#divider credit to @cafekitsune

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🌟 ̟ !! gold star redemption program. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ʙʟᴜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋ's ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇʀ

✿ ─ synopsis: you are the new manager for team blue lock and you have a great idea to make the players get along better. after all, positive reinforcement worked really well on dogs, why not men? ✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma + kunigami rensuke referenced ✿ ─ cw: smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, aged-up!characters(18+), pet names, kissing, penetrative sex, oral receiving/giving, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, deepthroating/face-fucking, non-exclusive relationships, lots of jealousy, pda, use of foul language, suggestive themes, shidou is an asshole, rin threatens murder, somewhat proofread ✿ ─ notes: okay so every is going to ignore the logistics and mental gymnastics done to put all these guys on the same team and have any of this go on, right? cool. this work was requested by @anastasiablossomlove pls enjoy!

managing team blue lock was no task for a person of average conviction. anyone with less of a spine would be easily trampled and consumed by the members, all with big personalities and even bigger egos. you took to the role with exceptional organizational skills and a positive attitude that didn’t falter, even under the cold glares of the less compliant men of the team (cough cough itoshi rin cough cough barou shouei). before the end of your first week you had drafted up detailed and individualized meal plans, unique to each of them. by the second you had worked with the coach to create special training regimes that works towards their fitness goals while providing challenge and variety. right under their noses you dug your pretty fingers into every part of team blue lock, finding every issue and soothing every conflict, turning a group of somewhat wild animals into a well functioning machine with you at its core.

and not a detail slipped your eye. you could always tell when kunigami had pushed himself too hard in the gym by the stiffness in his shoulders. honestly you doubt you would’ve been able to convince him to let you help him if he wasn’t just as sore as you predicted. but the minute your palms were pressing into his back he was groaning in relief, “you’re an angel” grumbled under his breath. he’s a bit less embarrassed the next time around, blushing while asking you to fix him like you did last time.

you quickly took responsibility for doing chigiri’s hair before every practice and game. after seeing it fall out of its style and flap wildly in his face whenever he reached top speed on the field, you decided he needed something a little more reliable to keep it out the way so his eyes could stay on the ball. though when his hair was this soft, who could blame you for taking a bit longer than necessary, brushing through the knots and gently scratching at his scalp. plus, he didn’t seem to mind all that much, always red faced and all smiles, leaning into your touch. the thank you kiss he plants on your cheek lingers long enough to leave a matching blush on your face as a token of his appreciation.

being the backbone of their system earned you respect, acknowledgement, even affection from the overly friendly members of the team (cough cough bachira meguru cough cough shidou ryusei). no one could deny the benefits of having you around, always offering all kinds of helpful advice and showed not a shred of judgment when listening to their problems. and you weren’t exactly ignorant to the fact that your constant support was causing some of your new friends to become especially attached to you. maybe to someone else it would be a bigger concern, but in your eyes, this was only another opportunity to do more for your team.

that’s why you implemented the gold star redemption program to help motivate them. it was quite simple to follow, you had a chart with all of their names along with cute, slightly wonky doodles of them, and a list of ways to earn gold stars. from goals and assists to being on good behavior, whatever way they earn their stars, team members can then cash them in for certain prizes from you. the list had looked something like this…

2 ☆ = snack or drink of your choice 4 ☆ = a home cooked meal 5 ☆ = a kiss <3 7 ☆ = a massage <33 10 ☆ = private training session <333

the objective was to give incentives towards cooperation. not to mention, it’s always good to strengthen bonds with your team members. it seems, however, that you underestimated how much of your time this new system would take up. or maybe you just overestimated how easy it would be to keep up with the greedy desires of so many egoists at once.

ever since your arrival, anyone with eyes could see that isagi yoichi carried a torch for you. you let him talk your ear off for hours about tactics and players, never tired of his company or too busy for his rambles. it gets his heart thumping obnoxiously loud in his chest. so yoichi makes it his objective to dote on you as much as possible to try to make up for all the time you spend fussing over everybody else. always staying after practice to help you or walking you home. so when you start handing out stars for that kind of stuff, isagi is already making a steady income. he considers himself a gentleman, so at first he spends his stars on meals. and he’s more than happy to eat your cooking, stirring up all kinds of wifey fantasies in his head and enjoying his lunches with you. but at night, when he’s lying in bed, the big ticket item at the bottom of the prize board haunts him. and when he can’t take it anymore, he slips into your tiny little office that you share with the coach, a self-satisfied smile on his face when he lets you know that he just finished the stat sheets you asked him to fill out, earning him his tenth gold star. enough for one private training session.

in all the times you thought about sex with isagi, you’re not sure you ever pictured it to be like this. bent over your own desk, tennis skirt bunched up around your waist, your star player too eager to sink into your pussy to even push down your underwear. they stayed tugged to the side, thoroughly soaked from the way his hips meet yours in sloppy desperate thrusts. “i knew i needed to fuck you when i saw this skirt,” he confesses, eyes fixed to the point where you connect, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you, “you’ve been tempting me all day, so be a good girl and take my cock, okay?” before you can respond he hooks a finger into the elastic of your panties to let it snap back against your skin, drawing a small yelp from you. he changs the angle to fuck you harder, deeper. you wonder if this could be the same sweet yoichi that carries your things and bashfully tells you your outfit looks good.

apparently that yoichi doesn’t exist once he’s balls deep inside you, all that’s left is the side of him you’ve only caught glimpses of when he’s dominating his opponents on the field. and if you thought that it was a chance encounter, you’re sorely mistaken as week after week isagi makes sure he earns his ten stars and you get to know just how mean he can be. his grip is always tight around your hair, whether it’s pulling and steering you into the position he wants or guiding your head down to take more of his dick. god forbid he asks you nicely for something like he always does when you’re not ‘training’. one time you even had the gall to suggest the idea to him and lived to regret it as now if you want anything from him, isagi is only accepting the most convincing of your begs. “c'mon princess, mind your manners, if you wanna cum then you’re gonna have to ask really nicely.” and no teary eyed puppy dog look will get you what you want, even when he makes getting your words out so difficult. truthfully, he never intends to be so hard on you, but having you crying and begging for his cock is the only way to soothe the devil on his shoulder that tries to tell him to take you for himself. in the aftermath, you start to recognize your yoichi again, sheepish in his apologies for how rough he was with you, kissing away the tears that run down your face. he’s lucky you’re too fucked out to charge him for them.

there’s not a world where you offer bachira meguru sexual favors in exchange for playing soccer and he says no. he was already gonna do that anyway, and now not only does he get to make even more of a game out of it, but his reward for winning is the cute little manager he’s had his eyes on for far too long? consider him sold. bachira knows it would be most fun for him to save up and have sex with you as soon as possible, but all of a sudden he has five and he’s itching for a kiss. one he decides to give you right before practice starts… in front of the whole team. but can you blame him? he’s already been waiting forever to feel those pretty glossed lips on his, you couldn’t really expect him to make it through the next few hours when he’s so close to getting what he wants. and you could maybe understand that, but was it really necessary to go for a full open-mouthed wet almost make out that left you panting when everyone’s eyes were already on you? you suspect not, but bachira doubles down, telling you it was of upmost importance that he got it in, else he wouldn’t be able to focus. he neglects to tell you that he overheard reo in the locker room talking about what he was gonna do now that he had five stars. shidou already made it very clear that he would be first to ten, so bachira had to be crafty in order to secure at least one first from you.

meguru was certainly one of the more needy players, right under nagi that required some form of encouragement every step of the way to get anything done. bachira usually does what you tell him to, but not without whining about deserving a prize for being good. quite frankly, you dread having to ask anything of him, because he is determined to be fully compensated for even the smallest of requests. even a task as easy as grabbing something on a high shelf was met with a cheeky smirk and a request for a kiss. and don’t think he’ll budge either, holding the item hostage if he thinks he can squeeze two out of you. it didn’t make it any easier that bachira didn’t possess a shy bone in his whole body, openly showering you in affection when the others were around, holding your hand and nuzzling his face into your collar. it was enough to make even a professional like you blush. he acted as if he was oblivious to the jealous stares of his friends, but the smug cat-like smirk he sends them and the way he only holds you tighter when you try to shyly brush him off gives him away. it may come as a surprise considering his reputation for being a bit delusional, but bachira tries to root himself in reality for once. he frequently reminds himself of the nature of your relationship and tries his best not let his imagination run wild with anything that would be beyond the boundaries you’ve clearly set. things like picturing himself taking you on dates, coming home to you at night, introducing you to his mom. they were all too dangerous to let his mind settle on them for too long.

and what better distraction than burying his face between your thighs. it’s hard to think of much when he hasn’t bothered to stop lapping at your cunt long enough to take a breath in a couple minutes. suffocating was the least of his concerns when the clench around his fingers lets him know your orgasm is just around the corner. meguru swears that your pathetic little whimpers and the slick dripping down his chin are like a straight hit of dopamine to his brain and he’s at real risk of addiction at this point. lidded amber eyes travel up to watch your expression twist into one of pleasure as you gasp out his name. now that catches his interest. when your vision clears and your brain is functioning again after that intense high, you search for his comfort as if you had done any of the hard work. but all you’re met with is that signature wild look that he gets when he brushing past the enemy team’s defense straight towards his goal. it’s your only warning that he’s far from tired and even farther from sated. “if i can keep going, so can you baby. i know you have more for me. jus’ need t’see you make that face one more time.” you have no room to protest, his tongue already finding your clit and working towards bringing you to the edge once again. by your fourth time cumming, you’re sobbing for a break and debating whether you should charge him four times over or give him a star for each one.

someone who was on board with your system from the second that you explained how it worked, was shidou ryusei. what better way to celebrate another one of his blood pumping, heart stopping performances than racing to the locker room to blow a load in his favorite girl while his teammates debrief with the coach? to him it was simple, you fuck him, you feed him, you take care of him, you spend time with him. shidou is, by all of his definitions, dating you. while some might be turned off by the idea of dating someone who isn’t offering exclusivity, he didn’t see it as much of an obstacle. not when he spent star stickers like a gambler on a slot machine, having you multiple times a week if the economy allowed it. and if he’s short a few, no worries, ryusei is quite the negotiator. it starts one week when he’s only missing a star or two, promising he’ll pay back the difference, you know he’s a good customer. it’s probably not a good idea to give in to him though, as the next time he wants a private training session, he’ll insist they’re only nine stars for him. he has made all kinds of fake coupons from 50% Off! to Buy One Get One Free! to even a homemade punch card in his own terrible handwriting. shidou was the first one to ever get a star taken away when he tried to give you an arby’s gift card in exchange for a blowjob. he didn’t try that tactic again.

the worst is when he tries to haggle in the middle of sex. your legs are thrown over his shoulders and his tip is kissing your cervix when he chooses to whine about not being able to kiss you because he has no stars left. he worked too hard to get good star credit, he can’t go into star debt!! “ and with his lips just hovering over yours, his hot breath fanning across your face, how could you say no? in a moment of weakness, you have unfortunately given an inch to shidou, infamous mile taker, and now it’s hard to get him to pay for any of his kisses, especially while he’s fucking you. you thank god that at the very least no one knows he’s been getting them for free… if only shidou would allow your life to be that easy. even worse than giving him an inch, you expected shidou to keep a secret. and you thought his big mouth was something you liked about him. until he’s using it to brag to everyone that he’s your favorite, practically your boyfriend, all because you let him get away with a smooch here and there. let’s just say you had to give out a lot of free kisses to smooth over the problem his bragging habits created.

honestly ryusei was starting to cause a lot of confusion outside of the team with his antics. what with his always hanging off your arm, giving you as much affection as you’d tolerate, calling you sweet nicknames. the people in your life were actually starting to believe you two were dating. not that shidou does anything to discourage such rumors, only grinning and agreeing every time someone mistakes you as a couple. hell, he was starting to get you confused, saying things during your training sessions that certainly didn’t fit the transactional nature of the act. “holy shit you’re so tight- love this pussy, l-love you so much. say my name. c’mon baby, say you love me and i’ll make you feel so fucking good.” and only because ryusei always makes good on his promises do you allow yourself another moment of weakness.

itoshi rin didn’t have much interest or faith in you upon first introduction. he sized you up as some nobody doing this whole manager thing as a fun extracurricular, so as long as you stayed out of his way he didn’t care what you did. with his luck, he shouldn’t be surprised that you were immediately in his way, extremely often, rambling to him about ideas and strategies that he had no intention on listening to. although even he could admit, he understood why the others were so easily charmed by you. he was wrong about how seriously you took your job. not that it changed anything. at least that’s what rin tells himself, but in reality your relentless efforts and endless dedication to supporting all of them was something that spoke to him, made him a bit soft for you. it didn’t help that you were his type in every sense of the word, your attractiveness doing nothing but make feigning indifference a lot harder for rin. your seemingly endless patience didn’t help either. you always responded in kind to all of rin’s harsh words and cold stares, never let his sour attitude deter your subtle acts of service like getting grass stains out of his uniform and making sure he stays unbothered during his yoga. against his will, he was slowly warming up to you, but you were still caught off guard when rin started cashing in his stars, even if it was just a meal. he had lots of them sitting idle on the chart waiting to be used, so you supposed it was only natural for him to get some free food out of it. but you were even more taken aback when a couple days later he requested a massage from you with insistence that he only asks because he’s been extremely tense as of late. which wasn’t entirely untrue. rin had been very tense. just not from anything soccer related like he’d like you to believe. he was tense from the stress of his budding feelings for you combined with the dread of knowing he probably will never have you all to himself. at least not with this stupid reward system in place.

he despises it. he absolutely hates going about his day knowing there are other guys, his shithead teammates, that are getting your time, attention, and affection for the price of a couple of stupid fucking stickers. he misses the days when shidou’s incessant bragging about how many times he was able to make you cum or bachira’s unnecessary details of what your pussy tastes like didn’t bother him. now his blood boils to hear them talk about you like that. that kind of anger makes it clear to him that being your friend was simply not an option anymore. which is how he settled on getting a massage from you. he would satisfy this overwhelming craving he has for you and go back to normal and be able to focus solely on becoming best in the world again without thoughts of you plaguing his mind. that was his hope going into it, but feeling your warm touch on his bare back, melting away years of untreated knots and neglected aches in his body, he could almost blush at the intimacy he feels. especially when that foreign kindness he loves so much is on display as you reassure him that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about and that you’re proud he finally put his pride aside long enough to let you help him. you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker now. no use in struggling so hard, he supposes, as some part of him knows he’s doomed to fall sooner or later. perhaps it’s time to surrender. he fought a good fight, but his greed for you was candidly too tough of an opponent.

and to rin, surrender looked like asking you when’s the soonest he could book a private training session. you don’t think you could look any more shocked. rin had a quick turn around from someone you doubted even liked you, to someone reserving as much of your time as his stars could buy. the more often he was with you, the less time you spent giving those lukewarm brats the treatment he wants reserved for him. and he wishes he gave in a lot sooner when he feels the wet heat of your mouth around his cock for the first time. how fast he would’ve folded if he knew how pretty you would look on your knees for him. rin tried to be gentle and let you set the pace, but between hissing out curses and barely biting back moans, that same greed to get more from you has his hand twisting itself in your hair and pushing down on the back of your head. he couldn’t help it. and it was so worth it to watch you choke and sputter around his length but never pull away. he knew you weren’t a quitter. “shit, feels good… don’t stop,” he all but gasps, hips instinctively jumping to reach further down your throat, grip tightening when you try to come up for air. after a long moment of breathing through your nose you relax enough to let him ease himself the rest of the way in. rin sighs in relief when your nose finally presses against his pelvis. the way you look up at him starry-eyed and full of adoration made his chest feel heavy with desire to be the only one you ever look at. it drives him crazy that any guy on the team can see you like this, and that heartache has rin fucking your face to forget it. “fuckkk. don’t look away, eyes on me, g’nna cum in that pretty mouth.”

you couldn’t deny that your new attempt at encouraging the team had its kinks. while overall the amount of arguments that broke out between players lessened to keep on good star-earning behavior, you could tell that it came with its own set of tension creating problems. you also couldn’t deny that being pulled in every direction by men vying for your attention was both very time consuming and extremely gratifying, but you think you manage it well. save for when they were already pumped up with adrenaline from a game, that is when real issues arise. especially when a player from the enemy team thinks it’s a good idea to try and hit on the cute little lady holding the clipboard. fatal mistake.

it starts with your favorite pot stirrer, bachira, calling out from his position, making everyone else on the team aware of the situation. “no shot dude, she don’t want you! focus on losing!” you’re confident you can diffuse whatever is about to go down before you notice rin leaving the ball alone in centerfield to beeline straight towards you. threats are flying from his lips on approach, quick to get in the guy’s face, planting his hands on his shoulders to shove him back. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing? i’ll kill you if you don’t get the fuck away from her.” you think maybe you have a shot of getting rin under control if you just- your eyes widen in horror as a flash moves in from your peripheral. there are no words, just shidou drop kicking this poor stranger at top speed. you cringe as you watch shidou knocks this guy off his feet, cleats first, taking rin down with him. what a way to earn a red card.

this was a fun project and request tysm!!! i just went about it in the interpretation i found most interesting, i really hope it was to your liking!!!

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[kenzieluvsnanami]

kenzieluvstoji :: hood!toji x black!reader drabble (18+) ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆˚⟡˖

hood!toji who answers “…what if it’s both baby?” in that low teasing tone that he knows drives you crazy when you ask him whether that’s a gun in his pocket or if he’s just excited to see you.

hood!toji who never turns up to your momma’s house empty handed, much to her dismay - “yknow i couldn’t come empty handed ma, s‘not right”.

if there wasn’t a fresh set of roses (or whatever your favourite flower was at the minute) in the vase on the kitchen table... then something was amiss. your whole family basically knew him as the hood’s santa claus, your younger family members texting you whole shopping lists they wanted you to ask him for.

hood!toji who always had stacks of hundred-dollar bills stashed in all corners of his house - under the mattress, bathroom sink… even asking you to hold on to some at your own crib incase he got raided. you weren’t stupid though, you always got your cut from whatever it was he did.

hood!toji who showed his love through thoughtful gifts as opposed to flowery words. “.. s’nothin’ ma, don’t fuss over it.” he’d drawl, scowl on his face as you’d excitedly thank him for getting you that necklace he saw you wistfully gaze at last week, plush lips drawing up into an adorable pout as the two of you had walked past.

you hungry, thirsty, bored? he’d rather get shot with a .22 than have to hear you sigh over an empty fridge again. the two of you were always busy, with him showing up on your doorstep whenever he missed you - which was basically all-the-time.

hood!toji who never let you go without anything, especially not your monthly maintenance. you really think he was gonna let his girl walk out with an old leave-out? girl, bye.

you were actually able to build up a social media following of your own because of how extravagant your hairstyles were; knotless boho braids down to your butt - standard. but, knotless boho braids with braided stars along the front of your scalp.. safe to say the girls were gagged.

hood!toji who rarely got high off his own supply. but when he did? you relished those late nights where the two of you shared a loosely-wrapped joint in the quiet hum of his crib, downtown from the hustle and rush of the inner city.

it was like time had slowed down and for that night, it was just the two of you who existed; lidded-eyes lazily following the trails of smoke left in the air as you lay in his arms, the soft puff of air from his lips warming the tip of your ear as you snuggled closer into his embrace.

you’d run your hands over the wide expanse of his abdomen, fingertips tracing over the hard ridges of his six-pack, thoughts languidly drifting across your skull. thoughts of your boyfriend taking you in the worst of ways. face smushed into the thin sheets, ass pushed alllll the way up and spine forced into the sluttiest arch.

hood!toji who (luckily enough for you) fucked nasty after smoking, rough palms trailing all over your body as large hands pulled you onto his lap. “don’t think i can’t see you plottin’ over there.” his hands reaching the soft fat of your ass, squeezing harshly. “…nasty fuckin’ girl” he’d mutter as you began to grind your hips down onto his growing erection, all five senses heightened and yet muted at the same time.

every brush of toji’s hands felt like electricity was flowing through your veins -and when he finally pulled your face close for a sloppy clash of tongues, all you could do was moan into his mouth. your thoughts were slooooooooooow like molasses and the only sensation you could register was toji, toji, toji-

breaking the kiss you moved down slightly, manicured hands reached to paw at the gray sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, reaching down past his waistband to grab the one thing you’d been waiting all night to see.

“eager today huh” you’d hear him say as you swapped positions, back to the mattress as toji pulled down your sweats and underwear in one swift motion.

“let me show you how much i missed her then” the cold air hitting your now exposed cunt revealing how wet you were, thick fingers spreading apart your lips to spread even more of your own slick over your clit, dipping back down into your tight ring of muscle.

“f-f-fuckk” you groaned, lungs inhaling and exhaling to no avail. your hands clawing into his sturdy forearms as his fingers mercilessly slid in and out, jaw clenched with concentration.

and then right when you were about to come, he stopped. smirk growing on his scarred lips as you whined loudly. “aht- not jus’ yet…i wanna feel you”

hood!toji who felt like he was feeling every. single. damn. inch of you, hips messily rutting into your tight hole – and fuck-did it it feel like a vice; hands digging into your love handles as he tried and failed to ground himself. weed always made fucking so much more intense and if he didn’t pull out soon he was going to come, hard and deep. his other arm snaked over your belly, pressing down where he was drilling into you, causing both of you to groan.

“y-you feel me, ma? so fff-fuckin’ tight” you could hear the tremor in his voice, feel the way his abs were tensing along your lower abdomen. “you feel perfect baby, so gooood”

toji was sooooo close, and you weren’t too far behind. pushing your legs up in a single motion, all of a sudden he was even deeper, your high-pitched mewl intertwined with his low growl creating a new symphony of sound.

or in other words, he was putting you throooough the mattress.

“if you keep squeezing me like t-that im not gonna be able to..shitttt-pull out in time” the whole sentence was just a drawn out moan, voice creeping up in pitch as his mouth hung open in pleasure.

you don’t know whether it was the high of the indica or building orgasm but you hooked your legs around his slim waist, blinking away the beading tears from your waterline as you met his blown-out gaze.

“don’t then.”

hood!toji who you weren’t sure came before or after you, all you do know is that your orgasm hit you like an eighteen-wheeler would a bike, legs spasming as you felt warm liquid leak out and cover the expanse of your upper thighs and his lower abdomen. your limbs felt fuzzy and limp, body still as toji shallowly thrust into you, the wet phlapp of your mixed release echoing around the dim room.

“you are perfect, y’know that right?”

hood!toji who held you like you were made of glass, cold chain pressed between the heat of your two bodies as he cradled you to sleep. you could feel his lips moving against your ear, raspy voice murmuring sweet nothings as you drooled onto his chest, a hand reaching out to readjusting your bonnet that was about to slip of your forehead - he knew how tight you get over frizzy braids.

a/n : woke up missing hood!jjk and remembered I have free will so here we are

[rynnaroo]

♡ MY PRETTY GIRL

♡ pairings: mira ✗ female!reader

♡ genre / mentions: fluff, emotional vulnerability, touchy!reader, touchstarved!mira, reader is a lovesick for mira, teasing, gentle!reader, i adore mira so much omfg — | w/c : 2k+ | ♬⋆

♡ a/n : first time writing for k-pop demon hunters! Just me being infatuated with mira and all her soft, stubborn, touch-starved glory. I hope you enjoy — more to come for each of the girls, probably. She’s not letting me go :3

“Can you like, not keep doing this?” Mira's voice was taut, pinched at the edges like a tightly drawn string, sarcasm threading into each syllable, yet not enough to contain the subtle tremor beneath it. 

You disregarded it, you always did when it came to her because Mira — your Mira, frustrated and flustered into a result you have come to adore — was beneath you, back perched against your headboard in some rare stolen hour between rehearsals and attempts to complete their mission. 

You were perched rather comfortably over Mira, legs entwined with hers, fingertips sweetly tracing the delicate path of her brows, sculpted, styled with intention and precision, the arches crisp like the high-hung moon over Seoul. Her features were aching to be touched by you. 

You had a harmless theory that proximity might solve this; her beauty. 

Entirely undone by her face; a striking geometry of sharp cheekbones, the cut of her chin like it was carved with perfection, sharp angled eyes framed by thick, ink-black lashes that curled even when she was glowering. 

Mira was so… hard to gaze at directly. And not because she was harsh on the eyes — no, that would never be the case. She was so exquisitely composed while still looking like she was etched from rebellion and fight. Mira was the kind of pretty that bruised you on contact. So incapable of making any expression that made her look even a tinge bit hideous, and this hurt your chest.

Constricted your heart until it shriveled and let out a tight, “stop fucking doing this to me!” Worst of it all, you were free to touch. Free to look, and free to love. 

“Seriously, you’re so annoying, stop.” Mira huffed, swatting at your hand half-heartedly, tone thickening around the consonants when she was annoyed — a little deeper, a little rougher — and that alone coursed something fluttering and unhinged through your chest.

But you discerned the corner of her lip twitching, so you continued charting the apples of her cheeks, knuckles stroking over the delicate slope of her nose — a nose that slightly scrunched every time you complimented her, like her body was physically rejecting the praise. Mira, K-pop idol slash demon hunter, certified world-class badass, crumpled under the weight of your affection like paper folding inward.

“You’re so pretty, Mira,” you breathed out just to provoke her. "the most pretty thing this world — or any world — has ever coughed up. Demon realms included.”

Her expression tightened, a microsecond flicker of defensiveness. She never knew what to do with that word. Pretty. Ugh. "Don't start."

“So prettyyyyyy,” you murmured with a head tilt, “Stop fighting me on this. I always win.”

She muttered something in her language, too low for you to catch, her eyes rolling. She was still trying to hold onto that cool-girl exterior she composed, forged in the shadows of an upbringing that expected perfection and obedience. Yet Mira had always chosen defiance over deference. And when it came to you, she mollified despite herself. Not all the way, not obviously. But you have learned to read her tells. And you loved that — you thrived for that.

“You’ve always said I’m fierce,” she weakly retorted, her voice softer now, delicacy in its unraveling. “Deadly. Intelligent. Badass.”

"Yeah, you're still all those things, we've been over your resume," you shifted downward to peck her cheek, "but it still doesn't change the fact that you're pretty."

Mira groaned, infuriated like it cost her in allowing this to happen. "you're being dramatic.”

“If being in love with you counts as dramatic, then yeah. I’m a whole walking k-drama.”

Still, she did not move even with her small chuckle, so you resumed your worship; the pads of your digits leisurely skimmed along her temple, then down to the line of her jaw, which ticked as she attempted to not to react. 

Your thumb nudged a strand of hair away: that vibrant, lacquered cherry-blossom hue, rich with depth and dimension in that perfectly careless way only Mira could make deliberate. A shade that should clash with everything, but somehow looked like it was born to halo her like an afterthought from a dream, even in the low lighting of your bedroom.

Her skin was velvet-smooth, radiant with a fair hue kissed by cosmetics and light, always seeming to glow — as if she swallowed the stage lights whole. 

The beginnings of her brows met into a crinkle, complimenting the ‘irritated’ pucker of her lips. Dusk brown irises disappeared beneath her eyelids, but even then you found wonder at the sight of her lashes — dense and long, kissing the skies above.

You knew her. You knew she was watching you behind them, cataloguing this moment for reasons she might never verbally reveal. Mira was observant like that — hyper-aware, always reading between gestures and breaths. She would likely dissect this entire moment into mathematical vectors and psychic readings if she could. But instead, she allowed you to touch her like this.

And you were far too gone to stop. Not when her hand coasted up your spine, splayed wide as if she was afraid you would float off without her. That quiet tiny ‘mine’ was always in her touch, never hidden or subtle. 

The tip of her nose nudged yours as she expressed, “I can never say no to you.”

You grinned against her cheek, a little bashful, but full of certainty. You both knew the answer, Mira would go to fucking war with anyone, anything within this universe if you ever asked her to.

So with this in mind, you began to reward her with a string of kisses — purposefully, annoyingly — one dot at a time. Eyelids. Cheek. Chin. Bridge of her nose, until you finally trailed lower as she stayed completely still. 

But her hands? They twitched like they were dying to tickle, to grip, to grab, to threaten war against your sides.

You felt her smile rise against your palms when she felt the gentle press of lips, and her fingers curled at your nape, where the roots grew wild and thick, soon threading into your hair like she was grounding herself in you. 

You pulled away and almost immediately, she sulked, feline-like gaze sharp in betrayal. “Come back, now.” But when you leaned back in, dismissing her command to resume your affectionate torment, that frown only deepened. 

Your forefinger traced the soft bow of her upper lip, observing how it twitched upward with her low beseech, and you dipped lower, tugging her bottom lip down with the lightest pressure. It sprang back into place, bare and perfect, and something about the bounce of it made your mind spiral into places far less innocent than your current pace suggested.

She parted her mouth slightly, and just what the actual fuck? The sight of her, beneath you like this, grace stitched into every line of her form — honed, angular, beautiful— sent your pulse soaring.

Your hands moved over the veiled muscle of her shoulders, kneading gently but with intention, thumbs working into the persistent tension knotted there. You knew where she held it — her neck, her traps, always tightened like she was bracing for the next conflict. And perhaps she was, but just not when she was in your presence. 

Mira’s hands found a niche on your hips and pulled you deeper into her, a low hum reverberating in her as her lashes fluttered down. 

“That feels good, baby… Don’t stop.”

Her voice oozed over your nerves like syruped wine — sweet, intoxicating, clinging. You made it your life purpose right then and there that you would not dare to stop. 

You dug in, not to press but to mend, thumbs rubbing each tense line where she held herself too tightly, like her body was still fighting invisible battles. You longed to ease her, to earn this closeness with the nurture in your fingertips.

You longed to unmake every twist and smooth every edge, as if the longing inside you might finally subdue — the longing that throbbed, that begged to burrow into her chest and make a permanent home there.

It terrified you, how much you loved her. Sometimes the experience of loving her was so immense it felt like your ribcage might splinter under it. Too infinite for one human vessel to contain. Like she consumed every crevice and corner with the smallest glance, the hitch of a brow, the spasm of her smirk. And the worst part? She knew. Mira knew exactly what she did to you.

And she was damn smug about it. Which meant she deserved a little punishment — it served her right. 

So you kissed her, anywhere and everywhere.

Harder this time, resistant, loving punctuation marks pushed against her every feature — every kiss a tiny war declaration of its own. No oxygen, no reprieve. Let her suffer the same surging emotions she dealt you daily.

“Okay—okay, wait—Y/N, stop—”

Helpless laughter tumbled out of her throat, assisted with the pathetic, adorable resistance of words that were no use against your pure assault. “No, you’re too gorgeous. It’s a problem.”

“Eeenouuuuuuugh—” She captured your face between firm, decisive hands, nails gently grazing into your cheeks before kissing you. Not slowly, never timidly, but not exactly perfect either.

It landed somewhere between hurried and trickling, sweet in a clumsy kind of way? Like she meant to keep it simple, but something in her tugged too hard. Like her body overruled the plan, and now her mouth was on yours, trembling just slightly with all the restraint she was not wielding.

You scrunched your nose against her lips, half-whining, half-laughing. “You enough with that.”

Mira only leaned back only a fraction to let her grin break wide — pearly whites gleaming, certain of herself in the way only she could be. Her lashes hung low, casting soft shadows on her cheeks, which harbored the faintest hue, like rosewater brushed delicately over skin.

She was breathtaking, not perfect nor untouchable. Just Mira who was soft and cocky and utterly undone by you.

She leaned in again, hot exhale breezing across your flesh, “Come here.”

Like you’ve ever been anywhere else?

“I wanna kiss you again.” Thumbs caressed your cheeks, every so often pushing into the softness. She seemed pleased at the sigh that left you, continuing the movement before moving on to the outline of your mouth. 

Her knuckle feathered past the dip of your lower lip, eyes fixated on yours the entire time like she was perceiving how you dismantled. Then her fingers travelled up, along the ridge of your cheekbone, trailing to your hairline. She slips her hand into your hair, wrapped it with such sweetness before firmly tugging — just enough for your breath to stutter.

It was habitual, the way she fucking touched. No second-guesses. or reluctance, only ever knowing how to handle and love you.

“Only if you say it.” your palms made contact with the plush cotton of her oversized sweater — right over her heart. You felt it, Mira's heart thumping hard beneath your hands, contradicting how she scoffed.

"Nope." Her fingers were already moving with conviction, winding around your neck and giving a small squeeze. She felt your own heart stuttering at her actions, giving her a notion that you might just drop it. 

Her eyes — an abyssal of dark browns, so clear and unreadable all at once — did not miss anything. She regarded your reaction like she was committing every flicker of muscle, every inhale, every caught breath to memory. Smiling, she brought her hand up to cradle the curve of your head, trying to pull you into her orbit again.

But you did not budge. You held your ground, giving her a look that was tender, maybe even mirthful. But she noticed the change of your expression — the stubborn set of your brow, the silent insistence behind your irises.

You lowered your octave, “Say it.”

Her mouth quirked, defiant even in surrender. “Hmmmmm, no.”

Your fingers bunched in the fabric at her waist, rumpling into that stupidly cute sweater with the pouty bear on the front. You yanked her closer — not enough for a kiss, but just enough for her to inhale your addicting fragrance. For her frown to transform into something nearly pouty.

And then, right near her mouth, you crooned, “Say it, and you can kiss me.”

Her eyes closed for half a second like the weight of the moment was too much. A soft, almost unwilling heave spilled from her chest, shoulders drooping before finally falling into it; anything to reach both of your desires.

“Fine,” she muttered, exasperated but downright flushed. “I'm pretty. I'm your pretty girl.”

The second she confirmed it, you smiled — sun-bright, toothy, no more teasing left. You dove forward without a protest, pressing your mouth to hers with renewed force. Your arms fastening under hers in a hold that made it clear; Mira was yours, and she was not getting away.

One hand kept her face in place, and Mira emitted the faintest moan, an involuntary act from her part, from the back of her throat. The sound ignited you from the inside out, body scorching from that one low and soft Mira sound no one else will ever get to hear.

The kiss burned from spark to blaze, no warning, just need — all heat and no hesitation. Heat tangled through every second, her figure shifting up in hopes to dissolve into you. But still, it was Mira who found the words.

“You’re not getting rid of me, you know.” Her voice was hoarse, chest out of breath, words inevitable. “You’re not getting rid of me, ever.”

Her brows knitted together while her jaw trembled from such assurance, such softness. Hot palms slithered beneath your shirt, digits extending around your bare sides while an intense gaze stayed in yours.

“Even if some demon claws through the damn window. Even if I get called to a mission mid-kiss. Even if you wake up one day thinking this whole thing’s too much…” She paused, shivering at the feel of your touch. “I’m still here. I’m staying. You got me.”

The impact of her speech crashed into you all at once — not sweet, not flowery, sincere. And when you did not say anything, just stared at her like your lovesick heart was threatening to escape the confinements in your ribcage, she cleared her throat and mumbled,

“...And yeah, I’m your pretty girl, or whatever.”

You laughed, somewhere in between love-struck awe and appalled, and Mira dipped her head with a blush she could not hide fast enough. 

You already caught her through the curtain of your lashes. A gleaming liveliness in your pretty eyes, And it illuminated all over her — in the warmth of your cheek against her collarbone, in the fingertips still tangled in her sweater.

Mira felt something ascend in her chest, a blooming, a breath of spring thaw melting years of frost, the dizzying realization that this — you, all of you — was hers.

And she was yours; your pretty girl. And nothing in the world has ever made her feel more fucking safe.

[changbunnies]

Hopelessly Devoted To You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Greaser!Bang Chan x fem!Reader

♡ Genre: grease inspired 50s au, some angst and fluff, this was supposed to be a long full length fic but it somehow became just porn with plot lol

♡ Word Count: 11.2k

♡ Summary: You were so excited to see him again– the guy you'd spent your entire summer with, entagled in a fleeting but explosively sweet romance. But the Chris you meet again isn't the one you remember, and now if he wants to win you back he's going to have to prove just how devoted to you he really is.

♡ Warnings: chan is referred to as chris, smoking (cigarettes), some misogyny + toxic masculinity + fuck boy behavior, some 50s references and lingo, 1 instance of reader shoving chan in a fit of anger / sadness, jealous and mildly possessive chan, minor appearances from felix, changbin, minho, and hyunjin (who goes by sam)

♡ Smut Warnings: 1 reference to reader losing their virginity to chan, references / flashbacks to other smut scenes before the main scene, light dom/sub dynamics, switch!chan, pet names (doll, sugar, baby), public sex, car sex, exhibitionism, oral (f rec, referenced m rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, daddy kink, panty stealing (kind of), squirting, 1 mention of reader having pubic hair, maybe a lil breeding kink??, protected piv

♡ Notes: i've had this sitting in my drafts since december and finally got around to finishing it gfdhgfh this is incredibly self indulgent as grease is one of my fave movies ever and chan as danny zuko is constantly rattling around in my brain. the build up is pretty short (by my usual standards) as i moved the plot along a lot quicker than i normally would so idk if it's my best work but hopefully you enjoy it!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You remember well the first time you met Chris. Lounging aimlessly at the beach with the sunset on the horizon, his feet in the sand with a silver dog tag necklace hanging low over his bare chest, a cigarette from his previously discarded jeans held between his lips. Fresh from the ocean with beads of water still dripping off his toned body, slicking back his damp hair before fumbling through a different pocket for his lighter.

You watched him bring it up to his face after successfully digging it out, cupping his other hand around it to protect the flame as he lit the cigarette in his mouth. You watched him take a long drag, watched him blow the smoke out from the corners of his mouth, watched him sigh before deciding to towel dry his legs enough to wrangle his jeans back on. 

The beach had been quickly growing sparse by the time you spotted him. Groups of friends clearing out to make it to the local diner before all the tables were filled, parents wanting to get their kids to bed before the moon fully rose in the sky, couples on double dates bunching up in one car as they decide to hit the drive-in together.

You yourself were in no rush to leave– you came alone, tired of your parents bickering during what was supposed to be a fun family vacation. You’d stay as long as you could, you’d decided– really soak in the peace the sea brings before returning to your aunt’s beach house, where you were all staying for the summer.

But safe to say, the sight of him enraptured you. He was handsome, devastatingly so– you never expected to see a man with a visage to rival even that of James Dean himself with your own eyes, but there he was before you; and your heart stuttered when he glanced over in your direction.

He had just finished pulling his jeans up and over his haunches when he noticed you, cocking a brow when your eyes met– and you could tell in an instant that he knew you’d been staring at him. His smile made your breath hitch, pretty dimples peeking out on his cheeks as he acknowledged you with a playful wave.

Hesitantly, you lifted your hand and waved back, and he grinned, eyes still locked on yours as he pulled up the zipper of his jeans. He turned back to his belongings on the ground, shook the sand out of his white tee before pulling it on. He grabbed his leather jacket, slung it over his shoulder before turning to look at you once more.

You swallowed, face running hot from his gaze alone– you hoped, as he began walking towards you, that you could play it off as having not put on enough sunscreen before coming here. You were sitting on a towel, legs to your chest with your arms wrapped around them, but you lowered them as he approached you.

He tossed his cigarette to the the side once he was close, letting its flame fizzle out in the sand. He looked you up and down when you stood up, introducing himself with a charismatic smile that made your heart race faster. You stuttered when speaking, and his smile widened, one of his hands going to rest in the pocket of his jeans while the other kept his leather jacket in place over his shoulder. 

Chris was the most, to say the least– and when he asked if he’d see you again tomorrow, you promised him he would. You watched him walk over to a beat up, old top down cadillac, throwing his jacket into the car before jumping in– literally jumping in, hand on top of the closed car door as he hopped over it into the driver's seat. 

He gave you another glance after starting the ignition, and you smiled meekly as you offered him another wave. Chris grinned, raising his hand to say goodbye before putting it back on the wheel and burning rubber out of the parking lot.

You spent nearly every summer day with him after that. Days at the beach spent splashing each other in the water while you giggled, hopping in his cadillac to go catch whatever new flick was showing, or sharing a milkshake at his favorite diner. He’d hold your hand as you walked through the sand, giggled with you over silly inside jokes while eating burgers and fries, hugged you tight after you gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek at the end of the night.

Chris gave you dimes to pick tunes on the jukebox, and would sing along to your selections with the prettiest voice you’d ever heard. He took you to the county fair, would shoot you goofy grins after kissing you with lips sticky from cotton candy, got on the ferris wheel with you and squeezed your hand when the height made you dizzy, kissing away your nerves when you reached the very top.

He won you a teddy bear from the soda toss, put his leather jacket over your shoulders when the sun set and the air began to chill, wrapped his arm around your shoulder while you were waiting in line to buy some popcorn. He’d lean down to whisper a joke in your ear, and you’d slap his arm with a giggle while he squeezed you closer.

You watched him soup up the engine of his car, and he’d take your hand after a long day of working on it, pull you in to dance with him while the radio blared the hippest tunes. When he was satisfied with the restoration of his cadillac, he started taking you out on long drives, wind whipping through your hair as he drove fast through the back streets of the city.

He’d drive you to secluded hills overlooking the city, where you’d make out until he had to drive you home in time for curfew. He’d park his car far down the street, away from where your family could see him dropping you off– because Lord knows your mother's heart would give out if she saw you spending your vacation with a guy that looked like him.

And through it all, days spent back at the beach where you first met him were always your favorite. You would let Chris lay you down on a towel in the sand and kiss you over and over, until you were both heaving and hot. You lost your virginity to him like that– alone on the beach, towels laid down and moon high in the sky after having snuck out of the window of your guest bedroom to meet him.

He’d whisper sweet words in your ear, make you fall apart with deft fingers and an equally deft tongue. Sometimes, instead of sneaking out to see him, he’d be the one showing up at your guest room's window, grinning at you as you opened it to let him in. He’d fuck you there, in the bed with his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of pleasure, lest your family discover what it is you’re really up to while "alone" in your room. 

Chris would crawl over to you in the passenger seat at the drive-in, sink to his knees and dip his head underneath your long poodle skirt, the flick on screen long forgotten as he pulled your panties to the side to kiss and lick your dripping pussy. Sometimes he’d fuck you there too, parked all the way in back with the windows and hood of the car up to hide what you were doing (as if the rocking didn’t give it away to anyone who happened to look.)

Sometimes, when he parked up the street to drop you off after sharing ice cream at the drive thru malt shop, you’d lean over the gear shift, taking his cock out of his jeans and sucking him off right there, with not nearly enough care for who could possibly see you. He’d give you the sweetest kiss before helping you out of the car, promising he’d see you tomorrow too, and the day after, and the day after that, until eventually your family’s summer vacation had to come to an end.

Chris was a dreamboat that day, as he always was– hair greased back with a few curly strands left over his forehead, loose black tee tucked into his jeans, leather jacket on with its collar ever so slightly popped, his dog tag necklace sparkling when the sun hit it just right. He was leaning against the door of his newly souped up cadillac with a lit cigarette resting between his lips, though he promptly threw it to the ground when he saw you walking over.

“There’s my girl! And ain’t she a doll,” he grinned as he pulled you to his body, kissing you sweetly as you blushed. You weren’t wearing anything he hadn’t seen you in before– just one of your usual white blouses and pretty pink skirts, but he always made sure to tell you that he thought you were the absolute most.

He walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door for you and closed it shut behind you when you got in. He hopped into the driver’s seat after, starting the ignition and turning to you with that beaming smile that made your stomach flip. “What’s the plan today, sugar?” he asked, throwing his arm around you while leaving one hand on the steering wheel.

In the end, you spent the day as you had many times before– driving through the city, hitting up the diner to split a strawberry milkshake, and watching the sunset at the beach; the same beach where you met him, and where the house you were staying in lied just a couple hundred yards away. You were sitting on the rocks, his leather jacket off and resting behind you, his arm curled around your waist. 

His jeans were filthy with sand, as was your skirt, but neither of you cared– you just stayed there together, watching the sun sink lower and the waves crash against the shore. Chris kissed you when you looked up at him with watery eyes, agonized over the idea of never seeing him again. He’d given you the best summer of your entire life, and all you wanted was to stay– but you couldn’t. And though he comforted you the best he could, you both knew it was the end.

Chris held your hand to help you off the rocks, gave you a kiss before you turned away to make the walk to your aunt’s beach house. And you both knew it was the end– but not just yet. He came to your window later that night, and you let him in, bringing your hands to his face and eagerly pressing your lips to his.

He walked you back to the bed as you kissed him, laid you back gently and crawled between your legs. He made you cum on his fingers before reaching into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a condom and tearing it open with his teeth. He rolled it easily down his cock, his jeans having fallen down his legs just enough to let him fuck you.

You reached your hands underneath his shirt, hungrily tracing your hands over every inch of his skin. Your nightgown was bunched above your thighs, legs spread wide to accommodate him. He eventually pulled the top of it down too, exposing your chest to him and leaving your stomach as the only covered part of your body.

Sweat dripped from his brow, his normally perfectly slicked hair tousled from your fingers sliding through it– and you didn't care that the pomade in his hair dirtied your fingers; in fact, it made it feel nicer when you brought your hand to one of your breasts, and rolled your nipples between them. Your stomach flipped when he grinned and called you a dirty girl, running a hand through his hair to grease up his fingers too and tweak the other nipple not being played with by your own.

He kissed you to muffle your moans and desperate whines, and it was nowhere near as effective as when it was his hand clamped over your mouth, but it was better. He had to slow down when fucking you fast unintentionally made your bedframe slam against the wall, and you gasped, praying no one woke up from the sound.

Thankfully, no one came knocking on your door– and though you were both desperate, clinging to one another hard and sliding your tongues around each other’s with fervor, he fucked you slow and deep after that. "Chris, daddy, please– 'm gonna cum," you moaned when he brought his slicked up fingers to your clit. 

Chris groaned before kissing you again, and you came with a muffled cry, your nails digging desperately into his biceps. He kept rolling his hips into you through it, your body trembling with sensitivity until he eventually came too, all his cum spilling into the condom. 

He stayed for a while after that, holding you close and wiping tears from your eyes with his thumbs. He snuck out in the middle of the night, promised you despite it all that it wasn’t the end– you’d see each other again someday, he just knew it; he wanted you to believe it too.

You got a couple of hours of sleep before morning, and gave your family the best smile you could manage as you tossed your luggage in the trunk of your dad's chevy bel air. You slouched in the back seat, trying not to cry and wishing more than anything you were in Chris’ old cadillac instead.

The Chris you reunited with wasn’t yours, and if it was, then fate was cruel for bringing you back to him.

The Chris you knew wouldn’t have looked at you like that– like you’re a desperate and fast girl, or an overly smitten near stranger hoping to get her kicks from him one last time while his friends snickered behind him. The Chris you knew wouldn’t join in on their snickering, tilting his head with an amused expression, tongue poking his cheek as he combs his fingers through his slicked back hair.

The Chris you reunited with wasn't yours, and the realization that you didn't really know him the way you thought you did utterly broke your heart.

You were back in the city– your parents, after having settled whatever marital disputes they were having, decided to settle down here. They loved their time together in the city when all their little tiffs were said and done, and they could tell you loved it here too.

They thought it’d benefit everyone to set up shop somewhere new, where everyone could reset. Plus, your mom wanted to be close to her sister again– and you certainly wouldn’t complain about spending more time at your aunt’s beach house.

You desperately wanted to see Chris again, and you knew it’d only be a matter of time before you did– unlike you, he grew up in the city, lived here his entire life. And while it’d been months since you parted at the end of summer considering your parents had to do a lot of work to shift the family business to a new location while also looking for a decent house up for sale, it would happen eventually– you were certain of it.

And soon enough you did see him, knew in an instant it was him even at a distance– because you’d recognize his restored cadillac anywhere. He was leaning against the car door like usual, cigarette in his mouth and leather jacket on his back, with a circle of friends around him. You never met his friends– he told you they were pigs, said that you wouldn’t like them much.

Besides, you were only going to be in town a few short months– why waste your precious few days hanging around with other people when you could be alone? That’s what he always told you– and as you tentatively began to walk up the street closer to them, you could tell they certainly did talk more vulgarly than you were used to hearing.

“C’mon man, you gotta let me borrow her,” one of his friends begged in reference to his car, “she’s a real pussy wagon. My chick’ll cream if I pick her up in it.” “Get your own wheels, bozo,” Chris shoved him with a laugh, “I ain’t lettin’ you take my girl on any joyrides.”

“What if you come too? Make it a double date, you know– and nobody’s got bigger tits than Annette. I got dibs, but she’ll be real nice eye candy for you,” his friend persuaded and Chris hummed, as if seriously considering it. Would he really go?

“Mm, maybe,” he grinned, tossing his cigarette to the ground and digging it into the gravel with his foot, “You do got a point. Tell her to bring a pretty friend, and I’ll think about it.” You blinked, stopped walking and simply stared at him. Had he moved on already? It’d only been a few months, but maybe you fell for him harder than he fell for you; the thought of it made your heart sink to your stomach.

His friend cheered and hugged him tight, and Chris pushed him away with another laugh, running a hand through his hair to fix it up as he characteristically did whenever it got even the slightest bit out of shape. In that same moment is when he glanced over in your direction, catching sight of you by pure coincidence.

His eyes widened when he saw you, mouth gaping open for a split second before he called your name in a mix of utter shock and joy. That was more like the Chris you knew– and it gave you hope. You ran up to him, and he to you, bringing his hands to your shoulders and touching you up and down your arms– truly, he couldn’t believe you were here, and he had to touch you to be certain it was real. 

“What– what are you doing here? I-I thought you went back home with your folks, I thought–” he was smiling, entirely giddy as he looked you up and down. “We moved! I’m here to stay,” you told him excitedly, bouncing on your heels as you stared up at him.

It made you so, so happy; to the point that the contents of his prior conversation entirely lifted from your mind. It pains you thinking back to how naive and lovesick for him you were– you wish you'd have known better. 

“I can’t believe it! I–” he started to exclaim, but then realized his friends followed him, crowding around his back while shooting him inquisitive looks, and he quickly took his hands off you.

He cleared his throat, tucked his hands in his pockets in a gesture meant to bring him back to his aloof state of being, and he grinned– not that pretty grin that made your heart flutter, but a wicked one. “I mean– that’s cool, baby.”

You didn’t like it, your brows furrowing at the change in his demeanor. “Christopher–” you started, but one of his friends spoke up before you could talk much more. “Who’s the chick?” he asked as he looked you up and down, and Chris hesitated. “Oh, uh–”

“Oh, I know!” the friend suddenly exclaimed, hit by an epiphany, “the one from the beach you wouldn’t let us meet– the one who puts out. This her? It is, isn’t it?”

Your face burned red, unpleasant heat crawling over your body as the rest of his friends snickered. He told them you put out? Why would he do that? Your expression crumbled, body trembling with embarrassment and grief, but Chris kept his own cool.

“Don’t worry, doll, I didn’t tell them all the horny details,” he smirked, and his friends' snickers erupted into full on laughs as they slapped his back in amusement. Your body burned hot with indignation, eyes welling with tears as your frustration and anguish boiled over. You shoved him as hard as you could, though it hardly even caused him to take a step back.

“I wish I’d never laid eyes on you, you– you creep!” you cried before turning away, ready to run back home to throw the teddy bear he won you in the trash and sob into your pillows. “That’s not all she laid on him,” one of his friends commented under his breath, the rest laughing and hooting as you sprinted away from them, back down the street.

Chris just watched, body tense and face sullen, heart twisting in his chest. He watched you turn the corner, wiping tears from your eyes before you disappeared entirely out of view, his friends still laughing and giving him pats on the back.

But when he turned to them, he put the smirk back on, and they all hopped into his car to hit the drive-in as if he didn't care about what just happened with you, as if the guilt wasn't going to eat away at him every night.

The next time Chris sees you is weeks later, at a new mom-and-pop shop freshly opened on the edge of the city. He’s there with his friends, all of them jumping out his cadillac before he’s even fully parked, rushing inside to grab a good table.

And when he walks in, it’s not his friends that he sees first but you– sitting at a booth with another guy across from you. There's an empty plate with tiny remnants of ketchup still left behind that he just knows you used for your french fries, and a milkshake between you with two straws stuck in it.

Part of him is relieved you aren’t sharing a single straw with the man like you would’ve done with him, but his gut still twists from the sight regardless. And when you giggle at something indiscernible the guy says, Chris feels liquid hot envy boil in his blood, jaw tightening and fists clenching as he cracks his neck. 

“Chris, over here!” his best pal, Felix, calls from across the shop, and that’s when you see him too. You can’t help but look when you hear his name called, eyes widening when they land on him. He tenses, eyes lingering on you for a few seconds longer before he inevitably joins his friends at the table they scouted out in the middle of the room.

He can't focus on anything his friends are saying– the only thing he vaguely hears through the fog in his brain is Changbin begging the others for spare nickels so he can afford the dog-sled delight. It all becomes tuned out noise, because all he can think about is how much he missed you, and how much it pisses him off that you're here with someone else.

It's Chris' own fault, he knows that, and that makes the feeling even worse– like bile in his throat that he can't swallow down. It doesn’t take Minho, the most perceptive of his friend group, to notice that he’s staring at you and to comment on it.

“What, you still hung up on that chick?” he questions, and Chris scoffs as he snaps out of his fog, leaning back in his chair and acting as aloof as he can bring himself to. “What? No, of course not,” he says, but his eyes still linger on you, fingers twitching with irritation when he hears you laugh again, and watches you playfully slap the man’s arm like you would do to his.

Eventually, you hold out your palm to your date, and he watches the guy dig through his pockets to give you something. Chris knows immediately what's happening– you’re waiting to be given a dime or two, and you’ll saunter off to the jukebox to pick a new tune once they’re in hand.

He watches you rise from the booth, waits until you’ve made the walk over to rise from his table, muttering to his friends that he needs to hit the can real quick. He takes a few steps in the direction of the bathroom, and then immediately turns, going straight to you instead.

He props an arm on the jukebox after he approaches, leans against it and looks down at you as you cycle through the record choices. “Hey baby,” he tries, but you ignore him, don’t even spare him a glance as you continue to give the jukebox your full attention.

“Listen– I’m sorry,” he tries again, and you just hum in acknowledgement, still not turning your gaze to look at him. He swallows, glances back at his friends who are perfectly oblivious to what he’s doing, and then back to you. “I just– you know how it is, right? The guys, they expect me to act a certain way, and–”

“That’s why I’m so glad I met Sam,” you interrupt, turning around to look at your date and offer him a sweet wave. Chris hates it, but at least you’re talking to him now– he’ll take what he can get. He still ends up scowling however when your date waves back, and you turn back to the jukebox, still without glancing up at Chris himself.

“What, you like that square?” he scoffs as he looks your date up and down. He’s smartly dressed; pristine khaki slacks and a brown sweater vest pulled over his white button up, his hair in a neatly styled, respectable crew cut– but that’s not your type.

At least, he hopes it's not; because that would make Chris the outlier, and that’s not what he wants to be. He’ll also be damned if he ends up losing you to a goody two shoes like that.

“He’s sweet to me. And I don’t have to question what his intentions are, unlike with you,” you reply, and the emphasis put on 'you' makes his heart sink. While he certainly deserves to hear it, it doesn’t make him any less upset– not with you, but with himself. He really let his pride and reputation get in the way, and he knows he fucked up. But he wants you, and surely you know that, right?

You finally settle on a tune; Those Magic Changes– the one he knows is your absolute favorite. The one he even used to serenade you with once whilst dancing, you giggling away with a cute blush on your cheeks whilst he twirled you around. He sang it more exaggeratedly towards the end, purposely putting on a goofy voice to make you laugh harder as he dipped you down.

He kissed you before lifting you back up, and then again when you were completely upright, your hand on his shoulder and his arm around your waist, your other free hands intertwined. The way you looked at him when he pulled back from the kiss made his heart pound, but he played it cool– shot you that grin that always made your legs feel like jelly, kissing your cheeks when it made your blush deepen.

Chris liked feeling the heat of your blush against his lips, liked having your hands on him even when it was in the purest of ways, liked the way you giggled and smiled at him when he playfully winked at you. The memory strikes him hard when you press the play button to start the song, and he takes a step back from the jukebox, fists clenched at his side.

You look at him then– really look at him. Instantly he feels small, your gaze that once held so much love for him now meeting him with the utmost scrutiny. He fucked up, he knows he did– but what does he do now? He can’t even trust himself to say something without fucking it up even worse. 

And the pain of it all hits you too– he can see it in your eyes just before you steel your expression, and do your best to act unaffected. "See you around, Christopher," you mutter as you turn away from him and the jukebox.

You walk back to the booth where Sam awaits your return with a smile, while Chris just stands there, your favorite song blaring painfully loud in his ears as he stares at your back. "..begs you please, come back to me, please return to me, don't go away again," the lyrics mock him harshly.

He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he has to do something, anything, to show you he’s sincerely sorry. He needs to show you he still wants you, needs you to give him another chance– more than he’s ever needed anything.

The next time Chris sees you is once again by coincidence, while he’s sitting alone in the parking lot of the sock hop his little sister just begged him to take her to. He was trying to decide what to do with his time– if he left, he’d have to come back in a couple hours to pick her up, but surely it was better than sitting around outside, bored out of his mind while he waited for her.

He could go in, but sock hops aren’t really his thing– the only time he ever danced was with you, and he didn’t plan on changing that. All he’d do inside is stand on the edge of the room and watch his sister dance, and he didn’t much feel like doing that either. Besides, his little sister was a good girl, and she didn’t need, nor want, his constant supervision.

And he’s just about to turn the key in his ignition and burn rubber when he sees you, arm linked with stupid fucking Sam as he opens the door for you with his free hand. And fuck, he doesn't even care that he's about to crash your date– he just needs to talk you. He jumps out of his car in a rush, pulling open the door to the building and heading straight to the line leading to the dance floor.

Chris’ jaw tenses when he sees you– Sam is leaning down to whisper something in your ear while you wait in the line, and you cover your mouth as you giggle. He hates how similar it is to the days he spent with you at the fair, waiting in line for rides and popcorn. The envy bubbling in his gut makes him feel sick, and he has to take a breath to calm himself down before he approaches you.

He steps to where you are in the line when he feels mellowed out enough, you and your date turning around curiously when they hear his voice call your name. Your eyes widen when you see it's him, but you’re quick to correct your expression before your date notices anything off about you. “Can I talk to you?” Chris asks, not at all acknowledging Sam’s presence beside you.

Even when you divert your gaze to glance at your date’s reaction, Chris’ eyes stay firmly on you, awaiting your answer. “Please?” he follows up, and it makes you swallow. It’s the first time he’s ever taken a pleading, desperate tone with you, and he can tell rejecting him isn’t going to come easily to you– it gives him hope that you'll finally hear him out, maybe even take him back.

“I–” you hesitate a moment, and just as Chris’ new, shiny hope begins to dim, you unlink your arm from your date. “I’ll be right back, just stay in the line,” you tell Sam before shooting Chris a look and walking past him. He follows you back outside, and you cross your arms as you stand against the cold brick of the exterior.

“What do you want?” you cut straight to the point. There’s a million things he wants to say, but his built up jealousy causes him to ask the stupid, burning question first and foremost. “Since when do you go to sock hops?” he questions, and it almost makes you laugh– he’s unbelievable, breaking your heart like that and then pulling stunts like this. 

“Since nice boys ask me to go with them. Why, you jealous?” you accuse him and he scoffs, trying once again to play off what he feels. “Me? Jealous? Don’t make me laugh,” he says, unable to help the instinctive reaction to being called out. And he instantly regrets it, but it’s too late to take it back.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I go back inside then?” you ask as you step away from the wall, starting to walk past Chris and back to the doors. He grabs your arm to stop you, and you look up at him expectantly. “Don’t, I–” he grits his teeth, hesitates for a moment, but ultimately decides to be honest, “I am, okay? So don’t.”

He lets your arm go, and his admission thankfully proves enough to make you stay. You settle back against the brick wall, but you don’t look at him after– instead you look down at the ground, staring at your sleek, black and white saddle shoes instead of meeting his gaze.

It’s silent for a moment, with Chris wracking his brain as he tries to figure out the right thing to say to you. “What you did was terrible, you know,” you end up breaking the silence first, your voice soft.

“I know, I– I meant it when I said I was sorry,” Chris says while moving a step closer to you, and still you hesitate to look at him. “I didn’t believe you. Still don’t,” you reply, and honestly, he can’t blame you– he should’ve been more sincere when he approached you.

But he was being a fucking idiot, still trying to play it cool even though it was just the two of you standing there by the jukebox. And who gave a fuck if his friends happened to look over and saw him talking to you? Why should he care? Is it really so wrong for him to be whipped for you?

Even the first time he saw you again, he should've done all the things he really wanted to do. He should've kissed you and hugged you tight, should've told you how happy he was to know you’re here to stay, should’ve flipped his friends the bird and told them to fuck off if they questioned him. But he didn’t– he cracked under the expectations, and you suffered for it.

There’s a lot he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to say it– he’s never been vulnerable about his feelings before you, but he wants to try. Even if he screws up over and over again, he’ll keep trying– because you deserve it. And he should apologize again, sincerely, but there’s another question burning in his blood that he has to ask.

“Do you really like that guy? You’re not, like– going steady, are you?” Chris questions and you shrug, finally looking up from the ground to meet his eyes. “That depends,” you tell him, peeling your back away from the wall to stand directly in front of him, holding your hands behind your back.

“On what?” he follows up, and you smile– a small one, but it’s enough for him. “On you,” you answer, and the hope flares back up, drowning out the envy and shame in veins and replacing it with pure, unfiltered glee.

“Yeah?” he grins as he tilts his head, and your smile grows the tiniest bit more as you nod. You may still have your doubts about his sincerity, but the fact that you’re willing to give him a chance is all he needs– he’ll use the time you give him to prove it to you, to make sure you’re left with no doubts that you’re the one that he wants, to promise that he'll never break your heart again.

“Come with me then, back inside– you’re gonna be my date,” he says as he holds out his hand to you. Sock hops may not have been his style before, but they can be for you. “What about Sam?” you question, but still take his hand regardless.

“He can stag it the rest of the night for all I care. You’re mine, sugar,” Chris replies, and it sends butterflies sweeping through your stomach as you giggle in delight. “And your friends?” you ask next, knowing it’s very well possible he’ll crack under the expectations of his rep with them again if they see you together.

“Fuck ‘em,” he replies easily; and you’re both sure it’ll be easier said than done for him to not give a shit what they think, but he’ll do his best. He doesn’t want to do anything to make you regret giving him another chance. “Let’s dance, baby,” he grins at you, pulling you along with him as he steps back inside the building with you in tow.

There’s a thought in Chris’ head that he never before thought he’d ever have– the sock hop was perfect. And well, maybe it’s not the sock hop itself necessarily that he enjoyed, but you– yes, it was most certainly you. The time spent with you was everything he’d been missing, everything he could’ve ever hoped for following your departure from the city and his subsequent abysmal fuck up. 

He knew he didn’t deserve any of it– and he was certain you were going to share a more serious talk about it all later, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt walking back into the building and seeing Sam utterly bewildered that his date was now clinging to his own arm instead.

And he won’t shirk his responsibility to do better by you– he’ll own up to his mistakes, he’ll change, be someone deserving of you. It may take a lot of time and effort to unlearn all the dumb shit he’s taken in over the years, but he swears he’ll try– tonight is just the start of a lifetime of proving to you that he’ll do anything to keep you.

All night, you’ve been positively radiant– and truly, Chris has never felt luckier in all his life. He delighted in the way you smiled at him while dancing, enjoyed the way you squealed in excitement and bounced on your heels when the live band decided to play a cover of your favorite tune, couldn’t help the way a goofy grin spread over his face when you pecked him on the cheek following a slow dance.

You’re the only one in the world who’s ever seen it, you know– the only one who gets to see his dimples, or to hear him giggle. The only one he’s ever sung to and danced with, the only one he’s ever wanted to stay up all night talking on the phone with, the only one he’s ever taken out for more than a quick and simple joyride in his car.

He could feel the inquisitive, disbelieving stares too– Chris has lived here his entire life, and everyone knows the kind of guy he is. And maybe he’s simply lucky– he knows he’s nothing but a delinquent, knows his reputation precedes him, knows he doesn’t deserve the affection of a good girl like you. 

Regardless of it all, you love him– enough to give him another chance even when he hasn’t yet done enough to earn it. And effortlessly, you unlock the soft part of him– the part of him that desires and yearns and wants. He burns for you, the only girl in the world his heart has ever raced for, the only who knew who he was beyond the rough surface he projected to the rest of the world.

Now you’re outside tentatively standing next to Chris’ car, waiting for him to come back from confirming with his sister that she’ll hitch a ride home from her friends instead of him. It embarrasses him how she grills him with questions about you– and he answers in the vaguest of terms, having to promise that he’ll fill her in on it all in more detail later, but to please just let him go be alone with his girl.

He’s certain that no one else would believe it if he told them, but his intentions to be alone with you are entirely pure. Now that he’s close to having you as his again, he wants to do right by you– take it slow, kiss you soft and tender, touch you light and chaste, respectfully, sweetly. He wants to take you on dates again, wants to save up all his quarters to buy you something special, wants to devote his every moment to showing you how sincerely he loves you.

He wants you to meet his friends properly (after he gives them a stern warning to be gentlemen in front of you), wants you to meet his parents, and he wants to meet yours in turn. He wants to stop playing it cool and aloof and confident when he feels something– doesn’t want to keep pretending that the way you look at him doesn’t drive him wild, not just with lust but with adoration.

And certainly, you know that Chris is softer than he outwardly appears– you’re not blind to the way his cheeks and ears burn when you kiss him sweet and call him that name that makes his heart skip a beat. And unlike you, Chris knew what he was doing– so it was natural for him to always be the one leading your little song and dance, even when on the inside he felt like he was going to positively combust from the way your eyes sparkled at him.

There’s something you’ve been wanting to try– something that you couldn’t before, because your summer together passed by in a blink, and there was so much you didn’t know when your relationship first began. And Chris has taught you a lot in your time together– maybe more than he even realizes.

He may not know it, but he’s made you into a real insatiable minx. And now that you know he’s willing to beg and plead and grovel for you to take him back, oh how it makes your heart race with the possibilities. How far can you take it? How far is he willing to go for you, to prove that he’s devoted to you entirely? Would he really do anything to keep you?

Chris told you, just a few moments ago as the sock hop was coming to an end, that he’ll do anything and everything to make sure you don’t regret giving him another chance with him. He looked you straight in the eyes, vulnerable and entirely sincere, squeezed your hands in his as countless promises left his lips. 

Could he be manipulating you? Is he nothing but a dirty liar? It’s certainly possible– but you’d like to believe the Chris you knew last summer is the truest version of himself. You’d like to believe that the Chris you saw tonight isn’t an act to keep stringing you along. So you want to try something– something bold, something the you of last summer would’ve never thought to do.

You don’t think your shyness will ever entirely evaporate given that Chris is such an utter dreamboat, but he does well enough at playing it cool, so who's to say you can’t do it too? You can be playful and enticing, can play it coy and innocent while you flutter your lashes at him, can smile and pout at him in a way that makes desire spread through his veins like explosive, hot fireworks.

When Chris walks back out of the building you have to make a conscious effort to ignore the butterflies in your stomach– you’ve decided you’re a woman on a mission tonight, after all. The parking lot is sparse now, and the last stragglers from the sock hop all shuffle to their cars, his sister and her group of friends being among them.

Though you only met her briefly, you offer her a pleasant wave goodbye, and she smiles at you as she returns it– though you don’t miss the way she shoots her older brother a look after. A look that says “don’t fuck this up for yourself.” It almost makes you giggle– you like having his sister on your side; you get the impression she’ll chew him out if he doesn’t shape up the way he’s promised to. 

Chris doesn’t turn to you until after his sister and her friends have peeled out of the parking lot– you’re not sure if it’s because he wanted to make sure she was going to be safe, or if it’s because he felt like she’d gotten enough of an eyeful of him being affection with you, and he’d be embarrassed if she saw anymore. You like either answer.

“Hi baby,” he says, soft and sweet as he smiles, and it makes your heart once again skip a beat. Even after hours of dancing, he still looks utterly perfect– not a single piece of his greased up hair out of place. You hope you’re faring the same– you didn’t really get a chance to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the night to know for certain, but you want Chris to think you look divine.

“Am I taking you straight home?” he asks; it’s dark out now, but you still have a fair amount of time before you’re expected back home. And while he’d love to spend more time with you, he isn’t going to assume– this is a trial period, after all; he still has to earn that, he’s sure.

Calling you his earlier was more hope on his end than confidence– he wants you to be his, but he knows he has to earn your trust back first. And he’s going to be a gentleman– any boundary you have, he’ll adhere to, no matter what. He refuses to fuck up with you again.

“No,” you answer short and simple, smiling up at him as you do. But before he can ask you what you want to do until curfew, you’re speaking again. “My shoe's untied,” you pout, leaning back against his car while gently lifting your foot from the ground to show him, “can you fix it for me, please?”

“You want me to tie it for you, baby?” he laughs a little as he tilts his head to the side, thinking you’re just oh so cute when you keep up the pout as you nod. He gets down on one knee easily, and you put your foot right on his knee, watching as he ties your laces back together. When he’s finished, you don’t put your foot back on the ground– you press it right to the middle of his chest.

“Baby?” Chris looks up at you curiously– and there’s a twinkle in your eye he’s never seen before. He almost thinks you’re going to kick him back on his behind, but you don’t– you take your skirt into your hands, and start to pull it up. Slowly, it rises above your calf, your knee, your thigh, until he can see your pretty white panties, with its precious little pink bow in the center.

“S-Sugar, what– what are you–” he stammers, struggling to form words in a way he never has before. You’ve never exposed yourself to him like this– just out in the open, with no barrier between you and the rest of the world. You aren’t in your bedroom, you aren’t inside the car with the windows and hood up– you’re out, in the middle of the fucking parking lot where anyone could see. 

Fuck, even the times at the beach, when he made love to you in the sand, were much, much more secluded than this– because those excursions were isolated, close to your aunt’s beach house and happening in the dead of night. And this is very much not– it’s barely even 9 o’clock, and you’re at a public venue; anyone could come by, and for any reason.

“I need your help with something else too, daddy,” you say as you pout some more, clearly acting coy, and he swallows as he stares up at you. “Can you do it, daddy? Can you help me?” You take as much of your skirt's fabric into one hand as you can, keeping it lifted above your thigh while you move your other hand between your legs, pulling your panties to the side to show him your pussy.

The action sends all of Chris’ blood careening to his cock– he can’t believe you’re really doing this right now. “Right– right here? N-Now?” he gulps, taking a quick glance around the parking lot. You’re alone now, but still– he never thought you’d do something so bold. Even just fooling around in the back seat of the cadillac with as much privacy as he could give you made you impossibly shy.

“Yes, here, now,” you tell him, keeping your panties hooked to the side with two fingers, while using the other two to spread your folds apart for him the best you can. You’re trying to entice him, and fuck, is it working. He never thought he’d see you this way, and it’s making him feel so utterly electric– he’s a fucking live wire, and he’ll pour his current straight into you.

Anything you want from him, it’s yours– he doesn’t need any convincing, he’s already impossibly ensnared by the rope that is your desire for him. And fuck, he said he wouldn't do this, said he'd be a gentleman, take things slow and build back up to intimacy with you– but if you're practically begging him for it, how can he resist?

Chris takes your foot into his hand, carefully lifts it from his chest and throws your leg over his shoulder before he crawls closer to you. The concrete of the parking lot ground is brutal against his knees, but he doesn’t give a shit– you need him, and that’s all that matters.

He replaces your hand, keeps your panties shoved aside with his own. Now that your hand is free you use it to hold onto the car door and give yourself some extra support as he starts placing kisses to your clit. His lips always feel so perfect– especially when he licks them first, gets them nice and wet for you; the sensation draws out a pleasant sigh, but you both know it isn’t really enough.

Chris likes to tease you, make you wait until you’re squirming and trembling from all his repeated kisses, gets you so worked up you could beg and cry before he finally gives you his tongue. But tonight is about getting what you want, when you want it– so as much as you enjoy his soft little kisses, you’re not going to let him work you up.

He’ll be the one fraying at the edges, the one desperate and pleading, the one who feels like his brain is filled with cotton, looking up at you from down on his knees with glassy eyes full of need. You let go of the car door, bring your hand to his head and thread your fingers through his hair. You pull back just enough to have his head tilting away from your pussy, making his eyes land straight up at you.

“Baby–” he gasps, and again you meet his gaze with that sinfully deceitful pout. “You said you’d do anything for me, daddy,” you say as you shoot him your best doe eyed look, “Did you mean it? Will you do anything for me?” Fuck, you’ve got him throbbing– you can see his erection straining against his jeans, and it nearly makes you grin in delight.

Still, you don’t crack– Chris always does well at only showing you the version of himself he wants you to see, and you will too. You won’t give him your meek looks or timid declarations of desire for more of his touch– he’ll only see a new you; a confident you who knows exactly what she wants. You’ve learned from the best, after all.

“Well?” you demand when he doesn’t immediately answer, and you watch him swallow, swearing you can see the shiver that spreads down his spine and throughout the rest of his body. “Y-Yeah baby, I meant it. I’d do anything for you,” he tells you, hoping you can’t see how red his face and ears are getting in the low light.

“Prove it– prove you want me, prove you’re good for something,” you say, and again he shivers, breath catching in his throat. “Eat it, make me cum.” Fuck, Chris is reeling– he still can’t even believe it’s really you talking to him this way. His brain feels like a faulty circuit board, all his synapses sparking dangerously as they fire off, ready to ignite his blood and engulf him in an uncontrollable flame of desire.

When you let go of his hair, he wastes no time diving right into your pussy, eating you out like a man starved. He brings his free hand to your ass, squeezes and holds you in place while he shakes his head to get more of you on his tongue, his nose bumping your clit and making your legs quiver.

You bite your lip, doing your best to suppress the loud moan he brings out of you by sucking on your clit. His plush lips wrapped around it, the flicks of his tongue, how expertly he sucks– it’s already so overwhelming, in the best way possible. Chris does his best to sink lower, tries to lick at your hole and get his tongue inside, but it’s hard like this– he’s not sure if he can.

“B-Baby, doll, let me lay you down, in the car, let me–” he pulls away from your dripping center to look up at you, and fuck, he looks ruined in the prettiest way imaginable. His eyes are hazy and pleading, glistening with your arousal from the tip of his nose all the way down to his chin, sweat dripping down his brow. “Need to spread you out, I– please? Gotta taste more of you.” 

Shit, you can’t deny you want it– especially not when he’s begging like this. You nod, and he smiles at you in appreciation, a smile that makes your knees even weaker than they already are. You take your leg off his shoulder, and he quickly rises to his feet, giving you a messy kiss before he ushers you away from the car door to open it for you.

You crawl into the back seat, and he follows, slamming the door shut behind him. He waits until you get comfortable, not acting until you're lying propped against the opposite door of the car. Chris hooks your panties in his fingers, pulls them down your legs and tosses them aside into the footwell; it'll be a sweet treat for him when he finds them again later.

He'll keep them, he thinks– stuff ‘em in his pocket and take them back to his room, where they'll lie safe and protected under his pillow. It's a dirty thought, one that'd otherwise fill his gut with shame, but right now all he feels is need– need for you to cum on his tongue, need to give you everything you want and more.

He settles on his stomach between your legs, and it’s certainly not easy, but he manages well enough. One of your legs ends up over his shoulder again while the other stays spread out with the help of his hand holding you under the knee. And finally, his tongue dips into your hole, and it’s pure bliss– maybe even more so for him than you. He’s hungry, utterly ravenous; all he can think, breath, and taste is you, you, you.

“Chris– your fingers, need your fingers,” you whine more shamelessly than you would've otherwise liked, but you know he enjoys it. He separates from you long enough to run his fingers between your folds, making sure they’re nice and slick for you before he presses them to your hole. 

He slides one finger in first, bringing his mouth back to your clit while you adjust to the feeling. Your legs are already trembling by the time he adds another finger, and when he starts curling his fingers to hit your most sensitive spot while flicking his tongue against your clit you can hardly even breathe– it’s just so, so good.

Your stomach is clenching, thighs and legs shaking hard, your release building up with an intensity you’ve never felt before. “Oh, fuck, Chris–” you cry when he presses the tips of his fingers into your spot harder. You’re certain that if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re still wearing your shoes, your toes would be curling from the pleasure.

Your pussy sounds so sloppy and messy, and Chris himself isn’t making it any better– he’s drooling so much, his saliva drenching you just as much as your own dripping arousal. You’re breathing hard, and even your hands are shaking as they continue to hold up your skirt to watch him devour you.

“Oh my god, ‘m gonna cum, I’m gonna– fuck, gonna cum for you daddy, please don’t stop,” you’re crying loud– and you know you should at least try to be quieter considering how out in the open you are, but you’re too far gone to care. With your head thrown back, you whimper and moan, high pitched and loud, eyes rolling back as your orgasm takes you.

It feels like it’s endless, the waves of pleasure ceaselessly jolting your body as your vision blurs white; and you feel wet; so, so wet. It’s only when you finally come down from the high and lift your head back up from where it thunked against the car door to look at Chris that you realize why you feel so drenched.

It’s not just your thighs that are dampened– it’s your skirt, Chris’ face and shirt, the leather of his seats; all of it is soaked with your cum. Your face starts to burn hot, and you swallow as Chris stares at you, almost bewildered. “Baby– did you just..?” You squirted for him, because of him– he doesn’t even fucking care how much of a nightmare it’s going to be to clean his car, all he can think about is how fucking sexy it is.

You simply nod, because it’s all you can think to do– you really weren’t expecting this to happen. “Oh my god, baby, you have to do it again, please, you have to,” he practically whines, and his enthusiasm over it makes you giggle. You honestly feel more than a little shy about it, but Chris’s apparent elation makes it worth the tinge of embarrassment.

You reach out for him, take the necklace dangling from his neck into your hands and pull, urging him to come closer to you. He crawls up your body, and you kiss him, sliping your tongue into his mouth and tasting yourself all over him. “Fuck, you’re so dirty baby,” he groans when you pull away, “what are we going to do, huh?”

It makes you giggle again, a soft thing full of mischievous delight. He basks in it, giggles with you before he kisses you again. “Need your cock now,” you tell him when he pulls away, and shit, he’d nearly forgotten how fucking hard he is whilst wrapped up in pleasuring you. He can feel it straining against his jeans, desperate for stimulation of its own.

“Yeah? Want my cock baby?” he asks, grinning at you the way he always had before; you tug on his silver chain again in response. “Don’t forget, you’re giving me everything I want. Everything, okay?” you say once his face is mere inches from yours again, making him look you closely in the eyes. Chris swallows as he nods, the smile you offer him once again making his brain feel fuzzy and floaty.

He looks you over once more, really takes it all in before he scrambles over the front seat, reaching for the glove box where he still has some spares from your time together over the summer. Condom in hand, he settles back over you, and you help him with his jeans while he tears the package open. He spreads it quickly down his length, and you take your legs in hand, holding them under your knees to keep yourself open for him. 

The sight of you like that is dizzying– legs open, skirt bunched up all the way to your stomach, pussy wet and glistening, with the hair there matting from how wet you are; you’re perfect. So fucking perfect. He moans as he pushes into you, so slick that you take him with ease. You take his face in one of your hands and pull him down to kiss you, a desperate one that makes pleasure lick over every inch of his skin.

Chris rolls his hips into you slowly to start, while you let go of the leg you're still holding to wrap your limbs around him, keeping him pressed close. He grabs onto the car door, uses it to keep himself steady when he starts to pick up the pace of his hips, harsh breaths and low moans leaving him freely. Neither of you are trying to be quiet, the street lights are burning bright, the hood of his car and the windows are down, anyone could hear you or see you– and the excitement of it all makes the pleasure he feels all the more intense.

“Baby, your tits– let me see ‘em, please, can I see ‘em?” he asks between labored breaths– he needs to see them, has missed them more than is probably allowed. You quickly do as he asks, fumbling with the top few buttons of your blouse to expose yourself to him. You tug down your bra so he can see your breasts bare, and again he groans, bringing his free hand to one of them to brush his thumb over your hardened nipple.

“Oh, you’re so pretty– so, so pretty baby,” he says, groaning when the words make you clench harder around him. It doesn’t take long for the car to start rocking with the motion of his thrusts, his rhythm quickly growing sloppier. He’s been so worked up, and believe it or not, he hasn’t actually fucked anyone since you– he feels so high strung and on edge, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

He just hopes he can make you cum again before he does, or at least make you cum with him– he needs you to be happy with him. You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, you can tell that he’s already impossibly close– so, like the little minx you are, you talk dirty to him, wanting to see him utterly unravel at the seams. “You gonna fill me up, daddy? Make this pussy all yours?”

Chris gasps and shudders, goosebumps erupting all over his impossibly hot skin. He knows he can’t actually– all he’s going to really fill up with his cum is the condom, but fuck, the thought of it is making his head swim. “Y-Yeah, gonna fill you up baby, daddy’s gonna make you so full,” he breathes, and God, that really does it for you.

You bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing in quick, practiced circles. Even through the condom he can feel you gushing and soaking his cock, and it sends him over the edge– as do the sounds of your incredibly pretty whimpers and moans of pleasure. His hips still when he cums, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his eyes roll back, head thrown back in utmost bliss.

It takes Chris a few moments to recollect himself and catch his breath, and he slowly slips out of you when does. He tucks his softening length back in his jeans before he helps you fix your bra, and smoothes your skirt out over your legs while you button your blouse back up. “You feeling okay, baby?” he asks, wiping messy strands of hair out of your face.

You’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, faces flushed and hot, hair utterly a mess– it’s obvious, even with your clothes fixed up, what you’ve been doing. “Mhm, are you?” you ask, and he smiles, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “I’m peachy keen, jelly bean,” he replies and you giggle, kissing him once more.

He looks at himself in his rearview mirror when he pulls away, does his best to fix his messy hair while you lift yourself up from your propped position and stretch out your aching limbs. He then takes another glance around the parking lot, and notes that you’re still the only ones here– thank God. He was too enraptured by you to check earlier, and he’s grateful that no one else has showed up.

“Should probably get you home now, yeah?” Chris asks, looking at the clock on his dashboard and noticing it’s now getting dangerously close to your 10 o’clock curfew. He helps you get into the passenger seat when you nod, and you smile at him when he settles in beside you. He turns the key in the ignition, one hand resting on your thigh while the other stays on the wheel, and he drives you home.

Chris parks up the street, like he did all those times at your aunt’s beach house. He watches you walk over to your house, and he smiles when you turn around to blow him a kiss. At 11 he leaves his car, walks up the street to your home, and approaches the only window with a light still on– the window to your new bedroom. And you smile as you open it for him, letting him crawl his way inside.

He sees the teddy bear he won you at the fair sitting right in the middle of your bed, nestled against your pillows, and he smiles, delighted that you still kept it even after he broke your heart. “I love you, baby,” he tells you in a whisper after a sweet kiss, “never gonna hurt you again, I promise.”

“You better keep that promise, mister. Or I might just have to make you jealous again,” you warn and tease him with a cheeky little smile. He strips out of his jeans and tee shirt as you turn off your lamp, lies down beside you after you settle into your bed, runs his hand up and down your back as you press yourself against him. Head on his chest, with your arm and leg tossed over him, he kisses your head and smiles once more– because as he promised, this is just the start of a lifetime.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[rosesnbooks]

Astrology observations #5🖤

🌜I wrote these for fun, based on how i see these placements. i'm not a professional! hope you enjoy these🌛

⭐cancer placements allow themselves to feel their emotions. they may get annoyed by the intensity or the amount of them, but they process them fully, and this makes it easier for them to move on. random thought but writing letters to people they like may be something they do or did as kids haha. they're very romantic

⭐some aries venuses have obsessive tendencies when they have a crush, and they get frustrated a lot if they think they can't/shouldn't pursue them. they enjoy the tension, but they don't want it to last too long because they dislike not being in control, and having feelings for someone leaves them feeling too vulnerable. that's why they try to move on if they can, but it takes work. when they do find someone, they become really clingy but they still need freedom when it suits them

⭐mars in libra avoid conflicts and try to be reasonable about everything, but if they think you crossed a line, you'll see why aries is their sister sign pretty soon. once they tell you off, you'll never see them the same way, so underrestimate them at your cost

⭐having stelliums can be interesting. it for sure puts a lot of emphasis on the influence of that house on your life, and i found that it can be both positive and negative since they face lots of challenges related to their house but also many blessings. those who have stelliums kind of embody multiple characteristics simultaneously

⭐sun in the 11th people glow when they are with their closest friends. they also tend to dream big and care a lot about the world. their friends usually help them in their future goals. they feel a bit different than people in their hometown/country, mostly because they cannot be tied down to a single culture because they enjoy different things, which usually makes them quite open-minded and tolerant. they can be picky about the people they let in super close though

⭐mars in the 6th can procrastinate a lot actually, but they get things done. may get sudden waves of high energy and get things done rapidly and extensively. they expect a lot from themselves regarding their ambitions and aspirations. they try to improve themselves in any way most of the time, but they should also accept their current state if they want to evolve and love themselves. they need to watch out for their moral perfectionism too. it's okay to make mistakes as long as you apologise and strive to change for the better

⭐i've found that virgo mercuries can be really direct, even if they are shy or don't talk much around strangers or acquaintances, they have their moments. super funny too

⭐north node in cancer struggle with accepting their vulnerable side. they hate feeling like things and people can evoke strong emotions in them. they want to be more detached, but those that work on themselves find it very rewarding once they embrace their strong emotions. they can also be really reliable, practical, and thoughtful

⭐fire+water combinations in birth charts-i am sending you a hug. i know exactly how difficult it is to keep all those emotions under check, and that you need a lot of understanding and rest to function. use those emotions and passions well hun, you are strong and capable. you have a lot of empathy and wonder inside of you

⭐capricorn sun/mercury have a dry way of texting. their humor is difficult to read via text and they simply are not fans of texting, and it shows lol

⭐aries mercuries are not always available online and they may come and go when they're online, but they'll answer all of your messages one by one with lots of enthusiasm. they also like to send memes and joke around a lot

⭐virgo mercuries are not fans of texting and they can answer you after a couple of days or so even if they really like you. similarly to aries, they'll make sure they answer everything and they also pay attention to every detail you mention. very sweet really. their humor shines brighter in person

⭐taurus moon are very capable. they may prefer rest over anything else, but their patience and dedication to the things they need to do is really cool. they are calm most of the time so it's nice to be around them, just don't disrespect them and everyone will thrive

⭐taurus venus men can be really possessive. even if you like such behavior, some can go to extremes and try to control how you feel, think, and behave. they have a specific image of an ideal partner and they want you to fulfill it

⭐libra venus tend to care about how they look and present themselves so they put lots of effort into that. they also have standards when it comes to beauty and some expect others to dress and look well, whether they know them or not

⭐women with venus in aquarius-you may be attracted to men who are mysterious and act like they're special. just be careful because there are so many toxic ones out there who want a relationship but not truly, because they don't want to dedicate themselves to you and maybe plan on using you

⭐pisces moon can feel like they're drowning in their own emotions sometimes because they cannot control them easily and they tend to give in. if they like to portray themselves as a martyr these emotions can get out of hand because they let those emotions lead them which influences their mental health and relationships. those who are developed process these emotions and try to figure them out and let them pass. they can learn a lot about themselves and others this way. creative outlets can be of help to process this

⭐leo moon need to watch out for hurting people when their ego is hurt because they can lash out and make lots of damage. take a second to think whether it's worth it or not, since there is no point in trying to "win" in a fight with someone you love

⭐pisces mars can be too forgiving, especially to those they care about. don't let people walk over you dear, no matter who they are. nobody deserves that kind of treatment

thank you for reading!🤍i also offer paid astrology readings, so check out my blog for more info

©rosesnbooks

[ldydeath]

Too Fast to Live | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Jiyong is busy on tour while you’re busy with work. You finally find time to come see him, but Jiyong gives you a fright when he’s too exhausted to keep up with his demanding schedule. 

Warnings: fainting, but that’s about it.

With the MADE tour being in full swing you and Jiyong hadn’t been able to see each other much. This was something you’d discussed a lot prior to the tour kick off and despite the odds and distance you two had decided to make it work. You two had been together for a little over a year now and loved each other too much to walk away despite busy schedules.

Every chance you got you were making stops along the world tour, living for the days your schedules aligned perfectly and you got more than a few hours together. When Jiyong had first left you’d thought this was going to be the longest year of your life, but truthfully with how busy you’d also been the past year, the tour was flying by.

You and Jiyong would facetime after every show, regardless of what time zone you were in. You honestly didn’t mind being woken up at all hours of the night, not when it meant you got to wake up to the most beautiful face you’d ever seen. Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, your arm moving out of the comfort of the warm blankets to fish around for it. Your peaked open one eye to check the notification, a grin quickly crossing your face when you saw who it was.

“Hi handsome.” Your voice raspy from sleep and Jiyong’s face came into view.

“I woke you?” He frowned as if this wasn’t an almost daily occurrence at this point. 

Jiyong was almost done with the tour which meant his nights were early morning for you.

“It’s fine, I need to be up soon anyway to head to the airport.” You shrugged, sitting up fully in bed.

His frown turning to a smile at the mention of your trip. You’d be back in his arms in 24 hours and he couldn’t wait to see you.

“How’d it go tonight?” You took a minute to look him over, noting how exhausted he looked - even on a grainy screen.

“It was good. Just a lot, again.” 

You knew what he was referring to, Jiyong had been struggling for a while now with the extended set time he was on stage, but in true Jiyong fashion, he wasn’t willing to press the matter.

 “You need to rest, Ji. Try to take it easy tonight?” 

You knew his nightly routine by now - dinner with the guys, a quick call to you, and then he’d be locked in his room until morning. That didn’t mean you didn’t worry about him, because of course you did.

“I am resting, look!” He moved his phone showing off his bed and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I have to get going, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” He pouted on the other end but nodded in understanding.

“I love you too.” 

The next twenty four hours passed pretty slowly , thanks to spending most of it in the air. You’d been antsy the entire flight and practically ran to baggage claim. Jiyong had sent a car, not being able to pick you up himself. You practically jumped out of the car while it was still moving when you pulled up to the venue, Jiyong waiting outside for you. He let out a laugh as you leaped into his arms, pulling him in for a bone crushing hug.

“Hi you.” He grinned as he held you tightly. “I’ve missed you.”

You practically melted in his arms at his words and pulled back to take him in. He looked well, more rested since your previous conversation and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I missed you too.” Jiyong leaned down, pressing his lips to yours but before you could deepen the kiss behind you brought you both back to reality.

“Hate to break up the happy reunion but we’re needed for sound check.” Seunghyun offered you a friendly smile before pulling Jiyong away from you.

You grabbed your bags and found your way to Jiyong’s dressing room. You had about an hour to kill while sound check was going on and decided a nap would do you some good if you even wanted to make it to show time. Kicking off your shoes, you plugged your phone into the nearest port, texting your family to let them know you’d made it in and curled up on the couch, falling fast asleep.

You awake an hour later to Jiyong pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Hi” you whispered, whipping your eyes, sitting up fully. “You look tired.” You frowned, noticing the fast difference in his appearance.

“Just what every guy wants to hear” he teased as he moved to open the door, letting in his glam team.

“Oh, stop, you know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes, playfully at him.

The next couple hours went by quickly as you watched your boyfriend get ready for show time.

“Ready?” You asked as you both made your way towards the other guys.

He nodded, words failing him. Despite how many times Jiyong was on stage he still got nervous right before going on. You squeezed his hand, a reassuring smile on your lips as the guys came into view.

“I’ll see you after.” You pecked his lips, said a quick hello to everyone and followed his team to your favorite spot backstage. 

No matter how many times you watched this show you never got tired of it. You’d lost count by now how many times you’d seen it, and had come to enjoy memorizing every detail of the show. Zutter, which was arguably your favorite song, had just started and you sucked in a breath. This was the part of the show Jiyong had been complaining to you about the whole tour. Jiyong, as usual, killed it and the show continued on. But as the intro for Bae Bae started you noticed your boyfriend walking towards you. That wasn’t right. Before you knew it he collapsed in front of you.

“Jiyong!”.

Before you could get to him the crew had surrounded him. Your heart raced as you watched them fan him off, helping him change into his jacket. As he stood back up, your hand brushed his gently and he offered you a small smile before rushing back onstage. 

A few minutes later, he was back on the ground in front of you, this time you refused to be pushed to the back. You brushed his hair out of his face, pleading for him to wake back up. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as he came too. You, as well as the crew helped him to a sitting position and your hand went to rest on his as you handed him water, trying your best to not show the panic on your face.

“You don’t have to finish, they can do without you.” He shook his head as he gulped down the water.

“Have to finish.” 

You knew that would always be his answer and as much as you didn’t want him to go back out there, you helped him to his feet anyway. The dancers and Seunghyun were close behind and you exchanged a look with his best friend. Begging him to take care of him out there.

“You’re sure?” You asked and he replied with a nod, kissing your temple before turning back to the stage.

You could tell he still wasn’t with it, sweat was dripping down his face as he took his place amongst the dancers.

Jiyong wasn’t going to disappoint his fans though, and proceeded to give it his all out there. You didn’t only thing you could, and watched on. You weren’t even sure you were breathing as the song came to an end. The lights dimmed and in a flash, he was backstage the rest of the guys left to entertain the crowd.  You walked over to wear he was panting on the ground and kneeled down next to him, a rag in hand.

“What do you need?” You whispered as you wiped the sweat off his face. 

He shook his head, his hand coming to rest on his chest and he let out a shaky breath.

“Just need a minute.”

You nodded, your hand going to rest on his and let out a breath. You couldn’t remember a time in your life where you’d been this scared in your life. But he was here, he was talking, he’d be ok. As the guys came backstage you went to move so they could check on him, but Jiyong clutched your hand tightly, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Stay.” You weren’t going anywhere. 

After getting fully checked out, Jiyong decided he was well enough to finish the show, and you watched on nervously throughout the rest of the night. He seemed more like himself on stage. But he’d also seemed fine that morning and now you’d watched him faint twice.  Once the show was over, he met you back in the dressing room, the exhaustion still evident on his face.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

He nodded, but before you could move his arms were back around you, his chin resting on your head. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, breathing in his scent.

“Thank you for being here. I don’t know that I would’ve had the confidence to get back out there if you weren’t here. I promise I’ll take it easier on myself the rest of the tour. I love you.” 

You nodded your head as he spoke, as horrible as the situation had been, you were just glad you could be there for him in some way.

“I love you too. Are you sure you’re ok?” He smiled at you as he pulled away,

“Yeah I’m good. I have you.”

There it was again, those words that always made you melt. You grabbed his hand, leading him out of the room and towards the car. Even if the tour was almost over you vowed to yourself you’d do whatever it took to keep Jiyong healthy for the rest of the shows. 

Tag list:  @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi

[5iyoomi]

Thangyu NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: poly!thangyu x fem!reader, they're probably so ooc here I'm so sorry, not proofread I'm posting this at 4 am, mentions of drugs & alcohol, implied dubcon/under-negotiated kink in one part, somnophilia, just general smut stuff A/N: FINALLY POSTING AFTER 20 YEARS LMAO. If this sucks don't @ me the last time I wrote was idek how long ago now

nsfw under the cut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

☆ If we’re being real here aftercare with them heavily depends on how they’re feeling…. But either way it’s pretty minimal, especially considering one of them practically falls asleep immediately (Thanos). Nam-gyu will make sure you’re all cleaned up and run you a bath if he feels like dealing with the mess right after. 

Thanos on the other hand takes it upon himself to cuddle up to you, long limbs entangled with yours as he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek or forehead and murmurs sweet nothings you can’t make out half the time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

☆ Both of them are tits men, it doesn’t matter if they’re big or small, they don’t give a shit. Even in a non-sexual manner, Thanos just likes to keep his hands under your shirt since he tends to run cold and it’s one of many excuses to be close to you. 

Nam-gyu isn’t as vocal about it but he doesn’t try to hide it. Whether it’s with an arm slung around your shoulder and his palm brushing your breasts, or full on touching you if he thinks another guy’s getting too close for comfort, you’ve gotten used to the constant feeling of hands on you.

On that note, Thanos’ favorite body part is his hands. He doesn’t necessarily get full on manicures, but he does take good care of them. He adores how big they are compared to yours and even Nam-gyu’s. The mere sight of his thick fingers wrapped around your smaller wrists never fails to make him dizzy.

If Nam-gyu had to choose, he’d say his hair. He likes when you tug at it while he eats you out because then he knows he’s doing something right. He gets greedy with it, guiding you to run your fingers through his hair just for the hell of it sometimes, or (not so) begrudgingly saying yes when you ask to braid it or put it in a ponytail.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

☆ Both of these freaks like to cum inside you and watch it spill out of you but especially Nam-gyu. There’s something about marking his territory that gets the raven-haired man off, because only he and Thanos get to fill you up to their heart's content. 

If there’s time for a quickie he’ll go about his day with a smug look on his face knowing you’re walking around dripping his and Thanos’ seed into your underwear. That if anyone were to flirt with you you’d be reminded that no one satisfies you like they do.

Thanos likes how it glistens on you after you blow him and let him cum on your face, using his thumb to further smear it on your skin until you’re whining in protest. It’s his way of staking his claim, in a way.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

☆ Thanos likes to make you come at least twice in your panties that way he has something to jerk himself off with when he knows you won’t be around for a while. He’ll inhale the scent of you with a tight fist around his cock, thinking about how cute you looked with his fingers pressing down on your puffy clit.

As much of a dominant streak as Nam-gyu has it’s almost laughably easy to flip the roles on him. Almost. You have to catch him when he has his guard down, which is usually right after you have sex or when he’s too high to realize what you’re trying to do. 

He doesn’t let it happen very often, and he won’t admit how much he likes it, but having you ride and praise/degrade him while Thanos watches is a guilty pleasure of his.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

☆ We all know both of them were up to some freaky shit in club pentagon like c’mon… And they can both be assholes but they’re hot and they know it, they 100% know how to please a girl. 

They aren’t the most experienced in serious relationships and romantic stuff, but they’ve had random hook-ups and one night stands before. You’re in good hands, literally and metaphorically.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

☆ If they’re in the mood to use you like a ragdoll, they’ll put you in doggy style with your hands tied behind your back so one of them can fuck you into the mattress while the other uses your throat. 

Otherwise their favorite is missionary. Not only can they watch every expression you pull while you’re blissed out and the way they sink into your warm heat with every thrust, but it’s easier to manhandle you like that, pushing your thighs up to your chest or pulling you into a needy kiss.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

☆ They’re more talkative and energetic when they’re high but I can’t see either of them cracking that many jokes during it in general. There might be a few here and there with both of them chuckling to each other, but they’re mostly serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

☆ I think it’d be absolutely hilarious if Thanos dyed his pubes purple but for the sake of discussion the carpet technically matches the drapes, it’s all natural color down there baby. He trims but still has a nice little happy trail that starts at his navel and leads down to his dick (he’s sensitive there, too. Do with that information what you will.)

Nam-gyu is more well groomed but he doesn’t care to fully shave, it’s less of a hassle that way.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

☆ They fuck you like they hate you but their actions give away how much they truly love you. Nam-gyu will tuck strands of hair behind your ear to keep it out of your face and trace comforting circles against your ankles while he has you bent over. 

A more sober, softer Thanos makes sure you’re okay when they’re being particularly rough. Either way, neither of them like being too far away from you for too long anyways, and you know they mean it when they say ‘I love you’ because they aren’t doing it just to say it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

☆ 90% of the time they don’t see the point because they have you, so what’s the point when they have a girlfriend that’s just as willing? On the rare occasion you’re not an option and they can’t get to each other they’ll scroll through the pictures and videos they’ve got of you and make it work.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

☆ This goes back to the hand thing but Thanos likes choking. He never puts too much pressure on you, his grip loose enough that you can usually push him off if you want or need to, but the power trip makes him impossibly harder. 

The veins in his hands bulge where they’re wrapped around your neck, and the slight sting of pain from your nails leaving moon-shaped indents on his forearms? He’s a goner.

Nam-gyu has a huge thing for somnophilia. It probably happens one night when he can’t sleep; he’s too lazy to get himself off but turned on enough that he can’t get back to sleep. 

Thanos is a deep sleeper, and he’s about to try to wake you up when he sees how peaceful you look: the soft rise and fall of your chest, lashes fluttering and the strap of your shirt falling off one of your shoulders. 

You groggily wake up to him pressed up behind your back, your panties pulled to the side as he uses your slick to slide his cock between your thighs.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

☆ Literally anywhere inside of your shared apartment but they’ll never do it in any public setting hands down. Both of them are possessive and jealous, they wouldn’t even risk someone else being able to see you at your most vulnerable. Screw the neighbors that have to listen to you scream every night.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

☆ Just you, really. You dressing up pretty in lingerie does wonders too, but they aren’t picky when it comes to you and they definitely don’t need anything special. Pray that YOU can keep up with THEIR libido, actually.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

☆ Seriously hurting you is a no-no. They’re up to trying anything once if you or either of them wanna try something new to spice it up in the bedroom, but there’s a certain line they won’t cross. 

If they choke or slap you in any way it’s because you asked for it, and they’ll make up some sort of safe word or action like tapping them three times if you need them to stop/slow down.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

☆ Service doms? Nah, they eat you out for their pleasure. They don’t care if you’re shaking and pushing them away from you because you’ve lost count of how much you’ve come, these two get drunk on the taste of your pussy. 

They both have long fingers that curl just right to hit your sweet spot dead on, and Thanos’ are thicker, too. That paired with their rings and they’ll have you crying for them. Don’t get them wrong, they won’t argue if you get on your knees and pull on the waistband of their pants instead.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

☆ They do both! They can fuck you so hard and fast you’re seeing stars afterwards or they can take their time with you, pouring all their desperation and want into making love to you. They’ll never call it that, though, but you know they’re secretly saps.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

☆ They’re always down. There will genuinely not be a time you ask them, even if you have to be somewhere within the next 5 minutes, that they say no. They might not happen often but if a quick session can sate all of you for long enough then running a little late is more than worth it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

☆ Back to them being disgustingly possessive they aren’t big risk takers in the sense of doing it anywhere semi-public or straight up public, but they’ll always experiment. In their mind, if they already know your body like the back of their own hands, why not play around with things that’ll enhance the experience? 

They start out simple with handcuffs, and if you’re up for it they might introduce toys too. They don’t mind stuff like anal either.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

☆ They could go all night if they wanted to, but Thanos doesn’t last very long with the amount of stimulation unless he’s purposefully trying to edge you or himself. Nam-gyu has a bit more stamina being younger than him, so if Thanos gets tired he’ll keep himself busy pleasuring you while Nam-gyu uses your cunt.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

☆ Not many, they have handcuffs and rope that they’ll use to restrain you sometimes. They have a paddle that they’ll break out to use on you if they’re feeling mean, but not crazy often.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

☆ Nam-gyu is the fucking KING of teasing you oh my god. He’ll finger you and ignore your clit for hours, stopping when you clench around him because he knows you’re close. 

He’ll hold your hips down so you can’t grind against him while you’re sitting on his lap and making out, signaling Thanos to run his hands up and down your sides and pressing feather-light kisses to the nape of your neck but nothing more.

Thanos likes to tease you from time to time, but usually it’s more torture for him to hold back from sliding into you than it is for you to feel him slipping the tip just past your tight walls before pulling back out.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

☆ In general neither of them are exactly loud, but they’re not quiet either. They’ll grunt and pant in your ear, deep, guttural moans that send shivers up your spine.

If you’re topping Nam-gyu (or Thanos) he’s more loud, but he’ll try to bite down on his tongue or bottom lip to contain his whines and whimpers. You’ll have to force a thumb between his teeth if you wanna hear him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

☆ They’ll occasionally smoke weed or drink before they fuck you because it’s a different kind of high from their usual drugs, and they won’t force you to do it but if you do wanna try they like to shotgun the smoke directly into your mouth and then kiss you. 

It usually starts with Nam-gyu teasing you about your apprehension, then being surprised when you climb onto his lap and ask for a hit. He’ll give Thanos that look, then pull you in by your chin and tell you to open. 

The simple but direct command has you clenching your thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed by either man.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

☆ Thanos is about average but he’s thick and veiny (and he’d be uncircumcised hear me out). His dick also curves slightly to the right. That’s ALL I’m saying about him otherwise I won’t shut up. Second more in-depth post later maybe.

Nam-gyu’s isn’t as thick but he’s longer than Thanos, reaching into the deepest parts of you and stretching you out with ease.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

☆ Let’s just say high. They’re both already always horny separately, but together you’ll be lucky to get any sleep.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

☆ Light sleeper Nam-gyu 🤝 Deep sleeper Thanos. Very much self explanatory but Thanos will be out like a light within minutes, meanwhile Nam-gyu likes to wait until you’re both asleep to really get comfortable anyway <3

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🍑 ̟ !! casual conversation between friends? 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ғᴏʀ ɴᴜᴅᴇs ᴘᴛ. 𝟸

✿ ─ characters: kaiser michael, ness alexis, aiku oliver, nagi seishiro ✿ ─ cw: smau!, extremely suggestive/borderline smut, aged-up!characters, college!AU, gn!reader, no pronouns, unestablished relationships/mutual pining, use of foul language, descriptions of genitalia, suggestive themes, slight implied cheating, oliver is so obnoxious im sorry, proofread? ✿ ─ notes: if you see this and you requested someone else, worry not. i'm far too much of a people pleaser to leave you hanging, there will be part three! if you're looking, part 1 can be found here!

KAISER MICHAEL...

you don’t know if its just curiosity driving you or some feelings towards kaiser you’d rather not confront, but impulsively you ask him for a picture. you don’t have much time to reflect on how wrong it is to be asking someone for nudes while in a relationship because before you know it you’re staring at his fit body and shit eating smirk that you hate that you like. its honestly near professional level quality too. a selfie of him laid out on his bed, basking in the afternoon sun peeking through his window. you let out a breath as you finally will yourself to let your eyes travel down and you finally notice the sheet he has draped around his hips. leave it to michael kaiser to persuade you to ask him for nudes only to tease you. still you could see a clear outline of his cock through it and you really wish he was lying about his size. you swallow harshly and you thank god he couldn’t see the crimson that has taken over your face.

NESS ALEXIS...

he sends it to you relatively quickly considering it’s alexis and you had half expected him to spend 20 minutes taking it only to chicken out and not send it. your surprise doesn’t end there, however, as the entire vibe of the image was far from what you were used to with ness. he’s sitting up against his headboard, joggers haphazardly shoved to his knees. he was holding his phone down near his thighs, giving you the perfect view, you didn’t know where to let your eyes land. the tips of his fingers gently pressed his cock against his abdomen, trying not to bite your lip over the fact that it was long enough to reach his belly button. ness must not skip core day at training, you think as you mentally trace every indent of his abs. the thing throwing you off was his face. he had the bottom of his shirt clenched between his teeth to hold it up to give you a better view and you don’t miss the intense look swirling in his eyes. it made your breath hitch in your throat. he had never seemed so focused, so serious. it’s as if his stare was piercing through the screen of your phone. the flush on his face made him look convincingly desperate, stirring arousal in your stomach to your embarrassment.

AIKU OLIVER...

you unfortunately can’t disagree with him. the last few times you hung out with oliver there has been a heavy tension that you’ve been fighting to ignore. it’s what drives you to reply a noncommittal maybe, which is much better than a no, and good enough for oliver. less than a minute later you get a picture, and you can’t help but think that he probably had taken it before you had even agreed. it’s in the mirror in his bedroom, the only lighting is the soft glow of his lamp. he stands facing the side, holding his dick which was at least twice the size of his hand and veiny. to your surprise, he’s well shaved, and as your gaze wanders up his body you scold the part of yourself that wants to drool over his abs and arms. you always knew he was toned, saw him play soccer a few times, but had never how truly sculpted he was. you knew you were doomed the moment you locked eyes on his stupid smile. dangerously charming, kind of like the man himself, one you could see yourself getting fooled by over and over again if you stared at it long enough.

NAGI SEISHIRO...

it takes him barely a few minutes. nagi’s picture is lazy. he was sat back in his desk chair, he just pulls up his hoodie a bit and slides his sweats down his thighs. it’s lit only by the glow of his computer, his cock is basically the only thing in frame… except the plastic water bottle he places next to it for a size comparison. honestly he shouldn’t get away with sending such a low effort nude, but it’s easy to get away with anything when your cock is as big as his. you couldn’t even do the mental math required to figure it out, but one thing was for sure, bigger than a poland springs water bottle. and it simply isn’t fair to be that long and wide at the same time. it almost makes you angry. of course naturally attractive, naturally talented nagi seishiro had a huge dick. you’re unsure if nagi knows how groundbreaking this information is and is choosing not to brag out of modesty or if he doesn’t realize he is the biggest you’ve ever seen.

🇧‌🇴‌🇳‌🇺‌🇸‌❗❗❗ (reo's perspective)

i hate tumblr please just upload my fucking screenshots like a good girl next time. okay now that all the rage is out, what do you guys think!!! part 3 will come out soon and will include: shidou, bachira, sae, kunigami, + mystery bonus?? not sure yet

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[kenzieluvsnanami]

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ ✧✩₊˚. "secretive" :: a kenzieluvssylus production (18+) ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ ✧✩₊˚.

desc ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ pursuing a romance with one of the most wanted individuals in linkon city was never going to be easy... but you also never thought it was going to be this hard // sylus x f!reader angst cw ✧✩₊˚. NSFW/põrn w plot except i really got into the plot aspect 😭, cunnílingus, established relationship, perceived cheating, mephisto being a little shit (affectionately), heavy use of profanity (sorry mom), angst that's not too bad in all honesty, arguing, pretty canon compliant (reader is a hunter and goes on a mission etc.), xavier mention becuz why not, and as always - lowercase intended // wc :: 2.8k

sylus was an enigma.

even that doesn’t begin to describe how little you truly did know about the leader of the even more mysterious organisation - onychinus.

as first, the mystery was fun.

it was even sexy at times.

a month ago, you had intended to grill sylus about his involvement in illegal protocore smuggling within the N109 zone. a conversation that promptly ended with his head stuffed deep into your cunt, angular nose pressing down on your sensitive bud as his tongue languidly pressed into your walls.

you bit down hard on your lip as you tried to swallow your whimpers, the vibrations from sylus groaning into your pussy feeling overwhelmingly good.

he was all consuming - the smell of his musky, warm cologne mixed with weight of his firm build pressing down onto your thighs to stop you from moving away. all you could do was card your fingers through his silver strands and yank at the hair in a desperate bid to regain control.

that earned you a low chuckle from the man who had seemingly taken residence between your legs, scarlet irises turning to a deeper, blackened shade as he took in your disheveled appearance; hunter uniform still half on, your flushed cheeks and blown-out eyes that tried and failed to give a sharp glare.

“you know sweetie, there’s a saying about curiosity and fierce kittens like you..” a slow smirk grew on his face as his fingers repositioned, allowing him to apply a delicious amount of pressure to your clit whilst he started to scissor his fingers inside your slick entrance.

the sudden change in stimulation caught you off guard, your body betraying your pleasure as you let out a sharp gasp that blended into a drawn out moan, your back arching up from the sofa you had originally sat down on to write up a report about said illegal protocore activity.

“could you be a dear and help me remember what exactly it is they say?” his fingers dragged out from the tight ring of muscle with a squelch. **

“…something about it kissing the kitty?” his mouth trailed down the insides of your thighs leaving wet, open mouthed kisses all over.

his fingers then moved back to rest just inside your inner walls, “nono… it actually killed the kitten i think..”

sylus loved to play games, or play dumb to be exact. especially when the two of you were being intimate.

his carefree charm seemed to contrast with his heavier, more serious appearance and it was something that made him feel that more real - less like the big scary crime boss you had imagined and more like a malevolent devil… with the face and body of a greek god.

sylus was fun. but sometimes a relationship needs a lot more than just “fun” to survive.

this was proven to you over the past two weeks, an increasing knot of anxiety and insecurity worming its way into your psyche as you began to truly realise how little you knew about the man who’s bed you so often found yourself falling into.

you knew for certain that not everything sylus was involved in was legitimate… or clean. you literally saw him choke a man to death with his evol the first time you met him. and yet you still continued to see him, to spend time with him, to flirt and even sleep with him (numerous times) despite how little you knew.

you even saw him with another woman.

you were out on an undercover mission with xaiver, attempting to gather further intel about the potential protocore smuggling (sylus had successfully managed to evade any and all questions you had).

the task was simple, infiltrate one of the dinners held by a suspected importer of synthetic protocore fragments.

you and xaiver chose to do your stakeout from a distance, binoculars and infrared cameras scanning for any possible fragments or shards. the night had seemed to be going well, your hand aching from the hours spent furiously scribbling down notes about potential warehouses and production plants the LCIB could raid to find further leads for the case. the night had seemed to be winding down, so you told xaiver he could take a quick nap in the back of the surveillance van because he could not stop yawning.

that was when you had made the fatal error of panning your binoculars up to one of the many bedrooms in the manor, hands about to move the binoculars away until something - more so, someone caught your attention.

there was a woman who seemed to be a similar age to you, with long beautiful hair that came down to her waist and the most breath-taking hazel coloured eyes you had ever seen.

she was completely and utterly gorgeous.

but it wasn’t her beauty that was gave you pause. it was the pale, slender hands that seemed comfortable resting around her waist. the silver strands on a head that had just dipped down slightly to converse with her, his mouth inches away from her ear.

of course.

of course sylus was here, involved in some shady fucking shit and of course he’s with the most alluring woman you had ever seen.

the two of them were laughing, and you knew that from the way sylus’ nose slightly crinkled upwards, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows as his eyes narrowed.

and you were foolish enough to think you were the only one who got to see him like that…

your hands trembled as you tried to hold up the binoculars. did you even want to see more? it felt like every single second you spent watching the two together caused your heart to break into smaller and smaller pieces. you could feel tears clouding your vision, threatening to break free as you saw the woman lean in and press her lips against the corner of his.

you threw the binoculars down, slamming your hands against the dashboard causing the whole van to shake. the noise must have filtered out of the van as it seemed to have disturbed the wildlife around you, a distinct crow’s caw sounding out into the air.

“…what was that?” a small voice called out from the back.

…

the rest of the mission felt like a blur. you were one of the highest-ranked hunters in all of linkon city and yet all it took was a kiss to throw you off kilter.

you only had yourself to blame.

sylus had never out-right said you were the only person he was seeing. plus you had to have known this couldn’t go anywhere, he was the head of a criminal organisation, one of the most wanted individuals by the LCIB and you were a highly ranked official within the LCIB.

it was never going to work out.

which is why when he invited you over to the N109 zone a few days later, you thought it was the perfect time to call it off with him.

you’ve had your fun and you were certain he’s had his fair share too but you had decided that it was best for the both of you to cut things off here before you get too… attached.

the ride over on your motorcycle seemed faster than all the other times you had driven there. probably because of how preoccupied your mind was, head swirling with thoughts, feelings and uncertainties. whilst your mind was telling you the right thing to do was to break up with sylus and be done with it, your heart wanted to forgive him and make up with him.

but, you didn’t get this far in life by listening to your heart.

which is why when luke and kieran swung the heavy dark-stained doors open, you sped straight past them straight to his bedroom. not giving yourself a chance to back out or lose confidence.

the walk to his room had never felt this long. the deep-foreboding feeling you had made it feel as though it was never ending. every fibre of your being wanted to just run back out those doors and never look back - but you had a feeling that he would never make leaving him that easy.

you raised your hand to knock on the bedroom door, only for swirls of black and red mist to materialise in front of the doorhandles, pulling them open for you.

you walked in to the room expecting to see sylus lounging on the expanse of his thousand-thread-count ink stained sheets, a sly finger beckoning you to join him as he so often did.

but he was nowhere to be seen.

it was only as you ventured further into the room that you finally saw him. he was sat at the desk positioned in the far end of his room, his back towards you.

you could see that his left hand was swirling a half-drunk glass of what you assumed to be merlot, the other thumbing through what must have been hundreds of pages worth of documents assorted with small handwritten notes made in red ink. he was dressed in his usual velvet red robe, the belt for which slowly beginning to become undone giving view to his slender, solid build - your eyes trailing down to the familiar dusting of his silver-toned happy trail leading to a pair of snug-fitting black boxers.

the mechanical crow you had come to hold some semblance of affection for began to chirp loudly at your presence, breaking you out of your reverie.

as we’ve gone over before, sylus loves to play games. you could feel the smirk he had on his face without even having to walk up to him.

you knew that he knew that you had something you were nervous about saying and he reviled in it. he seemed to love watching you squirm and it seemed that now was not any different to all those times before.

you cleared your throat and tried to get straight to the point.

“look, whatever this thing is that we have going on… it can’t continue anymore.”

a pause.

sylus spun the office chair around so he could face you, legs crossing over as he rested his chin upon his hand, crimson eyes burning into your own. his face bared no signs of shock or dismay at your words, he actually seemed slightly bored of the conversation you were starting to have.

“is this because of what you…thought you saw at the manor the other day?” his voice was low and even, a slight level of mirth in its undertones as he took in the bewildered look on your face.

how the fuck did he know you were also at the manor that night?

you and xaiver did enough reconnaissance of that house to where your presence should have not even disturbed the dust on the third bedroom’s window sill.

but of course.

of course, this cryptic, secretive bastard knew you were there. the crow’s gleeful greeting to you now felt more like a jest at your obliviousness.

how could you have not have known he was watching.

“if you knew i was there, then why the fuck would you kiss some other woman whilst i was watching??” you had planned to seem apathetic at the whole situation during your confrontation however, your voice betrayed you; sharp emotion creeping in, your voice raised in volume, eyes stinging with tears eager to be shed.

“i think your mistaken…sweetie.” the use of the pet name feeling less affectionate and more like a slap in the face.

you felt like a scolded child being told off by their teacher; the unexpressive, inscrutable posturing sylus was doing only furthering the anger you held.

“i SAW you do it!”

you rarely got this angry with sylus, his easy-going manner calming you down in most instances but the disingenuity of his demeanor was going to make you break something or someone in a minute.

sylus sighed deeply, uncrossing his legs and spreading them outwards to leave enough space for you to stand between them. he then wordlessly waved you over.

and as much as every fibre of your being was deeply pissed at sylus… there was a part of you that still longed to be held by him, to be cared for by him, to be loved by him.

and it was that part of you that silently stepped towards him, standing directly in the middle of his legs. his hands stretched out to take both of yours, large palms reverently smoothing over the top side of your arms. he raised his head to look up at you, the intensity of his gaze causing you to look away.

“look at me.” his voice wasn’t more than a low rumble at this point, the gravel in his tone making the request feel more like a demand.

you reluctantly turned back, face burning due to how vulnerable you felt under his watch. the emotion and earnestness you felt in this moment was so different to all those previous times you had spent together. you could feel the… love he had for you.

“i think we both know what we happened that night.” his eyes never left yours as he spoke, the silence of the room amplifying the volume of his voice. he reached down to grab both of your hands in his.

“the woman you saw me with was… an associate of mine. we have a history.” you saw a flash of pain in his eyes as he paused for a moment, grip tightening around your hands. “but that is all we have. history.”

and here he was doing it again. smoothing out all your concerns and worries without ever explaining or revealing a single aspect of his life to you.

“sylus..” he hummed fondly at your use of his name, “even if all the two of you share is ‘history’ i still feel hurt. you never tell me anything, and i’m not talking about all that protocore shit because i could really give less of a fuck right now - i’m talking about personal shit.”

you could see the light in eyes dimming slightly, his hands starting to stiffen in yours.

“i don’t understand why you feel like you can’t tell me anything? you send that stupid crow to follow me all day and night… all i ask is to know about what you were like as a kid and it’s like i’ve asked for your bank cards.”

you could feel the mechanical gaze of said crow on your back as you spoke but you were more interested in how its owner felt.

after a long pause, he finally spoke.

“i’d rather you ask for my bank cards.”

you weren’t going to allow him to deflect with his dry humour or sex or anything else anymore, this was a dealbreaker. you remained silent as you willed him to continue on with a light squeeze to his palms.

“however, i understand where your coming from.” his eyes shifted from your face down to the black tiles within his bedroom. “the relationship we have has progressed to something much greater than i ever thought it would be… i don’t think i have felt this way before to be honest with you.”

you thought your heart was going to beat itself from out of your chest, the intensity of sylus’ words surprising you.

you were never sure of where you really stood with him in this relationship at times. yes, he complimented you, called you and was intimate with you a number of times - but you weren’t sure if he felt as deeply about you as you did with him. so to hear what seemed to be almost a proclamation of love, was not what you expected.

“i’ve never had to really speak about myself or my past to anyone which is why i’m so hesitant to start now.” sucking in a breath, his eyes flittered back to your face.

“but for you? there’s nothing i wouldn’t do.”

you tugged at his hands, pulling him up from the chair and into your embrace. a finger traced along the edge of your jaw, guiding your head up as his lips ghosted over your own in a kiss.

the gentleness of the action causing you melt in his arms, hands finding purchase in the silk robe he wore. the two of you had kissed before, but the warmth and affection embedded within every movement this time; the way his tongue laved over your lips, coaxing your mouth to open as his hands reached up to cradle your face made you feel… significant.

something had changed within your relationship, the connection the two of you had strengthening.

as a couple, you still had a lot to talk about.

but, somehow you knew it was all going to work out.

a/n : so are we gonna talk abt those 💦🪣's or nah. cause zayne's outfit 🫠

[etclouie]

𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂!𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐀𝐔 

mechanic!theo; who is infuriating. not just because he’s the only mechanic in town who knows what he’s doing, or because he seems to know exactly when your car is going to break down again. it’s because he’s frustratingly good at getting under your skin. 

you hate how attractive he is. you hate how quiet he is. you especially hate how he looks at you like he knows you’re bluffing when you act like you’re not impressed by his work. because you are. and that smug little twitch at the corner of his mouth when you ask too many questions? you’ve seen it. he enjoys this. 

you keep going back to him. maybe it’s the way he works with that intense, thoughtful focus. maybe it’s the way he actually listens, even if he pretends not to. maybe it’s the glimpses of softness—like when he fixes a part without charging you or when he plays older songs on the shop radio and doesn’t change the station when he catches you humming along. 

there’s something about him that doesn’t match his sharp tongue or the gruff way he shuts people out. somethings hidden. 

he’s clearly been through hell—there’s pain in his silence, a carefulness in how he handles people like he’s afraid he might break something. but he doesn’t realise he’s worth being cared about, worth fighting for. 

you didn’t mean to care, didn’t mean to stay. but somewhere between the bickering, the banter and the way he offers you his jacket when it’s cold in the garage, you start to realise; there’s more to Theodore Nott than oil stained hands and scathing sarcasm. there’s a man who’s been waiting for someone to choose him and you just might be the one stubborn enough to do it. 

ᡣ𐭩. au collection, main masterlist + hp masterlist, mechanic!theo

[gwendollin]

  ➣  𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥 𓈒 ||　+18 𓈒 𝑆𝑢𝑘𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑅. ﹒

  {{ wc;; 2.5k

  {{ tw;; +18, fem!reader, reader is tied up, reader is referred to a doll, oral (m!receiving,) doggy style, scratching, spanking, stand/carry sex, vaginal pen, multiple orgasms, squirting, use of "good girl"

  {{ an;; not into jjk anymore, but i found this thing collecting dust from 2023 and am quietly setting it free

Maroon eyes watched with an unrecognizable emotion through a half-lidded gaze. They flickered just slightly, absorbing the image of you down before him, planted heavily on flushed knees. Ropes coiled along your plush skin; their taut stringing had coiled tight enough to squeeze and spill your soft along their edges. Even if you had wanted to, you could not allow your body to abide. It was beautiful.

Sukuna had been deliberate. 

You had desired it. Dare you admit, perhaps needed it. 

Calloused, burning hands had ghosted along your bare and shivering skin. Every so often pointed nails had languidly clawed themselves along an expanse of flesh, and from it a shock of electric delight would send you into a fit of shudders. The rugged grate of twine being forced to mold to your uniquely crafted shape had gone unnoticed up until Sukuna’s spider-like fingers sun their weave until a jostling yank of the arm sealed the immaculate knots. 

Within your mind, you were left in a daze. It felt dreamlike, even - painted in the comforting soft of pastels. Enamoring visuals of Sukuna had washed over your every sense, sending a dizzying wave of mingled delight, warmth, awe, and anticipation to rattle your breathing. Hitches. The air sticks along the walls of your throat. Not once did he dare look at you as he strung your body to create his decadent doll, but he felt your gaze. It ravenously trailed along his jawline, lost in the slope of his cheek, and trailing longingly at the purse of blush lips. Sukuna’s mouth parted just slightly, and you watched in silent agony as he taunted you with a swipe of his tongue in mock concentration.

An arm had come out, snapping you back to reality. A strong defined hand latched to your hip, it’s warmth searing the soft cool of your stomach. A painful throb pulsed from between your legs, sending another shudder through your frame. Sukuna lifted you effortlessly before, to your surprise, you’d been settled down propped on your knees before the king himself. Your eyes, wide and glossy, peeked up through a curtain of lashes up to the man who stood before you like a languid big cat. Along the edges of Sukuna’s curved lips were the traces of a smirk.

“Better,” was the simple word given, an undertone of husk to the growl. The baritone of his voice echoed in your ears, lulling you further into the lust that was threatening to smother any coherent thought you could manage to form. Another painful throb pulsed, causing you to draw in the flesh of your bottom lip and bite to quell the demands.

Whether the two of you were lovers or simply opportunistic was up for debate, but there was seemingly no reason for either of you to complain. The moments shared in temporary bliss did not call in the moment or even thereafter for a label, as all that had mattered was the quality of your shared present. You had been swiftly reminded of this fact as your lips found themselves along the warmth of Sukuna’s shaft. Your eyes fluttered lower, a soft mewl escaping around him and being stifled. Despite the restraints, you found yourself relaxing, and with newfound peace you allowed yourself to succumb; Greedily you took him within, and almost too happily you felt him press into the back of your throat. A soft sigh escaped from you as your tongue lapped and mouth suckled, paired with a slow bob of your head. A flickering flame had lit itself live within your core, warming you from the inside out and causing your cheeks to burn warm. A jealous pulse from your cunt had made you wince just the slightest as you felt it's selfish protest. Your fingers twitched instinctively, hands desperately craving to reach down and embed themselves against your folds, but the ropes kept the limbs in their fixture behind your back.

Fuck, your mind echoed in an pant, frustration and giddy delight bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin. An eyebrow twitched from Sukuna, crimson irises glistening with satisfied curiosity.

Although he wasn't surprised, it never quite got old to witness you devolve beneath the palms of his hands. You who, like a stringed marionette, would keep yourself composed and in control with all of your puppet-strings straightened before a public audience. Yet in privacy, it was always you who ended up entangling your own strings and getting caught within yourself, to the point where your rile resulted in knots. Sukuna merely did you a favor by taking those same strings and turning your mess into a deliberate, contained domain to devolve. A puppet turned doll.

Further, you unwound. Your thighs trembled, knees aching with tension from holding your restrained body oh so obediently still. A familiar wetness slicked the skin of your inner thighs and soaked through thin lace that veiled your aching pussy. Your rhythm in bobbing along Sukuna’s cock had grown somewhat inconsistent; mind had begun to grow overtaken, thoughts clouding and contorting into fanatical fantasies of his cock slipping between your other set of lips. You’d attempt to snap yourself back into reality, but the way his cock filled your mouth and pressed into the back of your throat would throw you right back into the blissful yearning of lust.

A growl, low and rumbling like that of a purr to you, emitted from within the King’s throat. You hadn’t noticed; not a fatal error, but an error. Clawed digits wove themselves into the tresses of your hair before they cinched roughly into a fist. You’d been pulled away with a firm grip, saliva trailing from your lips in threads connected to the head of his cock before your skull was tilted back to gaze up at him.

Sukuna’s brow was lifted and a strange, lopsided sneer of a smile was flashed towards you. Your mind, snapped from it’s ravenous fog, scrambled and retraced the personal rules he’d enforced upon you, before with wide eyes you met his gaze. The King seemed merciful, if nothing based on pity having to witness you nearly cumming just from sucking him off.

“I suppose,” he purred, another hand coming to cradle your chin with a finger. His thumb brushed against your lip, sticky with saliva, it’s flesh being rolled along the curve of his nails; “If you want something done correctly, you do have to do it yourself.”

Your eyes widened. Searing warmth of his arm branded the thick of your ass and thighs, the steeled muscle beneath taut skin lifting your threaded body up once more. Your mind swayed, feeling as if in slow motion as you were roughly handled and forced face-down against a bedding of succulent fabrics, ornate pillows, and decorative throws of brilliant reds, golds, and whites. Your face pressed into the plethora of tactile, lovesick eyes focusing back on his image more clearly as your mind clambered to catch up with the sideways turn of your head.

A pressure against your folds snapped your attention enough to lift your head from the pillow to attempt a peer. Sukuna was perched, a hand wrapped along his base as he teased it along the slick wet of your heat. That lace fabric acted as the last, flimsily concealed barrier between yourself and him. You drew in a slight breath, the sound lodged in your throat. A calloused hand came out to run along the side of your ass and to rest in the comfortable curve of your hip. Sukuna indulged himself, feasting on the sight before him.

The garment you wore had been torn away. Although you couldn’t see, the sound of fabric cracking apart and the newfound cold against the heat of your pussy made your body tremble. An ache echoed through your core and it’d felt as if the beginnings of a high had crept within to fray the thoughts of your mind. Sukuna appeared to be in no rush, his palm holding your hip massaging at the flesh of your side idly and sending sparks flying across the surface of your skin. Instinctively your body arched, hips lifting further, as spine curved divinely down to illustrate a beautiful  landscape of slopes and unique curves of your body. The king of curses dined on the sight luxuriously, relishing the finer details that normally might go missed should one lose themselves.

His tip pressed against you in a touch that coaxed a soft moan to escape. Hands twitched, wanting to cover your mouth, but once again pitifully denied by the ropes binding them into immobility. Heat radiated from your cheeks and you turned your pretty features away into the silks and plush of the fabrics to hide in.

Sukuna was not opposed to a slower pace, but he was also not always a patient man when it came to taking what he wanted. Hips thrust themselves forward in a harsh rut and with a loud, guttural moan you wailed a profanity that had been muffled. You shuddered and gasped, the sensation of him parting and filling you only partially sending an ecstatic wave of pleasure through your body. You gasped as he rocked, your walls aching in protest as you felt him withdraw. Within you heat bubbled, causing a glistening sheen along your skin as you panted. More. Your mind had quelled, body ravenously craving the king above you as he gave you a smirk.

A blunt flash fire of pain along your ass and thigh followed with the harsh slap of skin made you audibly gasp and quiver. The sharp sting of the spank was swallowed by the addictive relief of Sukuna burying himself with a harsh buck of his hips. His cock stretched and filled, the length of it’s entirety making your eyes widen a bit before squeezing closed. Divine.

Sukuna was not a delicate man, but neither were you a delicate woman. His movements were rough, hips slamming into your ass with a lascivious wet sound as your entrance dripped in a satisfied drool. You’d tipped your head to the side, breaths coming in pants while your skin burned. Pleasure stacked upon itself, rolling against your frame in decadent waves that warmed you from the inside. It didn’t help that with every thrust, Sukuna’s cock would grind, push, press, or slam itself against your walls in just the right place that would make you whine a symphony of moans. The king above you grinned inwardly to himself, eyes glowering as they devoured the sight of you.

Burning. You felt like you were burning. Eyes squeezed shut and you whined, bracing the flames that licked across your skin. Every touch was growing overwhelming, your body beginning to tremble. Your mind echoed obscenities. Not yet, not yet, just not yet!

Alas, Sukuna was relentless. While your pleas to stave off the blissful undertow of an orgasm were loud within your mind, they were silent save for your babbling cries and consequently ignored. You suffocated your song into the pillows as your body wracked, buckling beneath the intoxicating peak of an orgasm. It’d felt as if time had stopped, but for Sukuna, it continued at his will. Unable to come down, you felt your mind beginning to numb as your orgasm stacked and built, the fire igniting your veins being tended.

For Sukuna, there were his own pleasures. You could do nothing. You were so entangled in your strings outwardly and inwardly that you could also say nothing. Your body was simply a given; the pleasures one gains in that department are a constant. A low sigh heaved from his chest, remnants of satisfied contentment laced in the sound as his hands found themselves twisting into your soft flesh. Like a terrifying big cat, nails clawed slowly, dragging with them raised and reddened skin that threatened to break. He’d been gentler before, but tonight was not that kind of night.

Your body quaked once more. It wasn’t until the third pea that you’d felt yourself numbed to thought. You’d abandoned rational, giving into nothing but intrinsic need.  More, you needed and wanted more. You were exhausted, yet still, you ravenously pushed and grinded your hips backwards. Harshly you would meet Sukuna’s ruts, and your body would plea again. Until, finally, it felt as if something within you snapped.

If it had to be described, it was almost as if you were crashed into. A strangled wail ripped from your throat, loud even though the pillows, and Sukuna grinned to himself. Your body convulsed in a broken shudder and with a rush of warmth, slick wet squirted and drenched your inner thighs. You panted, legs threatening to give way. The sheer relief from the pressure, heat, and violent undertow of raging tides of ecstasy left you dazed, but you didn’t get to rest for very long. Sukuna let out something of a laugh, single handedly lifting you up to re-steady your spent body back upright.

Although not annoyed, this was far more effort than Sukuna would have liked. Matters were taken once more into his own hands. You were lifted and suspended into his arms, your bound thighs straddling open and sopping lips perched precariously at the tip of his cock. You peered at him, curtained eyes glassy in a haze of lust while pretty lips had grown bruised from your cruel gnawing. It took all of Sukuna’s will not to just give in there, but still, he flashed you a curved smile through a hungry, half-lidded stare. The emotion was impossible for you to read, but somewhere within you told you that he, in that moment, was genuinely satisfied.

You were lowered with ease. You sighed as you were filled, your pelvis throbbing a gentle wave of pleasure. Sukuna comfortably fell into a rhythm, hips bucking up while strong, calloused hands that burned against your body bounced you up before lowering down. The melody of sounds you uttered were haunting alongside the crude wet slaps of your ass grinding against his cock.

Sukuna hadn’t stopped, even when you were brought to orgasm once more. He’d fucked you right through it, watching with a smug sense of pride as you’d squirted around his girth that kept you full. It wasn’t until he’d rolled himself forward, pushing you back down beneath him into the fabrics of the bed in your ass raised high, and he’d found himself atop you with a hand curling itself tightly along the muscles of your neck did Sukuna really find himself entertaining an end to this.

The grin he wore was handsome as he sneered down to you, sharp teeth flashing beneath his upper lip. You endured the pounding, head tipped back and eyes shut as you sang your chorus of pleasure. Sukuna’s final thrusts were hard, painful almost, until he’d slowed to partial dips. You felt him throb within you, and with eyes fluttering open you peered with wide eyes down. He fucked you through it, relishing every last lingering sensation. Sukuna remained still for a moment, breathing in soft pants, before unceremoniously he straightened himself. You watched as he withdrew, your pants soft and mingled with soft mewls as you felt his cum drip from your spent pussy onto the silken fabrics below.

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and throaty as he stood himself up. You were lost in the afterglow, basking in its warmth and satisfied tranquility. The King of Curses wiped at his mouth with a clawed thumb before murmuring;

“Good girl.”

[changbunnies]

Whatever You Like, I'll Do It (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff, smut, pwp

♡ Word Count: 1.7k

♡ Summary: In which asking your boyfriend to tell you what he wants during an intimate moment leads to an even greater sense of desire and longing.

♡ Smut Warnings: light d/s dynamics (switch!bin), shy loverboy bin because he's my fave to write!, desperate and messy sex but make it Soft, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: hiii, so i've been in a writing slump cause life is beating my ass as usual lol but i've had ayesha erotica's "i'll do it" cover hyper stuck in my head and this is the result of me listening to it on loop :) but also because this is me we're talking about, this ended up much sappier than you'd expect from the song used as inspo lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

“What do you want, Binnie? Tell me what you’d like.” 

It shouldn’t be a hard question to answer– but the way you stare at him, expectant and eager to please as you wait for his answer, makes his throat suddenly feel parched.

You’re a pretty sight, you always are; perched on his lap, looking down at him while he lies back. Changbin’s hands linger on your hips, his eyes reverent as they travel the length of your body, devotion unhindered by the shyness that still lingers over him. 

He swallows, brows furrowing slightly while his fingers twitch unconsciously against your skin. What does he ask for when he already has everything he wants? To have you bare before him, to feel your warmth against him, to hear your whispers of love in his ears– what more could he ever ask for? 

You’re patient as he contemplates, kissing the swell of his heated cheeks and the corner of his mouth before meeting his plush lips again. It’s not in Changbin’s nature to ever keep you waiting, and you know that; so you gladly give him all the time he needs to come up with his answer. After all, you always meant it when you said you want to give him whatever he wants. 

His eyes are glossy when they meet yours again, desire laden over his features as his hand reaches up to trace your face. He follows what feels natural to him, the smile you offer him as his thumb rubs over your cheek enough to make his heart skip a beat. 

What does he want? The answer is simple, and will always be the same– he just wants you, in whatever way you’ll allow him to have you. 

His touch is gentle but firm as he pulls you back down to him, an unanticipated urgency in his kiss when your lips meet once more. There’s hunger in the way his tongue pushes past your lips, a need to make you understand with action what he struggles to put to words. It doesn’t matter how, or where, or when– as long as it’s you touching him, he already has it all. 

The hand that still lingering on your hip grips you tighter, thick fingers indebting in the soft, plush skin. You roll your hips against him then, slowly and meticulously spreading your sticky-wet arousal along the length of his cock until the tip catches at your hole. 

A whine comes from deep in his throat, and you still your hips, letting the tip of his cock twitch and press desperately at your hole. “Is this what you want?” you pull away from his lips to ask, voice clear and direct despite how breathless you’ve become. 

“You,” he manages to breathe out the simple words, “just want you.” Changbin’s hand rests on the nape of your neck, urging you to stay close now that the impassioned kissing has slowly come to a finish.

You giggle at the simple answer, forehead resting against his as you gaze down at him. You were hoping for something more, he knows– something detailed, of substance, certainly. A hidden fantasy he’d been eagerly waiting to bring up, perhaps, or some special request he’s been secretly craving. 

The answer you’ve been given instead is full of sentimentality– a hope of a promise, the need to have forever guaranteed. 

“You have me,” you remind him, affectionately running your thumb over his reddened cheek. His heart quickens at your tender smile, as if it's his first time seeing it and not his thousandth. 

And he knows– of course he knows. There is not a single ounce of your love that is fleeting; you love with all that you are, just as he does. Still, when he thinks of what it is he wants for you to give him, that’s all he can say– give him forever with you. That’s what he wants most.

His gaze burns with desire and sincerity, vulnerable and raw and needy. You close the short distance between your lips again, kiss him soft and slow as you lower yourself on the length of his cock. He whimpers into your mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he resists the urge to buck up into your heat. 

“So– so wet, feels so good,” Changbin stammers, squirming ever so slightly beneath you when your hips once again become flush with his. His admission makes further heat pool in your stomach, and you wonder if he can tell that you need him just as badly as he needs you. 

He’s thick, stuffs you so full it nearly punches the air from your lungs. Your motions are slow at first, getting your body acclimated to the stretch of him. You gaze at one another with bitten lips, your nails digging into the meat of his chest when the tip of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you. 

Changbin’s breath hitches when your walls squeeze tighter around him, your whimper muffled by the way you have your bottom lip sucked between your teeth. His head tilts back against the pillows, eyes rolling when you pick up your pace, each grind of your hips sending jolts of pleasure across the expanse of his dewy, sweat laden skin. 

Your fingers thread in his dark curls, kissing him with urgency as his hands on your hips help you keep your pace steady. The slapping of skin rings loudly in the room between muffled moans and whimpers, his nails leaving tiny crescent moons where they desperately cling to your skin. 

“Use me,” he breathes in a hot whine, “whatever you need– take it from me, please, however you like, just– just use me.” The plea boils your blood, your hands returning to his chest as you sit yourself up to look down at him fully. You can feel his heart pounding beneath the muscle, every inch of him thrumming with need.

You reach for his hand, bringing them up to your lips to kiss and lick over them. He groans when you take two of them into your mouth, watching breathlessly as your tongue swirls over the digits. 

He’s panting by the time you release his fingers from your mouth, chest rising and falling in an erratic rhythm. Anticipation and longing melting together, heat crawls to the remainder of his unclaimed skin, reddening his ears as he watches you drag his fingers down the length of your body. 

Changbin follows the path down to where your legs straddle him, where his cock is currently buried to the hilt inside your pussy; he knows what to do when you place his fingers there. Your clit is already plenty slick, but the added saliva on his fingers ensure the glide is as smooth as it is messy– just how you like it. 

He watches how your body shudders, the fever that afflicts him flaring when you let out a pretty moan. It wracks a shiver down his spine when you grind down on his cock again, a movement that starts slow and measured, but quickly turns into a steady, rhythmic bounce. 

He tries so hard not to falter– Changbin has never been good at multitasking, and the pleasure you’re granting him threatens to melt his brain like marshmallow. His brows furrow with the effort to keep concentration, sweat dribbling down his temple.

And when he gazes at you all you see is someone lovestruck– smitten and utterly adoring, all he cares about is making you feel as good as he possibly can. 

You fall forward, your chest pressing to his, breathlessly finding his lips as he tightly secures an arm around your waist. You whisper your affection before capturing his lips in a messy kiss, and Changbin lets out a high and broken moan. 

He’s overwhelmed– by your love, by the pleasure, by the desire he feels to give you what you need. He feels frantic, almost– his fingers on your clit diverting from their steady rhythm to something sloppy and quick. It’s not the easiest thing to maintain, pressed against his body as you are, but he manages well enough– and the way you squirm and whimper into his mouth tells him he isn’t doing as bad a job as he might fear.

He’s so close, and he can tell you are too– all you need is the extra little push, and he’s more than eager to provide what you need. He plants his feet firmly on the bed, hips jerking up while he keeps you steady atop him with strong arms. You replace his fingers on your clit with your own, eyes rolling as your body trembles. 

You let out a whiny moan of Changbin’s name, one so pretty that it leaves his head swimming, the throbbing of his cock almost painful. You can feel it– how hard he’s trying to hold it back, how badly he wants you to cum first, his desire to please and be the absolute best for you. 

And he’s trying to keep holding out, but he can’t anymore– because the way you’re moaning for him is making every ounce of restraint in him crumble further. He thrusts up once, twice more, before the overwhelming ache to cum wins out and he’s spilling all of his release inside you. 

His hips still, arms still hugging you tightly as his orgasm wracks his body, voice choked from the waves of pleasure. The feeling of his cock pulsing and his cum flowing into you pushes you over the edge, eyes screwing shut as your body goes rigid in his hold. He whines as you ride out your orgasm, impossibly high-strung and sensitive from his release, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. 

You both stay there even when the moment passes, hearts hammering in your chests. You wait until your breathing evens out to kiss Changbin again, eliciting a blissful sort of hum from him as he squeezes you in his arms. He matches your smile when you wipe the sweat from his damp forehead, pushing away the curls and leaving a kiss there that makes him feel floaty. 

He nuzzles his nose against your damp cheek, and there’s a tenderness in your giggle that he knows he’ll always cherish. Lips grazing every inch of skin he can reach in sweet kisses, he mouths his love for you, urging your body to remember it.

[sugurouge]

cw! slight stalking, obsession, yearning, minor voyeurism, jealousy

Yamato Endo has no interest in Hajime Umemiya. He doesn't care about meeting him in a fight, he couldn't care less about acknowledging the silver haired male and this new pristine glory. However, Endo has a raging interest in Umemiya's cute girlfriend. Piercing blues searching for you in the crowd whenever he feels like watching Bofurin and what they have now turned into from afar.

He dislikes the peaceful order they have established. Despises the serene atmosphere around the grounds as he witnesses the garden party. Hates how you stand with Umemiya, looking all lovey dovey all because you don't know what good awaits you once they've lost. You will have to choose Endo, you know that, right?

His hands could hold you just as good—, No, no, scratch that, he'd hold you way better. Much closer against him. He'd appreciate every inch of your body; nails digging, fingertips dragging, hands grabbing as much as possible of you. He'd kiss you in front of everyone to see. Long, deep kisses that would steal your rationality, he would never be too shy for that. He'd make a show for everyone to see, turning you into a babbling, begging mess with smeared lip gloss and clouded eyes. You'd look so fucking cute, his cute princess, not Umemiya's.

He'd make you say his name with the highest praises, moaning it for the world to hear every night. Yeah, that's what he would do, Endo thinks, hand palming himself through his jeans as he stands on this random rooftop, fully ignoring the guy beside you. He really needs to get you away from your restraints.

Yamato Endo has zero interest in Hajime Umemiya, but he is obsessed with his girlfriend, you.

my thoughts are all consumed but those two, take me out.

[apheliia]

FAMILY, OF SORTS. — in which kafka, blade, and silver wolf are an odd but quite special found family to be a part of.

— trigger & content warnings. mentions of unspecified injury.

— pairings & notes. fluff, found family. kafka & teen!reader, blade & teen!reader, silver wolf & teen!reader. 1.3k words. reader is a stellaron hunter. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used).

— author's notes. the sillies <3 APHE POSTING???? APHELION POSTING REAL AND TRUE????????? i had a request for this on my old blog (from my dear beloved moot @starryshinyskies <3) so i decided to finish it 💪 nd tagging @www-brontide since i know you were excited for this post HEHE anyways how are we feeling about this formatting? if you guys don't like it i'm very open to changing it back. i'm just experimenting with my post format is all 🫶

kafka seems strangely motherly to me. caring and doting in her own unique ways, but also quite strange and odd in those same ways. an enigma of sorts.

she is the kind of person to always send the stellaron hunters' youngest member texts throughout the day; these texts range anywhere from silly and inconsequential to sweet messages letting [name] know that she was thinking about them.

(her doting nature is not dissimilar to how she thinks of and regards the trailblazer... hm.)

KAFKA

My coat got stained again :(

Won't you help me clean it when you get home, little one?

[ 1:22 PM ]

KAFKA

I saw a new movie today.

It made me think of you. It was quite to your tastes.

Perhaps we should go see it together sometime, hm?

Ah, but you're probably asleep by now...

That's fine. You do need it more than the rest of us.

Sleep well, darling.

[ 11:34 PM ]

she thinks of her little one quite frequently and has been known to pick up little trinkets from different planets that reminded her of them. a phone charm, a set of rings, something more practical like a new weapon... she once returned with a nice coat that matches one of hers. her gifts are always unpredictable but nonetheless very thoughtful.

and when or if they get injured, she is the one who treats their wound(s) with a tender hand.

she does chide them, however.

"you are a stellaron hunter, little one," she reminds, pulling the bandages wrapped around their wound a little tighter, making them wince. it is akin to a slap on the wrist—not enough pain to seriously harm them, but enough to force them to take her words to heart. "if it is not a part of the plan, try your best not to get caught or injured, hm? silver wolf doesn't like to see you this way, and it causes a unique stir in bladie. your getting injured causes quite the unrest among us all! do be more careful next time."

if there is ever a night during which they are struggling to sleep, they are more than welcome to seek out kafka's company.

she would be willing to read them to sleep, if that is what they desired.

however... a far easier method that would ensure they would stay asleep? her spirit whisper ability, of course.

they know kafka would not use it to harm them.

kafka finds their earnest trust beyond endearing. the trust of a little one like them is quite an important gift! the least she can do, she thinks, is assist them when her assistance is needed.

and sometimes, that just means lulling them to sleep.

blade is quite a difficult person to read, regardless of whether he intends to be so or not.

some days, he is distant and prefers to keep to himself. others, less so.

this, though, should not be mistaken for a lack of care. in fact, he cares quite deeply. his care is simply very quiet and he desperately, earnestly, truly does not wish to cause [name] harm.

he is also most likely the one who spars with them and trains them in the ways of combat, which... he isn't exactly the gentlest at doing. training sessions can be quite frustrating in that they often emerge sore and with new cuts and bruises (but really, these injuries are small and insignificant; they are confident in saying that blade would never truly hurt them, nobody in their family would). he does mean well in his tough methods, though.

the universe is not kind or gentle. it will never treat them that way. therefore, he does his best to prepare them so that they can effectively handle the universe's cruelty and defend themselves from it.

one of the ways in which his quiet care manifests is through his treatment of the small wounds he gives them during training. kafka has said many times that she can treat them, but blade always insists on doing it himself.

out of all of their coworkers, blade becomes the most restless when they're away. he gets particularly antsy when they've been gone for a long period or when they're out there alone. kafka always giggles and points out to him how utterly restless he becomes when such circumstances occur.

(he should be assured that they can handle themselves, given that he is their mentor—there is surely nobody else who would know their skills as well as he would—but somehow he simply isn't.)

blade is also, generally speaking, the most protective.

should they come back injured... if it is anything other than a shallow scratch on the cheek, a rage hotter than the brightest star burns under his skin. in those moments, he almost does not dare to touch them, for fear that he might harm them unwittingly... but he does. his hands are somewhat rough when he snatches their face and tilts their chin around to get a better look at the blood (is it theirs? he hopes not) and grime dirtying their face. there is a terrifying threat present in his voice when he demands, not asks, "who did this to you?"

(if kafka was not present in these moments, he might worry that his mara would get the best of him. thankfully, kafka is intentional and present in such situations.)

unless the ones responsible for the wound have already been adequately... taken care of, he will do so himself. there is nowhere in the universe that the perpetrators could hide from him.

it's about protecting them, but it is also about sending a message.

something along the lines of "anyone who lays hands on them will suffer a fate worse than death," perhaps.

death is anything but a terrible fate to blade, but he knows that it is the worst imaginable to some. he will be certain to deliver something infinitely worse, something beyond imagination, to those daring to hurt his younger teammate.

silver wolf is perhaps the least enigmatic of their little family. she isn't an open book, per se, but she's easier to read than kafka or blade... at least, for someone like [name], anyway.

she never fails to harrass them to play a few rounds (which tends to spiral into many, many rounds...) of a game or two with her. why them, specifically? she insists that blade isn't good at them and kafka is kafka. really, it may very well just be that she enjoys spending time with them, but she—of course—will not simply say that.

however... she bullies them terribly about how bad they are. it comes from a place of affection!

she is also the type to win them every single prize at carnivals, just because she likes the joy it seems to bring them. when she encounters rigged games, however, she becomes all the more motivated by her unadulterated annoyance to beat them.

what do you mean she of all people can't beat this awful and horrible rigged game? her???? the silver wolf????? seriously????????

unfortunately, it does not always end in her victory, even when she is infinitely motivated by her anger.

...and she really isn't above just taking one of the prizes when the stall's owner isn't looking. she has done so multiple times for [name].

she would definitely try to teach them hacking (keyword: try) if they aren't already familiar with it. since it has come in handy for her, she figures that they might also find use in it. it's her quiet way of looking out for them.

(her more obvious way of looking out for them is often seen when she is on missions with them. most commonly, it manifests as her snatching their arm and pulling them out of the way of an enemy before obliterating said threat.)

silver wolf is totally the sort of person to pinch their cheeks (to different degrees, kafka and blade also do this!). they are very cute to her.

overall they are a weird but very special little family to be a part of <3

please consider supporting your writers by reblogging and leaving a kind tag or comment. it really helps me out!

[bardic-inspo]

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended. 

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude. 

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs. 

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to? 

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen? 

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too. 

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient. 

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading. 

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night. 

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast. 

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own. 

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles. 

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her. 

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue. 

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips. 

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again. 

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her. 

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes. 

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry. 

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard. 

Just a dream, then. For now, at least. 

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.” 

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time. 

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces. 

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[c0llisiion]

⟡ MASTERLIST !

↻ Complete masterlist of all my works ᝰ.ᐟ

・:〃➜ BTS

beyond boundaries — k.th

⟢ smut, fwb au , cheating , non-idol , 2 part.

Numb to the feeling — j.jk

⟢ smut, idol au , exs2lovers , 3 part.

Need to know — j.jk

⟢ smut , older!jk , dads bsf au , slight dubcon.

Obsession — m.yg

⟢ smut , pervert!yg , panty stealing.

Favourite — m.yg

⟢ smut , office sex/au , mean dom!yg , bondage.

Attention — k.th

⟢ smut , toxic relationship , mirror sex , e2l.

Drabble #1

⟢ smut , exhibitionism , fingering.

Drabble #2

⟢ smut , seokjin + f!reader , breeding.

Sin for me — j.jk

⟢ smut , older!jk , cnc

Drabble #3

⟢ smut , yoongi + f!reader , corruption kink

Drabble #4

⟢ smut , jungkook + f!reader , public sex

Need to know 2 — j.jk

⟢ smut , older!jk , dads bsf au , 2 part.

Drabble #5

⟢ angst , jk x reader , breakup.

Drabble #6

⟢ smut , taehyung + f!reader , mirror sex

Drabble #7

⟢ smut , jk x reader , cunnilingus

Drabble #7.5

⟢ smut , pervert!yg , noncon voyeur, part 2 to obsession.

Drabble #8

⟢ smut , jk x reader , bsfsdad!jk

・:〃➜ STRAY KIDS

Drabble #1

⟢ smut , lee know x bang chan x reader , threesome , filth.

Drabble #2

⟢ smut , bang chan x reader , shower sex.

Drabble #3

⟢ smut , lee know x reader , car sex.

Drabble #4

⟢ smut , hyunjin x reader , voyeur.

Drabble #5

⟢ smut , dilf!bang chan x reader , breeding/pregnancy kink.

Drabble #6

⟢ smut , bang chan x reader , overstim.

Drabble #7

⟢ smut , hyunjin x reader , bj.

・:〃➜ ATEEZ

Drabble #1

⟢ smut , seonghwa x reader , makeup sex.

・:〃➜ NCT

POOLBOY — mark lee

⟢ smut , mark x reader , age gap fic.

Drabble #1

⟢ smut , johnny x reader , ex!husband fic.

Drabble #2

⟢ smut , jaehyun x reader , desperation fic.

・:〃➜ SEVENTEEN

Drabble #1

⟢ smut , mingyu x reader , phone sex.

・:〃➜ TXT

… to be written.

・:〃➜ JUJUTSU KAISEN

Drabble #1

⟢ smut , cuckqueanery , gojo x f!reader , 2 part.

Drabble #1.2

⟢ angst , smut , slight fluff , dubcon , aftercare , part 2.

Camgirl — g.sg

⟢ smut , camgirl!reader x suguru

Drabble #2

⟢ smut , f!reader x toji , vanilla

・:〃➜ Others :

Eye candy — y.jw

⟢ smut , toxic , bondage.

Kinktober 2024 !