#it happens so quickly and immediately and there's no time to soak it in it's just Done. and you sit there with the aftereffects and just

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby) Part 2

click for part 1

Summary: Mira had a solo interview—at least, that’s what she thought. But right when it started, two pink-haired boys showed up and joined in. What was meant to be calm quickly turned into a chaotic interview with all three of them. No one knew what was going to happen next.

Word Count: 1250

a/n: im bad w titles and posting. lets just say this is part two even though there's no significant connection between the first fic i posted.

-----------------

“What do you think of the ship MiRomAbby?” the host asked Mira.

With a forced smile, she looked at the camera. “I think our fans are creative, but there’s nothing going on between us.”

The audience let out a chorus of disappointed “Aww”s and suspicious “Hmm”s, some clearly thinking she was lying. She wasn’t though.

“Is that so?” the host asked. He stood up and turned to face the crowd. The studio lights were blinding, but his smile was even brighter—like he had something up his sleeve. “Actually, we have surprise guests today. Would you like to meet them now, folks?”

Mira’s brows furrowed. She sat up straight. She hadn’t been informed of this.

“LET US ALL CHEER for Romance and Abby of Saja Boys!”

The crowd went wild—but Mira’s heart went wilder.

What? They’re here?!

No one told her. No one warned her.

Fans squealed and chanted as the boys made their entrance, the guys had their eyes immediately locked in on her. Their smiles teased with a sweet charm that made the air a little warmer.

She averted her gaze, ignoring the weird tingling feeling in her chest. Stop it, Mira.

They waved at the crowd like boy band royalty, soaking in the cheers of the people. Mira didn’t move. She was trying to compose herself.

They took their respective seats on either side of her. She noticed how they were always like this, keeping her in the middle. It was like this during their fansign event, and it's the same now.

Mira tried to play it cool, but the host had other ideas.

“So, who confessed first? Was it Mira?”

 She was visibly taken aback, “As if! Nobody confessed anything—”

“Yet.” Abby cut her off playfully.

 The crowd was loving this. Mira, not so much.

“I’ve asked Mira. About time we hear your answers too.” The smug look on the host’s face was irritating. “What do you think of MiRomAbby?”

“Oh, we heard there were rumors,” Romance stated, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. “And we thought, why not confirm everything?”

“What?” Mira whipped her head in his direction. He met her gaze with a sweetly masked innocence.

Abby nodded, “Yeah. Like, confirm that we’re all just friends…with really good chemistry.”

The host cackled, clearly thriving. “So no truth to the MiRomAbby ship?”

Romance lazily leaned in. “I mean, unless Mira wants to change her answer.”

“I don’t.” Mira blinked, her response quick.

“You sound so sure.” Abby chuckled in amusement. It was close to her ear, making her shift in her seat.

“Because I am sure.” her gaze sharp and challenging.

The host clapped his hands together, bringing the attention back to him. “Alright, time for a little fun. We’ve got some stuff prepared that were highly requested—”

Mira huffed. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“—from your fans.” The host grinned. “Let’s start off with a classic: the heart monitor game!”

Some staff emerged from the sidelines to stick the sensor patches onto them. Their heart rates appeared on the big screen for everyone to see. Mira’s was already elevated, while the boys’ were on the lower side.

“Seems like someone’s a little nervous…” Romance teased, his voice smooth and low.

Mira took a deep breath. “It’s because I’m annoyed. That’s all.”

His brow quirked upwards, a small grin playing on his lips. Ugh, why is she even looking at him?

“And now it’s time for some Truth or Dare.” The host barely let the tension settle. “This one comes from sajaxhuntrix4ever. They said: ‘I dare you to hold hands for 10 minutes. If you let go, you’ll have to redo. P.S. We love you and support pink poly!’”

Mira’s blood ran cold. The cheers were deafening.

“Now that’s one way to start the game,” the host laughed. “Alright then, the timer starts once you hold hands.”

Abby offered his hand to her, head slightly tilted, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Whenever you’re ready, Mira.”

He said her name slowly, like he was enjoying the sound of it on his mouth. Her heart was already thudding in her chest. She glanced up at the screen and saw the BPM number climbing higher. No. Calm down.

With an abrupt motion, she grabbed both their hands without another thought. Let’s get this over with.

The timer began.

Romance shifted into a more comfortable position and casually readjusted his hold on her. He slid his warm fingers between hers, lacing them together with a satisfied hum. Mira chose to ignore it.

“Okay, next one is from the user supremecolorpink. They asked: ‘Why can’t you just date? Don’t worry, we support you!’”

Mira sighed. “I appreciate all the support, but it’s simply because I’m not… interested.”

That slight hesitation. What happened to being sure, Mira?

“That's not a very nice joke,” Abby teased, bringing their intertwined hands on his chest with a sly smile. “Not even a spark of interest?”

Yeah, no, I'm definitely not interested...right..?

She could feel the warmth of his chest seeping into the back of her hand. Her throat suddenly felt dry, “Enough. Next.”

“Between Romance and Abby, who do you like more?”

The two boys exchanged glances.

“None.” Mira was quick with it, her eyes shut tight with restraint.

More ridiculous questions followed, and somehow, she managed to get through them. When does this end?

The host chuckled before he read the next card. Upon reading, his eyes widened a fraction. “Ah, finally, another dare—and it’s a fan favorite: the Pepero Game!”

The room erupted in cheers of excitement, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in Mira’s chest. No, not like this.

The host took notice and didn't miss a beat.

“Well, would you look at that? Someone’s excited.”

Excited?

Mira looked to her left, as if trying to hide her face from the crowd. Things were starting to feel uncomfortable, and her shoulders grew tense. She didn't like this. She wanted to make the fans happy but not at the expense of her own. The room now feels suffocating.

Suddenly, she felt gentle, comforting rubs on both her hands, like it was trying to help her relax. She slowly glanced down at one hand, then the other—then up at their faces. They weren't even looking at her but their thumbs were rubbing soft soothing circles on her hands.

“Alright, Mira, you’ll need to choose a partner—” the host began, already scanning between Romance and Abby with a grin.

But before he could finish, Abby raised his free hand with a chuckle, “Actually, I think we’re overdue for a water break. I might pass out.”

A few people laughed from the crowd. Some were concerned.

Romance nodded, grinning. “Yeah, I’m thirsty too.”

“Oh look, the timer’s up. We can let go now.” he added.

Romance and Abby gently released Mira’s hands. She blinked, still trying to process the sudden shift. They removed the sensor patch from Mira's body, both their eyes fixed on her face.

“You’re thirsty too, right, Mira?” Abby asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“Come on, let’s go.”

That’s when they led her backstage.

Minutes later, a staff member whispered to the host that the three idols had slipped away, mentioning something about an emergency.

Whispers began to swirl instantly. Fans speculated wildly, their phones lighting up with theories and guesses. Had they ditched the show?

The buzz didn’t die down for the rest of the night.

________

click for part 3

it's so embarassing that i dont know how to use this thing </3 i feel like a grandma but im not that old i swear (or maybe i am) im just not a tumblr typa gal. dont laugh at me or maybe do, as long as it makes u happy. you can suggest stuff so it would help me have ideas. like, be it fluffy, angsty, or spicy. just a teeny bit spicy, like this tho 🤏🏻 nothing too crazy unless… i didnt say ill be writing them all so dont keep your hopes up. if you say please then maybe i would reconsider 😮‍💨

@suzieq1948374 @hillyj579

[saycheeeese]

Zombie Apocalypse x JJK (Part 2)

By some strange miracle, the four have you haven't encountered any zombies since you met - which makes it two days. They warmed up to you fine enough, but still, you can't help but envy the special bond they have in times like these. Good for them, you think. At least they have something to fight for. Or someone.

They led you to a dilapidated restaurant, soundlessly weaving their way through the haphazard tables and seats, and took you into the pantry. Though it was dusty cold, it certainly had ample space - and the racks were lined with canned foods and non-perishables: dried beans, oatmeal, uncooked porridge boxes, white rice, boxed pasta, powdered milk, vats of honey, bottles of spirit, hard cheeses, and a stack of dried fruit. It was difficult for you to suppress the rumble in your stomach while they quickly fixed a tiny meal that would do.

Yuuji and Nobara had fought like animals to snag the big container on the top rack, and without them even noticing, Megumi had silently retrieved it, leaving them to fight. The plastic container had oats soaked in milk, and it was a lot of them.

"Help yourselves," Megumi said, sitting cross-legged on the floor where you and the two joined him. They took heaping spoonsful straight from the dish, and you'd hesitated before digging in.

"Is this ... porridge?" You'd inquired - the food was not so bad. At least it wasn't rotten.

"Yup," Yuuji nodded, swallowing his bite hastily and choking. Megumi punched his back hard, a loud thump sounding in the pantry, and his face turned red. Nobara shifted closer to you, disgust written on her face.

"We soak them overnight in milk," she explained, "Or we keep them soaking as long as we're gone from ... home." She said the last word a bit quietly, and you nodded, taking another bite. What had happened of your home? You shook the thought from your head. In this world, love was a weakness that could be used against you.

Despite the yawning cavity in your stomach, you'd filled up pretty quickly and excused yourself. They'd covered the porridge and put it back, Nobara turning to you.

"What next? Want to sleep, or ...?" She tilted her head.

"Kick some butt?" Yuuji raised a brow, his smile less brighter.

"Neither. We have to go and get some new tools to sharpen our weapons," Megumi announced, arms folded. "We can't kill them with a blunt stick and a can of beans."

You dipped your chin once. It was probably good for you to acquire a new weapon. You unbound your hair and tied it into a braid, the bun falling apart. The laces in your shoes long since gone, you catch up to them.

"Where are we going?" You ask as the four of you exit the safety of the restaurant.

"There's a house some streets away," Yuuji debriefs you, one hand on his crooked, rusted dagger, and focus on his surroundings, "that belonged to a either a mayor or a weaponsmith. You should see the basement - it's full of knives and swords and daggers and arrows."

"We stock up from there about every month," Nobara says from behind you. She and Megumi bring up the rear while you and Yuuji lead the team. Team. A small smile blooms on your lips, and you immediately smother it, scared to let yourself be happy nowadays - because your happiness is always snatched from you.

Yuuji doesn't miss it. "She smiles!" He whisper-shouts, grinning, flipping the dagger in his hand. "You know, you look good when you smile. Alive."

"I ... don't deserve to smile, you know," you confess. "I've killed too many people, and everything I've ever loved has - you know, died. Or zombie-fied."

Yuuji doesn't flinch, like you expected him to. Murderer. He gives you a sideways glance, and his eyes are full of sorrow and understanding. He looks at you for a moment, then softly says, "You know, I also thought that. That ... I don't deserve this all. I don't deserve them. Because I killed a lot of people." He swallows. "But that’s exactly why you - we - deserve to smile. Because the world’s taken everything it could from you, and you're still here - still human. Still you. That smile? It’s not a betrayal. It’s rebellion. You're showing them that they can destroy your world all they like, but they can never destroy you. Let them rot and die at your hands - you're alive; so you deserve to feel alive."

You worry your lip, not letting the tears burning your eyes fall.

“Wow. That’s dramatic," Nobara nudges you with her elbow playfully as she sidles up to your side. "You should write a memoir. ‘How I Killed Everyone and Still Managed to Look Hot While Crying in the Dark’ Bestseller, easy.”

You roll your eyes. "You should write 'How I'm Living In a Zombie Apocalypse and Still Manage to Look Gorgeous and Have Shiny Hair.' Honestly, are you aiming for a shampoo commercial?"

"Pfft, I've dyed it," she dismisses your compliment like a mere fly. "It w-"

The rattle of tin and scuffling shoes makes you instantly tense, back straight and legs apart, dagger poised in hand. Well, what's left of it.

Nobara flanks your right and Yuuji your left, Megumi as silent as a cat behind you, obviously alert.

"Did you - did you hear it?" You breathe, your breath clouding in the musty, cold air. Your ears pick up obscene groaning noises before you spot them.

Five zombies, limping towards you all with unusual speed, blood smeared on their clothes and splattered on their faces. You cringe, and clench your dagger tightly. "Company," you say under your breath.

"I hope you weren't lying when you said you could kill them," Megumi whispers in your ear, "because we'll need all hands we can get."

"I thought you could fight?" You slightly turn, his face too close and eyes wide, assessing.

"We can," his breath tickles the shell of your ear, "but we need to be fast if we don't want more to come - and you might prove a distraction if you scream for help."

You nod sharply, pivoting ahead, a plan in your mind.

"We got seven incoming!" Nobara hissed. You start. Seven? Two more must've been hiding.

"I told you this path was cursed," Yuuji groans, his fists poised.

You take a deep breath and roll up your sleeves. "Weapons can wait," you mutter. You scan the area once more before sprinting. A garbage can, scaffoldings, something that resembles an oil can, some fractured glass shards and heaps of stone; gravel, flint, rock, granite and other unidentified materials. You'll make it work.

Your feet are a blur as you overtake the nearest zombie without it noticing. By the time it realized its target vanished, you kick its back hard and bury your dagger in its skull. The zombie is flung ahead - straight onto Nobara's ready dagger. She recoils. "I didn't even aim."

"You're welcome," you breathe, focusing as two more round on you. The other four zombies aim for your team - very well. They can fight, you think.

You rip a bent metal bar from the scaffolding and duck low. One stumbles into the bar, and you lift. Momentum does the rest. It somersaults over you and cracks against the pavement, its innards oozing out.

You barely pause to breathe. An oil can glints beside a trash bin. You snatch it and hurl it at the last one, your shoulder burning. It bursts and black slick spreads under the zombie. You pivot, wrench open the dumpster, and catch it mid-stumble. You drag it halfway in, then slam the metal lid on its neck. Over. And over. And over.

It stops moving after the third. You flip your dagger in your hands and slice it through its head. The blunt edge does little to harm. You swear colorfully and instead pick up a shard of mirror - just a sliver - and jab it into its eye.

You whirl back, chest heaving, hands covered in rotting blood, the oil creating a path from the can to the middle of the street. Movement at the corner of your eye makes you look up - shit. Zombie backup.

Four more zombies drop down from a ramshackle building, the crooked stairs giving them purchase. In a matter of seconds, they descend and approach your friends. Shit. Eight zombies.

They make quick, neat work of the zombies, but you know that more will come if you don't leave quick. Your eyes dart across the area - and you're moving before you know it.

You retrieve a piece of flint from the corner, pivot on your feet and bolt back, kneel beside the oil spill and whip out your dagger. You mutter some prayers to whoever's listening, and strike the dagger against the flint - once, twice, thrice.

Nothing, nothing, n-

A spark. You rub it again, your breath caught in your throat.

"Is she-" Nobara's voice floats over to you. She grunts and impales a zombie.

"Please tell me she's not doing what I think she's doing," Yuuji grits his teeth as he punches a zombie, its head twisting a full 180 degrees.

"Why would she light a fire?" Megumi adds, beating the hell out of two zombies.

You look up. "GUYS! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THEM!"

You only give them one warning before lighting the oil, sparks igniting from your dagger. You uncoil to your feet and run. Faster than you've ever run, your feet barely touch the ground as the four of you scurry to the end of the alley and beyond. You're running, out of breath, when you feel the heat at your back, the smell of charred flesh and burning ash singeing your nostrils. You deem it safe to stop, and the four of you halt your frantic dashing.

Megumi wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back against him, closer to the group and away from the fire. His chest heaves behind your back, and it takes a while before you all are composed. You slip out of his grip, your face inexplicably warm.

"What the hell-" Yuuji chokes.

"Coast is clear," you mutter.

The three of them glance at each other - and then grin. Fiendishly.

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Nobara claps you on the back.

"You're terrifying," Yuuji grins. "Terrifyingly amazing! Next time, warn us before you go full apocalypse MacGyver."

"I'll admit, I'm impressed," Megumi stuffs his hands in his pockets, a ghost of a smile on his face. "You should be proud of those skills, not horrified by them. Saving our asses back there - thank you."

You shrug, a warm feeling in your gut. And you smile, your face lighting up. Smoke puffs from behind you, the ruby and amber flames doused out - thankfully. You turn to them.

"Let's retrieve our weapons, shall we?"

★ Who do you want reader to end up with? Yuuji or Megumi? Part 3 soon ★

[subsequentibis]

going a little bonkers bananas about hw plainview therewillbeblood. like implicitly or explicitly it's been impressed upon him his role is to stand there and look cute. on some level he knows he acts as a prop for daniel, right, he knows that the father-son thing is a big draw. but it seems like his understanding is that they're leveraging something that actually exists, that daniel does love him and cares for him, and that even if they play it up to get investors, it's real. the first cracks in that show with the accident, when daniel leaves him hurt and confused and terrified, restrained by a worker, so he can watch the earth's blood shooting up in a geyser catch fire and cheer his good fortune. how much does hw know or suspect about daniel's motives once henry shows up? hw tries to warn him with the fire, a line drawn between them, and he sticks around to see what the aftermath will be, only running when daniel chases him. he must suspect that's why he's sent away, and when he's brought back henry is gone. but would he necessarily put the pieces together himself, that daniel is trading one supposed family member for another, just bolstering his image? it's fascinating how genuinely furious and unstable daniel gets when his family man image is threatened. it's not actually about hw of course, it is the IMAGE of it that he relies on - not how dare you tell me how to raise my son, but how dare you see through my painted disguise. anyway. so years and years on, and hw gets married. to someone who genuinely loves him it seems. and he goes to daniel and expresses that he still wants him in his life, but he doesn't want to be his business partner, he wants to be his son. he wants the truth that he thinks lies under the artifice. and he can't have it, he finds out, because it was never there. and he still acts like the prop, right, he's affecting the version of himself he thinks daniel wants to see, he's collected and calm and speaks kindly to him, even acquiesces and speaks out loud when it's demanded, and it doesn't! matter! because what he wants isn't there and was never there and you see that pain written so plainly on his face even though he barely twitches a muscle, and then that final catharsis comes: i thank god there is no part of you in me. he can sever that tie now, he can leave this empty mansion and this artifice behind and he can go live his life with people who care about him.

but he CAN'T!!!! he can't go live a good life can he!! because he's going to drill fucking OIL the corruption is IN him it's all down to the core, he was literally baptized in it, he's tied to it forever, there IS something of daniel in him, it ain't blood, it's OIL and it's never coming out!!!! GOD!!!!!!!!!

[enby-cuntboy]

thinking about an escape room but the twist is that if you don't get out in time, you're used by the entire staff until they're satisfied.

you know what you're getting into, of course. you sign the forms saying that the facility can't be held liable for any damages that happen to you. afterwards, you're stripped down and restrained. cuffs around your wrists behind your back as you're bent over a table, chains holding your ankles together. a collar is attached to your neck, connected in two places. one, to hold you still on the table. and the other connected to the ceiling with a lot of slack. you seem to be in a dungeon, iron bars blocking the unlocked exit.

you're left alone and the timer is placed immediately in front of you, counting down, minute by minute. right where you can see it. the restraints are firm and secure, but they each have their give, their weaknesses. the chains on your feet can be undone by looping it around the corner of the table and pulling at it at just the right angle. then you have to move your cuffed wrists behind your back and under your legs so you can use them.

the part of the collar connecting you to the table is dealt with by simply unhooking it, meaning you're able to stand up and move around the room. there's a box with a pile of keys for you to sort through. one of them must open the cuffs. one of them must unlock the bars. you sort through them in a hurry, adrenaline making your cuffed hands shake as you try each and every one of them, adding them gradually to the discard pile. once your hands are free, you fiddle with your collar. it doesn't seem to have any give. but while doing this, you see that on the other side of the iron bars is a bolt cutter, exactly what you need.

you're invigorated, trying all the keys on the bars as the minutes count down. your time is scarce, it's moving far more quickly than you're able to take into account. until finally, the lock clicks. the metal gate swings open and you can see the bolt cutter on the floor right in front of you.

except when you walk forward, the collar around your neck tugs you back. the tool is just out of reach. you can't get enough slack to pick it up. you try desperately, every option you can think of, to stretch your body out and try and kick the bolt cutter closer to you, desperately now as you see you only have three minutes remaining, then two, then one and a half.

until you finally remember the chains on your feet. you hurry back to the table, reaching under it to grab the chains and looking at the time left on the timer. 50 seconds. you hurry back to the iron bars, throwing the chains, trying to lasso the bolt cutter to finally get it in your grasp. and with 20 seconds remaining, the tool hooks onto the end of the shackles on the chains, and you desperately try reeling it in. 15 seconds, and you're pulling it closer, so very carefully. until finally, you reach down and wrap your hands around the tool and that's when your heart sinks.

it wasn't a bolt cutter. it was a toy. lightweight and useless, like something that would go in a child's tool set. and you realise: you were never meant to escape this. you never even had a chance. you had willingly walked into a trap.

your time is up and an alarm sounds, the lighting in the room turning red. the staff walk through the door, heading straight for you, cocks and straps and toys in hand, grins of delight on their faces.

they push you back onto the table and use you exactly how they want to, each and every one of them noticing how soaked you've gotten just from being in the escape room and playing this game, mocking you for what a slut you are as they take you without any preamble.

they use all your holes simultaneously, manhandling you into whatever positions they want. bending you over, taking you from behind. seeing how much can fit into you at once. slapping you about, spitting on you, spanking and whipping, passing you from one to another. never a moment for you to rest or recover before you're impaled on another cock.

all while their mocking voices taunt you.

this is what you were asking for when you came here. this is exactly what you were hoping for. to be used relentlessly. you never wanted to escape anyway, no matter what you'd say. you needed to be used like this. only sluts ever enter these escape rooms, and so you would be treated as what you were. willing holes for them.

once they've all had their turn, they take the toy bolt cutter and shove it into your used hole, fucking you with it slowly. it's too big and uncomfortable, but you stretch around it so easily after all that use. your arousal making it easy. you keep crying out, and they keep laughing. this was the thing you thought would set you free. this was your salvation for twenty minutes or so, all you cared to get. and now they were filling you with it. and worse than that, they were making sure you enjoyed it.

they bring you to an intense orgasm with the very thing you thought would save you. your mind is foggy and you can't think of much aside from the feeling of the toy inside you. you're burning with embarassment.

you came so close to escaping. you were so resourceful and clever about it all. but now you were nothing but holes for them to use until they decided they were done. all that intelligence you used to try and get out would leak out with your arousal as they continued to whore you out. your brain would never work the same once they were done with you. once they had reduced you to something so pathetic.

they aren't done using you. they won't be for a while. and you don't know if you ever want to be done serving them. this is where thinking got you, and now you were being put in your place.

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ explicit sexual content, daddy kink, caretaking.

He expected to find you distracted. 

You didn’t text or call after breakfast, or your usual lunch time, but he was too bogged down with work to get off base to physically check in, lay eyes on you, make sure you’re alright. If you’re distracted enough you forgot to text, he’s worried it means you’ve lost track of the day completely, forgotten to eat or drink something other than coffee. Your little blue icon on the map tells him you’re definitely at work, but that’s all he has until he’s able to get away. 

When he does, and he slips through the back door of the bakery into the kitchen, he finds a scene he did not expect- 

and immediately knows the rules you broke today won’t result in a punishment. 

At least, not tonight. 

You’re standing at your work table, the rectangular butcher’s block that nearly stretches the span of the room, hands covering your face, hyperventilating. You’re covered in flour and there’s dried batter on your elbows, your neck, your clothes, a chaotic mess strewn across the tabletop.  

He calls your name softly and you turn with wide, wet eyes, a trembling lower lip. 

“What-” you nearly trip over yourself to get to him, falling into his arms, your tear stained face pressing against his chest, your own heaving. “Shhh, you’re okay, you're okay.” The front door swings open and Mara is there, pointing at the table, you, before making a motion with her hand like she’s cutting air in front of neck with a grim expression. Whatever it was, or is, it’s derailed the day completely, left you in tatters. He wishes you would have just called him, followed your rules so he could have helped, been here for you, with you, supported you. He nods at her, and cups your face, tries to tilt it up into his as you sob. "Okay, shhh, I've got you, I'm here. Let me look at you baby, let me see your eyes." They're laden with tears, broken with stress and anxiety, everything in you shaking and sparking like a live wire.

“I b-b-broke the ov-oven this morning,” you cry, clinging to his shirt, “I tried to- t-tried to fix it but... and I broke m-my rules..” His heart chips a little bit at the raw distress in your voice, the way your chest heaves like you’ve just run a marathon. He has to fix it, soothe it, bring you back and take care of you, of everything, properly.

“Okay sweetheart, you're alright,” Your face turns, ear pressing over where his heart thumps in his chest, and he automatically covers the other one with his palm, blocking out the world around you but continuing to murmur softly so you can feel the vibration of his words as he rubs your back. “You’re alright baby, everything’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” 

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry, m-my rules-"  

“We’re not going to worry about the rules or what happened with them right now. We're going to get you home and taken care of, and we’ll talk about the rules when you’re feeling better. Do you understand?” You shake your head, still struggling to take a deep breath. “What is your number one rule baby, tell me.” 

“Listen to daddy.” 

“Good girl. I will tell you when it’s time to think about what happened today with your rules. Do you understand me?” You sniffle, but nod. 

“Yes daddy.” 

“Left arm.” One of the reasons he bought this house over the other ones is the tub. It’s massive, jacuzzi style with jets, perfect for a soak, or a scrub, which is what’s happening now. He turns your fingers up, runs the washcloth across them until the flour beneath is gone, soaping you all the way up to your shoulders, your collarbone that’s half hidden by bubbles. 

“Thank you.” He kisses your forehead. 

“Thank you for letting me take care of you, sleepy girl.” Once he got you out of your dirty clothes and into the bath you calmed considerably, exhaustion quickly setting in once you hit the hot water. 

“You’re welcome daddy.” A small mischievous smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and he chuckles. Sass.

He trails the washcloth across your chest and you arch your back a little bit, turning into the fabric as it brushes your nipples. 

“Alright?” This is not the moment to push you. Emotionally off balance and vulnerable, it would do more harm than good to test your limits. 

“Yeah,” your teeth find your bottom lip, and he moves downward, across your belly to your mons. You moan, hips flexing, looking for more between your legs and he rubs your cheek. 

“Do you want daddy to make you feel good sweet girl?” 

“Yes please.” He lets the washcloth sink to the bottom of the tub. 

“Open your knees f’me, like that, good girl.” He takes it slow. He’d ask you to get out if he thought you’d be comfortable, but he doesn’t want to move you, disturb how relaxed you are. When he slides down your pussy to your hole, he’s relieved to find you’re very wet, and there will be enough to last until the water in the tub starts to dissolve it, though he’ll have to be quick. You whine, wiggling as he thumbs your clit, middle finger of the same hand carefully pressing inside you to the first knuckle, the surprised gasp on your lips swallowed by his own. You’re already clenching down around him, trying to bring his finger deeper. So bloody tight.

“Ah-” He works up to his second knuckle, watching your expression, the crease of your eyebrows, the flutter of your lashes. Your grip tightens to the side of the tub, walls squeezing him as he slides all the way, circling your clit and angling upward inside you, dragging along your walls like he’s motioning for you to come here, all of his touch flexing in tandem. Your face is twisting, almost like you’re trying to resist, mentally digging your heels in. You’re getting in your own head, trying to shove your orgasm away, running from it. Punishing yourself.

He knows what you need.

“You had such a hard day didn’t you baby,” you whimper, "you worked so hard today, and daddy’s girl deserves to feel good after having such a bad day.” He passes over your clit in a faster rhythm, again and again as he strokes in and out of your pussy, bringing you to the edge. 

 “I-” 

“It’s okay sweetheart, you can come. Show daddy how good you are and come on my hand.” A lever is pulled, a dam released.

“Oh- oh, fuck,” your feet kick, water sloshes, and your face is like heaven, expressive and euphoric, just for him. “I’m coming, I’m…” your muscles tense and he stays with you, wringing every drop of your pleasure free until you go limp, chest heaving. 

After a while, he finds the washcloth. He methodically picks up where he left off, starting between your thighs, and then soaping the rest of you, making sure he gets all the remnants of the day cleaned off.  You smile, a little loopy, eyelids heavy. Time to get out. “No sleeping in the tub, c’mon.” 

“But-” 

“No buts. Up.” You pout. It’s adorable, and he’s a sucker, but the risk of you falling asleep is too great. “I’ll let you stay in until you’re all wrinkled next time, but you can barely hold your head up right now. Come on.”

He gets you dried off and into some clothes, pajama bottoms and one of his t-shirts before settling you in bed with a cup of tea, bare feet sticking out from the blankets so he can rub them, trying to knead away some of the tension in your arches. 

“You need better shoes.” 

“Mmmh, I know.” You had turned your switch on, but it sits abandoned now as you drain your chamomile just before snuggling down into the pillows, slowly losing your battle to sleep. “Daddy...” 

“”I’m here baby.” You sigh and reach blindly, looking for him with closed eyes. 

“Can you hold me?” It’s not even a question, you own him.

“Of course.” He slides in behind you and you turn, nestling your nose against his neck. A whole world, right here. An entire life, his, curled up in his arms, the safest place you'll ever be.

“Night.” Half yawn, half sigh, completely exhausted. He brushes his lips across your forehead. 

“Goodnight sweet girl.” 

[sacrificiallane]

smut ﹙ blahaj ❞ Percy Jackson

"Why'd you go all quiet, huh ?"

Percy — all sweaty and huffy from the sweltering heat that was currently surrounding the both of you — stopped his movements for a moment, to take a much-needed breather, and to check in with you !

Your wide eyes staring up at him did little to not immediately start grinding into your fluttering walls again ..., but Percy tried to think with his head for the moment, and not the one that was desperately twitching inside of you.

"Can’t when he's watching us ..." You answered softly, almost silent enough to have him miss what you just said.

"Uh — what ?" He’s not sure who you mean, his own eyes going wide as he thinks someone is watching the both of you in such an intimate moment. Although, he doubts there are many creeps around camp — but you can never be sure, right ?

The son of Poseidon quickly looked out the window then, or tried to, anyway, because the curtains were drawn. Like always when he decides to devour you under the sheets.

"Pretty girl, I really don’t know what you mean, please ."

You were killing him here, speaking seemingly nonsense when he all but desperately clung to the last little bit of sanity, before he would have to either pick up the pace again or slip out of you ...

And Percy certainly didn’t want the latter !

He watches as you become all blushing under his gaze and sheepishly point to the side of his bed. And there, staring into your soul — soaking everything up that was happening, or at least that’s what it felt like for you — was this huge plush shark. The one you'd brought him from Ikea that one time ...

A slight snort passes through his lips as he follows your pointed finger, and he has to lean down for a moment to press his forehead against yours. You meant the shark ! Of course, you meant the damn shark…

"But pretty girl ," he slowly ground against your skin again, making your breath stutter in the best way possible. "I like when he sees m' taking care of his mommy, hm ?"

"Perce !" "Okay, okay. Fine ..."

Defeated, and with much effort — because he really, really doesn't want to slip out of you now — Percy stretches his arm over your head and half-heartedly turns the poor plush shark around, so that it's no longer 'watching'.

"Better, hm ?" A kiss is gently placed to your forehead and your eyes flutter close at his softness, before his gentle caresses turn deliciously rough again, and you're left gasping and clawing ...

"Yea, there we go, lemme hear you, pretty girl ..."

𓂃 🖊 more .

[ceramini]

Could you do hot!sunghoonxhot!loser!reader or Jake, kinda like switching the roles btw I loved ur last drabble:3

⁺𝅄 𓊆 ❀ 𓊇 im not going to lie to you, this might be a bit more cringer than I wanted it to be (like cringe but not to much to the point it’s unreadable), but I hope you and whoever else is reading like it!! and tysm for liking the other ones ur so cute!! mwah <333

LET ME LOVE YOU ⋆˚࿔ YOU’RE NOT A FREAK

pair hot!sunghoon x nerd/loser!reader ͡ ͘◡ ꫶᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜৯ tags praise kink, overstim, established relationship ✿ scene you say weird stuff when you’re nervous. and unfortunately, you’re always nervous during sex. sunghoon’s used to it by now, he’s had two years to adjust, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to the wild shit that comes out of your mouth. ────── library ⊹ ࣪

like + reblog appreciated <3 click to join taglist

You’re already on your back when you realize it’s happening again. Your brain is short-circuiting and overcompensating with words, bad words, strange ones, the kind you’d never say if you had even an ounce of normal filter.

Sunghoon is kissing down your chest and you’re fully spiraling.

“I know this isn’t a good time,” you gasp, “but this is sort of giving, like, spiritual transcendence? Like religious ecstasy? Like Renaissance awe?”

He pauses.

Lifts his head.

And blinks up at you.

Your face is on fire.

“I didn’t mean that like a kink thing,” you say quickly. “Not like a nun thing. I just meant you’re really good at foreplay.”

He huffs out a laugh.

You throw your hands over your eyes. “I should be studied.”

Sunghoon’s smile tugs wide, amused in that quiet, understated way he always is. “You say that every time we fuck.”

“Because every time I get weirder!”

“You’re consistent. I like that about you.”

You peek between your fingers, pout forming. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not.”

And then he’s shifting down again, nosing along your inner thigh, his breath soft and warm where your underwear is already soaked through.

“You always talk like that when you’re nervous,” he says gently. “Like you can’t stop your brain from making everything into a weird metaphor.”

“I’m not even hot,” you mumble.

He blinks. “That’s not true.”

You shake your head. “It is.”

Sunghoon leans in and kisses the inside of your knee. “You’re not hot the way other people are. You’re hot the way you are. And I like that better.”

You melt. Completely.

“I’m—im kind of puffy too,” you say, voice shaking. “I think that’s why I always feel like I don’t know what to do. I’m not, like, porn-looking.”

Sunghoon hums. “You’re cute.”

“I’m not fine or sexy or anything—”

“I don’t want sexy.” His hands tug your panties off. “I want you.”

Your breath catches.

He kisses the top of your thigh again. “And yeah. You’re puffy. Soft. Warm. So sensitive I can barely touch her without you twitching.”

You go utterly still.

Then: “It’s honestly not fair how sweet you are to me.”

“You make it easy.”

You’re about to say something else, something dumb, probably, like “that’s a crit hit to my heart stat,” but then his tongue touches you and your whole body jerks.

“Sorry,” you whisper immediately. “Sorry, I just—nobody’s ever done it like that before—”

“Good.” He kisses you. “I want you to remember it’s me. Always me.”

You nod, breathless. “You should get an award or something. Like a Nobel Peace Prize but for making girls cry in a good way.”

He groans softly. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“You adore me.”

“I do.” His voice is almost reverent. “And this cute, shy little cunt? She loves me too.”

You squeal. “Don’t say that!”

“Why not?”

“It’s— it’s embarrassing!”

Sunghoon’s laugh is muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Your fingers curl in the sheets, your thighs tremble, and your brain refuses to stop trying to narrate the experience like it’s a podcast.

“I feel like I’m being emotionally unraveled,” you whimper. “Like a poorly woven scarf—”

Sunghoon pauses. Just long enough to lift his head and look at you.

“…A scarf?”

“A loose one!”

“You’re incredible.”

He says it with a look like he’s watching the sunrise. Like every unfiltered, loser-coded, clunky thing you say is the most endearing miracle on earth.

You cover your face again.

And he goes right back to it, tongue slow and thorough, fingers steady, kissing and sucking and working you open with such frustratingly gentle affection that by the time you’re shaking and moaning and gasping out a high, warbly, “Sunghoon, I think I see God—” you really mean it.

He lets you come once, then twice.

And when he finally pushes inside, you’re already trying not to cry.

“You okay?” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

You nod furiously. “I’m—I’m just not used to being wanted like this. I’m not used to being seen.”

Sunghoon stills for a moment.

Then he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight.

“You’re not invisible,” he murmurs. “Not with me. Never with me.”

You sob. He rocks into you gently, slow and warm and steady, like he’s trying to make a home out of the feeling.

And even when you say stuff like “You’re fucking my soul out through a celestial portal,” he just keeps kissing your temple, smiling against your skin, and whispering:

“Good. Let it all out.”

🪷 ─── @gyarumindd (join the taglist guys..)

[slutzforbueckers]

congrats on 1k i love ur writing sm!!

can i request the smut promts like

strap warming paige and the “you’re so messy” “can you be good for me” or literally anything with strap warming paige

pretty please with a big cherry on top 😭🙏

keep you warm

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: smut

♡— synopsis: paige is taking too long to come to bed so, you take thing into your own hands.

♡— a/n: i’m so sorry guys idk what the fuck happened. i’m literally in a writing slump right now, even with all of these amazing requests yall are sending in.

❥•°❀°•༢

you sauntered into paige’s gaming room without knocking—not that she cared anyway—and stood quietly behind her, your hands gently messaging her shoulders. paige didn’t react, she was too deep in her game to pay attention to anything else. you knew what you’d went in there for, knew what your intentions were, and her being engrossed in her game wasn’t going to stop you from getting what you wanted.

paige had her headset on so she couldn’t hear you when you called her name but she felt it when your hands stopped moving on her muscles. you leaned down and moved her headset off of one ear and called her name again—she spun around in her chair. “what’s up?”

you didn’t say anything, net yet, and just lowered yourself onto her lap. she dropped the controller and grabbed your hips, immediately pulling me closer. your arms went around her shoulders, your fingers interlocking behind her head, and you leaned in a little bit closer.

“i want you,” you said softly, nudging your nose on hers for just a second. “right now.”

“i’m in the middle of the game.” her fingers pressed into your skin a little bit harder now and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “can you wait for me just a little longer?”

you rolled my eyes and let out a soft breath of frustration. this had to be the fifth time youd came in here. it was getting late and all you wanted was to feel your girlfriend one time before you went to bed. the first few times you actually believed her when she would only be one last game but now you’re starting to think you’re going to have to take things into your own hands.

still though, you try one last time to get her to come to bed. “please? you said to give you one more game and i did.”

“i’ll just be like ten more minutes.”

your hands traveled up her shirt and you slightly rolled your hips. paige groaned low in her throat and squeezed your hips— you did it again and tilted your head to brush your lips over hers. “just let me sit, let me keep you warm.”

paige didn’t know what to say at first, she just started at you. you could see the way her jaw flexed, the slight shift in her body like she was torn between letting you have your way and picking up her controller. ultimately, she decided to let you have your way. “can you be good for me?”

you nodded your head quickly, hands already pushing her shorts down. the thick, black strap sprung free and you had been wanting it for so long you were sure you almost started drooling. paige leaned back slightly, watching as you quickly pulled your panties off and tossed them to the side.

your hands braced on her shoulders as you lifted your hips and lined yourself up. paige watched as you sank down on her cock in one slow, aching motion. the air left your lungs in a soft sigh as your body adjusted to the fullness—your walls fluttering helplessly around her, already throbbing and warm and so wet.

once you were sat down completely paige turned back to her game, her arms now wrapped around your back. she looked down at you and gave you a warning look. “don’t move. sit here and keep me warm, can you do that?”

“yes—i’ll be good, promise.” you nodded, your breath coming out uneven from how deep she was. it felt good—too good to just be sitting there. you were full, stretched around her strap and already soaking it. paige hummed and adjusted her headset back over her ear, she picked up her game controller and turned her attention back to her game.

you let out a shaky breath and wrapped your arms loosely around her shoulders, head tucked in the crook of her neck. you tried to focus on anything other then how she filled you up perfectly—tried to focus on the sound of her game, the click of her controller, the soft hum of her voice as she talked shit to her teammates through the mic.

it was getting harder to ignore though, your hips jerked without meaning to. paige didn’t look at you, didn’t say anything—she just tightened her arm around your waist and kept playing. “don’t fucking move.”

the heat between your legs was only getting worse, the way her strap curved perfectly inside you made it nearly impossible to sit still. your fingers dug into her shoulders, you were fighting everything in your body to not start riding her right there.

“fuck, baby, i can feel you dripping on my lap.” paige’s attention was starting to split—her fingers were starting slip on the buttons, her reaction time coming slower and slower. she shifted in her chair which caused the strap to shift inside your cunt. your moan came out muffled due to your face being hidden in her neck.

“paige— i need more.” you whined, trying to subtly gain some friction. paige dipped her head slightly, pressing her lips into your hair, but her eyes stayed in her game—trying to keep up as much as she could.

“you’re doing so good for me, just a little longer.” she mumbled into your hair, holding you a little bit tighter. waiting for a little bit longer wouldn’t have been so hard if she had started bouncing her leg. you thought that maybe it was just because it was the end of the game or maybe it was because she knew your patience was running thin—quick.

“paige.” you called her again, this time through gritted teeth. she hummed in acknowledgment as she started to bounce her leg harder and you knew it was intentional now. her strap moved with the bounce of her leg—just enough to have your cunt clenching around her. your nails dug into her skin through the fabric of her shirt. “please— please, make me cum.”

just as those words rushed out of your mouth, her game came to an end. paige dropped her controller immediately—not caring about the loud noise it made when it hit the desk. her hands gripped your hips and she leaned back. you were close enough to the desk that you could lean back against it.

her eyes were laser focused on where she was buried in you, on how your cum leaked down her cock. paige slowly started to lift her hips, slowly fucking up into you. your face contorted with pleasure—your lips parting with a sharo moan, eyes squeezing shut, brows pulling together. she ran her hands up your sheer nightgown and held your waist firmly. “you’re so messy—shit. all this from just sitting on me, hm?”

you nodded your head quickly, your nails digging into the palm of your own hand now. “yes—fuck—yes, paige, please—”

her hips snapped up into you a little harder, cutting off your words with a broken moan. the sound of you made her groan low in her chest, the kind that rumbled against your skin as she leaned forward and kissed the side of your jaw, her breath hot and heavy.

“you’re so needy, baby. couldn’t even wait ‘til i finished,” she mumbled, her voice thick with arousal and amusement. “had to come in here and sit your pretty pussy right on me like a fucking brat.”

you nodded again, fast, desperate, barely hanging on as her pace picked up. the slap of skin against skin echoed in the room now, mixed with the wet sounds of your slick and the soft squeak of the chair rocking with each thrust. she used her grip on your waist to grind you down into her, angling just right to hit that spot inside you over and over again.

“you wanted this, right?” she whispered, her lips brushing your ear now. “wanted me to ruin you like this?”

“yes—yes, paige, please—keep going—don’t stop,” you moaned, grinding down against her now. her hand slipped between your bodies, pushing your nightgown up to your waist, fingers rubbing quick, tight circles on your clit.

“you gonna cum for me?” she panted, eyes dark and focused on you. “you gonna be a good girl and make a mess all over my cock?”

your answer was a strangled moan, your head tipping back as your body tensed up. her name fell from your lips over and over like a prayer, broken and breathless. your thighs trembled around her, your whole body arching as pleasure took over. paige didn’t stop—her hips kept moving, slower now, working you through it, making sure you felt every last drop of it.

“that’s it,” she muttered, kissing your throat, licking the sweat from your skin. “god, you’re so perfect when you fall apart for me.”

you slumped against her, trembling, still fluttering around her strap as aftershocks rolled through you. her hands moved slowly now, one rubbing your back, the other resting gently on your ass. she kissed your temple and breathed, “you good?”

you nodded weakly, lips brushing her collarbone. “mhm. better than good.”

she chuckled, low and warm. “guess it’s time to log off.”

you smiled against her skin. “finally.”

[serinic]

Inkfluence (01) | JJK

pairing: politician jk x journalist reader

warnings: yandere jk, corruption, sensitive topics, deaths, future smut (dub-con).

words: 1.8k+

As vile as it sounds, politics has decayed into a ruthless game—where truth is treason, and those who pursue it are silenced, buried beneath the crushing weight of power. You entered the game with eyes wide open, fully aware there may be no escape. But it turned far more sinister when its master took a strange interest in a mere pawn—you.

“It's raining so hard again. The streets will be flooded soon,” Jiwoo sighed for the third time, gazing out the window. You walked toward her and did the same—staring through the glass that kept you both from getting soaked. You frowned as you watched people on the street, doing their best to avoid the pouring rain. As much as you wanted to help them—you couldn’t. Your landlord would kick you out for letting random people into her apartment.

Your heart ached even more when you saw children���some crying, some praying—probably begging for the rain to stop.

But your sorrow quickly turned into rage when you heard on the TV that the mayor—now former—had left the country and taken the people's money with him. The money that was supposed to be for flood control, which he kept talking about just last month.

You and Jiwoo both turned around and looked at the screen, disgrace and anger evident on your faces. You both knew this would happen—but you didn’t expect him to steal the money so quickly. Our money.

You looked out the window again, back at the people. Another politician had failed them. The man who promised that this city would be better, that the people would have a better life—just months ago.

The same man who, in the end, stole someone’s future, someone’s chance at a better life, and fled to another country to enjoy a life of luxury.

Many politicians have done the same—some even worse—to the point that you’ve grown used to it.

But what angered you more was how citizens still kept voting for the same people who were turning their lives into a living hell.

Had they really not learned?

“It's the people's money, not theirs!” you exclaimed, emphasizing each word—every syllable coming straight from your heart. Jiwoo looked at you sadly and bit her lower lip. “I know.”

“Ms. Y/N, could you please rewrite your work? Choose more appropriate words.”

Your boss placed the article you submitted on your desk. Your eyes widened—what did you just hear? You’re a journalist, for fuck’s sake!

You stood up and spoke firmly, “But we are journalists. We speak the truth and do not sugarcoat words!” You quickly pressed your lips together when she shot you a glare.

“Please, just do what I said,” she replied, flashing you a fake smile and giving a careless shrug before walking back to her office.

You stared at her back with defeated eyes. What’s happening to our profession? Did they really forget our oath?

“You know, the company's just being careful. None of us want to become a target, especially with everything going on right now.” Doa, your co-worker, placed her hands on your shoulders. Her words made your mind drift back to what happened just a week ago.

The police had stopped people from getting too close to the body. A garbage collector was the one who found it and immediately called the authorities.

The head was covered with a black trash bag, and several wounds were visible on the corpse. "Sir, what do you think?" one of the officers asked the investigator, who was crouched beside the body, studying it closely.

"Looks like he was tortured first… then killed. Body was dumped here carelessly," the investigator replied grimly.

Later, the victim was identified as Min Do-hyun, a reporter from CLM.

It was said that shortly before his disappearance, Min Do-hyun had been seen at a press conference held by Governor Kim Ji-hoon. He had questioned the governor about the missing healthcare funds—and it looked like Do-hyun struck a nerve. A week later, he was found lifeless. You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm yourself. Looking at Doa, you forced a smile. She nodded slightly and returned to her cubicle. You sat down, fully aware that people like you—too curious, too bold—could end up just like Do-hyun. Once again, anger began to consume you. People in your profession were being silenced for speaking the truth, for trying to protect the public from distortion, disinformation, and evil. You hadn’t spent years honing your craft just to end up as a corpse, unfinished and unheard. You were terrified but your passion to help people burned brighter than your fear.

“Are you all ready?” Mr. Kim cheered enthusiastically. Why the hell is he happy?

The company you work for is one of the few companies invited to the President's party. Ironic, isn’t it? You people were supposed to stand against corrupt people, and President Jeon Jae-won is practically one of them—maybe even the root of it all. It seems like even the company you work for has been bought. They need reporters like you to sugarcoat their names ahead of the upcoming election. You've thought about resigning. But maybe this is an opportunity. An opportunity to observe, to listen, to uncover. The people attending this party might be the same ones funding and enabling these politicians. You need to know who they are. You plan to gather as much information and evidence as you can. You won’t stop until you drag them all down. This country, and its people—deserve a better future.

“Everyone, make sure to smile and watch what you say. We need to stay on the president's good side!” he declared again, the warning in his tone was clear. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from saying something that would get you kicked out of the building on the spot. Money and greed really do change people, your boss is living proof of that.

You stepped out of the car and immediately saw several people—no, diehard supporters of the Jeons—right in front of the building. Almost every one of them held banners and props. You closed your eyes. These people irritate you! The Jeons are literally the worst animals in this country, and yet they still have their support? Are these people even thinking? When you opened your eyes again, something caught your attention—a certain person. Your eyes widened, and your mouth fell open in shock. Jiwoo noticed and asked, “What happened? Are you okay?” You didn’t reply at first, frozen by what you saw. After a moment, you managed to gather yourself and said, “What the fuck? No, I’m not okay! I just saw my mother in the crowd. What the hell?”

Your eyes remained fixed on the female figure. Jiwoo followed your gaze and gasped when she recognized the woman, your mother.

Your mother didn’t seem to notice you yet. You were about to walk toward her when Jiwoo grabbed your hand. Your co-workers and other reporters from different companies were already entering the building. You sighed. You’d deal with her later, you thought, as you and your friend stepped inside. You gasped at the sight before you—the place was stunning and definitely expensive. You tsked quietly. This might be one of the few things the people’s taxes were actually spent on. You and the others took your seats. There were specific tables assigned for particular people and companies. Buffets were set up around the room. You loved food—really, you did—but knowing whose money had paid for it made it impossible to eat.

You were busy talking to Jiwoo, secretly badmouthing those animals, when an uncomfortable feeling crept over you—it felt like someone was watching. You scanned the room but found no one staring. Maybe you were imagining things, or perhaps it was a ghost longing for justice. You tried to brush it off, and after a minute, the feeling faded. You started observing your surroundings. More people had arrived—some you knew, others you didn’t—but one thing was clear: those seated apart from your section were filthy rich. Suddenly, a spotlight hit the stage, drawing everyone’s attention. The host greeted the crowd, but your focus drifted as that familiar sensation returned—the feeling of being watched.

You darted your gaze to the side and looked up toward the balcony. Immediately, your eyes locked with his—he was staring directly at you. Your breath hitched. Jeon Jungkook: the oldest son of Jeon Jae-won, mayor of another city and rumored candidate for the position of governor. You stared at each other for too long, unable to look away. His eyes were dark—so dark that the longer you looked, the more it felt like you were being pulled from heaven straight down to hell.

If it was a sin to look at him, you’d gladly be a sinner. No one knows how long you two held that gaze. The tension became unbearable, and finally, you forced yourself to turn away, focusing back on the stage.

You were just a girl, you couldn’t help but look at him again. But this time, he was gone. Only a dominating aura remained in that balcony. You pinched the bridge of your nose, dismissing both him and your racing thoughts.

You’d been so focused on Jungkook, you hadn’t noticed his father speaking on stage. Soon, Jae-won began introducing his family: his wife, then his eldest son—Jeon Jungkook—who stood beside his father, who looked proud as ever. Once again, Jungkook’s eyes found yours. You quickly looked away and instead watched his brother being introduced. Jae-won had another son, Jeon Jung-hyun, who appeared to be your age and clearly the black sheep of the family, judging by how uninterested he looked in the event.

Jae-won didn’t forget to address his political party for the upcoming election—the highlight of the night. Jungkook was obviously a key member. Once the announcement ended and the stage shifted to entertainment, you excused yourself. You approached a guard and asked where the bathroom was. He gave directions, but they were confusing, and you almost asked him to repeat when another guard nudged him, whispered something, and both glanced at you before walking away. You really needed to pee. You headed upstairs and turned left as instructed. But there were many locked doors. ‘Shit,’ you thought, your bladder protesting loudly. You found another set of stairs and without hesitation, went up.

You opened the first door you saw and gratefully, it was the room you needed. After finishing, you were about to leave when you heard voices nearby. Curious, you cracked the door open slightly and peeked outside. You froze. President Jae-won was speaking with an unfamiliar man. This was your chance.

You pulled out your phone and hit record. “Park Chan-woo was a great man, but he fucked up and ended up jailed in another country,” Jae-won said, lighting a cigarette.

“What should we do now?” the man asked. Jae-won shrugged coldly. His words left you stunned. “It won’t be long before he drags us down with him. Silence that motherfucker before he even gets the chance.”

The president patted the man’s shoulder and walked downstairs. You slowly closed the door, careful not to make a sound. You stopped the recorder and turn off your phone. Anxiety and dark, terrifying thoughts clouded your mind. You felt trapped, scared to open the door as if the devil himself would drag you to hell. Thirty minutes passed. You had to get out. It was now or never. You calmed yourself, grabbed the handle, and opened the door. You stumbled back, coming face to face with the devil himself—Jeon Jungkook. His right hand was in his pocket, while his left extended toward you.

"Give me your phone."

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

[celestiaras]

perhaps mira x gn reader hurt/comfort where mira gets injured during a battle and the reader helps patch them up?? 😼

ft. mira, rumi, zoey (separate) x gn! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ patching them up after a battle┊0.8k words

contains: blood & injuries, rumi has demon powers

➤ author's note: it’s a little short so i did all the girls^^

━━━ .°˖✧ mira!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ your proud and hot-headed girlfriend has always had difficulty admitting her weak areas or that she’s hurt, both physically and emotionally. she has a tendency to hide her injuries for as long as she possibly can before eventually giving up because the pain becomes more than she can handle, usually after the other girls have left the two of you to have some alone time and her walls collapse after slowly crumbling for the past hour. 

“come on, mira, let me help you clean up your wound.”

“what wound? i’m perfectly fine—” her sentence was cut off by a hissing sound coming from her mouth as a sudden stabbing shot up her leg, her eyes looking down at the gash in her ankle that was gushing red with every step. her nose scrunched up in discontent before letting out a sigh and relenting to your demand. 

if it was anyone else, you probably would have teased and said something like “i told you so,” but you wouldn’t dare when it comes to mira, only motioning her to sit down on a nearby chair and kneeling down to properly patch her up. you didn’t want to sound like you were gloating. 

“it’s fine,” she started, “it doesn’t even hurt that much.”

╰₊✧ she tries her best to stay stone-faced as you disinfect her wound, not flinching or whining, but she can’t help but furrow her brows and grimace, maybe allow a single tear to stream down her face as she fights through the pain. be sure not to baby her after it, don’t kiss her and say anything like “see? that wasn’t so bad” with a patterned bandage on top, she prefers to wrap it up quickly and act like it never happened, but she will kiss you as thanks for taking care of her.

━━━ .°˖✧ rumi!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ similar to mira, rumi will try her best to hide her injuries from you, but it’s for very different reasons. due to being half-demon, she heals faster than the average human, and doesn’t quite feel the pain as intensely as she should. she just chalks it up to having a higher than average pain tolerance, it’s why she isn’t bothered by things like paper cuts or scraped knees, but she can’t always hide it from one as observant as you.

“are you okay? that looks like it would really hurt,” you asked.

“what are you talking about?” her eyes followed yours, trailing down her torso to find blood soaking through her white tee. “oh, um…” she sheepishly chuckled, “i guess i haven’t noticed yet since the adrenaline still hasn’t worn off…”

“do you need me to help?”

“no! no, you don’t need to. i can handle it myself— you should get some rest!” that was all she said before darting back to her room, slamming the door behind you and leaving you confused. 

╰₊✧ as she sits on the edge of her bed, wrapping gauze around the wound, she can’t help the guilt striking through her heart that hurts even more than the damage does. she hates hiding away this part of her, this part of her that was so confusing yet important to understand, but she doesn’t know if you would understand. she dreads the looks the girls would give her, especially the look you would give her if you found out. all she can do is continue to hide away this secret and hope that she’ll eventually find a solution. 

━━━ .°˖✧ zoey!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ once the battle is over, her knees immediately buckle to the ground, and she shouts out in pain in a cartoonish fashion. she’s been injured by these demons plenty of times before, it’s expected and comes with the job, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. it likely came from a place of carelessness, throwing her daggers at her enemies with so much focus on her attacks that she forgot to watch her defense. 

“ooohhh my gooodddd!” she cries out, clutching her wrist in agony, “that stupid demon— does it look broken to you?” she turned her head to show you her injury, tilting her head in concern for you to examine it. 

“well, it doesn’t look broken, but it might be sprained…”

“oh no! how am i going to do the choreography for our next dance practice?!”

“don’t worry about it! let’s just put some ice on it for now, and i’ll go look for the first aid kit, okay?

“okay…”

╰₊✧ while the swelling and redness go down with the cold compress, she can’t help but rethink her behavior, mulling over how ‘overdramatic’ she was being over a sprained wrist. she doesn’t want you to think she’s too much over minor things or dread how she would act if something bigger had happened, so remember to assure her that you don’t think she’s too much and that you think it’s one of her biggest charm points, it will mean a lot to her.

[l4wsrule]

⟢ ・⸝⸝ why are you crying ?

ׂ╰┈➤ how different one piece men would react to you crying over something stupid ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ

t͟a͟g͟s͟: ace, law, kidd, sanji .ᐟ , fluff, romance, sfw, comedy(?) in some parts.

n͟o͟t͟e͟: established relationship for everyone except kidd (depending how you perceive it, up to you.) i also wanted to include sabo but i currently ran out of ideas, so lmk if i should do more!!

　

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

𓇼 ⋆.˚ : The sun hangs high in a cloudless sky, its golden warmth spilling over the polished warmth of the wooden deck. Gentle waves lapping rhythmically against the hull of the Thousand sunny.

A mild breeze stirs the sails, fluttering them lazily as the ship sailed on forward, the rigging creaks occasionally. Seagulls squawking and birds chirping from a comfortable distance in the vast horizon. But otherwise, silence reigned the vessel as everyone else was sleeping in their cabins during this peaceful morning. It was quiet, too quiet.

And then, there was you. Pacing back and forth around the kitchen, a panicked mess. You were basically a walking storm, trapped in skin. The scent of burnt food from a plate placed on the counter hitting your nose with an acrid, bitter edge.

The smell, of course, didn't go unnoticed. From a particular cook in the ship who quickly rose from his sleep and made his way towards the kitchen in quick strides. Pushing the door open in panic. His mind rushed with thoughts like : "Is it an intruder, a possible enemy attack?"

But those thoughts were soon completely erased as he was met by the sight of you standing there in the middle of the kitchen, a guilty expression on your face, like a child who just broke their mother's sacred living room vase. Taking a glance behind you, he finally identified the source of the smell, a black vapor of smoke emiting from the plate. His gaze soon shifting to yours again. His worried expression immediately softened upon seeing tears streaming down your face.

"Mon amour— What's wrong, what happened ?" He implored in a soft tone, walking towards you. His hands hovering over you as if he was scared you'd break the moment he touched you.

"Food.. it..- I cooked, and it burned, and — " You muttered out incoherently between sobs. You knew he hated wasting food more than anything else.

The cook wasted no time in pulling you in his arms, into a tight, comforting embrace. He had no idea what you were saying, but, despite whatever you thought, your tears were his biggest weakness.

" Shh.. M'lady, calm down, I'm not mad at you, please stop crying. " He cooed, deseperately trying to stop your endless stream of tears soaking through his shirt.

He didn't say anything for a while, and neither did you. Simply holding you in a comforting enfold, until you quieted down and gathered your thoughts.

You were the one ending the hush.

"I wanted to cook something for everyone before you woke up, since you always work so hard, and I burned it..." Your voice trembled slightly, as though you were confessing a sin.

Sanji simply stared down at you for a moment, then let out a small laugh, like he was holding himself back just a bit more than he was letting on. He then tightened his hold on you, always ensuring and prioritizing your safety, before swiftly lifting you off the ground slightly, with ease. J enough to twirl you around in his arms.

"My love !! You're so cute I could die !!"

"Wh- Sanji !!" Your hands hung in the air, unsure of where to face them. Eyes widening. You couldn't help but laugh along at the sudden gesture. Your face an odd mix of tears and joy.

He eventually placed you down on the ground again.

"So.. you're not mad..?"

"Y/N, darling, if you told me you burned a man to ashes, I would blame him for standing in your way."

You chuckled at the reassurance, a faint blush dusting your already red, post-crying cheeks. He always had a certain way with words that boosted your mood in no time.

The blonde reached closer and wiped the remaining tears off your complexion with his thumbs, ever so gently. Treating it like fragile glass. His hands slightly cold, contrasting against your warm, roughed up face. Before placing a soft kiss to your nose.

"It's okay to make mistakes, let's remake it together before the others wake up, hm?" He reassured you, patting your back here and there.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ And so, the entire hassle was over, you eventually cooked the meals again with Sanji's help, he instructed you, carefully watching you, making sure you don't spill, burn yourself, anything of the sort. A proud, loving warm smile plastered on his face the entire time. It was both a means of bonding and teaching you more of his secret cooking tips he wouldn't tell a soul about.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

༯ ࣪ ﹏𓊝 ⋆. The moon hangs full above the idle mast, casting a spell on the currently anchored ship of the Whitebeard Pirates, lanterns swing from ropes, their golden glow flickering across their faces. The sound of crickets trilling in the grassy field ahead was loud, never loud enough to overcome their cheerful singing and laughters erupting like cannon, as they partied, for whatever reason.

Their excuse? "There is no celebration, we simply celebrate living through another day !" With half empty barrels of rum, sake.. you name it, beside them.

And you were there in the middle of them, on god knows how many bottles of rum. Probably not much, considering your tolerance. You couldn't afford to drink that much. Though you were already a tad bit tipsy, losing count of the previous ones.

Beside you, was your significant lover, none other than Ace.

"Cheers again!"

"Cheers ! To the charming lady who stole my heart ~ " He said with a cheerful smile on his face, the one he'd always wear. The one that always caused a flutter in your heart. His voice dropping down an octave at the last sentence.

You simply enjoyed eachother's presence, a bit too much. The sound of the crowd almost vanishing, that of boots stomping as the others danced with wild abandon, some arm in arm, some spinning solo.

Just as you were about to grab yourself another bottle, he did it. again. His signature move.

Ace's freckled face suddenly fell on your lap, his previous laughter soon replaced with a faint snore. Your eyes widened as you looked down at him. Hands suspended above your head, unsure of what to do.

You blinked a few times, processing it, and before you knew it, you unwillingly burst into tears. Probably due to the alcohol, but that was a conversation for another day.

"Ace !! Are you dead ?! " You whined, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. Tears helplessly falling along your tinted cheeks.

Noticing your fussy state amidst the chaos, Marco walked up to you, arms crossed, he let out an amused laughter at the two of you.

"Haha ! Y/N !! You really crying? Give him a minute or two, you should get used to it by now."

That didn't go through your head. Not the slightest bit. You continued shaking him like you're trying to reach a coin from an empty penny bank.

He soon rose from his— rather short slumber, looking at you with a dead, plain expression. Like you had just insulted his entire bloodline, accessing the situation in his half drowsy, half drunken head.

He raised an eyebrow as he saw the tears on your face. Upon noticing that, you promptly averted your gaze away from him, wiping them off using the back of your sleeve.

"..Were you crying?? " Portgas asked, a mix of worry and amusement stirring in his voice, each of the two fighting for dominance.

"Absolutely not." You affirmed, your response quick and sharp.

"Pehahaha ! You wereeee ~ " He insisted in a tune-ish tone. A laugh eventually booming out of him. A laughter that always brought warmth to your chest, no matter what. Even now, when you were pretending to be mad.

Scooting closer to you, he draped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side. His free hand curling into a fist and ruffling your hair playfully. "You thought I died or somethin' ?" The brunette teased, low chuckles escaping the back of his throat despite him. Holding himself back.

"..Could you stop doing that out of the blue? Atleast warn me beforehand!! What if you actually died?? What would I do with myself, Ace!" You dramatized, perhaps way too much. It's the alcohol, again.

He didn't exactly try to ridicule you or make fun of you, knowing how emotional you'd get in your light headed form. He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, patting your shoulder reassuringly.

"You're such a crybaby. I won't die, not anytime soon, and especially not because of this. Alright?"

How ironic.

"..'Better not, you fool.." You mumbled under your breath.

༯ ࣪ ﹏𓊝 ⋆. When you thought he hadn't heard you, well, he had. His earlier amused smile shifting into a warm, content one. Finding your tipsy, worried self oddly endearing. But brushing off this funny interaction aside, not wanting to bring down the mood, both of you soon placed your focus back to enjoying your quality time alongside eachother before the end of the night.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

˙✧˖🔧 ⋆｡˚ A gruesome fight had just ended between the Kid Pirates and another rookie crew, who foolishly thought they were good enough and actually stood a chance to match against your captain.

Your crew, of course, left the attack victorious. Albeit, the ship, Victoria, was left in a tremendously bad shape. And you were so kind to offer fixing up a few loose wooden boards.

Spoiler: You had no shipwrighting experience whatsoever.

And so you struggled, for hours. Deseperately attempting to fix the mess.. and you just may have made it worse. Though your pride didn't allow you to admit you couldn't do it.. or maybe the fear of telling Kidd. So, you simply chose to drown in silence.

You sat down, leaning against the railing. Smoothing your hair back and sighing, a few tears falling from your face with your forehead in yours hands, elbows propped on your knees.

This was dumb. Why were you crying?

You thought: everyone is so strong and reliable, You thought you could at least help with some measly ship fixing.

Zoning out, your mind eventually turned off, but your tears never ceased raining down your face. Until he passed by.

A deep, aggressive voice pierced through your earlier silence.

"Oi — You done fixing that up or what ?!"

You immediately flinched, standing up abruptly, with a hammer still in your hand. Face slightly reddened and puffy from your quiet sobs.

Kidd wasn't born yesterday, he certainely wasn't the smartest one in the bunch, either. But when something was wrong, he could definitely sense it.

" What the hell. Y/N. Crying, on my ship ? In my sight?? " He scolded roughly. A growl emitting beneath his words.

"I'm not crying, I just couldn't figure out how t —" You gave him a half-assed excuse, gripping the hammer tighter around your hand.

Eustass looked back and forth between you, the hammer, and the still unfixed mess behind you. It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"Tch— You're pathetic, give me that." He commanded firmly, his tone as gruff as ever as he took the hammer from your hand by force in one swift motion. Kneeling down where the touching up needed to be done, and getting to work without another word.

"Captain, you didn't have to, I can—" You protested quietly, walking behind him.

"Shut up and actually make yourself useful— Bring more screws. Now."

Not another word was spoken from you. You quickly hurried off to grab more supplies, sighing in relief on your way.

˙✧˖🔧 ⋆｡˚ Why, relief? Because you knew. You knew he wasn't actually mad. That's just how he is. A tough exteriour, hiding a much more caring and reliable facade, especially towards you and the rest of his crewmates. You could tell he felt just a tad bit bad for your pathetic, sorry self. Though he would never admit it out loud. And he didn't necessarily have to, since you could read him like a book anyway.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

⊱ 🧊 ׅ ✧ ⋮ Onboard the famous Polar Tang submarine, where everyone else was busy managing whatever important stuff going on. You, on the other hand, were.. well, definitely busy, with something else.

Curled up in a ball on the couch of Law's office, wrapped around yourself like a cocoon, face buried in your knees. You weeped, uncontrollably. Like you just witnessed the sky shattering and falling above you. Your form shaking slightly with each sob errupting out of you.

And there he was, sitting on his desk, his multiple attempts at focusing on his work were futile.

He'd already tried comforting you, but those attempts were just as pointless.

He wiped a hand roughly over his face, as if he was giving up on life itself entirely.

"Will you stop crying over that already ? " He grumbled gruffly, his gaze shifting to you again.

"No !! I feel so, terribly bad, I wish the ground opened and swallowed me whole ! "

"So dramatic." Trafalgar sneered, rolling his eyes.

"You just don't get it!" You whined.

"Oh, I do get it." He affirmed amidst standing up, making his way towards you again. He sat beside you, awkwardly.

You were unconsollable.

"..Listen, I really don't think Bepo's the type to hold a grudge over you accidentally stepping on him— Hell, he doesn't hold grudges at all. He's just Bepo." Law assured you, placing an awkward hand on your back, patting it a few times.

You eventually pulled your face out of your knees, sniffling, dabbing at your tears with the back of your hand.

"But— He looked so pained, and sad, and the way HE apologized because of MY mistake —"

"He's not sad, I was with him just a moment ago, he's playing cards with Penguin and the others like nothing happened. I bet he already forgot about it."

You paused. It was a long, dramatic pause. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole once again, but this time, for different circumstances. You just embarassed yourself, crying senseless over nothing. Though your tears finally stopped their ceaseless falling.

He blinked a few times, confused by your sudden silence, and the way you stared at him.

"..Really? He's not sad? Or mad at me?" You asked again, making sure, again, and again.

"I never lied to you." Law reassured you, times over, and over. As much as you needed.

With a now relieved smile, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close for a hug. He stiffened and stilled for a moment, a small, barely there blush brushing against his cheeks. But he didn't hesitate to hug you back.

"Idiot. You should really save your tears for more important matters next time." The surgeon mumbled against your hair as he plopped his chin ontop of your head. More of an advice than a scold, he didn't exactly like seeing you crying, and it showed, in his own special way.

⊱ 🧊 ׅ ✧ ⋮ He wasn't exactly the emotional type of guy. When it came to situations like this, or any situation, really. He was always more logical, rational, and critical. He acted on finding a solution rather than giving out comfort, but he learned to know how to balance between the two when it came to you, he deeply cared, despite not showing much through his cold and distant facade. Which only seemed to collapse around you.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

[strnilolover]

⌗ . . . STEPBROTHER!CHRIS STEALS YOUR PANTIES AFTER WATCHING STEPBROTHER!MATT SHOVE THEM IN YOUR MOUTH

WARNINGS : SMUT. VOYEURISM. PNV. PANTIE STEALING. CHRIS USES THEM TO GET OFF.

chris never meant for himself to get so addicted to watching the way you looked when matt fucked you—or when you were alone in your room, touching yourself with your door left cracked like you didn’t have a care in the world.

he couldn’t help himself when he walked past your bedroom door, the light spilling out into the dim hallway from the crack in your door. you didn’t close it all the way.

he stood near the door, leaning up against the frame as his eyes watched what was happening. he could see you—face pressed into your mattress with your hands tied behind your back. matt was behind you, keeping your legs spread wide open for him, your skirt bunched up around your waist.

chris could see the white laced panties you had on—the sight of them making his cock stir in his pants. he watched as one of matts hands came up to grab at your hair, tugging your head back as his other reached for the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your body.

“c’mon, open your mouth baby.” he heard matt whisper, seeing the way you immediately opened your mouth for him. matt took the soaked fabric and shoved it between your lips, telling you to bite down on it. you whimpered around them, your eyes fluttering shut.

chris exhaled at the sight, pressing closer to the crack in the door. his hand wandered down, palming himself through the fabric of his sweats as he watched matt push his cock between your folds—one hand in your hair and the other gripping your hip, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

your moans we’re filthy—the sound dulled by the fabric shoved in your mouth. chris’ free hand gripped the door frame to keep himself steady. his mind was already spiraling, already imagining how those panties would feel clenched in his fist and wrapped around his cock.

chris stood there for a long while, watching you get ruined by his brothers cock—but soon enough he backed away before he could be caught. just like he always did. he couldn’t risk staying, even if he wanted to.

he didn’t sleep much that night.

the next day, your panties we’re gone. you probably assumed matt kept them after pulling them from your wet mouth, the fabric absolutely soaked with your spit. some little trophy he liked to hold onto.

but no.

they were under chris’ pillow. he had waited until everyone was gone to sneak into your room—finding them thrown carelessly into your laundry basket. he picked them up gently, and snuck out of your room quickly.

and now it was late at night. his bedroom door closed and locked—keeping himself secluded from everyone else as he pulled them out from under his pillow slowly. The fabric was warm from being hidden for so long, still damp with your spit.

chris sank back into his bed, lifting his hips quickly as his fingers hooked into the band of his sweats and boxers, tugging them down, and wrapping the panties around his cock. he couldn’t wait any longer—he needed this.

“fuck.” he hissed, his hand tugging on his cock slowly, watching the way the fabric collected the pre-cum leaking from his sensitive tip. they became slick and warm against his skin as he thought about how matt had shoved them in your mouth, how you moaned and drooled around them.

his hips jerked up into his fist as he dug his thumb into his tip, the fabric of your panties making him feel everything so much more. “oh—fuck—“ he moaned, his head tipping back against the headboard as his hand moved faster now, your panties bunched tightly in his grip.

images of you flashed behind his eyes, all the times he’s caught you and his brother doing things you shouldn’t be doing—wishing he could have a turn at some point instead, but he wouldn’t.

his hips continued to buck, fucking his cock faster into his fist, he looked down and noticed the tiny pink bow decorating the front of the panties as it moved against him. watching the way he soaked your panties with him. the sight made his muscles tense, his balls drawing right as he came suddenly with a low groan, teeth digging into his bottom lip—biting to stay quiet.

he watched as his cum oozed through in hot, thick ropes—soaking through your panties and coating it. his breathing was heavy, small whimpers slipping out as he kept tugging his cock through his orgasm. it wasn’t until he was borderline overstimulated when his hand finally stopped, pulling the now wet fabric away from his spent cock.

he sat there breathless, chest heaving slightly as he took your panties and threw them into the corner of his room, still covered in his cum.

he definitely wasn’t going to give those back to you anytime soon.

a/n : guys this was so hot to write

[golddustwomanwins]

Say Yes to Heaven

Innocent Art Donaldson x Experienced Reader

18+

This turned out so much different from what I imagined and it might have more parts since I'm incapable of writing short stuff. Need to warm up Art a bit. Really unsure if I like this or not.

Art was a good kid. He prided himself in his faith and his ability to stay away from temptation. He was focused in his classes, dutily writing every single word down the professor uttered. While he did have a social life (Patrick) he rarely went out, rather staying in his dorm and finishing his essays early.

He caught your attention in one of your shared classes. He sat in the front row, only his golden locks in view. His eyes were trained on the board, nothing could deter his attention from the lesson. A golden crucifix dangled at his neck, the only thing out of the ordinary about him. The light of the lamps caught a reflection in it and for a moment it looked like it was on fire. When you asked your friend if she knew him, Tashi laughed.

“That’s Art Donaldson. He’s not your type, sweetie.”

You turn surprised to her. “Why do you say that?”

“He’s a faithful boy. Doesn’t look at any girl longer than would be polite. Real uptight.”

You looked back at him. How his long fingers gripped the pen tightly, veins running through his hands. As if feeling your gaze he turned slightly, wide eyes meeting yours.

His cheeks flushed furiously crimson as he caught you staring. You only smiled, wiggling your fingers at him in a wave and he quickly turned his head again.

Tashi laughed. “You’re diabolical.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you mocked her and you both broke out into quiet giggles.

*

This wasn’t Art’s usual scene. He spent his Friday nights in his dorm, reworking his essays and rereading his notes from his lectures. But ever since he saw you looking at him in class he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He knew who you were, of course he did. Everyone knew you.

One of the most gorgeous girls on campus. Despite your popular party girl persona, you still had good grades. He saw you mostly with Tashi, arm in arm walking around campus. Once he started to notice you, you seemed to be everywhere.

Writing his essay, sitting on campus ground, you and Tashi walked by. A way too short skirt swished around your tan legs, the gentle breeze lifting the fabric once again and he flushed when he saw the edge of your panties.

He looked away immediately, cheeks flushed but he couldn’t help his eyes from jumping back to you. A pit of disappointment opened in his chest when he saw that your skirt was back down.

And he surely wasn’t the only guy noticing you. Half a dozen eyes were trained on you every time you walked by or sit in class. He overheard some of them talking about you, saying vile things that made him sick. And some things that made him listen in secretly. He didn’t know if the things people said were true. That you’d liked your fair share of men, a man eater some would say.

Forbidden thoughts consumed his mind day and night. He was laying in bed late at night wondering what you were doing at the moment. Dressed in a silk slip dress hands traveling beneath the skirt and into your panties.

Art groaned at the imagery, cock growing hard. He refrained from touching himself, groaning and moaning as if he was in pain. He’d have to change his boxers every time, too much precome oozing out of his tip and making a mess out of it.

It happened over and over. He’d see you in a short dress bending over, at table talking to Tashi and he was immediately hard. He cried himself to sleep every night trying to refrain himself from easing his anguish. This was his punishment for his lewd thoughts. It was good that he was in pain, he didn’t deserve anything else.

One night he couldn’t stop himself. He would never touch himself. Instead he started rutting into his mattress, groaning your name until he came in his boxers, cum soaking the fabric. He cried again at the sticky feeling, doubling his prayers that night.

Now he was standing here. The music was buzzing around him uncomfortably, people pushing their sweaty bodies together, grinding their hips in desperation. It smelled like cheep beer and perfume and Art wanted nothing more than to go back to his dorm and bury himself under his comforter.

But there it was, his sole reason to stay. You were across the room, pupils blown wide from the liquor swishing in your cup. Pink glitter littered your eyelids sparkling like the gloss swiped along your plump lips. You had one of your short dresses on again and he swallowed hardly at your cleavage almost spilling over.

Art was standing in a corner awkwardly, hoping no one would notice him or try to talk to him. A few girls sent him flirty looks but he either ignored or didn’t notice it.

Art’s eyes were stuck on your form, talking to a frat boy, his hand on your waist, leaning down to talk in your ear.

You nodded your head enthusiastically at whatever the guy was saying but your eyes were wandering around the room. It struck him in his chest when your eyes found his across the room.

To his horror he felt himself flush again and his eyes widened when you parted with the guy and started approaching him.

“Hey, Art.”

You knew his name. How did you know his name? Art melted slightly as you smiled up at him, your cheeks flushed and lips glossy. There was a foreign sparkle in your eyes, your pupils dilated and gaze not entirely trained on him. It kept flitting up and down as if you weren't able to focus properly.

And he still hadn't said anything.

The smile on your lips tilted slightly the longer he didn't say anything. Finally, he managed to get something out. "H-hi." What a way to go Donaldson.

Despite his complete inability to talk, the smile fixed back on your lips. One hand of yours found his bicep and you suddenly leaned up to talk in his ear. A soft cloud of perfume hit his senses and he stiffened in his jeans as his eyes focused on your carefully manicured nails on his skin.

"I was just heading out for a smoke. Do you want to join?" You turned your head to look at him, face far too close.

No. That was what he should have said. Decline politely but surely. In no way would it be a good idea to be alone with you in such proximity.

"Y-yeah, sure."

You beamed at him, lighting up your whole face and he couldn't regret agreeing to join you in that moment. Your fingers found his wrist and you dragged him after you. People parted for you naturally, some of them throwing surprised looks at you both. What did you have in common with prissy Art Donaldson? Nothing.

Art flushed at the attention but kept going his fingers reaching for yours. You turned and shot him a sweet smile as you entertained your hands.

Once you stepped outside the music grew quieter, only the dull thrum of the bass shaking the ground beneath your feet. The cold night air hit Art's flushed face and for a moment it was easier to form a coherent thought.

He watched you step out of your high heels, kicking them to the side before pulling him down to sit on the patio. You buried your naked feet in the soft grass, due drops trailing along the green blades.

He almost sighed when you pulled your hand from his, putting the cigarette between your lips. Your lips gloss stained the brown part as you cupped your hands to light it up. For a moment the flame flickered along your face, opening a pit in Art's stomach. He should leave. He will leave. Just a moment longer. Just for one cigarette.

"I didn't think you a party goer," you spoke up after inhaling slowly. You pulled your knees up to put your cheek on them, watching him closely.

He smiled embarrassed, only one side of his lips tugging up. Your eyes caught on the half smile. "This is my first." You grinned. "Your first party, huh?" Taking another drag you kept watching him, making Art squirm in his seat. You were different from what he imagined. Much more softer. Gentler. Still, there was something inquisitive in your eyes that made the alarm bells ring in his mind. Danger, danger, danger.

"What changed your mind, to try it out?" you asked, smoke passing along your lips. You noticed him glancing down once and again, small dimples forming in your soft cheeks.

Art glanced down at his fingers, pulling at a thread of his shirt. He had pulled out his best shirt, ironed it and tried in on in front of a mirror before deeming it perfect for the night. Unknowing of how must guys came in lazy attire, t-shirts and old henleys.

"I don't know," he whispered. He looked up surprised when you laughed.

"Don't lie."

The flush on his cheeks travelled down his neck when you caught him in a lie. Your eyes snagged on the necklace dangling from his neck. You reached out, nails scraping along his skin as you took the pendant in your hands. Art shivered and watched you inspect his necklace.

"It's pretty," you said, smiling softly up at him. Art inhaled shakily as you watched him through your impossibly long lashes.

"My nan gave it to me," he mumbled.

"She did? So it's true, you're a faithful boy." You put the cigarette back between your lips. Art's eyes dipped again. "Yeah."

"What a shame," you mumbled. Suddenly, you got up, letting the half smoked cigarette fall to the floor.

"What--" Art shot up to his feet surprised that you were leaving. He watched you bend over to retrieve your shoes, quickly looking away as a flash of pink greeted him.

"Where are you going?" Art asked desperately and you smiled up at him, shoes still dangling from your hands. "Back inside."

"I-it's nice out, isn't it? We can stay a bit. I don't mind," he rushed through the words. He said he'd stay with you for one cigarette but you hadn't finished it. It was half done, lying on the ground, sad smoke still billowing up from it.

"You're a nice guy, Art," you said. "Go home and do whatever you usually do on Friday nights. This isn't your scene."

Art deflated. This was the first time he was genuinely interested in a girl and she turned him down. What was he thinking? It was good that you were turning him down. Nothing could've happened anyway.

He inhaled slightly, hands tugging at his crucifix. "I like talking to you. Let's just stay out here for a little," he begged. You eyed him warily.

"I'm not the right girl for you," you told him. Your cheeks were growing flushed and he didn't know if it was from the cold or not. Your words had a deeper meaning. Did you think you weren't worthy of him? That you would ruin him?

"We can talk," he persisted and you smiled sadly. "Just say yes."

"Usually boys don't just talk to me," you said. His heart sunk at your words, knowing exactly what you were implying with your words. Your eyes dipped back to his necklace. "But you can."

Art beamed at you and for a moment it looked like a halo glowed from above him, golden curls lighting up with his joy. You both sat down again, shoulders brushing, your shoes dangling from your fingers.

It was an unfamiliar sight. A few of the party guests looked out of the glass doors offering a strange look on the patio. You're silhouette sinful, shadows dancing along your curves, swallowing you. Art was submerged in the moonlight, features soft and relaxed. The only point where shadow and light touched were your shoulders, brushing against each other shyly.

Part 2

[cuntyyforchris]

𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐜.𝐬

word count. 432

you weren’t supposed to be alone with him.

not after last weekend. not after the kitchen. not after his mouth on your neck and your hand down his sweats.

but your brother, nathan, invited chris over again like nothing had happened, and now here you are. pretending like you didn’t just make eye contact with chris when he stretched on the couch, jaw tight, shirt riding up like he wanted you to look.

and you did. you always did.

but you shouldn’t be in his lap.

“what are you doing?” you whisper, barely moving your mouth. you’re sitting on his thighs, facing the tv. the room’s dark. nathan’s upstairs. and chris’s fingers are already under the waistband of your shorts.

he hums low, like he’s bored. “relax. you’ll make it weird.”

“i’m not—chris, shut up,” you whisper-shout, trying to grab his wrist— but he only slips his hand lower.

your breath stutters when his fingers find your heat, slow and deliberate. his palm presses tight against you, pinning you in place. he doesn’t even look away from the screen.

“so fucking wet,” he mutters under his breath, lips barely moving. “you knew i was gonna do this.”

you swallow hard, shaking your head. “nathan’s home.”

“yeah,” he says, dragging one thick finger through your folds. “so be quiet.”

you bite your lip, hard. he circles your clit, slow and lazy like he’s got all the time in the world.

your hips jerk, instinctive. he clicks his tongue.

“if you get loud, i’m stopping.”

you nod. quickly. breathlessly. and then he slips a finger in.

you squeeze your thighs shut. he grins.

“knew you could take it,” he whispers, brushing his lips against your ear. “been thinking about this since the lake.”

you let out a shaky breath, and he covers your mouth immediately.

“uh uh,” he hums. “don’t make me cover your mouth and your throat.”

you whimper against his palm.

he fucks you slow, steady, with two fingers now. his other hand stays over your lips, holding your head back to his chest. you’re dripping. soaked. clenching around his fingers and silently begging for more.

“you’re so good like this,” he breathes. “all bratty when nathan’s around, but the second i touch you—”

your body tenses. your stomach twists. your legs tremble.

“—you fall apart. my perfect fucking secret.”

you come in silence. twitching in his lap. mouth open. eyes wet. he kisses your shoulder and wipes his fingers on your thigh.

“go say goodnight to your brother,” he says casually, like he didn’t just break you open. “then come upstairs.”

a/n: i was supposed to post this yesterday but then i saw family and forgot to schedule it😭

— typed with one hand, lola.

© cuntyyforchris

[tojigasm]

Thinking very hard about Logan talking you through it

He knows you're close ultimately before you do. Seasoned by his many years of life, your tells are specific but not impossible to discern.

It's different each time he's come to realize. A different scent to you based on the mood you're in, how quickly he brings you there, your vulnerability, and how he speaks to you.

Logan's a greedy man. He knows that. And he knew as soon as the first time it'd happened that he shamelessly selfish in getting what he wanted.

You smell like cinnamon and vanilla and fuck if it wasn't better than all the drugs he'd ever tried combined.

A part of him still thinks he might be chasing your high.

He learned quickly how to manipulate you to get different responses. Testing out what you react to and which scent meant what.

When it's a euphoric intimacy, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla isn't so strong. It's diluted some, like a soft cloudy mist.

More emotionally frustrated intimacy smells far more tart, almost coppery. It often reminds him of blood in his mouth, soaking into his lungs and taste buds like tar.

When you're in a far more glum mood, you smell like rain on cement. He's starved for it.

You're so pretty beneath him. Eyes lidded and swollen lips parted loosely as he scissors his middle and forefinger against your velvet walls.

Logan bumps his palm against your clit and you let you a gasp – your hand jumping from the bedsheets to grip his forearm.

"Right there, huh?"

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you give him a nod at that, tucking your chin to your chest as he moves his other hand to press one of your thighs upwards to where your knee almost hits your breast.

He slips his hand from your cunt, moving to pull your other hand to hold your own thighs to your chest.

Wordlessly, he kneels and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed before hooking his arms around your waist.

Without warning, he runs the flat of his tongue up the length of your cunt to your clit with a deep hum.

You know he can feel you shiver beneath him by the way he smiles against the sopping folds of your cunt.

"Feel good?" He chuckles softly, looking up at you from between your thighs.

You're reduced to broken whines and choked gasps, but you manage a hum in response, readjusting your grip on the backs of your thighs as Logan slips his tongue past your folds.

You smell of faint cinnamon.

"Lo," you sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes with a chipped whine.

Logan hums into your cunt, the sharp of his nose rocking back and forth against your clit.

He unwraps his arm from around your waist, reaching upwards to weave your hands together with a soft squeeze.

"Haa... ahh." Your voice grows watery as Logan brings you closer to the edge.

"M'close, Lo," you breathe, readjusting your hand on your thigh to keep it close to your chest.

"I know, sweetie." He circles his tongue around your bundle of nerves before blowing a stream of air onto your clit, "m'gonna get you there."

When he sucks on your clit again, you're cumming almost immediately with a shiver that simmers itself down your spine to your toes.

"There we go. It's a big one, huh."

A wave of vanilla woven with cinnamon washes over him and he nearly cums in his jeans.

You hear Logan before you've noticed he's moved from between your legs to stand above you, thumb circling your clit softly.

Whining, you turn your head into his forearm beside you.

"Doin' so good, sweetie," He coos, stroking his hand, still held by your own, down the side of your face before placing a kiss on your temple.

Your smell is much more prominent there, as though it travels through the roots of your hair and tickles itself through your soft skin.

Another shiver runs down your spine, causing the air on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand.

"Need you." You sob, voice muffled by the skin of his arm.

He settles down beside you on the bed, chin propped up on the flat of his right palm, squeezing your hand with his.

"You're okay."

The vanilla sinners throughout the room, and he swears he can see it in the dust that floats past the Amber hues of his room.

[mikae1o]

Too long

pairing: Arlecchino x wife!reader

tw: kissing, neck kisses, hickeys, Arlecchino with a dick, fingering, cunnilingus, rough sex, squirting, Arlecchino missed her wife, Arlecchino begging if you squint, Arlecchino in love :P

word count: 2.4k

context: After being sent away from her wife for a month she finally comes back with a lot on her mind.

It wasn't rare for Arlecchino to be sent away on harbinger duties. Most of the time she is gone for 5 days, a week, 10 days? But it's never been a month.

When Arlecchino heard the news she herself was flabbergasted, I mean how could she stay away from her dear wife? The old Arlecchino wouldn't have minded, but now? She surely had a problem. She tried to bring it up with the Tsaritsa but nothing. So on her way she went.

The day she had to part ways with you she gave you a long passionate kiss. She didn't want to pull away. You had to literally claw at her to pull her off of you.

"I'll be back before you know it," she said as she left. One month. It shouldn't be that hard, right? Yeah, it shouldn't! The month will fly by and she will come back to lay in your arms. Well, that's what she thought at least.

The second Arlecchino arrived at the hotel she would be staying at, she missed her wife. She changed clothes quickly and flopped on the bed, but all she could think about was you. Your touch, your lips, your warm embrace and your very warm cunt squeezing her. She groaned as her pants tightened uncomfortably but she didn't dare touch herself. Not without you here. All she did was shut her eyes and sleep, well, at least try to.

The month was passing by really slowly for our poor Arlecchino. She couldn't even pay attention to the meetings she was having without thinking about you. She wanted you, needed you. During this time she has also had a lot of accidents such as her pants tightening at the tiniest thought of you even during the meetings. But every night she wouldn't dare slip her hand under her pants to relieve herself. To her it felt like she was betraying you. Every time that would happen, she would just force herself to sleep.

Finally. It was the day she would leave. She couldn't wait. Getting to see her dear wife after so long. The whole way there she was smiling to herself.

The minute she arrived she rushed inside of your shared house. She searched for you in every room and then she came across your bedroom.

"Ah, honey! You're finally back-" she didn't let you finish your sentence before she pounced on you and pulled you into an embrace.

"My love, I missed you so much," Arlecchino said as she kisses you.

"I missed you too, my dear," you exclaim happily. You stayed like that for a while, wrapped into each others arms until Arlecchino's kisses started to become more fierceful as she started to grind against you.

"My love, please..." was all she could say to you.

"A-Arle? Are you quiet alright?" you asked but she didn't respond, though you understood what was wrong. Your husband has had a long month and you could feel it through her pants.

"Oh, my dear husband has had a long month hasn't she? Well, go ahead, my love-" that was all she needed as she ripped off your clothes and started to leave marks all over you. She grabbed your thighs, spreading them as wide as possible as she fell to her knees in front of your cunt.

"So pretty..." Arlecchino said as she licked a long stripe up your soaking slit. She continued to lap at your pussy as she slid two of her fingers inside of your cunt. Her fingers immediately found your g-spot and she started to attack it. Her tongue swirled around your clit then she sucked it harshly before she slid her fingers out and stopped all her movements, denying you an orgasm.

"A-Ah... Hah... Wait! W-why did you stop..." You cried out as she got up.

"I'm sorry, my love but I need to have you now," she said as she slipped down her pants to reveal her aching cock standing tall with precum at its tip.

"I've waited for so long..." she exclaims as she crawls on top of you, hoisting your legs around her hips as she presses her tip against your opening.

She pushes inside fully, spreading you open around her cock. Not wasting any time she immediately starts to ram your insides, bed slamming against the wall. She kisses your neck, marking it with hickeys as she continues to pound you. Your moans got louder and louder as her groans did the same. She nuzzled her face in your neck and bit harshly to prevent any more embarrassing sounds that came from her mouth. Her pace didn't slow down at all, it only got faster. The feeling of your cunt squeezing her was making her go insane as she continued her assault against your g-spot. The sound of moans, grunts, pants and skin slapping each other filled your bedroom. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, consumed by pleasure. You're close and she can feel it.

"A-Arle! Please! So close!" you exclaim as your moans get louder and your back arched.

"Go on, my love. Come for me," she says as she starts to rub your clit fiercely. In minutes you're squirting all over her moaning her name loudly.

She pulls out and flips you on your stomach. You turned your head around to look at her, but her strong arm pushes your face into the pillows.

"We're not done yet, my love..."