness that threatens to undo you entirely. When he moves to pull away, you stop him, your weakened grip encircling his wrist, the last shred of consciousness ushering a single word past your lips.

“Stay.”

His breath stills.

"Always," he murmurs.

As you let yourself drift further towards the darkness, the last thing you feel is the warmth of Sir Barnes’ presence looming beside you.

Taglist: @corawithfanfiction @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @greatenthusiasttidalwave @yikesdrama @sleepysongbirdsings @lumoschildextra

[brainless-393]

So I was thinking of how I would personally interpret if Spamton and Jevil were lightners.

Ough idk why I just got bored

personality and stuff idk Jevil is more casual and relaxed but still has that chaotic energy. He is still a dumbass jokester and annoys the hell outta Spamton with it. He works multiple jobs he is pretty chill with. He occasionally pops into Sans’ store or whatever the fuck it is and just does a few things like restock or clean then yaps with Sans. They exchange jokes and puns, it’s their language. He works at the festival whenever it’s around and either sells cotton candy or does magic tricks. He does standup comedy just about anywhere, the library, the diner, even just outside on the sidewalk when he’s bored. He helps Asgore watering or planting flowers, most of the time just trying to tell Asgore very politely that he should probably start leaving Toriel alone.

Spamton is always tired and kinda rude. Depends who he is around and who is listening. He works for the mayor (I forgot her name I’m too lazy to check) but it sucks. All he does is fix the ac when it breaks or stops working💔 he only sticks with the job because of the decent pay and gives him a somewhat status to brag about. He will just go around like “I work for the mayor” and shit like that, something to boost his ego a bit. He is kinda like a uncle to Noelle sometimes, giving her relationship and life advice when Rudy isn’t around for her and giving her support. Him and Jevil have a close relationship, both lovers and best friends basically. Spamtons job is torture. the mayor will call him and at any time any place and demand him to come fix the ac, doesn’t matter if Spamton was asleep or busy, he has to go.

got a lazy doodle of Jevil waking up Spam bc the mayor called

“Spamton the rich lady called again her air conditioning stopped working”

“WHAT THE FUCK ITS 2AM”

(Also trans masc Spamton because I said so)

(He’s also like fluffy or whatever the fuck because I said so)

Anyways more into Jevil and Spamtons relationship. They live together in a apartment. When Jevil isn’t around annoying the town or working he is with Spamton being all lovey dovey. A lot of the town residents believe that Spamton and Jevil are horrible together because of their personality differences but they are a overall healthy couple. Jevil is definitely way more vocal and physical about his relationship with Spamton than how Spamton is. He talks about Spamton a lot and expresses his love for him without hesitation. Spamton is more closed off talking about his relationship, thinking it would mess up his professional image if he started talking about some goofball he is with.

Ough might do more on this but i’m gonna post it now so I don’t gotta worry abt it later. Depends if people like this idea or not I’ll continue it