#instead of just… taking it slow and taking in the world and the sights and the story……..

[ang3lmoans]

“Always. You merely have to ask” Then—Angel’s breath hitched. Watching Garam lower himself down was a sight he would never forget. That soft little “lay down” knocked something loose in Angel’s chest, something warm and reverent and stupidly fragile for a man who’d built his life around being unshakable. He did as told, with no hesitation. Lowered himself slowly onto the hotel bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. Angel watched as Garam’s hand followed him down, lingering at the center of his chest, fingers splayed out like he needed to feel every beat of Angel’s heart for proof. Proof that he was here, that he was real, that he meant it. All of it. “You don’t even know what you do to me,” Angel murmured, his voice low, steady, but tinged with awe. His hands stayed at his sides, open-palmed against the sheets, restrained not because he wasn’t aching to touch Garam, but because he wanted to watch Garam take it on his own. To set the pace. The room felt impossibly quiet all of a sudden. No traffic sounds from the street. No hum of the air conditioning. Just the soft rush of their breath and the creak of fabric under Garam’s knees as he shifted closer. He watched Garam with a kind of softness most people never got to see. He was the same man who could break up a fight, who could break another’s spirit with little more than a look. But here, now, he just looked grateful. Almost reverent. Like Garam was a gift he didn’t know how he’d earned. The words Garam said moments ago—You’re not him. I know I’m safe with you.—They echoed in Angel’s head like a benediction. Not because he needed the reassurance. But because it was Garam who said it. Garam, who didn’t give his trust easily. Who flinched at kindness like it came with strings? “It means the world to hear you say that,” Angel said quietly, catching the last ghost of self-deprecation in Garam’s expression. Garam never said it out loud. But Angel knew most of Garam's pulling away or hesitating was due to his trauma. He only knew bits and pieces, and he hated to think further of the extent of the abuse the other had endured. He could’ve gone on. Could’ve said I would’ve reheated your fries a hundred times just to see you smile once. Could’ve told him how much it mattered that Garam chose him back. But words felt too heavy now, too clumsy for the gravity of what was unfolding between them. So instead, he waited. Heart steady beneath Garam’s hand. Eyes locked on his. Hands still open, still offering. Whatever you want. However you want it. As he lowered and stopped Angel cursed under his breath feeling the tightness around his clench. When asked for assistance Angel was slow and careful as he pushed inch after inch deeper inside the man. Now squeezing at his hips to help guide them. He gritted his teeth as he buried himself deep inside Garam. His eyes were watching every twich. “F-fuck…I couldn't pull out if I tried… It's like…sucking me in”

"you'd really do anything for me, wouldn't you." a realization spoken far too confidently that his tone almost came off as condescending but that wasn't his intent, it was more a statement made as garam was truly coming to terms with just how deeply angel felt for him. something as, seemingly, small and insignificant as reheating his fries or even ordering more felt more impactful than it should have. it was the small acts of service that really mattered to garam, he didn't need grand gestures to feel significant to somebody. something as meaningly as reheating food, he saw it as the other still going out of their way to appease him — probably because those were the kinds of things he'd do to show his love and affection towards somebody important to him. he'd notice the small things like their food sitting untouched for too long and immediately take it upon himself to reheat it. it was a bit foolish to find such comfort in something so meaningless and garam knew it but he was so accustomed to not receiving love in the more traditional sense that he took whatever he could get. garam visibly shivered as angel's hand moved along his spine. "if i didn't want the same, i wouldn't be sitting here like this. i wouldn't have gotten into that bath... i wouldn't have suggested going to a hotel." well, maybe that last one was a bit of a lie. sure, garam wanted someone nice and private for the two of them to be alone together but it wasn't the sole reason he offered up the idea. that would be so the both of them could be safe, so they wouldn't have to stay up the whole night worrying what axel might try to do or who he might send over to do his bidding, so they wouldn't have to rely on alcohol to relax and get a good night's sleep. "you're allowed to be greedy with me, i've already told you you could do whatever you wanted to me." granted, he was intoxicated the first time he made the proposition but, as they say, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. and if there was a time where he felt unsafe or uncomfortable, he would be vocal about it. garam knew so much about him except when it came to this avenue, he really wanted to learn more by experience. "you're not him," he whispered as he shook his head, "i know i'm safe with you." when angel made the proposition of his fries or riding him, garam paused as if he actually needed to take a moment to choose, as if it wasn't obvious what he truly wanted right now. a hand rested against the center of angel's chest, applying the smallest amount of pressure as he whispered, "lay down." and as soon as he listened, garam scooted back just enough to reveal angel's cock between his own legs. as his fingers wrapped around the man's shaft and began stroking slowly, garam scanned his way up angel's body until their eyes met. "you know, nobody's ever made me come like that before." garam couldn't outright say that angel had hit that one little spot that drove him wild, he was far too diffident to put it out into detail. "you didn't even have to touch me," he added as he lifted himself up onto his knees again, aligning the head of angel's cock with his hole before slowly lowering himself. garam's jaw dropped, eyes shutting tight once again as inch after inch entered his cavity. he was already stretched out and prepared to take angel once again but it still caused him pain. "fuck," he spat out, dropping his head forward as both hands moved to rest on angel's chest to steady himself now. he'd barely taken in half of angel's length and he already felt like it was too much to endure in this position. "i might need a little help."

[loganficsonly]

an independent woman ☘ 9 (end)

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 9: epilogue ✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

masterlist

worst!logan x fem!reader, 2.1k

SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.

SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes, mentions of alcoholism and AA

CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: logan is a lover boy, nudity and implied sex

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i'm a sap so i've started reflecting on this series and the experience of writing it lol maybe i'll post that sometime. thank you SO MUCH to everyone that's supported this fic i love you <3

also i think it's freaky how my other fic the cure really fits into this series, i'm treating it as a side story lol

“Looks like things are going well,” Laura hums. 

Logan looks over at her as he sips on a canned cola.

The afternoon sun rays hit the bench they’re sitting on, a little bit too warm, almost blinding. Cicadas buzz in the background, and the faint smell of elm permeates in the air. They can hear a bunch of kids somewhere, their shrill laughter floating above a game of soccer. Regular consequences of hanging out at Tompkins Square Park in mid-July.

But neither father nor daughter move. Fugitives like them have kept to the edges of the world far too long to take moments like these for granted. Sunshine. Air. 

Peace.

“What do you mean?” 

The younger woman rolls her eyes at him. Universal code for ‘quit the bullshit’.

“Come on. You and her.” 

She tilts her chin over in your direction.

You and Wade are playing catch with Mary Puppins in a field of grass in the distance. From where Logan is, the dog looks like a matted hopping rain cloud. Vanessa hovers nearby, filming the moment on her phone.

It was Wade’s idea to come here. Something about wanting to heal his inner child by having a day out with his family. You quickly got excited at the plan, and Logan liked it when you smiled, so he didn’t say no. 

He finds the sight of you distracting. How you’re dressed casually in a top and a pair of shorts that look like they’re made of a material so soft and worn, cooing over Dogpool as she brings you back the battered tennis ball.

It’s the sun’s fault. The light outlines your skin like a halo. You look like you’re glowing.

“What about it?” he replies, peeling his eyes away from you and back to Laura. His tone isn’t avoidant. If anything, he almost sounds playful. Like a dare. 

Laura lets out a snort. 

��Please, it’s pretty damn obvious. You look a decade younger these days.”

Logan smirks. “Just one?” 

“Cracking jokes like that? Two.” 

She perches her elbows on top of her knees, leaning forward in her seat.

“She’s good for you.”

Logan doesn’t answer, but his mind responds almost instantaneously, projecting images of private moments of you and him in the apartment that is now his sanctuary. Slideshow after slideshow of collected memories.

That time you kiss the inside of his wrist after he fixes a loose valve under the kitchen sink, a soft and wordless ‘thank you’. Your legs draped across his lap, shifting a little as you laugh at something inane on TV. Whispers of his name beneath the covers, skin against skin, your fingers bringing him closer, always on him somewhere like you can’t stand being apart—his hair, his shoulders, his arms…

Like a wishing well in the woods, you gave him something deep and lasting and magical.

Drinking from it has made him even thirstier.   

Laura looks over at him, catching the way his gaze softens. There’s that faraway look, one that tells her he’s not quite sure how he got to be here. He thinks nobody notices.

You think you’re slick, too, but Laura sees how you no longer protest when Logan gets your bag or umbrella when you walk into a room. How you barely put up a fight when Wade banned you from washing dishes at his place. The change is subtle, gradual, but enough to pick up between gatherings.

Like you’re learning the language of being, without explaining why you have the right to. 

As someone who got banished to the Void, of course Laura sees it. 

The silence settles. Logan is the first to speak.

“Yeah. She is.”

Laura blinks, head turning to see him. He’s still looking at you.

“Don’t fuck it up,” she smiles goodnaturedly.

He huffs, hiding his face behind the rim of his drink.

“I won’t.”

You and Wade are fussing over Mary Puppins. He’s patting her butt while you scratch behind her ears, as if the dog ordered a full-service massage.

“Sooo, when were you gonna tell me?”

You resist the knee-jerk impulse to freeze. That sing-song voice means trouble.

“Tell you what?” you feign ignorance.

“That you and Logan are a thing. Even Al can see that—and I don’t need to remind you she’s blind.”

You think you’d be the worst person to ever be put in an interrogation room, because you sigh, not even putting up a fight. Any attempt at deflection would probably be pathetic.

It’s not as if you and Logan are deliberately keeping your relationship a vaulted secret. The two of you just happen to agree to be subtler in group situations to avoid unnecessary attention, and… well, the sort of chaos that Wade might bring when he stumbles upon this kind of knowledge.

But this is Wade you’re talking to. ‘Friend’ seems too small a word to summarize him. You gave him tips on how to get rid of blood from his clothes, sat with him on days that were too sad. He made you open up—one of the first people to do so since you moved to the city.

He also gave you Logan, in a way.

And it’s not like you can lie to him convincingly. Even if you could, you kind of don’t want to, either. 

You shoot Wade a look that gives him enough to latch on.    

“Oh my fucking god, you bitch!” he squeals. “I need you to spill all the tea!”

“What’s there to spill? You figured it out,” you say coolly. Maybe staring at Dogpool’s tongue will help quell the flutter in your stomach.

“You know, last month, he told me he was going to move out,” Wade replies.

Your eyes snap up to his. 

“It was during that mission with the TVA. Went to this different universe—which was fucking sick, by the way, everything was black-and-white—and you wouldn’t believe what we saw.”

“What?”

“You. With a really cute boyfriend that’s not Logie Bear. The way it rattled him, I figured he had feelings for you—I mean, I figured that out a long time ago, but his reaction really was the nail on the coffin.”

You blink. You did not know anything about this. Your hand stills, unconsciously pulling away from Mary Puppins. She immediately finds it a disservice and darts over to where Vanessa’s standing, leaving you and Wade sitting on the grass.

“And?”

“I teased him about it, of course. He insisted he didn’t have feelings for you and was going to move out anyways.”

Your heart jumps.

“Then I punched that lying slut in the face.”

“You what?”

“And now he’s your boyfriend! You’re welcome,” he bats his eyelashes, grinning with glee.

You choke out a laugh of disbelief. “I… did not know this.” 

“Which is why I’m telling you—I take full credit for getting you two dumbasses together.”

“Hey! Who’re you calling a dumbass?”

“‘Of course I like him, Wade, it’s just not like that, you know?’” Wade mocks, purposefully launching a poor imitation of your face. You feel your face burn, embarrassed enough to put a hand over your face when you recognize your own words once upon a lunch. 

“Please don’t.”

“Fine. At least tell me you’ve seen him shirtless.”

You swallow. Then tersely nod once. He lets out an overly dramatic sigh, flopping his arms like a deflating tube man.

“FINALLY. Did it change your life?”

“Yes.”

The two of you share a smile—yours shy, his a little scandalous. There’s silence. You catch his gaze soften.

“You’re good for each other, honeybee. You know that, right?”

Yes. Yes, you do. You feel it in your bones. That kind of certainty isn’t something you feel very often in life. But it’s there, every day you wake up next to him, every night you sleep next to him. How he lifts the constant weight of needing to justify your existence. How he reassures you that you’re free to be without needing to prove why you’re worth it.

He makes you believe in another kind of liberty. A new kind of independence. 

You look over to where he’s sitting with Laura and find that he’s already looking this way. 

“And you’re a great friend, Wade. You know that, right?”

“The best there is, boo.”

You left the park at sunset, parting ways with Laura first. Wade and Vanessa continue to walk with you—it’s a couple more blocks before they need to turn into a different street. 

Logan and Wade are several steps behind you and Vanessa, silently tuning in and out of a conversation about how middle management is just glorified babysitting. The pink sunset blanketing the city gives way to a wistfulness that’s hard to put a finger on, the kind that looks out the window and whispers ‘there goes another day’. 

“Oh.” 

Wade blinks, turning to Logan.

The older man digs his hand into his pocket before tossing something in the air. Wade catches it in both his palms.

“For you,” Logan murmurs.

Lightweight aluminum. Red.

Wade stops in his tracks, fingers tracing the embossed letters on the surface of the chip. The street lights help him read the words. 

To thine own self be true.

1 month.

Eyes meet—Logan’s already looking back at him. The message in that gaze is loud and clear.

Thank you.

“Wade told me something,” you say quietly.

Draped on Logan’s naked chest, you’re just as bare, thumb mindlessly caressing his midriff. He strokes your hair gently as if mirroring your gesture.

Something in your voice says your mutual friend already knows. Not a single adamantium bone in him finds that surprising. In fact, a part of him is glad—he no longer has to hold his hands back whenever they feel like touching your waist.

“Mm?”

“You saw me. In a different timeline.”

He blinks, then nods, surprised at how long ago that night feels. The memory is buried, but if it’s quiet enough, he can still recall everything: the look on your face, the twinkle in your voice as you laugh while walking down that brick pavement, your lover in hand. 

He watches as your eyes continue to stare into his, dreamlike. 

Are you thinking about it? The possibility of happiness with someone else, someone out there in the vast threads of alternate realities who’s more deserving of you?

He’s changed, he realizes, because the thoughts don’t bite him like they used to. Debilitating self-doubt diminished into mere curious musings, thanks to time and your constant streams of affection.   

Then you smile and—oh, that look on your face turns out to be for him. You don’t even ask about it: who you’re with, if you’re happy, questions that come with the multiverse.

You kiss the space right above his heart.

“I’m glad I’m here. With you,” you whisper, all soft and sweet, and his heart cracks all over again. 

You keep getting away with making him ache. He’s not complaining.  

He moves you closer to him before kissing you slow, nose brushing yours. Your hands find his shoulders.

That’s when he feels it. Hears a ghost of it, the three words, mouthed against his lips.

I love you.

Funny how things work. How one day a man in a red leather bodysuit dragged him out of a dive bar and into a chance at redemption within a world that’s not his. How he ended up with the most miraculous stroke of serendipity on his lap that led him to mixing his laundry with yours. To distracted movie nights and domestic dinners. To holding you in his arms like he finally gets to keep something he fought tooth and nail for. 

Funny how you thought he was sick of you, when he’d be happy to only think of you forever.

You part from the kiss first and he sees you look at him, expectant gaze wavering a little. He curls his lips into a smile—he made you wait. You’ve gotten better at making your wants clear, even if it’s left unsaid.

As if to reward you, he kisses your forehead, then leans down, nose brushing yours. He whispers against your skin.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” 

And then you exhale like your world is alright again.

Logan hears you first before he sees you enter the apartment. You’re sighing, looking a little haggard compared to when you left for work in the morning.

He makes his way to the door, but before he can help you with your bag, you’re already walking towards him, a smile on your face. Like you’re ready to breathe him in deep.

“I’m home,” you greet, voice light. He hooks your bag onto his elbow before holding your waist in both hands, pulling your body closer to his and slanting his face as he leans down. 

You melt into the kiss.

“Yes, you are,” he hums, a breath apart, before pressing his lips onto yours again.

His home, that is.

taglist: @squishyfruitloop @britttzy267 @tezooks @ddwnghead @dear-detested @duckyyyx @hits-different-cause-its-you @mrfitzdarcyslover @snowlycanroc @teresas-lisbon @fidgetingbee @poopie-poopie @thedosian-trix

[jaesqueso]

requested

pairing: jaehyun x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 2,150

warnings: nothing :)

-

You always lived in the shadow of your best friend. Better looking, better grades, better skills, everything. You were always second when she was there. But you didn’t mind because she never made you feel less than her and always encouraged you to push forward. You lived in her shadow but you were actually ok with it.

Except when it came to him.

Jaehyun was introduced to you through mutual friends and right there and then you understood what people meant by love at first sight. No one before made your heart throb faster. The way he talked, the way he smiled, even the way he ran his hands through his hair. It was like the whole world stopped existing and there was just him.

But, as always, you were not who he was focused on. It’s always her.

You were always ok living in your best friend’s shadow, but not when he’s sitting next to you almost melting when she smiles, laughing at all her jokes, looking at her even when she’s talking to someone else. Would you ever be the number one?

“Wait up!” You look back, as you make your way home, and there he is, running your way in slow motion, at least in your eyes.

“Jaehyun?” You double check to make sure you’re not hallucinating.

“Hi…” Stopping in front of you, hands on his knees, he tries to catch his breath. “Are you going home?”

“Yeah, do you need something?” You take in his features as he lifts his head back up.

“Can I walk with you?” Now you’re the one breathless. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“S-sure.” Gulping you turn back to the direction you were going, hoping he doesn’t notice your face heat up. “What’s up?”

“You know how I’ve been hanging out with you guys for a while now?” He walks next to you, gesturing with his hands a lot, like he’s nervous about whatever he wants to ask you. “There’s kinda of a reason why I’ve been sticking around. Ah, this is a bit embarrassing but… Do you think I have a shot with Ahreum? I mean…”

You heart sinks to the ground.

Of course. Why would you think this time it would be about you? Everything always comes back to her.

The rest of his words are a blur and you just keep dragging your feet, occasionally nodding pretending to be listening.

“So, will you?” He stops in front of you, hands together as your eyes widen. “You’ll help me prepare a surprise for her?”

“I…” Won’t. You can’t. There’s no way. Absolutely not. “Sure.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” He starts celebrating and then goes on talking about his ideas as he keeps walking you home.

After saying your goodbyes, you go straight to your room and let your body fall over the mattress, already regretting your choices. Why the hell did you agree to help your crush prepare a surprise for your best friend?

The thing is, when you looked into those shiny brown eyes, you just couldn’t say no.

So, as promised, for the following days you tagged along Jaehyun as he tried to decide what he wanted to do, where he wanted to do it and plan the whole thing.

In one hand, you were kind of glad you agreed to do it. Spending most of your days right next to him, hearing him talk for hours, was like a dream come true. In your head you fantasised about him making such an effort for you instead, that every time his eyes crinkled and his dimples showed up to accompany his smile was because of you.

But on the other hand, you know all of this is for her. It’s always for her. And, unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is stay by his side and, if Ahreum actually likes him back, well you’ll just have to get over him.

Finally the day arrives. Today will either be the end of it or a hope for a new beginning. She’ll either feel the same way and accept his confession, or she’ll reject him and you’ll be right there to comfort him.

Once you help him get all the things he needs for the surprise on his car, you watch him drive down the street. With a sigh you drag yourself back to your place, unsure of what to do. With a lot of mixed feelings, you end up putting your comfort show on TV, the one you watched a thousand times before.

About half an hour later, your phone rings and you blindly it pick up, without even checking the caller.

“I need you.” You almost choke at Jaehyun’s words.

“W-what?” Perhaps you misheard.

“I’m so sorry to bother but I actually ordered some flowers but forgot to pick them up… Would it be too much to ask you to bring them over?” He pleas on the other end of the phone.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” You sigh before discussing the details.

“Thank you so much, you’re the best!”

Quickly you get out of the house and follow his instructions. You don’t really know why you do it, but perhaps it’s because you really can’t say no to this man or his deep voice. You rush to the spot, hoping you make it before your best friend arrives. As much as you wish you were in her place today, you’d never ruin his plans.

Finally you spot him in the middle of the beautiful green field. You don’t know why he choose such a remote hard to reach place, but you couldn’t deny the surroundings were mesmerising. And as you walk closer you start to take in the full scenario around him. The picnic towel you helped him pick out at the store laid on the floor with the matching pillows around, creating a cozy place to sit down and eat the delicious and refreshing food and drinks you helped him pack into the woven basket. But your favorite part of it all it’s him. Dressed in light denim pants, white tank and a thin but cozy cardigan to protect him from the light breeze, Jaehyun has his back facing you as he looks up at the sky, hand over his face to block out the bright sun. But then he starts hearing your steps and turns your way, a smile spread across his face, from dimple to dimple.

“You made it!” He gestures for you to come closer.

“Jaehyun, this looks even better than I thought it would…”

“You didn’t trust my plan?” He chuckles.

“No, it’s just…” You suddenly remember you’re not supposed to be there, this is not for you, so you step forward and hand him the flowers. “Well, here you go.”

“Oh right… Thanks.” His smile slightly fades as he takes them.

“I should go before Ahreum gets here. Good luck…” With a sigh you turn around and start walking back to where you came from.

“Wait!” Turning back you see him approach you.

“Did you forget something else?”

“Kind of…” His eyes wander around you. “The thing is… Ahreum is not coming.”

“What do you mean?” You definitely did not expect that.

“Well, I…” He looks to the ground, as if embarrassed. ”I didn’t tell her to come.”

“What?” You suddenly gasp. “Was I supposed to tell her? I’m so sorry! I’ll call her right now and-”

“Don’t!” He stops your hand as you’re about to reach for your phone. “I don’t want her to come.”

“But…” Your brain is having a hard time understanding what’s happening. “Why did you do all of this then?”

“I did it for you.”

The world stops spinning. For you? No, this has to be your mind playing games. But the way he bites his lip as a redness takes over his cheeks perhaps means otherwise. Could it really be?

“Here.” He extends the flowers your way and you take them with shaky hands.

“I don’t understand…” You almost whisper.

“Well…” He takes a deep breath. “When I first met you and your friends, Ahreum did stick out to me and I thought perhaps we could get close and see where things could go. But the more I got to know her, the more I realised she’s so… Normal. Nothing really clicked between us. Maybe because there was somebody else that piqued my interest.”

Jaehyun takes a step forward and you gulp as the distance between you gets smaller.

“The more I got to know you, the more enchanted I was. All I wanted to do was spend time with you, but you were always so quiet in your corner, I just couldn’t figure out if you felt the same. So I came up with this plan to pretend to like your best friend and see if you got jealous. It’s stupid, I know, and I should’ve came clean straight away cause you didn’t seem to give me anything. But honestly, these last few days by your side have been incredible. And, with the risk of you rejecting me, I just had to take my chance.”

You’re literally speechless. So he does like you and all of this was just an excuse to get closer to you? So all your fantasies were actually real and he did plan this all for you? This seems to good to be true.

“It’s ok if you don’t like me back… But it would be a shame to waste all that food.” He gestures back with a faint smile. “Do you want to join me?”

“O-ok.” You slightly nod as you two shyly walk to the picnic and take a sit.

An awkward silence fills the air. None of you knows what to say, as if afraid the other might change their mind. Slowly he reaches out for a piece of cheese and soon you’re digging into the food as the conversation starts flowing.

Hours feel like minutes, and before you two realise, the sun starts setting, spreading the most beautiful shades of pink and orange through the sky. Jaehyun lays back on the pillows watching the scene, inviting you to do the same.

“Did you really mean to do this for me?” The words suddenly escape your lips.

“Of course.” He turns his face to you as you keep your focus on the sunset. “You don’t believe me?”

“It wouldn’t be your first lie.” You both chuckle. “But, you can tell me if Ahreum just blew you off and that’s why you invited me to stay.”

“Why is it so hard for you to accept that I would actually do something nice for you?”

“Well, I guess it’s because nobody’s ever done anything this nice for me.” You gulp, suddenly feeling so small next to him.

“What do you mean?” Lifting his torso up, he raises his eyebrow.

“Whenever somebody does something nice, it’s usually for her. She’s the one who gets all the attention. From teachers, friends, boys…” You sigh with a sad smile. “But it’s ok, with time I’ve just gotten used to it.”

“But that’s not something you should get used to.” You finally turn your face to him and he seems almost upset. “You should never settle for second place, you deserve so much more.”

“You don’t have to say that…” You look down with a faded chuckle.

“I mean it.” Gently he lifts up your chin with his finger.

When you look into his eyes you see sincerity. The way he looks deep into your soul making you believe that perhaps you are more than just her shadow. You can be just you for once in your life.

“If you let me, I’ll show you how special you are.” He continues, never breaking eye contact.

“How?”

“You’ll see if you say yes.” He winks, making your heart melt.

“Ok.” You giggle. “Yes.”

Slowly his face moves closer to yours, gaze exchanging between your eyes and your lips that slightly part as you take a deep breath. Only inches away, you let your lids close before you feel his mouth gently press against yours. You’ve been waiting so long for this moment, but now that it’s finally here it’s like your brain stopped functioning and you don’t know how to enjoy it.

“Is this ok?” He whispers against your lips as he leans back just a little.

“Yes.” This time, you’re the one closing the distance.

His hand cups your cheek as you move from an innocent peck to an actual kiss that shows how both of you longed for it. When you part, the smiles linger on your faces, as you two lay back to cuddle on the pillows, watching the sun disappear on the horizon.

You might’ve not been the first one that caught Jaehyun’s eye, but you certainly are his favorite.

[mimiyanna]

Stealing this image from twitter and bringing it over here, because holy shit, some of the clowns I have been seeing talk about the game lately.

[dvstbvnnies]

“sorry, honey, but that’s just called love,” he told her with a smile. joey laughed and brushed her hair from her face. she’s so beautiful and he doesn’t know how to express it sometimes, how to make his brain wrap around it.

“thank you,” he responded and moved his arms out of the way. once she was above his mouth… oh, he was certain he’d died and gone to heaven. just the scent of her drove him mad. he could get lost in this for hours and hours. “mia,” he said, his voice stuck in awe. he wanted to look up at her as he took his first taste, but his eyes fell shut instead. his hands wrapped around the back of her thighs, then pulled her securely to his mouth. his tongue eagerly trailed a long line up her slit, which pulled a moan from his own lips. mia tasted so sweet, just like candy as he ravished her. his tongue circled her clit, movements firm and deliberate as he finally peered up at her.

mia was like a goddess. he couldn’t help the surge of pride that shot through his chest at the sight of her. he adored the way she came undone just from him. his hands squeezed her thighs and he whimpered. one hand slid from her thigh to wrap around his shaft — she hadn’t said he couldn’t touch himself right? he couldn’t remember anymore. he was lucky he could remember his own name still. the moment he gave himself some friction, a moan spilled from his lips. she tasted so good, slid so good on his tongue. he could lay like this for hours and hours. he wanted to be used for her pleasure, he longed for it. joey wanted her to take what was hers, and he was hers, hers, hers. he belonged to her, their souls tied together in a pretty black ribbon.

his movements on his cock were slow, just enough to make him whine and whimper, but not enough to cum. he still wanted to follow the rule that was set. he’s a good boy. “you taste so fucking good, my angel,” he told her, before he pulled her tighter to his mouth. if he died, he died. this was how he wanted to go. breath stolen from the most beautiful woman in the world.

the camera had long been forgotten from joey's mind, even if the lights were still set up. his whole life was mia, mia, mia. his wife, his best friend, his angel. how exciting it'll be when he would eventually remember that he'd have this on video forever.

he adored the way she looked at him, like she loved him, but like he was crazy. she got this look in her eyes that drove him wild every time. it was the way her eyes involuntarily dropped to his mouth, the way her thighs squeezed his hips. he knew she'd say yes, but he loved getting a rise out of her. "like what?" he teased, already in the process of shifting their bodies, so he could lie flat on the ground. his hands found her waist and he slowly pulled himself out of her, not without an almost inaudible whimper. the loss of warmth always made him feel a little helpless, a little empty, but the reward this time was going to far outweigh any cons. "come on up, angel," he whispered and caught her lips in a quick, messy kiss, his tongue eagerly licking into her mouth, then laid back. he reached up and blindly grabbed a couch pillow to tuck under his head. "i can't wait to taste you."

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ C’MERE, BRING THAT D⍣CK HERE .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ You’ve been a good wife—you really have! But when your husband’s boss confronts you about him cheating with his secretary, you just can’t help but take up his offer to get back at him.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ nanami x fem!reader, gojo x fem!reader, Sukuna x fem!reader, geto x fem!reader, cheating (not reader), smut (mdni), exhibitionism (sukuna, gojo), slight n⍣pple play, slight cl⍣t play, slight creamp⍣e (geto), full Nelson (gojo), office s⍣x.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ I was gonna add toji but realized his broke assss not the boss of anyone🤧

────〃ଘ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 - NICE ‘N SLOW

The wooden legs of his desk scrapped against the floor with every deep thrust, important paperwork scattered all over from how much he had you squirming from his slow, calculated movements. Your nails dug into the wood, scratching and latching onto the edge as your back arched, a cry of pleasure bubbling from your throat.

Was this wrong somehow? No. Your cheating scum of a husband should receive the treatment he’s given you. And you almost wished he’d walk in on the sight of his boss balls deep in his wife. Well, ex-wife, anyway.

Nanami leaned in to your ear and you shivered, feeling his breath fan past your neck, smelling his cologne and—fuck, you could feel his muscles through this suit against your back. “Hope you’ve finally found your worth. He never deserved you.”

His words entered one ear and came out the other with how hazy he had you feeling, cock penetrating you over and over in a cycle that had you feeling delirious. Your head spun, and the world seemed to blur from existence—except for Nanami; his hands, his words, his voice.

“I’ll make you feel better—cum better than he ever has.”

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 - I’LL DO IT INSTEAD

Now, Satoru had always had his eyes on you. From the very first moment you came into the office, bringing your husband his forgotten lunch, he knew he had to have you. The whole interaction left him feeling bitter anyway—he only waved you off after he grabbed his lunch and refused to kiss you in front of his colleagues.

What kind of man was he?

Satoru had no problem fucking you in front of him, though.

You watched your husband’s wide eyes, embarrassed but basking in your sweet revenge. A smirk graced Satoru’s lips, his own focused on your husband’s flickering gaze from how he split your cunt open so lewdly to your bouncing tits as if in a trance.

“‘S how’s it feel? Watching your pretty little wife get ruined?” He breathed, strong arms folding you further into the full Nelson position he had you locked in. “You turned on, hm? Seein’ her lil’ cunt get fucked?”

Your eyes closed and your tongue lolled out, head thrown back onto Satoru’s shoulder as your hand came down to pinch your pulsing clit in circles.

Satoru peppered kisses upon your jawline and stopped by your ear. “Why don’t you tell him how good ‘m making you feel?”

────〃ଘ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 - DO IT BETTER!

You’d always had your eye out for your husband’s particularly hot and intimidating boss, though you’d always stray your gaze away from him out of respect and loyalty. Respect and loyalty that your husband never seemed to reciprocate.

And when his boss finally confirmed that he was cheating on you—you’d finally given into your fantasy of fucking him.

But this isn’t how you imagined your fantasy would go.

Everyone’s eyes were glued to you, either out of fear of what Sukuna would do or out of pure infatuation from how wet your cunt was. You sat on Sukuna’s lap, legs spread open for anyone and everyone to see—even your spouse whose face was a mix of anger and confusion.

He didn’t have the right to be mad right now.

You were almost about to curse him out when Sukuna slid in with one swift thrust. Your breath caught in your throat, tears already welling in your eyes as he began to move without giving you even a second to adjust to his abnormal size.

He bounced you on his lap, heavy balls smacking against your ass so loudly it resonated throughout the meeting room. His big hands groped your chest though your blouse, practically ripping it off you.

“I’ll show you fuckers how to properly fuck a pretty lil’ thing like her.”

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 - LIKE YOU DESERVE

Heat creeped up into your face. You hadn’t expected your day to amount to anything—considering your husband’s boss had told you about his affair just a day before—but there you were, sat on the same man’s lap as he fucked up into your cunt.

I’ll fuck you like you deserve. Those were his words—the words that got you here in the first place.

Suguru’s fingers toyed with the hood of your clit, pinching the nub of nerves in such a gentle yet pleasurable way that had shocks of electricity rocking through you. Your legs shook and quivered with how wide he had you spread them, muscles beginning to feel sore after some amount of time.

But Suguru hadn’t had his fill yet, he had to show you—make you feel what your husband couldn’t do to your body. So, with his cock still pumping in and out of you recklessly, two fingers entered your mouth while his unoccupied hand pinched and twisted your hardened nipples.

“Suck,” he ordered, and you did. It was almost embarrassing how fast you complied, wrapping your tongue around his thick digits as you suckled on them, excess saliva dribbling down your chin.

And it was all so lewd. The ring of cum coating his cock from both your multiple orgasms, your red and pulsing clit, your moans—and shit. If Suguru knew one thing it was one thing only; he would keep his promise and fuck you like you deserve.

[weeeyotch]

eager to please pt. 2 ღ r.r.

robert reynolds x f!reader

pt.1

synopsis: after eating you out for the first time, bob wants to take it one step further.

warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), oral (fem receiving), dacryphilia, manhandling, dom/sub dynamics, use of toys (vibrator), nipple play, tit worship, switch dynamics

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i wasn't expecting anyone to want a second part, but here you go anyways besties

His question hangs heavy in the air: "Could you try sitting on my face?"

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you almost forget how to breathe for a second. The hand that had been lovingly stroking his hair freezes, fingers tangled in his messy curls.

You glance down. Bob is still lying with his arms wrapped tightly around you, his eyes wide and glassy as they silently plead with you. The devotion in his gaze—equal parts worship and desperation—makes your thighs clench.

"Baby," you murmur, "are you sure you're ready for that? I don't want you to overwhelm yourself."

He nods, fervent. "I'm ready," he whispers, voice rough with need. "Please."

The raw hunger in his tones sends shivers down your spine. How lucky you were to be loved so fiercely by someone who could burn down the world, yet chooses to worship you instead. Seeing him there, so pliant and needy, made your heart swell with pride.

His fingers trail down your tummy and ghost along your thigh, dragging through the slick sheen on your skin like he was painting with it. It's deliberate and teasing, and you know that he's trying to rile you up again.

And he's doing it so well.

The sight of him like this—his gaze so pure and tender while his hands move in a quiet, unmistakable filth—ignites a fire in you. It's not just desire that blooms in your chest; it's white-hot, blinding power that thrums through your veins, urging you to claim him as yours.

"You want that?" you murmur, fingers tightening just enough in his hair to coax the tiniest gasp out of him. "You want me to use you like that?"

Bob lets out another sound, a cross between a whimper and a plea. He nods vigorously as he presses his lips into a tight line.

"Say it then," you say. "Say what you want, pretty boy."

"I want you to use me like that," he whispers, reverence and want dripping from his words. "I want you to sit on my face. I wanna taste you. I wanna worship you. Please. Please—"

The desperation in his voice snaps something inside you. With a swift motion, you tighten your grip on him and force him to roll over. You straddle him as he hits the mattress with a small ungh. The way he lets you man-handle him, knowing that he has enough strength to do whatever he wants to you, makes heat shoot through your blood like lightning.

It is hot. Wild. Impossible to ignore.

There is something feral taking over you, something that is thrilled at how easily he gave in; how someone so powerful could melt into obedience at your slightest touch.

"You like being tossed around like that?" you ask, low and commanding.

His chest heaves as he looks up at you, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. "Yes," he breathes, "only by you."

That answer unlocks something darker in you. Something primal—a desire to ruin him, to make him beg and scream without restraint.

You drag a finger down the side of his face to his neck, letting your nail dig in just enough to make him flinch. He twitches beneath you, his breath hitching. Your hand slides back up, and he braces, like he's expecting you to mark him. Instead, you grip his jaw and crash your lips against his.

It's messy and sticky, and tasting yourself on his mouth only stokes the fire in your belly even more.

One of his hands slides up your body to gently lift up your shirt, bunching it at your collarbone. His large, calloused palms find your breasts, cupping them. His thumbs brush over your nipples, slow and deliberate as he coaxes them to harden under his touch. You arch into his hands, craving more.

He rolls one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a teasing pinch that draws a sharp moan from your lips. His other hand mirrors the motion.

You keen and arch your back further, breaking the kiss. A thin line of saliva stretches between you before snapping and landing on the corner of his mouth.

Bob wastes no time as your breasts are pushed into his face. He wraps his lips greedily around your nipple, sucking with reverence. His tongue kitten-licks your sensitive peak, mimicking the way he teased your clit earlier while his other hand kneads the other breast.

The sensation makes you collapse forward as your body trembles with need.

You couldn't wait anymore.

"I'll give you what you want, baby," you pant. "You're such a good boy. You deserve it."

He sighs contentedly at the pet name, letting his head relax back into the pillows as he drinks in your naked form. A small smile curves his lips, but is quickly replaced by something ravenous as you start to climb up his body.

He licks his lips like you are the first taste of salvation he has had in weeks.

"Tap my thigh if it's too much," you tell him.

Bob nods, eyes locked onto your pussy, pupils dark with desire. Slowly, you lower yourself, inch by inch; you were partly teasing him, and partly giving him a chance to back out.

But mostly to tease him.

The first brush of his lips against you pulls a small moan from your throat.

He groans in response, the sound vibrating deliciously against your core. Bob dives in with the same sloppy enthusiasm from before. Although now, you sense that there's a hunger to it—a need that feels borderline possessive.

His tongue moves in one long, slow stroke, taking forever to climb up your pussy and find your clit with precision. He starts to circle the swollen nub.

"Fuck, Bob," you gasp, gripping the headboard for balance.

Your hips jerk forward. He decides to repeat the movement, over and over, until each jerking of your hips effectively turns into you riding him. His quickening breath, warm against your core, and the scrape of his stubble, urge you on.

Eventually, he stops moving his head, sticking his tongue out so that you can take full control of the pleasure.

Bob's surrender sends power surging through your veins. The sight of him like this—eyes half-lidded, face glistening with your wetness—makes you grind faster against his pliant tongue. Each roll of your hips elicits a groan from deep within his chest, the vibrations shooting sparks of pleasure through your core.

"Good boy," you pant while gripping the headboard tighter. "So good for me, letting me use you like this. My perfect boy."

His eyes flutter close as he whines pathetically, and you can feel his hands tighten on your thighs. Not to guide you, but to anchor himself. You lean back slightly to take in the sight of him: trembling, messy curls sticking to his slick forehead, and completely at your mercy.

Then—

Three taps on your thigh.

Your heart leaps in your chest. The lust was replaced with panic in the blink of an eye.

I pushed him too far, you think. I should've waited. Should've told him no.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too much? Are you oka—" you ramble, lifting off him.

Bob cuts you off with a small, sheepish smile and runs his hands soothingly up and down your hips. "I'm okay, I'm okay. I just wanted to ask if . . ."

He trails off, clearing his throat and darting his eyes away. A blush snakes its way up his round cheeks.

You lean down to brush the damp curls away from his forehead. "Ask what, baby? I need words."

With a nervous swallow, he whispers: "Can you use the vibrator on yourself? While I eat you out?"

Relief washes over you like a wave. You let out a grateful breath, heavy and trembling. A smile tugs at your lips as you stroke his hair, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against his temple. He nuzzles into your touch, sighing contentedly.

How could you ever say no to him?

"Anything you want, sweetheart."

You settle back over his face as his hands gently guide you into place. While you reach for your nightstand to find the vibrator, he busies himself by pressing delicate kisses against your swollen lips. Your fingers finally wrap around the toy that had been thrown underneath piles of clothes. Turning it on, a low hum fills the air, blending with the wet clicking sounds of Bob's mouth against you.

You press the toy lightly against your clit, just above where his tongue circles. The combined sensation rips a sharp gasp from you.

Your hips stutter and Bob moans, feeling you become wetter with every passing second. You rock against him, the steady hum of the vibrator amplifying every flick of his tongue, pushing you closer towards the edge.

But then you notice a subtle shift in his grip, in the way his hands tighten on your thighs.

His eyes, wet with tears and glassy with devotion, flicker with something bolder. Something commanding.

"Give it to me," he says, voice muffled against your core.

It's a demand—raw and unexpected. So unlike the man who, only a minute ago, was embarrassed about asking you to pleasure yourself with a vibrator while riding his face.

The sudden change sends a jolt of heat through you.

You raise an eyebrow, testing his dominance. "You think you can handle it, baby boy?"

He growls in response. "Now." The word is sharp, laced with a tone of authority that is so unlike his usual softness. It makes your breath catch.

One hand leaves your thigh and reaches up expectantly. You hand him the vibrator, intrigued by this new side of him.

Bob takes it with surprising confidence—no doubt after having watched you pleasure yourself with it dozens of times before—and adjusts the angle to press it firmly against your clit. You cry out at the painful precision, hips bucking.

His tongue dives back in. However, it's different than before. This time, he's lapping desperately at your entrance, pushing his tongue deep into your core. He slurps obscenely as he works at your gummy walls.

Then you realize: he's drinking you.

"Bob—fuck—I can't—" your voice breaks while he works you with ruthless efficiency.

He alternates the vibrator's pressure, pulling it back slightly to tease your clit then pressing it back with intensity. His tongue circles and flicks throughout your center, and the sensations are pushing you closer to oblivion.

He's determined to unravel you completely.

His free hand grips your thigh to hold you in place, a reminder of the strength he's choosing to restrain.

"Come for me," he growls, lips brushing against your dripping pussy. "I want it. Come for me."

It's the authority in his voice—thick and uncharacteristically possessive—that sends you spiraling.

The orgasm that crashes over you is sharp and all-consuming. Your hips jerk wildly, grinding against his mouth and the vibrator. A wail of his name echoes throughout the bedroom as your thighs clamp around his head, pleasure surging through you.

Bob keeps the vibrator pressed against you, albeit a little bit lighter now, drawing out every shudder, every whimper, every pulse, until you're a gasping and oversensitive mess.

Finally, he pulls back and switches off the toy, throwing it somewhere on the bed.

His face is a mess; his lips are swollen, his chin is slick and glistening, and his eyes are darkened with pride and hunger.

He gently eases you off, laying you on the pillow beside him. His lips quickly capture yours in a deep, messy kiss that tastes like you. While his usual tenderness lingers, it's laced with a new and possessive confidence.

"You're mine," he murmurs, pulling back just slightly. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you whisper.

Another kiss.

Then he retreats again, looking lovingly into your eyes. You notice his lips curve into a smile, its sweetness blending with a newfound bold satisfaction. This version of Bob was. . .different. But you couldn't say that you hated it.

You pull him closer and guide him to lie beside you, his head resting against your chest. Your fingers thread gently through his damp curls while his breathing slows.

Pressing soft kisses to his forehead, you whisper, "You were so good baby. So perfect for me."

He hums and nuzzles into your breast, finding comfort in the warm mound. "I just wanted to make you feel good."

His gaze flickers up at you, the confidence melting away back into his signature innocent, doe eyes. "Did I. . .did I make you feel good?"

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his tone.

"I felt incredible," you affirm. "I'm so proud of you."

But then, curiosity tugs at you. You smile, a teasing lilt in your voice as you ask, "Where'd that whole thing come from, though? You wanting to be in charge?"

Bob's cheeks flush, and he ducks his head back into your chest. "I-I don't know. . ." he says, barely above a whisper. "I just. . .seeing you like that—I got lost in it. I wanted to give you everything. I guess it just came out."

He pauses, eyes finding yours again. "Was it okay? Did I go too far?"

You laugh softly and cup his face. "Babe, it was more than okay. It was so hot."

Your thumb strokes over his cheek, brushing over the lingering slick. "I'd love it if you did that more."

Relief washes over him as he leans up to bury his face in your neck. "I'll do whatever you want me to. I'm all yours. Just wanna make you feel as good as you make me feel."

His words send a rush of warmth through you.

In the quiet aftermath, a realization settles deep in your chest. This man, with his unwavering devotion and gentle strength, gives you everything. You're struck by how rare it is to have someone who would shatter mountains for you, yet chooses to surrender his heart completely to you.

The thought makes you hold him tighter, gratitude swelling in your heart.

"You already do," you say, words thick with emotion as you press a kiss to his temple. "More than you know."

You start to ease off the bed, wanting to grab a washcloth from the bathroom to clean his face. But as you move, he whines and grips your waist tightly, stubbornly pulling you back.

"I'm only going to the bathroom, baby," you reassure him, brushing a kiss across his cheek. "Just getting a washcloth for you."

With a bratty huff, Bob lets you go and sits up with a pout as he watches you go. Being away from you now, even for a few seconds, was almost unbearable to him.

When you return with a warm, damp cloth, you stand over him and gently tilt his head up. You carefully wipe away the slick coating his face, his chin, and his neck. He closes his eyes and sighs under your careful ministrations.

"You're so beautiful like this," you murmur.

Bob's face somehow turns even redder.

Noticing his evergreen sweater is stained with your essence, you lift it up, and he raises his arms like a child as you peel it off. You toss it into the corner, rummaging around the nightstand for one of your shirts—his favorite; they smelled like you.

You help him slip it on, fabric draping over his broad, sculpted frame. He inhales deeply, humming contentedly.

Back on the bed, you pull the blankets over the both of you and tuck him against your side. You trace soothing circles on his back, and he basically melts into you.

"You okay?" you ask, still wanting to check in.

"Perfect," he mumbles, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. "I love you."

"Love you too."

You hold him close, your steady heartbeat lulling him into a peaceful sleep. As he nestles closer, you can't help but grin when a playful thought flickers through your mind.

"You know, you really are eager to please, aren't you?"

Bob chuckles. You can feel his smile widen into a grin against your skin.

"Always for you."

tag list: @theoraekenslover @alloboinga84

[pseudowho]

Motherhood had altered your 'turn-ons'; not that you lusted after mankind as a whole-- Kento was enough.

His cologne, split with the smooth tang of sweat on work-ripened skin. His hands, alternately gentle and rough, peach-handling or blade-wielding. The authority only the world saw; the authority only you felt.

Dressed-up, dressed-down, undressed, dressing you down, undressing you. Breaking you only to reform you with gold, tied with red thread, whispering you to completion in the dark sacred night.

So (you corrected yourself, as you watched Kento jog after your daughter at the indoor play centre) motherhood had not altered your turn-ons; it had added to them. Stacking high now, you considered the tower of your adoration was just as likely to be stable, as unstable; its endurance or toppling entirely at Kento's mercy.

The arrival at soft-play was a sensory nightmare-- one of many you could tolerate as a mother when you wouldn't have, before.

Obnoxious children's music blared, cut by screams and shouts and cries and calls and whirls and swirls of kids darting and weaving, watched and unwatched, by helicopters or the disinterested. The cocktail was potent, spiked. Your headache started behind your left eye.

Kento saw you. He was unfairly loaded at his own insistence, with change-bag and snack-bag and car keys and your daughter, planking and chattering, a possessed surfboard beneath his arm.

"Sit down-- have a coffee." Kento rumbled, low and slow, unclipping his watch into your cupped hands as you began to argue. "You've had her all week. You need a break."

"You've been at work all week, Kento, you need a break--"

"Don't argue. You know it's not the same. Sit down. Have a coffee."

He lied to you for your benefit; you could feel the bone-deep weariness of him, surely needing a day of sofa-bound naps over a day of childrearing. Alas; parenthood. And he would continue to take bullets for you, even to his own detriment. You knew this. You had planned ahead for this.

As you peered down at your phone, smiling at an eagerly awaited reply, your daughter piped up, bouncing on little toes, her pigtails bouncing too.

"'lide, daddy. Let's go fast. Faster. Race you."

Kento hummed, smiling. "Slide, you mean?"

"I said it. 'lide." Your daughter moved to dart to the towering play area, a flash of lightning into a maelstrom, and you caught her. Kento was distracted, looking into the swarm of other peoples' children, oddly, as he looked at a swarm of Curses. You whispered into your daughters' ear as Kento slipped his boots off.

"Hey, missus, listen."

Your baby girl perked up, sweet and conspiratorial, goofy-teethed and dimple-cheeked, whispering back.

"What is it, mummy?"

"I've got a surprise for daddy. So don't tell him...come here, mummy needs to whisper."

Lips at an ear; tiny hands clasping over a mouth, fizzlepopping with excitement. A long finger against lips; a little finger against lips. A secret pact.

"Are you ready, young lady? I'll get you in three...two..."

Kento reached down for your daughter, his hands clawed, a wolfish grin on his lips. Your daughter knew what it meant; she shrieked with panicked laughter, bolting. The monster formerly known as 'Daddy' dashed after her.

The coffee was shit; you didn't mind, instead hyperfocused on how Kento and your daughter would dip out of sight into the rainbow maze, only to reappear minutes later, with Kento looking more ravaged each time.

On the first loop round, Kento looked unfazed, unruffled, still clipped in his t-shirt and jeans. You simply admired the sultry half-smile he offered you, and the cling of fabric to his thick biceps, before he swept after your daughter again.

On the fifth loop round, flicks of hair escaped over Kento's forehead, the veins on his arms prominent from throwing and tumbling and monstering. He panted, his muscle so much heavier to carry than your birdlike daughter's personal load. Kento's playful growl, running after your giggling daughter, was deeper; huskier. You squirmed, sipping your shit latte.

On the eleventh loop round, a fine sheen of sweat misted Kento's forehead, a flush dashed on high cheekbones. His broad chest heaved, and he stretched his arms back, cracking his neck from side-to-side, with a groan usually heard only when he exerted himself above you, for less wholesome pleasures.

With furrowed brows, Kento prowled the bottom of the slide, and your daughter shrieked, scrabbling to get away from him as he lunged. Your daughter was bicep-curled up to Kento's face, laughing uproariously at his ferocious tummy-raspberries, before being set free, once more, for the hunt. You could not cope, aching, desperately hoping you had the energy left to sweat for him at the end of the day.

By the twenty-first? twenty-third? twenty-fifth? loop round, Kento jogged to a heavy halt, his shoulder blades taut as he bent double, hands braced against his own knees. You heard him panting, cursing under his breath, one long rusty groan. It was all too much-- Kento needed a break. You were unhinged and unsupervised. Surely there had to be some relief--

"Yo, Mrs.Nanamin! Am I late?"

A vision in peach, Yuuji flopped into the chair opposite you, with hands in his pockets and man-spread with a square-jawed, boyish grin. He stood taller than Kento, now, a full-grown man...but still shrunk beneath Kento's chastisement and lectures.

"Right on time, Yuuji. Are you sure you don't mind? It's all a bit..." You looked into the raucous soft-play, searching for words, "...feral."

Yuuji beamed, ruffling his own hair and kicking his shoes off. "Nah. I was gonna go to the gym anyway, but this seems more fun as workouts go."

You called out to your daughter as she reached the bottom of the slide, and Kento looked up, sweating and exhausted. "Baby! Your big brother's here!"

A gasp of thrill from your daughter, and Kento was all but forgotten by her as she pelted towards Yuuji instead, leaping into his arms. She slapped his scrunched cheeks, aggressively overjoyed.

"Big brother-- big brother-- big brother--"

"Yeah yeah, little sister, little sister-- c'mon squirt, I'm gonna getcha! Hey-- Dad--- uh, Nanamin! Gotta go!"

Kento watched his children run away with dewy eyes, his body still thickened by exercise and heavy breaths. You bit your lip as Kento approached, eyes half-lidded as you drank him in. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he gulped back water and gasped, husky with relief.

"God, I love that boy." Kento rumbled.

You melted to see Yuuji reach the bottom of the slide with your daughter on his lap. "Yeah...me too."

"He's saved my life...three times, now."

You laughed, your eyes dipped, tugging Kento to you by the hem of his t-shirt and beckoning him down with one curled finger.

"Think you'll still have some energy later?" You whispered, your breaths mingling with promise.

Kento's eyes narrowed, glimmering, his nose kissing yours. "For that? Always."

[jaesblogstuff]

Compliments to the chef (nah I wanna fuck the chef) study draft#1

The jazz bar is tucked on a corner most people forget — the kind of place you only end up if someone brings you there, or if you're looking for something quiet, warm, and a little strange.

Tonight, it’s the former. Your friend knew the place. Said the food was good, the wine was better, and the music? Magic.

You hadn’t expected much, just a night out, a little wine, something slow and indulgent. But from the moment you walked in, it felt like stepping out of your life and into something else entirely. Something slower. Richer. Dim lights and velvet shadows, laughter tucked into corners, the slow spill of trumpet and upright bass curling like smoke through the air.

You’re dressed in something soft, something that moves when you do. The lighting catches you just right — golden on your skin, your collarbones, the sweep of your mouth when you smile.

You don’t know it, but someone notices.

Behind the half-swinging kitchen door, where the heat rolls thick and the clatter of pans never really stops, Simon Riley catches sight of you through the narrow gap in the wood.

He shouldn't be looking. He never does. Faces blur together, most nights. But not yours. Not tonight.

You don’t know who he is , not yet, just that the food, when it comes, is unreal. Rich and decadent and somehow exactly what you needed. You sink into it, melting into the booth as you sip your wine and laugh with your friend, everything blurring around the edges.

Simon watches you in fragments. Between dishes, through the haze. He sees the way you laugh with your whole body, how your fingers linger around the rim of your glass. He watches you hum to the rhythm of the band, lean in close to your friend to share something only she’s meant to hear.

But he hears it too.

You’re full. A little buzzed. Languid with satisfaction. And then you say it, half-whispered, grinning like a secret:

"Forget compliments to the chef," you murmur, voice thick with wine. "I wanna fuck the chef."

Your friend gasps, nearly chokes on her drink, laughing too loud.

You laugh too, oblivious. The world is warm and fuzzy. No one heard you. Right?

Wrong.

Simon stands frozen just behind the kitchen line, arms crossed, heat licking across his jaw from more than just the grill. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches you, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

He should go back to work.

Instead, when your table’s bill is printed and slipped into the leather folder, he takes it. Flips it open. Finds a clean corner of receipt paper. And writes something just for you.

The music plays on. Another song. Another glass of wine. You’re floating, but eventually, the bill comes.

You open it absentmindedly, card in hand, But something stops you.

A note, tucked neatly into the fold.

You blink. Your name isn’t on it, but you know it’s for you.

Simon.

Compliments to the chef.

xxx-xxx-xxxx.

You stare. Read it twice. Three times.

And then, as if pulled by something invisible, you lift your eyes toward the kitchen.

He's there.

Just a glimpse — framed in the glow of a backlight, one hand braced on the doorframe, apron smudged with the kind of mess only a good meal leaves behind. He’s watching you.

The music swells behind him. He doesn't wave. He doesn't speak.

Just offers a small, quiet smile. One that feels private, meant. And then turns away.

Gone.

You leave with the note pressed tight between your fingers, heart thudding in your chest like it knows something you don’t. Your friend is still laughing about what you said earlier, teasing you gently. But her voice feels far away now.

Outside, the air is cool. Crisp against your skin.

You think of the way he looked at you. The curve of his mouth. The fact that he heard you. The fact that he wrote back.

You don’t text him.

Not yet.

You hold onto it instead — the heat, the thrill, the maybe.

Later, you might. When your lipstick's faded and your heels are off. When you're in bed with the city buzzing faintly through your window, and you're still tasting the night on your lips.

You’ll find his name in your purse. And you’ll know, This isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced/accidental bonding, subjugation

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Once you wake up in the morning, you feel… changed.

Your body feels full—as though you’d indulged too much last night—heavy and sticky and sore all over. There’s a strange taste in your mouth—sweet, somewhat salty, and metallic. Geez, you’re head’s pounding—how much did you drink last night? No, this feels different from a hangover—more full-bodied than that—a withdrawal of some kind or another. You must have done more at the party than drink, and yet, you can’t remember having stayed there all that long. No, you left with someone. That’s right. You went with… that overgrown Omega.

Oh no.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He comes in only wearing a pair of snug boxers—body stacked with brawn, not a single hint of Omega-like softness aside from his tousled bed hair. There’s a big toothy smile on his face—eyes are creased in cheer while carrying an overfull breakfast tray. You know you’re hungry, and yet you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but sick to your stomach by the horrid sight of his flaunted neck, decorated by a gory ring of your bitemark.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…”

He laughs lightly with an awkward smile, apologetically scratching the back of his neck while balancing the tray in the other hand. “I’m afraid so…”

The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you think it might actually never start up again. Your throat snares, and you think you might throw up. How the fuck could this happen?

He sets the tray down next to you, then himself. The whole bed takes waves upon his weight. You remain still—eyes unrest and mouth hung.

“Hey, I know this might not be what we had planned, but…” he starts.

But you don’t let him finish before declaring, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

There’s nothing else to do, you think. The red string of fate has tied the two of you together. It’s sealed.

“There is no going back now.”

His face expresses shock, but if you’d taken a closer look, he’d probably not be able to hide it—the overwhelming sensation of victory. Oh, bless your Alpha pride. He knew you would say that.

He smiles softly. “I’m in your care then.”

It’s a work in progress after that—slow in the beginning, but that’s to be expected. You never pegged yourself to be the type who got caught up in the unmendable mistakes of a one-night stand, but then here you were—mated with a stranger, moving into his apartment because it’s bigger and closer to work, sharing the same bed and eating the same meals and helping each other through one another’s ruts and heats.

He's still no closer to being your type. In fact, he’s the total opposite—too giant to give you even a semblance worth of superiority over him. A couple of days ago, when he’d been searching for the remote in the couch you were lying on, he’d taken to pick you up instead of just asking you to move. It was completely humiliating. He’s so brazen, and it’s starting to become clear he’s doing it all on purpose!

He doesn’t get fussy when you state your claim of being the one on top—no, but what he does instead is somehow worse, going along with it with snide praise, grinning up at you, his big hands weighing heavy on your haunches as you roll them, calling you his good girl. It seems to humor him how it angers you—chuckling behind your hands as you layer them both atop his mouth, growling at him to “Shut up!”

No, he doesn’t mind letting you take charge. He rather enjoys the view of watching you ride—working so hard to appease him while he rests pretty and admires your body—all soft edges and plush curves. You tire quickly, though—poor thing, why don’t you leave the rest to him?

You had rejected it the first few times he’d offered. Your bruised pride simply wouldn’t have it—you’d rather you both stop than let him finish you off. But a couple more nights and you’d quicker come around than either of you expected—perhaps worn down by his constant nagging or simply fed up with your own failure—you let him assist by bouncing you on his lap.

You wouldn’t admit it to his face, never, but you’d enjoyed it far more than you could have ever thought…

Thankfully, your face in and of its own glory told him all he needed to know. It didn’t take long before he’d taken full advantage of it, nor for you to begin allowing it without being asked. Soon you were letting him fuck you against the wall, making the entire room shake—wall creaking and shelves rattling, pictures falling down. You hold your tongue and hold on tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him—moaning sweetly right by his ear. Fuck, you even bite him again.

As time passed, you came around to indulging more and more of his antics. Letting him fuck you from behind—hard and heavy and deep—thrusting into you while grappling your waist. You even go down on all fours when he does it—digging your claws into the sheets.

Lying belly-up beneath him still makes you feel nervous—and slightly ashamed—almost convinced something’s wrong with you for liking it. And yet you can’t help it. You know any other Omega wouldn’t fuck you like this. They wouldn’t have the stamina, the drive, or the desire. Not like him, who does it all like it’s his nature even when it shouldn’t be.

Guess you’re both freaks.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[seumyo]

Bakugou didn’t like you.

He didn’t.

You weren’t even in the same class. Barely even interacted. Just two UA students who happened to take the same train every so often. Yet, whenever you were near, he was hyper-aware of you.

For example, he could be in the school’s gymnasium with the rest of the class, resting after a rigorous basketball training, but the minute he caught sight of you in the bleachers to collect the leftover materials, suddenly all basketballs are making it through the hoop.

Not that he cared. He didn’t do it to impress you.

He doesn’t even know what you did to have him notice you in the first place. An enigma that has him hooked.

The train slowed as he approached the station, the robotic voice announcing their stop. Bakugou stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, only to glance at you just as you pocketed your gadget and stood as well.

Just my luck.

The train doors slid open, and you both stepped onto the platform, the cool morning air greeting you. Bakugou stuffed his hands into his pockets, his usual scowl in place, already planning to walk ahead—only to hear a familiar patter of liquid against the pavement below.

Shit.

Within seconds, the drizzle turned into a steady shower. Students groaned, hurriedly pulling out umbrellas—not wanting to be late. Bakugou clicked his tongue, reaching into his bag to grab his own when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you just standing there, blinking at the street.

No umbrella.

Of course.

He should’ve ignored it. Should’ve just walked ahead like he always did. But instead, he found himself sighing—deeply, begrudgingly—before flicking his umbrella open.

“Hey,” he grunted, stepping closer so the umbrella covered both of them. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot.”

You blinked at him, startled. “Oh. Um—” you hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “You don’t have to—”

“I ain’t gonna let you walk in the rain, dumbass.” His ears burned. “Just walk.”

A pause. Then, to his horror, you laughed.

Not scoffed. Not sighed. Laughed.

It was light. Amused. Like he had just said the most funny thing in the world.

His grip on the umbrella tightened.

You walked side by side, your pace naturally slower than his. It was torture. Bakugou had to consciously slow himself down, had to fight the instinct to just power ahead and leave you behind. But you were under his damn umbrella now, and he wasn’t about to be a jerk and make you run after him.

So, he adjusted his steps. He adjusted.

For you.

Oh, god. He must've caught a flu.

It was annoying. Unnatural. But you didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks, Bakugou,” you said after a while.

His chest felt tight.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

He didn’t like you.

He didn’t.

So why was he hoping that the next morning it’ll rain the same and that he gets to go on the same train car as you?

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[levigarden999]

haikyuu!men ⋆˚࿔ favorite sex positions

chars : ࿔ kotaro bokuto ࿔ yuu nishinoya ࿔ akaashi keiji ࿔ kita shinsuke ࿔ tetsurou kuroo ࿔ osamu miya ࿔

warnings : smut , +18 , choking , rough!sex , p!v , tying

๋࣭ ⭑ kotaro bokuto

missionary. bokuto is someone who loves being active and dominating. due his hyper energetic personality, he often requires activities where he gets to let off steam and where he manages to calm down a little. sex is the perfect option for that, especially with you. bokuto loves to do the most work during your time in bed, placing a pillow under your lower back and pounding into you to the point you’re a whining mess. also the expressions and sounds you make while being under him is just pure oil to his burning fire. however, there’s another reason why bokuto needs to see your face at all times – he needs to make sure you’re feeling okay. nothing is more important to him than your safety and wellbeing and he makes sure to provide you security and comfort at all times.

๋࣭ ⭑ yuu nishinoya

face sitting. nishinoya is a guy who absolutely adores the woman he is with - meaning that he adores you. first time you sat on his face, he nearly cummed in his pants from the mere feeling of your thighs squeezing his head and your pussy suffocating him. he’s a little starved masochist when it comes to sex – he doesn’t care if he passes out, he only wants to keep eating your lovely cunt out and drink all your juices up shamelessly, lewd little groans and whimpers vibrating against your folds as his tongue licks over your clit again. when you have cummed twice, you have to beg him to finally release the grip on your thighs and remind him that the poor guy is probably suffering from an oxygen deficiency in the brain. however, he just asks if he can suck your titties instead, since you’re feeling tired.

๋࣭ ⭑ akaashi keiji

sideways. akaashi loves the feeling of warmth, comfort and peace. he enjoys to take control, while also maintaining a sense of safety and love which you provide to each other. he hugs you from behind, hands reaching to softly grope your tits as he fucks into you while lying sideways on the bed. soft kisses and breaths land on your neck as he rolls his hips slowly but deeply, the tip of his cock hitting a spot that makes the air leave your lungs. akaashi loves to hold you close to him and ask if you’re feeling okay, because he needs your reassurance even if it’s painfully obvious how good you feel with him. once he notices your approaching orgasm, his hand drops down to your pussy, rubbing soft and gentle circles on your sensitive clit.

๋࣭ ⭑ kita shinsuke

riding. kita is obsessed with the way you ride him. your hips rolling against his, ass and tits bouncing, soft whines leaving your lips. he swears that there isn’t anything as perfect as that sight in the world. he never thought he’d be the one to enjoy sex so much, but the second you showed him the pleasure sex can bring, his opinion changed. kita is confident and nearly robotic in every other aspect in life – but not intimacy. he needs someone else to take the lead, someone to bring him safety and love in the most intimate way. his hands are softly grabbing your hips as he guides you back and forth, up and down, occasionally pulling you close to his chest and pounding his hips up against yours. kita kisses your neck softly but holds you tightly, while making sure your bodies are always in sync.

๋࣭ ⭑ tetsurou kuroo

riding/doggy. kuroo is your typical charming, dominating yet caring lover. he’s definitely a switch, meaning he loves giving backshots as equally as watching your tits bounce on top of him. he’s a damn cocky bastard who fucks you hard from behind while smacking your ass, telling you how good you look from behind there. when you’re pleading for him to slow down, he only leans close to your ear and tells you how good girls should take what they’re given. you’re smitten by him, obviously. kuroo also loves to praise you while you’re riding his cock with all the skill and might you have, telling how great you’re doing and how much of a good girl you are, again. while lazily smirking, of course. he never fails to make you cum and if he some day did, it probably would bruise his ego a lot.

๋࣭ ⭑ osamu miya

you tied up. yup. osamu is a damn freak. everything happens under consent, obviously, but you better have a serious sex talk with him before you start anything. i’m sure he hides his true kinkiness behind his cool and pretty laid back demeanor, however, one thing stays – his love for domination. something about you helpless and tied up on his bed nearly makes him go crazy. osamu uses his upper hand position by teasing you to the point you’re a shaking, sobbing mess on the bed, pussy swollen and red from all the denied orgasms, since he said he wants you to only cum on his cock. so when osamu’s fucking you hard and gently squeezing his hand around your throat, you finally cream all over his cock while he praises you.

[boyfhee]

엔하이픈───𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥, 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗥

𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗢ㅤ／ㅤso, let me sit on your lap and press dewy kisses on your chest.

CATALOGUEㅤ｡⠀( 245O ) ㅤ&ㅤbf ! enha x fem ! reader, fluff ㅤ 𖥔 kissing, petnames, skinship

ㅤ ꒰⁠ ⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠ ꒱ㅤ..ㅤwrtiting a very very old idea >< as always, happiest reading mwah mwah <3

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks ! °ᯅ°

HEESEUNG

his sunday evenings are for gaming and today was nothing different. you finish up whatever you were doing before deciding to join your boyfriend.

you sneak up to him with a quiet laugh, planting a quick peck on his cheek when he's in the middle of saying something over the headset.

“is that seat taken?” you ask casually, lips pursed. he takes a second to pause the game before looking at you, half flustered half confused, before realisation set in him when he sees your gaze pointing at his lap.

a swift motion and you're already on his lap with your back pressed flushed against his chest. his arms snake around your waist, tugging you closer to him and his breath is warm against your ear as you feel him smirking amidst his words. “only by you, angel,”

JONGSEONG

he has been waiting for you on the couch for fifteen minutes now, all ready with blankets and your favourite snacks for the movie. his eyes never leave the sight of you in your silk sleep set, hair slightly wet from the shower, waiting for you.

and, he's literally giving you those cute pleading eyes when you come around, patting the space next to him, biting back the cutest smile, only for you to catch him off with your next words, “can i sit here instead?”

your finger is pointing his lap and his eyes are wide in amusement. you're such a tease sometimes, it's not healthy for his heart. jay can only chuckle at your request, hands on your hips to pull you down on his lap. “you don't have to ask, doll,”

he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses before gently turning your face towards him by your chin to press his lips against yours— and you might do this again.

JAEYUN

you hate exam season and it's mainly because you get to see less and lesser of your beloved boyfriend. nonetheless, he made time for you, inviting you over to his place, to which to happily agree.

“hi, my love,” he whispers against your lips before pulling you into a kiss just as you enter his apartment. your lips curl into a smile, reciprocating the kiss, sweet, slow and ever so heavenly on your lips as he backs you towards the couch, only to pull back just before the best part. “i have missed you,”

and he's looking at you expectantly, waiting for his long awaited hug, the one where you both just melt into each other's embrace without any care for the world. however, you simply give him a shy look, requesting quietly. “can i sit on your lap instead?”

it would be a lie to say your words don't make him blush, but he's quick to pull you down on his lap, nice and cozy, your arms around each other as if one would disappear the next moment. his face is buried in your shoulder while your fingers trace a gentle pattern on his back, and he sighs contently. “i could get used to this,”

SUNGHOON

it's honestly a sixth sense. he could sense your puppy dog eyes from across his room while he is working on something. a sigh escapes his lips and puts the pen down, looking up at you. “can you stop with those eyes?”

despite his words, your eyes only get more pleading, pout getting deeper— almost like an exaggerated frown. actually, it's painfully hard to ignore you when you're looking so adorable.

“come here,” and sunghoon finally gives in, pushing his chair back, looking at you while you're standing in front of him with the same look as before. you don't even have to say it. he knows exactly what would lift your mood and he does exactly that— pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. “satisfied now?”

he smiles when you nod against his chest, burying your face deeper before looking up at him with the sweetest smile that makes his heart flutter. “very,”

SUNOO

he already knows you're up to something when you lead him into the bedroom and push him down on the bed. well, it's not half wrong that he is expecting something— then you take out something from your drawer.

“let me do your eyeliner,” you chime in with a smile, eyes gleaming with excitement and mischief as you add more words. “while sitting on your lap,”

it takes him a good minute to process your words. you can be quite menacing and he's well aware of it by the look on your face.

he leans back on the bed and takes your hand, tugging you forward and letting you settle comfortably on his lap. your one hand cups his cheek, caressing gently as he kisses the tip of your nose. “i prefer to have you on my lap anyway,”

JUNGWON

a relieved sigh falls off your boyfriend's lips when his eyes catch a glimpse of you through the crowd, walking inside the hall.

he chuckles at the way your nose scrunches up due to the smell of alcohol in the air, the displeasure immediately morphing into bliss when you spot him on a couch in the corner. “i thought you wouldn't come,”

“i changed my mind,” you shrug, eyes looking around at everyone as he takes your hand, trying to make a little space for you on the already packed couch. “it's okay, i'll sit here,”

his eyes immediately go wide at your implication, the way your gaze shifts down to his lap and then up at him. “you sure, princess?”

“why not?” you make yourself comfortable on his lap, one hand on his cheek and the other arm instinctively goes around his neck when he tugs you closer by your waist. “you're my boyfriend,”

and he's not used to it— the word or your boldness. two months into the relationship and you know exactly how to leave him speechless. but then you lean closer, capturing his lips into a slow kiss.

“that i am,” he whispers after pulling back for air, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

NI-KI

out of all things, riki didn't expect you to show up at his place with his favourite snacks and soft drinks. you're in his room, which is quite a mess if he's being honest. he himself is sitting only in his sweats and a tank top, hair messy, scrolling through his phone— honestly, his mom could've at least let him know before letting his dear girlfriend go upstairs to his room.

“wait—” he looks around frantically, not quite sure where to start from, half flushed and half embarrassed. “uh, where are you going to sit. . .”

it's a quiet whisper followed by your soft laugh and you put the bag of edibles on his desk, enjoying how his go red cheeks when you step closer as he instinctively sits back on the chair.

“how about here?” his mouth falls agape and you hold back a giggle when his face turns a darker shade of red. he doesn't say no— eyes spelling yes along with a slow nod. “you're so cute,”

he hides away his face further, hands caressing gentle patterns on your waist involuntarily. “s-shut up,”

[callsignfawn]

18+ mdni. overstim. slapping.

another little price thought cause the last one did so well. he loves to have you sit in his lap so he can play with your pussy. you could be doing the most mundane thing in the world, lighting a candle on the coffee table in front of the leather couch he's sat on, a rugby game playing on the tv. "c'mere, love," he speaks, voice low and oddly quiet. price motions with his hand, spreading his thighs and patting one of his muscular thighs. and you know what's coming. as soon as you take your proper place between his legs, back to his chest, his calloused hands are rubbing up your inner thighs, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. his thumbs slip under your shorts, brushing the soft and sensitive skin right below your panties. just as your breathing starts to grow heavy, price pulls his hand away with a quiet tut, palms sliding up to your hips instead.

"lift up for me," he says, and you obey without question, lifting your hips. in a practiced motion, he slides both your shorts and panties down your legs, the garments sliding off of your ankles and onto the living room floor. with a quiet groan of satisfaction, price's hand comes to cup your mound, the other keeping a steady grasp on your waist to keep you in place. two thick fingers spread your already soaked lips, exploring your folds in slow motions.

"john-" you panted as his fingers teased your awaiting hole, before slipping up to press down against your clit. the action has you squealing out, body jolting in his lap.

"shhh, love," price soothes, though the smirk in his tone is evident as his fingers rub tight circles around that little bundle of nerves. his breath is warm against your ear, beard tickling your neck. it's just so damn easy to have you come apart beneath him. the rugby game is long forgotten as his gaze peeks over your shoulder, down at your cunt. "such a pretty pussy, sweetheart," price rasps, gathering your slick with two fingers. he's teasing your entrance again, millimeters from pushing his digits in. the hand around your waist moves, arm wrapping around your form instead as your chest heaves. "need me to fill 'er up, hm?"

"yes, yes, yes, please, john."

that's all it takes for him to plunge his fingers deep into your cunt, your back arching with a cry of pleasure. price's fingers work with the rhythm of an expert, thrusting in and out of you in a pace that has you seeing stars. toes curled, eyes rolling back, breathy pants and whines filling the air and droning out the announcer's voice on tv. it's a cacophony of pleasure. price has lost count of how many times he's made you cum, his fingers pruning from your wetness. the sight of you is beautiful, too fucked-out to do much but whine and squirm in his lap. it's too much, his fingers still bullying your cunt. the white-hot pleasure is overwhelming, and before you can stop yourself, your hands wrap around his wrist with an incessant squeal as you try to pull his hand away from your core.

price pulls his hand away with a grunt, fingers and palm covered in your slick. you think that's the end of it, relaxing in his hold to catch your breath. but, oh. no, no, no. he's far from being finished with you. price's hand connects with your pussy in a sharp slap that has you yelping, thighs shaking.

" 'm not done, love," he speaks, tone much darker than before. he gives your pussy another slap just for good measure. "keep your hands to yourself."

[azrielsdove]

Fated Souls

Warnings: Angst, Light Smut, 18+

Lucien Here | Azriel Here

***

You observed the celebration around you, watching your friends as they interacted with one another. You brought your wine glass to your lips, taking another slow sip. You had chosen to stick to the edges of the room for this gathering. It was easier that way. You didn’t have to pretend that your heart wasn’t being tortured with every beat it made.

Truthfully, you’d lost count of what glass of wine this was. You enjoyed the way the edges of the room blurred the more you drank, allowing you to pretend it’s all a horrid nightmare instead of your devastating reality.

Until your eyes caught upon them once again. You scowled, tipping your head back as you emptied your drink. Your eyes narrowed as you watched him smile down at her, his hand itching to hold onto her waist. She looked at him with such adoration that you’d have to be brainless to miss it. Everyone knew about the Shadowsinger and middle Archeron sister. You could argue that they turned a blind eye because they wished to see the pair happy, if it weren’t for the fact that their mates were just as widely known.

You rolled your eyes as she let out a soft laugh, placing a hand on the chest of the male that was supposed to be fated to you. Not that he cared. You were tired of this, the constant pining for someone who would never want you. Growing sick of their love-show, you slipped quietly from the room. No one noticed, or if they did they didn’t care. You had become quite a depressing specimen since Elain entered your life.

And since the mating bond snapped to Azriel, who only had eyes for her. Your friends did not know how to speak to you these days, always teetering in awkward conversation. They looked at you as if they stared too close you’d shatter into a thousand pieces. You were fragile, breakable.

It wasn’t always that way. Before this you were one of the fiercest warriors the Night Court had. You held your own against Cassian, earning a place of honor as his right hand. You were a force to be reckoned with. “The Lovely Demon” they called you, whispers of your power and beauty flitting throughout all of Prythian. It made sense for you to be fated to Azriel, the devilishly handsome spymaster. Together you were a death sentence.

A death sentence indeed. You moved throughout the halls, searching for the only one who understood your pain. You were pleased when you found him alone on one of the countless balconies in the House of Wind, leaning over the railing with his own drink in hand. You walked out to him, your heels clicking softy on the stone. He did not turn to look at you, even when you leaned on the railing next to him.

“Beautiful night,” he spoke first, looking intently at the stars. You followed his line of sight, humming in response. Nothing was beautiful to you now.

The two of you stood like that for some time, in an understanding silence. The silver fabric of your dress glowed under the starlight, a sight that would have filled you with confidence before. Now you hardly even noticed.

“Were they…” he began, trailing off. The words were too hard to be spoken aloud, but you knew what he meant. Were they all over each other again? You nodded, noting the way he slung his whiskey back at the action. “Do you think it will ever hurt less?”

Did you? You couldn’t imagine a world in which it didn’t, but surely it wouldn’t be this way forever. You turned to look at him then, taking in the defeated form of the once strong man you knew.

Lucien had been through a lot in the last five centuries. Hel, you all had. No one was the same as they once were. But your friend had suffered more than most, and yet his suffering was brushed under the rug by the Inner Circle. You loved them dearly, yes, yet they oftentimes only focused on themselves. In all honesty you had been the same way before. All that mattered was that you and your family were happy. Others problems could come later.

Once the bond snapped and Azriel chose to ignore it, things changed. You quickly discovered that he meant more to them than you did. Not that they didn’t try to help you, of course. Mor spent many a night lying in your bed with you, holding you tight while tears ran down your face. Nesta brought you books, the closest to acknowledging the messed up way Azriel was acting. But in the end, his feelings would always win. His happiness was more important than yours.

“I can only hope it does,” you finally answered. He finally turned to face you as well, the pain in his eyes like looking in a mirror.

“How do we cope?”

You shook your head, a sad smile playing on your lips. “When you find out, please let me know.”

You stared at each other for a long moment. Perhaps it was the copious amount of alcohol you had ingested, or perhaps it was the deep sadness controlling your heart, but you couldn’t help to notice how stunning Lucien was. Even in his pain drenched form he radiated a sense of power and confidence not many others could. You simply could not wrap your head around Elains distaste for him. You understood she had her own traumas to work through, but she could do worse. You knew Lucien would be kind to her.

Unfortunately she wanted your mate instead. The thought sends a wave of nausea through your body. Lucien noticed the subtle change in your already heartbroken demeanor, reaching his hand out to yours. You gladly held on to him, tears brimming in your eyes. “It’s not fair,” you whispered, the pain building up inside of you. He shook his head, pulling you close to him. He wrapped his arm tight around your waist, the hand on his other one tangling into your hair. You rested your face on the crook of his neck as gasping sobs tore through your very soul. Your nails dug into his shirt, holding onto him as if you were desperately searching for something to ground you. Something to remind you that life still existed, and it wasn’t just you lost in the tumultuous sea of your grief.

Your heart was falling apart. You knew you were not only going to lose Azriel if this continued. If he did fully choose Elain, and she him, your life would be over. Your family would gladly welcome them as one, celebrating their love and joy. You wouldn’t be able to live as you once did. You would flee the Night Court entirely, possibly leaving a note for Rhysand. You couldn’t be sure if he would even notice your absence in the wake of joy for his brother. Though could you blame him? Your soul sang for Azriel’s happiness. It was tearing you apart that it wasn’t with you.

You clung tighter to Lucien, hands shaking. His fingers were tracing patterns in your hair, trying to soothe your fractured mind. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he murmured. His words gave you pause, pulling your face off his shoulder to look up at him. His eyes were glassy, the tears he held refusing to be shed.

“What?” You asked, your voice weak. Lucien looked intently at you, moving his hand to cup your face. His thumb brushed away your tears, a deep sorrow in his eyes.

“It is wrong of him to allow you to be in pain as such. Elain, I give her more grace than most would. But Azriel?” He spoke the shadowsingers name as if it were a curse. “He has no excuse. You have been together centuries now, close as two can be. It should have been an instant joy, the mating bond between you. And yet,” he sighs deeply, thumb tracing your skin once more. “He’s gotten it into his head that he has to be with an Archeron like his brothers.” Your heart stutters as his thumb traces your bottom lip, a fire beginning to rage in his eyes. “He’s taken it upon himself to steal away my mate, while ignoring his own. A sorry thing, too, when she is as lovely as the night she so graciously represents.” His hand slides down to trace your jawline, fire burning your skin wherever he touched. This was wrong. You were both heartbroken, tossed aside by your mates. Friends, yes, but lovers? No. You should pull away, stop this before it goes too far. This was wr-

Oh.

Your head tilted back and your mouth opened slightly as Lucien’s lips met your neck. He kissed your skin like it was his honor to do so, like he would never get the chance again. His lips traveled up to your jaw, kissing slowly across your cheek. You couldn’t breathe as your eyes fluttered closed, lips ready for his.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against your skin, nose brushing yours. You knew you should. If you allowed him to kiss you fully you would be fully admitting that Azriel was a lost hope and dream. Allowing another male to touch you in a way only your mate should.

Did it matter when that mate was too busy catching the attention of someone who wasn’t you? When all he wanted was her pretty little mouth on his? What is the harm in you finding what pleasure you could in the wake of the pain he had bestowed upon your very being?

“Kiss me.”

Lucien’s lips met yours with a fervor, an intensity you didn’t know you craved. Arousal began to spread through your body, a need for him that overtook all other thought. You pulled him closer, allowing him to cage you in against the balcony railing. You welcomed his tongue into your mouth, moaning quietly at the taste of him. His hands fell to your waist, one fisting the fabric as his restraint was rapidly fading. “He’s a fool for letting you go,” he said into your mouth, a shiver of delight running down your spine at his words.

“So is she.” His eyes flared and he kissed you again, his hand slowly working your dress up. You gasped as the cool night air danced across your heated skin. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this at all, much less right where anyone could see. The thought of someone catching you made your heart race with scandalous excitement. Not that anyone would have even noticed the two of you were gone.

Lucien’s hand flattened against your bare thigh, having pulled your dress high enough to expose the skin there. You felt alive under his touch, like you were finally being seen. You kissed him as if he were the sun and you were lost in an endless night. His fingers trailed to the inside of your thigh, a hum of surprise coming from him when he discovered you wore nothing under your gown. He found you quickly, pressing gently down on your clit. You gasped into his mouth, arching against him in pleasure. He worked you expertly, moving his fingers like he was put on this world just to please you.

His lips fell from yours, pressing quick kisses on your neck. “I want you hear you,” he whispered into your ear, allowing his thumb to take over the delicious pressure his fingers had been providing. He moved them down, sliding them gently into you. He curled them once he was deep inside, the feeling overpowering. You tilted your head back as you moaned his name, forgetting everything except for him. When Lucien touched you there was no pain from an unwanted mating bond, no thoughts of why you weren’t good enough. There was only you and him. He was painting fire into your soul, giving you the light you needed to live.

Until you felt him be ripped away from you as something cold wound it’s away around your body.

***

i have two separate endings for this! one for lucien and one for azriel <3. i just loved this idea and then couldnt decide which way i wanted it to go haha. i hope you enjoyyyyyy

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ dear god . . . m.s

in which . . . matt shows you how beautiful you are, in a different kind of way.

warnings . . . smut, unprotected sex, (BIG NONO) praise, gentle sex, body worshipping, kissing, cursing, use of pet names, fingering.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

SO CLOSE TO WHAT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #5

it’s late. the kind of late where the world feels quiet, like it’s holding its breath. the bedroom is dark except for the soft glow of the streetlight sneaking through the blinds, casting shadows across the walls. you’re lying on the bed, wrapped in matt’s arms, your head resting against his chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.

matt doesn’t know you’ve been crying. or maybe he does, but he hasn’t said anything yet. his fingers trace lazy circles on your bare back, warm and gentle, grounding you in a way nothing else has been able to.“what’s on your mind?” his voice is soft, but it pulls you from the storm inside your head.

you hesitate. you don’t want to ruin this—this quiet, this closeness, this moment where everything feels still. but the weight in your chest is too heavy, the words pressing against your lips, aching to be let out. “i don’t know,” you whisper, your fingers gripping the fabric of his t-shirt. “i just… i feel lost.” he shifts, just enough to tilt your chin up, his thumb brushing away the tear you didn’t realize had slipped down your cheek.“talk to me,” he murmurs. “whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

you exhale shakily, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. his scent, his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest—it’s the closest thing to peace you’ve felt in a long time. “sometimes i just don’t feel like i’m enough, i don’t feel worthy of being loved.” you admit, your voice barely audible.

matt was taken aback by this confession. “what? what makes you say that baby?” his arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. you lift your head just enough to look at him, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw, the shape of his lips. “why are you even dating me? i’m not even pretty.” you confess, tears glazing your eyes. matt’s heart absolutely broke at the sight.

“you are beautiful, baby. so fucking beautiful. inside and out, anyone who thinks otherwise is a fuckin’ idiot, okay? i love you, and i always will.” matt reassured you. “let me show you just how much i mean that.” matt whispered. his lips part, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond. instead, he closes the distance between you, pressing your mouth to his in a slow, aching kiss.

he sighs against your lips, his hands sliding up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss. it’s soft and unhurried, but there’s something beneath it—something raw, something desperate, something that feels like salvation. you whine in a needy tone as matt picks his body up off the bed, his lips not once leaving yours as he hovers over you.

matt pulls away, his fingers trailing over to hem of your shirt. “is this okay?” he asked softly, you nodded your head eagerly as matt pulled your shirt and panties off, your body naked beneath him. matt’s hands trailed down your body slowly, and teasingly. “so fuckin’ beautiful, shit..” matt cursed under his breath, his hands traveling from your boobs, to your stomach, and brushing past your core.

“mmm..” you mumble with need, slightly squirming with matt’s touch. his breathing was heavy as his hand slowly palmed your aching slit, his fingers collecting the wetness along your folds, eliciting a gasp from you. “oh? you like that?” matt smiled, pushing his fingers into you, making you moan as the pleasure coursed throughout your body.

you whined as matt suddenly pulled his fingers out of your pussy, he began to fiddle with his belt, pulling his boxers down, letting his cock spring out. fuck, you needed him so badly. matt kneeled between your legs, gently lifting your chin up with his finger. “look at me while i fuck you sweetheart, wanna see those gorgeous eyes..” matt spoke as he slowly took your thighs, spreading them apart wider. “s’pretty like this hon, could fuck this pretty pussy all day…so perfect..” matt murmured lazily against your neck, you could feel yourself getting close.

and dear god, this was all you could ever ask for.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

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