#it's so nice to get in touch with you again

[robinismywifesworld]

Ms. Manager

Saja boys x Fem! Reader

Summary: The Saja boys can't help but be enamored by their dumb and pretty manager.

Warning: Possessive! Saja boys, tw.death (not reader or any of the saja boys), dumb! reader, oblivious! reader, crybaby? Reader, a bit suggestive I guess?, might be incorrect grammar and spellings, probably more.

Author's note: Bear in mind that this is my first post here on tumblr, pretty new to this because I usually post my stories on Wattpad. I could write how they met or another part of this but I need some ideas, only if you end up liking this one though. I practically wrote this on a whim. I did not proofread this lol

[Last name] [Your name], a name most popular uttered by many people, a name who could turn many heads at the direction with just at a simple mutter, a name that could break a cold person's exterior, and lastly, a name that could easily steal the hearts of the upcoming Korean boy group the Saja boys.

The Saja boys were currently at their own dance rehearsals because they can't exactly steal fans if they don't look great, sing great and dance great, would they?

Jinu lets out an exasperated sigh as he stared at the group of demons, glaring daggers at the other four demons who just can't get the dance right. "We're meant to jump in sinc at this part." He said, crossing his arms as Baby Saja rolls his eyes from behind Abby, thinking their leader wouldn't be able to see. "Why you!-" the dark haired male was about to stomp over when the door opened.

The five males immediately straightened their postures at the sight of her.

[Your name].

Their very own manager.

Standing there with a bright smile plastered on your pretty face as you held the lyrics of their song Soda pop in hand given to you by Jinu.

"Ms. Manager, good to see you." Abby gives out a little wave, shirt riding up to show a bit of his skin and toned body. "You're late. Again."

It wasn't a secret to the five of them that you were admittedly... not that great of a manager, even though they don't have much experience of how a manager actually acts but they just don't want to get rid of you. Not when you looked at them so prettily that they can't help but want more of you, definitely not when you smelled so sweet that they just want to get closer to you just to smell you, and definitely not when you touch them as if they were made of glass (and they weren't, but to them, you clearly are).

Before they met you, you were in need of a job and well... you had a very unforgettable first meeting with them that they just have to keep you to themselves.

"I'm sorry, the landlord upped the expense of the rent." You said, giving them an apologetic look as you handed them each a plastic bottle of cold water. "And he wouldn't exactly leave me alone..." You added, unbeknown of the eyes glowing yellow at the mention of the bastard who wouldn't leave you alone when you turned around to fix the papers.

Romance hums, stepping closer to you. "We did offer that you could stay with us," He voiced, placing a hand on your waist.

You look up at the male who stared down at you, a dreamy look on his face as he tried his hardest not to brush his hand on your soft-looking cheek. "Like I said, there aren't exactly many rooms in the house you reside in that could let me stay there." You pointed out.

It was true, the house they stayed in or more likely, stolen from people before they got their souls, only had five bedrooms, fitting for the five of them.

The heart shaped haired male had his eyes trail over to your plump lips and before he could quip something else, he was suddenly bumped to the side by their muscular member who couldn't help but replace the hand on your waist with his own, pulling you closer to his bigger frame. "Just stay with us." He whispers, voice deep.

You can't help but feel your heart racing at his words but put some distance by leaning back, "Abby, that's not very nice. You just hurt Romance." You frowned as you turn to the other male who immediately changed his glare pointed to Abby to a happy smile as he saw you turn to him.

"He's a big boy, he can handle a little bump." Abby rolls his eyes as Baby snickers.

Before you could tell him to apologize, Jinu walks over to you. "They're right, you know. You wouldn't have to deal with your landlord if you just stayed with us, I can just give you my room and sleep on the living room." He offers, hoping he could change your mind and stay with them instead.

"It's fine, guys really. Thanks for the offer but I really can't, you already appointed me as your manager even when I don't have much experience..." You murmured before feeling Abby's hand on your waist tighten. "It's just some old guy anyway, it's not that big of a deal." You try to reassure, lips turned up in the pretty smile that softened their exteriors.

"Do you want me to take care of him for you?" Everyone turned to Mystery who uttered those words, the rest grumbled, clearly wanting to be the one to say that to you.

You look confused by what he meant but shook your head, "No, it's alright, you don't have to."

"I'd do anything for you," The male mumble as he watched you refuse their offers some more, clearly not having heard what he mumbled.

Baby slumps into your back making you let out a cute little yelp at the added weight, "You can just sleep with me." He said, lips brushing over the back of your neck causing you to shiver.

The others immediately disproved of that.

They watched as their little Ms. Manager gave them a wave goodbye before walking off towards the bus stop.

It was silent for a bit before Baby saja finally says, "We're getting rid of him, right?"

The next day, you slammed the door open, breathing shakily as the Saja boys turned to you in concern. You were trying to catch your breath, practically running here to inform them of the news that had been delivered to you by a fellow neighbour.

"You alright, pretty girl?" Romance was the first to ask as Jinu stopped the music.

Their concern was a facade of course. They know what you were gonna say, practically smelled your scent miles away as you moved to get to them. They held back smirks of their own as they stared down at your form.

"H-he... the landlord- he's dead," You said, eyes wide and clearly still in shock. "One of my neighbours saw dismembered bodies and- oh gosh... it sounded so frightening."

The whimpers you let out highened their growing arousal as they stared at you, eyes darkening as they fought the urge to take you right then and there.

"Wh-what if that happens to me-" You were tearing up now.

Oh, those tears. Those beautiful tears.

Baby licks his lower lip at the sight, the desire to lick them with his tongue growing. He can't help but wonder what you tasted.

Jinu walks up to you immediately, in faux concern, placing a hand on you shoulder to comfort you. "We're very sad to here that..." He said with a frown and furrowed his eyebrows. "But you shouldn't worry about that happening to you, Ms. Manager."

You look up at him and the dark haired male praised himself for not pouncing on you at the sight. Sniffling, you asked. "Wh-what?"

He gave you a small yet reassuring smile, "If you stay with us, you'd never get hurt by that awful killer on the loose."

"We'll be sad without our pretty little manager to tend to our needs..." Abby adds on.

"We need you, I need you." Mystery whispers.

Your body was shaking, overwhelmed by everything that's happening.

However, if this little thing didn't change your mind yet... then they'd just have to take you, with or without your consent. You're theirs after all.

You were just their pretty, dumb manager and they'd eliminate anyone who would stand in the way of their love.

[yan-randomfandom]

I've been reading the fanart. You have a natural talent for creating a more distinctive personality for the Saja Boys from the bits and pieces they gave us in the movie!

Ever since that fanart where the Saja sneaked into the reader's room, I couldn't stop imagining what they would be like sleeping alone with her, as if every day of the week except the weekends they will take turns sleeping with the reader or something like that.

And again, I love your writing. I hope you like the idea. Have a nice day!!!

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; anon thank you so much heheh!!! this one isn't too accurate to your idea, but i love it and i hope it's still okay!

summary; physical touch with the boys and why they wanna go to your bedroom :))) (touch starved. written separately but they all live in the same housing)

warnings; stalking (watching you sleep), body curious, touching w no permission, nothing sexual tho!

— 🍃 [Monday]

Here's the thing, guys. The boys don't actually need sleep. They're demons. Sleep isn't something their bodies need—instead it's something they want. They are still aware and can feel through touch, which is exactly why they'd prefer to sleep with you.

You're warm, so alive, and they don't know it yet.

Surprisingly enough, Jinu is the first one to knock on your door.

"Jinu?" you drawl, voice laced with sleep. He stands awkwardly by the doorway, patiently waiting for you to process what's happening. Glancing idly at your sleepwear and dimlit room.

You yawn, widening the door. "What's up? Need something?" You pause, raising a lazy accusing finger. "Wait. You're not here to suck my blood, are you—?!"

"What? No!" Jinu gasps, almost offended. You sigh out of relief anyway.

"...We're not interested in physical bodies. Anyway, uh, sorry for waking you up. I just need to see how our socials are going," he explains as he steps into your room. "You can power your computer and go back to sleep."

As soon as you heard the word 'social', you were already turning it on. "'kay, buddy. You sure you don't need help, though? I know I taught you a bit but I understand it can get confusing—"

"No, no," Jinu huffs, denial flooding his form. "I can do it."

"You remember how to turn it off?"

"Yes. Don't worry."

Then you fall asleep next to him, your body slightly pressing against his. His eyes slowly drift away from the glow of the computer screen to your sleeping form. He stares for a moment.

Soft, warm. It reminds him of the past on how he couldn't sleep with his own fam—

Jinu pulls the computer plug off and teleports away.

—💐 [Tuesday]

Baby made you piggyback him. A lot. It was sort of your fault.

You saw the Saja Boys taking turns carrying him—it was a pretty funny ordeal. Then you jokingly offered to piggyback him to see what the hype was about.

He accepted it all too eagerly. As soon as his full weight falls on you, you're genuinely surprised at how light he is. It's probably equivalent to a box full of volleyballs.

"You're lighter than I thought," you say, adjusting your arms behind his legs.

Baby suddenly lets his head rest on yours. "Why are you so..." Warm. He buries himself into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

"Why am I so what?" you ask, turning your head, only achieving to tickle him more.

He doesn't let you go for the rest of the day.

And by extension, night.

You tried to complain at first. "Didn't we agree to—"

"Just this once, please?"

You folded.

He snuggles all comfortable within your arms, acting as the little spoon, greedily content in your warmth and breathing.

But then you wake up with his mouth on your skin. He wasn't biting, sucking, or anything. It was just.... there.

Still, though, you assumed the worst.

"I thought you said demons don't suck blood, Jinu!?!"

"We don't!!?!"

—🪷 [Wednesday]

Abby wanted you to touch his abs for some mysterious reason. Yapping about how "no one else will have this chance," or "you might not live long enough to feel it!" and "I actually haven't let anyone touch my artificial abs yet" — it was really weird, but you shrugged it off and agreed anyway.

Like hell yeah. Sure, why not?

So he unbuttons his shirt, all giddy, and watches as you reach for his skin.

You make contact with his abs. Caressing it gently, it feels normal in texture — but you suppose it's a little too cold. The fact didn't totally sound weird at the time.

Looking up, you flinch at Abby's expression. You thought he'd be smiling, like he was the whole time, but he looks so serious that it's actually concerning. He's not looking at you; his eyes were down and fixated on your hand.

You notice, pulling your hand away from him, and snapping your fingers. "You okay?"

He blinks. "Uh."

Later that night, Abby welcomes himself into your room.

He stares at you from the corner. From the center. From the edge of your bedframe. On your bed.

Sometimes, he'd gently let his hands roam over your exposed skin. Mostly your warm hands. And your warm face.

You wake up to find his face in front of you.

Screaming, you unintentionally kick him in the abs.

"Ow, my perfectly crafted abs!"

— 🪻 [Thursday]

Mystery almost lost it when you pat his head.

You did it voluntarily. It's a nice, comforting feeling as you pat his shoulder, his arm, and his cheek. He utterly melts under your casual touches without a single word.

He loves it. You leave him demanding for more. So, Mystery decides to linger around you like a guard dog. Who hopes to be spoiled, who wishes to be held.

But, then, night comes.

"You're not exactly allowed in my room," you say, only to pause when he straight up whimpers.

... You folded. With a sigh, you step away from the door and give him space to walk in.

He happily skips into your room, flopping face-first on your bed. You stare at him for a moment, thinking about how despite them not being human — they really love to rest.

You lie down, feeling Mystery move around under your blanket, closing your eyes when he finds himself comfortable against your chest.

Your chest rising and falling with every breath—Mystery simply can't help but feel envious.

— 🌺 [Friday]

Romance is confused.

There's a buzz between his band members — apparently, they visited your bedroom? Didn't they agree to avoid that specific place in this house?

He doesn't realize he's been staring blankly at nowhere. Reality hits him hard when something gentle touches his hair.

"Might wanna style your hair again, Rome," you chuckle, brushing his hair with your fingers. He shivers when your skin grazes his forehead. "You got the bed head. Though I guess you just snap your fingers and it'd be all okay."

You leave right after that, but Romance keeps staring at the last place he saw your figure, his fingers fidgeting with the hair you just touched.

Okay. He gets it now.

Next day, you woke up with him hovering over your head.

You suddenly grab his shoulders, push him back against your bed, breathing heavy from the shock. The bed sinks under both your weight.

Romance stares immensely up at you.

"You guys," you breath, "will be the death of me."

He smirks. "I can only imagine."

— krazy

[cameronsbabydoll]

BASIC TRAINING — CHAPTER TWO

WARNINGS — power imbalance, suggestive comments, physical touch (shoulder, hair, guiding), age gap tension, gaslighting-style manipulation, rafe being icky/possessive, grooming-adjacent behavior, internalized guilt

You weren’t supposed to be alone.

Your dad gave you rules. More than rules, really—an entire itinerary. You were supposed to read for your summer classes, organize his files, avoid the barracks, and “keep to the other officer’s kids if you need friends.”

Except the other officer’s kids are twenty-somethings with active duty assignments or civilian lives far from here. They don’t sit at mess. They don’t linger by the soda machine. They don’t stop and say hi.

But Rafe does.

You don’t know his name yet. Not officially.

You just know the way his eyes linger. How his shoulders stretch his t-shirt. How his dog tags swing low when he jogs past you in the mornings—shirtless, dripping with sweat, smirking when he catches you staring.

You hadn’t meant to stare.

But it’s hard not to.

He’s… tall. And mean-looking. He has a buzzcut that makes him look even meaner. You’re not really into tattoos, but he’s got one on his arm you keep thinking about. A snake winding around a dagger.

You’d only noticed because he caught you looking. Again.

And then he winked.

It’s been three days now since you arrived on base. Your dad is swamped. The heat is unrelenting. You’ve reread the same chapter of your textbook six times and still don’t understand what Plato’s Allegory of the Cave is even about.

So you get up early.

You walk the perimeter road.

You grab a Coca-Cola from the machine outside the barracks. Sit on the shaded curb. Watch the soldiers run drills in the distance, far enough away that you don’t feel weird about it.

That’s where he finds you.

“Didn’t peg you for the early morning type.”

His voice startles you.

You twist around fast, can already feel the pink rising in your cheeks. It’s him. The man from the jogs. The tattoos. The stare. He’s not in uniform this time. He’s in a white shirt and gray sweats, both clinging like they’ve earned the right to his body. You hate how that thought even forms.

“I—uh. I didn’t know anyone else came here this early,” you manage, gripping your drink tighter.

He smirks.

“And here I thought this base was crawling with rules.”

There’s a beat. “But I guess that only applies to the rest of us.”

You blink. “Huh?”

He crouches a little, elbows resting on his knees. Close, but not too close. His eyes flick to your soda.

“You know there’s coffee inside, right?”

You shrug. “I don’t really like coffee.”

“Right.” He squints like he’s just realized something. “Sugar rush, not caffeine.”

He says it like he knows something about you that you don’t.

Then: “Makes sense. You’re a sunshine type of girl.”

“A what?”

“You know,” he grins. “The kind that wakes up humming. Writes in a pink notebook. Says stuff like ‘golly.’”

He leans closer. “Am I wrong, sugar?”

You feel like your brain short circuits. You try to laugh, but it comes out awkward. “I don’t say ‘golly.’”

“Yet.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

He just keeps looking at you. His gaze feels heavier than it should. You shift in place. His eyes follow the movement, pausing too long at your knees before flicking back up to your face.

“I’m Rafe,” he says finally. “Staff Sergeant. Been here too long.”

You nod. “Nice to meet you.”

“You got a name, princess?”

You tell him.

He repeats it. Quietly. Like he’s tasting it.

It shouldn’t make your stomach flutter.

After that, he starts showing up more.

He always has a reason. Always casual. Always calculated.

You’ll be carrying a box of your dad’s reports—he takes it from your arms without asking.

You’ll be at the vending machine—he guides your hand to press the right button.

You’ll be reading alone—he sits just close enough that you can smell him: sweat, cologne, something like cedar and anger.

Every time he calls you princess or sugar, you go still.

He’s so much older. More experienced. Bigger. His voice is always low, like he knows you’ll lean in to hear it better. And you do. Every time.

One afternoon, he catches you by the printer in the admin hall, struggling to staple a stack of papers. Your dad asked you to file them, but the staple keeps jamming.

You hiss softly, shaking the thing out. That’s when a broad hand appears behind yours.

“Move,” he says. You do, startled.

He fixes it in seconds.

Then he looks down. You hadn’t realized how close he’s standing. You’re basically against the wall. His hand is still on your shoulder, firm.

“You gotta be careful with these,” he says, low. “They bite.”

“Yeah.. I-I noticed,” you whisper.

He leans in, his mouth next to your ear.

“You ever been bit before?”

You don’t answer.

Your cheeks are burning. Your eyes drop to the floor. You know he’s watching them water.

When he finally pulls back, he taps your chin once with his finger.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

You try to avoid him the next day.

But it doesn’t work.

You’re walking back from the mess hall, still chewing a bite of banana bread, when a shadow falls across the path in front of you.

It’s him.

You stop. So does your breath.

He raises an eyebrow.

“No ‘hi’ today?”

You look down. “I didn’t see you.”

He hums. “That’s a lie.”

He steps forward. You step back.

But it’s just one step. Then he sighs and hooks his fingers into your bag strap.

“Relax, sweetheart. I just wanna walk with you.”

You’re not sure why you let him.

But you do.

He walks slow. Leisurely. His hand brushing yours every few seconds, like he’s testing to see what you’ll do. You don’t pull away.

When you reach the main building, he tugs your strap again—just a little.

“I ever make you uncomfortable, you tell me.”

You blink. Look up at him.

“No,” you say. “You haven’t.”

That smile again.

The one that makes your chest feel weird.

“Good girl.”

You can’t stop thinking about that for the rest of the day.

Not the words. But the way he said them.

Low. Rough. Possessive. Like it meant something.

Like you meant something.

[madamechrissy]

Mr. Nanami's Secretary

Pairings - Boss Nanami x Secretary reader

Contents/warnings- based off the movie 'The Secretary' quite clearly aha, BDSM heavy, dom/sub elements, Nanami is NOT nice lol, power dynamics, some sexual teasing, quite an ass beating bc Nanami is mad at your typos!!!

This is for my baby @indiewritesxoxo she wanted this fic to win so badly lol! If ya'll want a tag for part two lmk in the comments <3

How did you end up here?

Crawling on all fours, with Mr. Nanami's paper dangling between your lips, wearing your black gartered stockings and your little blouse and pencil skirt, utterly professional looking - but here you are, crawling like a little puppy over his hardwood floors. As you get closer and enter his office, he leans back, lowering his green glasses, stern face assessing you when you crawl up to him.

You tilt your chin up and he reaches a hand down, tugging it out of your teeth's grip, inspecting it while tugging at his cheetah tie. It's the one quirky thing about his otherwise serious attire, this suit that fits him just a bit tightly, his muscles so big under his dress shirt it's like the material has to stretch.

You know there are two outcomes to this paper.

One, praise.

Two, punishment.

You're perfectly happy with either, you love his punishment as much as you love his praise - only one thing would be better, and that's having all of Mr. Nanami, which you're dying for. Your cunt is wet again just thinking about it, about another three days of not sitting right because he's beat you with his belt, and maybe he'd actually do more with you.

Nanami's lips purse as he's carefully studying your typing, if he finds just one flaw, you'll be bent over his desk, if you do it perfectly, he'll pat your head so sweet and let you rest your cheek on his lap. The thoughts make your heart race, as you patiently wait, your palms flat on your thighs as he likes you.

"Hmm," his husky sound just makes you desire him more, fuck you're tired of touching yourself to the thoughts of him, eyeing his side profile in the soft lights ahead. "What a shame, you almost got it all completely perfect."

"I did-"

"Did I tell you to speak?" His voice is calm, raising a thin brow, turning to you now, you're flushed when he tilts your chin up with two fingers, hazel eyes glinting.

"No, Sir."

"No, I didn't, yet you're still talking, huh?" You open your mouth again, just to close it. "I was going to let this slide, because it's just one letter wrong, but..."

He stands now, pushing back his giant office chair, standing so tall over you as his hand enwraps in your hair, tugging just a bit, you see the tenting in his slacks, making your cunt throb around nothing. You barely hold in a whine as he speaks slowly.

"Go lock the door."

You know better than to argue or ask, it's been your new routine, serving him, and he in turn tells you what to do. What to eat, what to wear, what to say, fuck you love it, love feeling like finally your life has some sort of order, wanting it to belong to him utterly.

With a gentle click of his door, you look back over your shoulder at him, so tall and broad, he's loosened his tie just a bit, showcasing the veins running across his neck. You swallow nervously as you head back to him, until your heels are right against his perfectly polished dress shoes.

"Bend over the desk," he murmurs, stepping around it, as you walk up nervously, doing just that. "Lift your skirt."

You're palms flat on the desk, arched for him, you've tugged your skirt up over the curve of your ass, while he just stands there. "Mr. Nanami..."

"I haven't given you permission to speak darling, have I?" The way it rolls off his tongue, when you feel his fingers ghosting your ass, the way you wish he'd do more, touch more, for once he does barely brush your slit for just a moment, your eyes shut, a gasp escaping. "Your slutty cunt is soaking wet from crawling on the floor?"

You look back at him, he nods. "No sir."

"What are you dripping for? Going to make a mess of my floors, tsk," he aches to sink two fingers inside your cunt - but not just yet, you have to need him more, beg for it more. So instead he lands a sharp smack against your ass cheek, cock throbbing when he sees his hand print, hearing your muffled cry as you bite your lip. "Ah ah."

He leans over, cupping your chin now, you're arching further against him, dying for more contact, he lands another smack. "Mr. Nanami..."

"Don't muffle your cries, I want to hear them, hmm? Nod if you understand." You nod quickly, nearly tasting his breath before he pulls back and lands another smack. The sharp sting just makes your cunt ache even more.

He doesn't stop there, no his sharp smacks echo in his office, mixed with muffled cries as your tears well up in your eyes, sniffling as you try to not fall to the ground. It's one after the other, so many your thighs nearly collapse, smacks until you'll be bruised from him for weeks, marked from him.

The sight of you was so fucking sexy like this, Nanami can't stand it, your arousal glistening and dripping down your inner thigh. He swipes a bit of it up, your thighs are twitching, cunt pushing more and more clear strings of arousal out. He can't help but captures some of it on his thumb, slipping it in his mouth and biting back a moan and how good you fucking taste, before smacking the fuck out of your ass again.

He loves how it jiggles for him, he loves how his hand prints are littered across it in patterns. "Don't move, you know the rules, don't you?"

"S-Sorry..." You can't help it, not when he touched the cunt you've been playing with since you started working here. "Could you... do more?"

"Now you're demanding things of me? That's not how this works, darling." He smacks you right across your cunt, your head falls back, hoarse moan escaping from your throat. "Do you deserve that after that glaringly apparent typo?"

"N-no..."

"I was going to lick this pretty cunt," he trails a finger from your clit up your dripping slit, up past your hole, teasing but never entering, yet this is more from Mr. Nanami than you've gotten so far. "But you aren't acting appropriately, are you Miss?"

"No, I'm sorry Mr. Nanami - ah!" He smacks your cunt again, fuck you almost cum, the sting and burn and ache so perfect, but then he pulls back, brushing back your hair almost gently.

"Go type the paper up again, make it perfect, not one mistake, hmm?" He tugs at your hair, yanking your head back, you nod, and he smiles just a bit. "Good girl."

He leaves you to sit back in his chair, you carefully tug your skirt down, biting your lip at the sweet pain, you go to open the door when he stops you. "Yes Mr. Nanami?"

"Hands and knees," he says softly, you sink right down, and he smiles just a bit, serious attorney Nanami having just one little moment where you see the real him come through. "Crawl on back to your desk now."

He props his feet up, crossing his legs at the heels, as you do just that. You should feel degraded, or feel some shame, right? But all you can think of as you crawl to your desk is how badly you want your boss Mr. Nanami inside you, even as you can barely sit on your stinging and bruised ass, you feel it, your mind drifting to it.

Just how did you get here?

♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎

I love when Nanami is mean lol

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Mark Grayson x chubby male reader. I know that man loves them plump and chunky (confirmed in the comics 🙏) 100% a soft dom and yeah.

Again, got lost in the sauce. Think this is the last one. Crazy how I went from obsessing over Jason Duval to Mark, wonder who's next, find out in a couple of weeks

I'll see y'all in a month. Enjoy!

Mark loves everything about you: your wonderful personality and your chubby body. So, when your mind starts blabbering about him not loving you, telling you that, why would a man like him be with someone like you, or he's just with you out of pity, Mark shuts that down. He always reassures you that he's in love with you and that nothing is gonna change his mind about it.

Cuddles, sex, and words of affirmation usually work. He'll eliminate those negative thoughts and replace them with positive ones.

You were optimistic in the morning, much better than you were a couple of days ago. It made Mark's body fill with joy as he watched you being you. So, he decided to take you out, let you choose wherever you wanted to go.

...

"This is where you wanted to go?" Mark asked, standing in front of the entrance to the high-end lingerie boutique. It made him wonder what you'll look like wearing sexy pieces of lingerie, or even a thong. The thoughts made his core warm with arousal.

"I'm just curious. Just to browse," you replied, pulling Mark into the boutique.

The boutique itself was lavish; it smelled faintly of rosewater and vanilla, and soft jazz music was playing in the background, with golden lights spilling and shimmering across the satin display. Lacy bras, lingerie sets, and thongs hung delicately on hangers while mannequins were in the center of the store, posing with pieces that were popular to buy.

You began to regret your decision, but decided to push that down and just browse. Mark, on the other hand, was like a kid in a candy store, picking and looking at different pieces of lingerie, especially thongs. Mark thinks you would look stunning in these pieces.

"Come on, babe, you'll look amazing in this!" Mark said as he held out a thong, stretching the piece of fabric with his fingers.

"Mark, my ass will literally fall out, its not made for that," you mumbled, playing the hem of your hoodie as your face was red from the thought of wearing that.

"It is most definitely made for this," Mark said, pulling you closer to his body. His hand rests on your hips, rubbing circles into them as he plays with the thong, his eyes shamelessly roam your body as he already imagines you wearing it. Heat blooms in your body, shifting in Mark's touch as he gives that handsome grin.

"Fine..."

"Yes! We're getting this. And the mesh one. And the red and black set over there." Mark said, pressing a kiss on your forehead before going all over the boutique to find whatever would look good.

Back home, you started to try out the pieces Mark brought. You stood in front of the mirror, examining yourself. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your stomach. The thong clung to your hips, showing every curve and crevice. Negative thoughts began flooding your head, telling you that this was meant for someone else. Someone better. Someone slimmer.

You couldn't look at yourself anymore. It felt disgusting. You squeezed your love handles, you looked at your pudgy stomach sticking out like a sore thumb, and your man boobs flopping on both sides. How could Mark like this? Wouldn't he want someone better? Maybe Eve? She is slim and beautiful, and they're always together.

"Are you done? I wanna see... hey, hey, why are you crying?" Mark said as he stepped into your room, you jumped as your gaze met his in the mirror. There was concern in Mark's voice as he stood beside, pulling you into his arms. You momentarily forgot about everything. It was nice being in Mark's arms... so warm and comforting, but it came back.

"I look... weird. Too much skin is showing, and this extra... meat," you mumbled, as a tear prickled your eyes, your lips quivering. You gestured towards your love handles, squeezing them.

"You think I don't love that? You don't get it, do you?" Mark mumbled as he leaned down and pressed his lips on your shoulder, his other hand moving down to your waist.

"Get what?"

"You don't get how absolutely obsessed I am with you. This body... Your hips, thighs, and ass... everything about you makes me love you more." Mark groans as he gropes and kneads your flesh. His kisses got more persistent as he intended to worship your body, wipe out any negative thoughts.

"Why would you think I was lying, babe? To me, you don't realize how hot you are, and that's only half of what makes me obsessed with you." Mark said wholeheartedly as he continued his ministrations, turning you around and lifting you, it was easy, you weighed nothing to him. He tossed you on the bed after giving some light kisses.

"And before you say it, there is no one else. There's only you." Mark said as he didn't want to hear you degrade yourself more. He cupped your face, pressing his lips against yours. He needed you to feel every ounce of love and affection.

taglist: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation @ghostking4m @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @your-cow-boy @mack-thedork @starboye @boypied @sleep-0-deprived @cronasluvr

Author's note: I got lost in the sauce. Why must all this quick writing come when I'm writing drabbles, but not when I'm writing my requests? Anyway, there might be a part two with smut.

[rafesteddy]

+ 18 -> smut | rafe promised you’d get an A on your group project…

c/w: degradation, overstimulation, orgasm denial, pain play, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, humiliation, possessive language, crying, begging, swearing, pet name, name calling, cum tasting, multiple orgasms, wet and messy, dom!reader + sub!rafe *they have a safeword

1.1K

“I said I was sorry. I just—I… Fucking please—”

“Shut up, Rafe. I’m not stopping. Not until I see tears. I want you hoarse from this shit so I don’t have to hear another excuse about why you couldn’t focus.”

He’s sprawled on your bed, sheets twisted beneath him, hands fisting the comforter. His strong chest heaves, thick thighs twitching, long cock slick and leaking on your hand.

“You looked so pretty,” he chokes, eyes wide, glossy. “You were reading your part and I was trying to pay attention—you know I was—but you. You were in that tight dress, and your voice, and your thighs and—fuuuck. Sh-Shit. It’s your fuckin’ fault—”

You raise an eyebrow. “My fault? Mine, Rafe?”

“I got nervous,” he breathes, “I got so fuckin’ nervous and you smelled so nice. Why were you standin’ so close, huh? And your mouth was all shiny and I just—I blanked, alright?”

“You promised we’d get an A.”

“I know,” he whines, a tear finally slipping loose. “We got an A-minus. That’s not an A. That’s not what I promised you,” he sobs as you fist him faster.

“That’s right,” you murmur, grip tightening on his shaft. “It’s not.”

Fifteen minutes post-nut and he’s still hard. Still whimpering for you. Still chasing the second climax you keep denying him. His body trembles under you; muscles quaking like he’s about to crumble under your touch.

“You can’t do that to me in front of the class,” he babbles. “You know what you do to me. My head goes empty and I just wanna… Mmm… I could take you in front of the whole fuckin’ class I swear to Christ. ‘Specially when you start talkin’ like that—SHIT! You slap his balls, light but sharp. He sobs, thighs snapping shut, back arching off the mattress. “Shit. Stop. Stop—”

“Ugh, fine...”

You pull back with a wicked smile, hands literally dripping with him as panic colors his pretty, pathetic features. “No! No, wait—don’t stop. Just don’t—don’t do that,” he begs, voice cracking. “You can’t just stop…”

“I was listening,” you hum, lips brushing his tip as you flick your tongue across it, slow, teasing. “Doing what you told me to do… At least one of us can do that,” His moan catches and breaks as his eyes roll back in his head.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he pants. “You’re gonna fucking end me like this.”

“Oh, Rafey…” You pout. “That so?”

He nods helplessly as his bottom lip wobbles; eyes shimmering, wet with tears.

“You’re such a fucking idiot sometimes,” you sigh in disappointment as you wrap your hand around his cock again, stroking cruel and slow. “You know that?”

“I know,” he gasps. “I’m an idiot. I’m your idiot. I fucked it up and I know I did. I’m sorry, baby—”

“You should be,” you whisper, letting your warm breath fan across his throbbing head. “You know who would make a good partner—”

“Don’t say it…”

“Oh, so you know—”

“Don’t fuckin’ say it,” he whimpers.

“Pope… Pope would make a really, really great partner. Maybe, I should start going for baseball boys, huh? What do you think, Cameron—”

“You wouldn’t. You’re bein’ mean.”

You let your hand fall away again as he whines. “I could be meaner.”

“Please don’t do that to me,” he begs as you rise up on your knees, looking down at him underneath you.

Rafe’s eyes lock on you, heavy and hungry as the cotton clings to your pussy. “Fuck me,” he says. “Please. I don’t deserve you… I just wanna feel you. Don’t tease me anymore. M’gonna pass out—I’m so fuckin’ close.”

You pull your panties to the side and his cock throbs, cum spurting messily between your thighs before his tip even touches you.

You giggle, looking down at the man below you; cheeks flushed, lashes wet, breathing ragged.

“Rafe Cameron… What the fuck was that?”

“I’m so sorry—” he starts, but you shove your cum-slick fingers into his mouth and climb onto him. He chokes on the taste of himself just as you sink down, inch by inch, your cunt squeezing around him as he gasps around your digits.

Rafe cries out, head tossed back, hands flying up to grip your hips, big biceps flexing to hold you in place; his jaw set like stone. You take his cheeks in one hand, force him to look at you. “I’m sorry—”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

His eyes slam shut and he nods. Your hands rest on his chest; heart hammering against your palms. His fingers dig into the flesh of your curves as you slide up and down, making his jaw fall open.

You pause, still seated fully on him, feeling the pulse of his dick deep inside. “I love you,” he slurs like he’s wasted on it. His bottom lip finds its way between his teeth, nose flaring, breath caught as you start to roll your hips. “I fucking love you,” he repeats, so pathetically you sigh. “Even like this—‘Specially like this. I’ve never been this happy in my life,” he sniffles, barely pushing the words past his swollen, kiss-bit lips.

“You love me, huh?”

He nods again, shakier this time. “So fucking much. I mean it,” he says, eyes wide, looking up at you like he might fall apart. “I’d fail every fuckin’ class if it meant I could have you like this.”

You laugh, soft and disbelieving. “Then maybe start by taking me out first.”

“Wait—really?” His voice cracks.

“I might even let you pay.”

Rafe moans like the idea of dating you is just as overwhelming as being inside you. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, pulling you down to press his forehead against yours, slick with sweat and pleading. “I’ll take you anywhere. Whatever you want—”

“You’re such a loser for me,” you murmur, brushing the stubble on his cheek.

“I am…”

You kiss him until he’s gasping into your mouth, and he shatters for a third time with your name on his lips, pulling you with him; pussy fluttering around him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, voice hoarse. “Thank you, baby…”

Your nails drag slow down his chest as a smirk tugs at his lips—faint, worn out, like he already knows you’re not done. “You’re this gone over an A-minus?” He nods, eyes glassy, barely able to hold your gaze. “What the hell are you gonna do when you finally get it right?”

@rafesthroatbaby | @ietss | @lilithblackkk | @rafecameronsfavourite | @my-name-is-baby | @urmotherlvr | @forgiveliv | @barnesboo1967 | @wtfisastiles | @k4yr14 | @taliescapes | @rafesbuzzcutseason | @sky-44 | @biascriptum | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @lolasangelz | @st8rkey | @lhhlver | @slut-4-rafey | @gri959 | @prettybabyyyy | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @maybankslover | @littlelamy | @buckybarnessweetheart | @angelicameron | @lover-girlyy | @rcameronlova1 | @rafesbabygirlx | @mayanqueenxx | @bimbob1tch | @dylsdaily | @blair-bears-blog | @akobx | @countryclubwhore | @esmerai-artemis | @jkmylove97 | @wtfdudesblog | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @yasmin-oviedo | @queen-cs | @floredaqueen | @alexxavicry | @aerie717 | @cokewithcameron | @premiumshitt | @rcameronlova1 | @zyafics

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

A Puppy's Place

RATED NC-17. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.

➾In Which: Mingi finally gets his puppy to realize her place. Or — you finally break.

❥Song Mingi x fem reader

"I don't want you to touch me!"

"You'll get over that soon."

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere. dead dove homie, wouldn't eat that if i were you

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: 403 possessive yandere, 413 'training' /conditioning (not depicted, only mentioned / described) : time outs + shock collar worn but not used + sensory deprivation, humiliation, 418 forced pet play: reader made to get in a cage + wear a collar, leash, and ears + be hand fed. captive reader, mind breaking, insecure min jumping to conclusions, touch starved reader finally breaks. pet names: puppy + pup (like, a lot), doggie, love, pretty, good (girl)

"Haven't you figured out yet? Struggling gets you nothing but trouble."

➯a/n: requested by anon <33 a bit different from my usual style of story telling, let me know what you think !

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy @kyomiingi @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

18+, MINORS GET OUTTA HERE.

"I don't want you to touch me!"

You remember screaming that at him as you backed into the cage you had woken up in; you remember kicking at his hands as he reached in.

You were so adamant that you would never let Mingi touch you without putting up a fight.

But here you are, a handful of months after that fateful night when Mingi decided he'd had enough of sharing you with world, kneeled in front of him obediently.

You'd been well behaved for a few weeks. You hadn't bitten or cursed at him. You hadn't ripped off the ridiculous clip on ears out of your hair. You've stopped disobeying every little thing he said. You've forced all of the humiliation that comes with his treatment of you deep, deep down.

"Are you full, puppy?" He asks as you hesitate to take the food from his fingers — having gotten lost in your thoughts. You've been doing that more lately. Like an easily distracted puppy. He thinks it fits you perfectly.

You tilt your head, blinking a few times before opening your mouth again with a soft, "ah."

"Still hungry?" He hums, slightly amused.

Despite everything Mingi has done to you — he still claims to love you. He still treats you like he does, along with his demeaning handling of you. It makes you beyond confused. Well, it does now. Before, it just made you mad.

You nod your head a bit, eyes daring to look away from the food in his fingers and up towards him. "Ah," you open your mouth slightly wider, shuffling closer between his spread legs.

He's kind enough to place a soft bed underneath your knees before he makes you get on them — especially since you've been so well behaved.

"Here you go, pretty puppy." He places the bite in your mouth gently. His fingers hardly graze your lips.

You chew quietly, looking down at your lap where your own hands sit folded together nice and neat.

He's glad the days of you trying to bite his fingers have passed. He hated when you did that. And you hated it when he put you in the corner as punishment.

"What do you say?" He urges you softly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

You swallow thickly. "Thank you, Mingi."

"Good girl," he smiles, instinctively moving to pat your head when he stops himself and lets his hand fall with a sigh.

That's one ongoing... not punishment, per se. More like a way to condition you to seek him out first. Humans need physical touch. You'll cave one day.

"I don't want you to touch me!" Is what you had yelled at him the first time he tried to do so.

"You'll get over that soon." Is what he said back, already plotting out ways to make it happen.

Over the past months — Mingi has never touched you. Not in any meaningful way, anyways.

To shove you into the corner and hold your head in it until you stoped fighting him. To take your collar off before your nightly bath. To force you into the large shirts he made you wear before you eventually put them on without a fight. To sit on top of your hips as he pulled the paw-printed socks onto your feet before you started doing the same with them.

You look so cute in them. In the shirt that essentially swallows you up, the little pink paws peeking out behind you as you sit on your calves.

He wants to touch you so badly. He wants to pet your head and hug you and he wants you to sleep in his arms — not your crate.

But he needs you to break even more than he needs to dote over you.

So, he keeps his hands to himself as he hand feeds you the rest of your meal.

Then he does something new.

"Lick them clean, pup."

You look up at him with big eyes. And you quickly decide you don't like new.

Shaking your head, you go to back up when he yanks you forward with the leash you've forgotten was even attached to you.

The weight of it, the weight of the snug collar, the cold metal of the tag that reads his name — it all feels like a second skin at this point.

You pout. The cutest, most precious pout you can muster. "Mingi..."

"Be a good doggie and I'll leave your bed uncovered."

You perk up a bit at that. He always covers up your- the cage with a blanket after you get in for the night.

You hate it. You hate not being able to see what's going on around you. You hate it even more when he shuts off the lights and you're left in complete darkness; not even able to see inside of the small space.

"Promise?" You ask slowly, hesitantly.

"Yes, puppy," he smiles again — sincere and internally cooing at how sweet you look at the moment. "I'll even leave the lamp on for you."

Humiliation be damned, you lean forward and lick his thumb; willing yourself to ignore the grin he wears. There's a knot in your gut that hasn't gone away since you woke up in his home that makes itself known in times like these — twisting and turning in a way that makes you want to cry.

Just as much as his soft, "what a well-behaved pup," makes you want to sink into the floor.

He lets you curl up on the large pillow in front of the couch when you're done, letting you disappear from sight as he leans back against the cushion; satisfied.

You keep your noise quiet because you don't want to be forced to bed early — even if he's promised to let you keep your vision for the night.

It breaks his heart when you cry. He wants you to be the happiest puppy in the world, and he'll make sure of it... whenever you decide to accept that's what you are; his puppy.

He lays across the couch and watches the television, peeking towards you occasionally as you silently soothe yourself, wrapping your arms around yourself. He would love to do it for you, but you still haven't sought out his touch.

"Are you going to make it, love?" He whispers, fingers twitching with the urge to pet his puppy's back comfortingly. "You did well. You don't have to cry, you get a reward."

He means his words to be reassuring and the worst part is — they are.

They make you feel stupid for crying, like you don't need to.

"I'm sorry." You blurt out quickly, nudging the leash out of the way so you can rest your head semi-comfortably.

You are never allowed to touch it. The one time you did; tried to tug-of-war it with him — he had easily overpowered you and replaced your regular collar with a shock one for a week. He never activated it. He didn't need to. The fear and the prongs digging into your neck was enough to keep you in line.

"Take your time and calm down, puppy. Then we can go to bed."

He can go to bed. You? You can go to your cage.

You do take your time. You take more than it. You stay deadly silent, hoping he's just fallen asleep on the couch and you can eventually do the same on the pillow on the floor.

Even with the promise of not being covered up — you find yourself dreading bedtime. You want to stretch out while you sleep. You want to be in a bed. You want to be held-

"Come on, doggie," he leans over and grabs the leash before you even realize he's gotten up; lost in your head again. "Up."

His one word commands used to bother you much, much more. Now, though? They're all but carved in your brain. You don't have time to feel embarrassed before you follow them subconsciously.

You stand up fast. And you thank whatever in the universe is listening that he's stopped making you walk on your hands and knees.

"Bedtime, pretty girl," he says like every other night as he unclips the leash from your collar; his fingers tracing over the tag with a glint of pride in his eyes at the sight of his name around your neck.

"Mingi?"

He looks up and meets your eyes quickly, "yes?"

"Can- maybe, just for tonight... I could sleep in bed?" The words near burn your tongue, but you have to ask.

He scans your face slowly. Looking for something — you don't know what.

"In my bed, puppy?"

His voice is even, but it's edged. And you don't like it. "Y-yes?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

Your jaw drops a bit, and you shake your head quickly, "what? Why-"

"Get in your bed, now." He grabs you by the back of the neck and tries to push you to your knees as you fight against him, confused. "Quit it. Don't make me put your cage back in the living room."

That was even worse. No light and no sound. Not even his soft breathing.

"Wait! What did I do?" You yell as his pushing finally makes your knees buckle. "I j-"

"Haven't you figured out yet? Struggling gets you nothing but trouble." He crouches down to your level, forcing you to look at him, "were you planning on running away, is that it? Going to leave me, puppy?" He frowns, his grip tightening.

"No, no," you cry, hands placed on his knees quickly, "no, Mingi."

"What then?"

You sniffle, eyes downward as you answer carefully, "I w- thought you could hold me."

His eyes widen, his grip loosens. "Really?" He asks with his voice full of hope. "That's really why you want to lay in my bed?"

"Yes... Really, I swear! I just w-" You sob freely, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Oh, puppy!" He beams suddenly, dropping to his knees and hugging you tightly. "Sweet, sweet, girl," he kisses the side of your head and leans back with the widest smile you've ever seen.

He's been craving touch just as much as you have. And he knows you well enough to know you aren't lying. Besides — if you do decide to try and run, you won't get very far at all. The door is locked with a deadbolt that you don't know where the key to is.

"Of course," he pulls back and helps you up in your shocked state; whiplash from his behavior. "Of fucking course, pup, I'll hold you. Here, get comfy."

You crawl into his blanket quickly, knowing better than to question a good thing when it decides to come your way.

He reaches into your cage and gets your favorite pillow before joining you, "here, love." He tosses it onto the bed and rubs the back of your neck softly; other hand rubbing up your side. "Are you my good puppy?"

"Yes, Mingi." You respond; quick and practiced. Then you add something of your own, something he didn't teach you. "I'm your good puppy."

His heart feels like it's about to slam out of his chest. He can barely hear you over it as you say, "will you snuggle with me?"

He falls onto his back and pulls you on top of him, and you immediately melt into his warmth; sniffling quietly with your face buried in his chest.

You stretch your legs out, your arms wrapping around him before you can stop them.

"I love you, puppy."

And you're starting to think you mean it when you say, "I love you, Mingi."

❝A Puppy's Place❞

[sereia4skz]

a house we build | chapter 2: gene pool entanglement

pairing: established!Minsung x fem!reader

< previous chapter | next chapter >

⋆｡°✩

word count: 1.4k

warnings: MDNI, smut, creampies, unprotected sex (duh)

You move in on a Thursday.

You don’t bring much with you. It feels more like a retreat than anything else, quiet, sprawling, strangely peaceful for a home owned by two world-famous idols. The property is surrounded by trees and tall gates, but the inside is warm. Wooden floors, wide windows, the smell of something sweet simmering in the kitchen. 

The guest room isn’t a guest room at all. It’s yours now, with a full closet, a brand-new mattress, blackout curtains. There’s a card on the nightstand written in Jisung’s handwriting. Welcome home (for now, unless you want to stay forever lol).

Jisung carries your suitcase in and promptly trips over the threshold. "Sorry," he mutters, face flushed. "Bad omen, right? Should I try again?"

Minho rolls his eyes and plucks the bag from his hand. "You’re going to scare her off."

You smile, small and genuine. "No, it’s okay. It feels… nice. Just strange."

"Strange is fair," Jisung says. "Weird and nice can coexist. That’s, like, our entire marriage."

Minho snorts. "Speak for yourself. I’m extremely normal."

"That's not what you said in 2 kids room" you laugh. It feels too easy, dangerously easy.

Jisung's the one who shows you around the house, too. He talks with his hands, bumbling through stories about the different rooms, the backyard garden, the espresso machine Minho doesn’t let him touch unsupervised.

Minho walks behind you both, quiet and sharp-eyed, the way he always is. He doesn’t speak unless he has to. But when you reach for the banister going upstairs, he’s the one who steadies you with a hand on your lower back.

The night moves slow after that.

There’s takeout and tea. A movie no one watches. Your things sit unpacked. It’s strange, like everything else: not romantic, but intimate. Like a sleepover you shouldn’t be at. Like a marriage you were dropped into halfway through.

It’s not discussed again, not explicitly, the arrangement, the act.

It just… happens.

⋆｡°✩

The night is strange. No one says it, but it hovers thick in the silence. This is the part that’s supposed to be clean, quick. Just biology. But there’s no doctor. No equipment. Just you and them. And nerves, humming sharp and high under your skin.

They give you time to shower. You come out in a robe someone left folded at the end of the bed, soft, fresh. Your hands twist in the fabric, and Jisung stares at the floor like it might swallow him whole.

“This is so weird,” he mutters.

Minho’s mouth twitches. “Weirder things have made families.”

“I guess.” Jisung looks up at you. “But also… kind of perfect?”

You nod. Something catches in your throat. There’s no plan. You end up in Minho’s room, bigger bed, darker curtains. The air smells like cedar and sage. No one moves at first. 

Jisung kisses you first. His lips are warm, a little dry, but sweet. Gentle. Shaky. You feel his nervousness in the way he keeps breaking away, like he’s trying to check your face for fear, for hesitation. His hands come up to cradle your face, then immediately drop like he doesn’t trust himself.

Minho doesn’t touch you until you’re already in bed, but when he does, it’s decisive. One hand curls around your waist from behind, pulling you closer to where he’s kneeling. He presses his nose to your hair, breath warm against your neck.

“You’re sure?” he murmurs.

You whisper yes.

Minho is focused. Deliberate. Everything he does feels intentional, like he’s not just trying to get you pregnant but trying to make you feel good, trying to remember every part of it. He kisses your throat, your shoulder, your breast, then leans back to look at you fully bare.

"You’re doing something beautiful," he says, fingertips ghosting over your stomach. "Let us make it feel that way."

Jisung exhales like he’s been holding it in all day.

He’s more nervous than Minho. His hands shake when he pushes your legs open. But he never stops talking, praise tumbling out of him like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispers, sinking to his knees. “You smell so good. You’re gonna take us so well, aren’t you?”

You whimper when his tongue brushes you, and he groans against your folds like it’s too much for him. He eats you out with something close to worship, slow, messy licks, his nose nudging your clit just right. His hands stay on your thighs, trembling, then stroking, then gripping.

Minho watches from behind you, running his fingers down your spine like he’s memorizing the shape. You can feel his erection pressed against your hip, hard through his sweats, but he doesn’t move yet. He just whispers, "Relax, Jagi. You’re safe here."

It makes you tremble.

Jisung pulls back, chin wet, lips swollen, he smiles, bashful, but cocky. “She’s ready,” he tells Minho. “I got her nice and soft for you.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “That’s not how anatomy works.”

“Shut up, I’m being romantic.”

You giggle through your haze of arousal.

Minho presses a kiss to your shoulder, then reaches down to guide himself to your entrance. He goes slow, achingly, carefully slow, but even so, you feel the stretch, the unfamiliar fullness. His hips press flush to yours, and he just… stays there for a moment, trembling with restraint.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re-” He stops himself, jaw flexing. “First time I’ve ever…”

You turn your head. “With a woman?”

He nods, kissing the shell of your ear.

“But I’ve fucked Ji before,” he says softly, pulling out halfway before sliding back in.

“Hey,” Jisung huffs from where he’s propped on an elbow beside you. “You don’t have to tell all our secrets.”

“You’re loud when you come,” Minho murmurs, deadpan.

Jisung flushes pink and grins anyway. “You like it.”

You’re moaning through the pressure now, the fullness of Minho rocking into you. He moves deep and slow, gripping your hips like he’s holding on for dear life. His cock drags inside you thick and careful, each thrust brushing that soft, needy spot that makes your toes curl.

Jisung kisses you again. His hand slips between your legs, fingers circling your clit. “We’ve got you,” he breathes. “We’re doing it right, right?”

You nod, dizzy.

They’re not perfect, they’re clumsy, awkward, a little too tender, but it’s overwhelming in the best way. Like... Like a beginning.

Minho loses rhythm first. You feel it in the way his hips falter, the way he groans against your neck and presses his forehead to your shoulder.

“I’m close,” he mutters. “I’m gonna- fuck!”

“Do it,” you whisper. “Come on. Come inside.”

He moans, one deep, broken sound, and thrusts in hard one last time. He stills deep in your cunt and spills with a shudder, thick and hot and pulsing.

You clench around him without meaning to.

Jisung groans at the sight. “My turn?”

Minho pulls out, slowly, and you feel his spend drip out before Jisung’s already moving between your legs.

“Shit,” he breathes. “That’s so hot.”

He doesn’t tease, he can’t. He’s already leaking when he pushes in, a wet squelch of cum and needs making him hiss through his teeth, you whine at the overstimulation. He fucks you faster than Minho, less patient, all desperation and want.

You pull him in by the neck and kiss him hard. He whines into your mouth. “Gonna knock you up,” he babbles. “Gonna be so fucking full of us.”

You tighten around him, and he shudders, breath hitching.

“Fuck- fuck! I’m coming, baby, I’m-”

He jerks forward and spills deep inside you, twitching and gasping as he fills you to the brim. His hips keep moving, little aftershocks, and his arms curl around you so tight it hurts.

You lie in silence.

Your thighs are sticky. The air smells like sweat and sex and something bigger.

Minho kisses your hair. Jisung’s fingers trace lazy circles on your belly.

You fall asleep like that, tangled, aching, full. In the morning, you don’t talk about what it meant.

Three weeks later, you throw up into the sink and cry at a cat video.

You call the clinic and schedule the test.

And one baby, healthy, growing, none of you ask who the father is.

Because it doesn’t matter.

They both look at you like it’s theirs. Like you’re theirs.

Jisung hugs you too tightly when the doctor confirms it. Minho touches your stomach like it already means something. And even though the process is barely beginning, you already feel it in your chest.This isn’t just a job.

series taglist: @rougegenshin @imagine-all-the-imagines @Imma-much-happier-person @Jisungs-iced-americano @Seungminthesnail @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @straykid2004 @geni-627 @Numberonedefendorpenguin @codex-12 @skzbiasot8 @Skzlover143 @jeonginsbaee @rekussk @bahngarang @mareuxkala @wwwtxao @katchowbbie @Alondra601 @ateez-atiny380 @nanaluizam @littledeadleaves @iluvluvfictionalmen @Whitejuliana1204 @tsukiloveskitties @Chasinghxran @mocharacha @channiesbighugs @kpop-trash-03 @stvrryl0ve @lillymochilover @aemondsb1tch @kwanniehae @Kjinwoon

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

[taeyongdoyoung]

cherry

summary: you are looking for danger to distract you from your dark thoughts but you find something you weren't even hoping for... pairing: seungcheol x reader genre: strangers to lovers, smut warnings: stranger danger, mentions of alcohol, spiked drink (not by cheol !), lying, swearing, non-consensual touching, bar setting, morally grey characters, unsafe drinking practices, danger/risk kink, threatening, brat!reader/brat tamer!cheol, kissing, unprotected car sex, pet names, attachment/abandonment issues, lowkey angst with a happy ending, roleplaying as strangers author's note: okay so...my initial idea was a fun night out with cherry-flavoured kisses but i got carried away and delved more into the realm of troubled psychology, proceed with caution & please stay safe out there! 🍒 word count: 2.3k playlist

Seungcheol watches the situation from afar, somewhat concerned for a total stranger. You are staring at your third cocktail for the night, absent-mindedly playing with the maraschino cherry on top of it. The guy talking to you looks sketchy from a mile away but for some reason, you keep entertaining his advances. Or rather…you feel unsafe to outright reject him?

For now, Seungcheol decides to observe only. Maybe he's making an assumption based off the guy's looks, which isn't very nice of him. Then, he notices you excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. He wonders if the alcohol is starting to affect you. Seungcheol is about to go back to his own glass whiskey when he notices something even more suspicious. He swears he sees the creepy guy putting something white in your drink! Seungcheol's grip on his glass tightens.

Everyone seems to be lost in their own business. Should he intervene? Would things escalate? Should he attack the weird guy trying to drug you? But then again, he has no proof for what he saw other than his honest word. You come back from the bathroom and Seungcheol is on the verge of approaching, when he overhears your conversation.

"I don't wanna drink more," you mumble dizzily. "I've had enough."

"Come on, don't be such a party-pooper," the creep tries to convince you.

You shake your head in disagreement and that total shithead of a man has the audacity to bring the spiked glass towards your lips in an attempt to force you to drink.

Oh, hell nah! Seungcheol can't watch this any longer and dashes in, gripping the guy's wrist mid-air, causing the drink to spill.

"The lady said no," he hisses.

"Yah, why are you butting in our business? I know what my girlfriend wants," the beast grunts.

"I'm not your girlfriend," you say in a slightly louder, more confident voice.

"Pfft, babe, don't be like that," the guy loops an arm around your neck, but even in your drunken state, you attempt to get him off you.

"We literally met tonight. Leave me alone already," you reply, obviously emboldened by Seungcheol's presence.

"You heard what she said," Seungcheol insists. "Leave her the fuck alone."

His fiery gaze seems powerful enough to burn holes in the wicked guy's soul. Wanting to avoid a physical confrontation, the creep finally gives up and leaves the bar.

You breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks for your help," you mumble nervously. "I was trying to get rid of him all night."

"He spiked your drink," Seungcheol informs you suddenly. "I probably wouldn't have intervened otherwise."

"Shit…" you drawl but you don't look particularly worried about that discovery.

"Why did you drink alone if you didn't want attention? And why did you leave your drink unsupervised?" Seungcheol can't resist asking all these questions.

"Apparently, it wasn't unsupervised, if you were watching," you respond only to the second inquiry.

"You shouldn't do that. It's…dangerous. What if I hadn't seen it? Do you have any idea what might have happened if I wasn't here on this particular night and if I hadn't decided to step in?" Seungcheol is starting to get angry.

"Do you want a reward or something?" you scoff sarcastically. "You don't know me. Maybe I was looking for danger."

Oh, you were like that. Self-destructive tendencies. A bit of a brat. Nothing he hasn't seen before. And yet…

"There are better ways to feel an adrenaline rush," Seungcheol explains patiently.

"Do you want me to buy you a drink?" you ask out of nowhere. "Will that get you to stop fucking lecturing me?"

Ouch. Nobody speaks to him that way. Ever. Nobody who knows him anyway…

"I can afford my own drink, thank you very much," Seungcheol rolls his eyes. "But no more drinks for you."

He doesn't know what possesses him to do that but he grabs your wrist and leads the way towards the door. He usually isn't like that but your ungrateful behaviour is so frustrating he feels the overpowering urge to teach you a lesson.

"What are you doing?" you whisper in a small voice, as he opens the door to his car and pushes you inside, locking the door. What the fuck?!

"Showing you what happens when you drink alone and leave your drink out of sight," Seungcheol growls.

"W-what?" you mumble and the actual fear in your eyes stuns him.

"Are you scared?" he laughs maniacally and leans in, facing you from up close. "Imagine what might have happened if you actually got drugged by that guy. Imagine if-"

"P-please, s-stop, I g-get it," you cry out, eyes tearing up in terror.

Seungcheol realizes his point was driven home and lets go of you, unlocking the car door.

"Get out of here," he orders.

You blink in shock and drunkenly stumble out of his car. No goodbyes are exchanged. The encounter so unusual, intense and emotionally charged that a goodbye would only mar it with its trifling nature.

A couple of nights pass and Seungcheol can't bring himself to go to his favourite bar. What was once a relaxing activity after a long day at work now seems like it would be a stressful ordeal. What if he sees you again? Drinking alone, purposefully putting yourself in danger?

He tries to convince himself that it doesn't matter. You're just a stranger he'd probably never cross paths with again. And yet…his curiosity gets the better of him.

Seungcheol returns to his favourite bar. Dreading (or perhaps hoping) that he'd find you there. And just like that, as if his thoughts manifested your appearance, he sees you.

Only this time, you are not alone, but with a girl friend who seems very happy to be spending time with you. Another major change is that you are gripping your drink tightly, not letting it out of sight. Good. Even though you're with a friend, it looks as if you learned your lesson from that bittersweet night.

Seungcheol wonders if he should approach you. Despite the fact that his intentions were noble, his behaviour back in his car was near abominable. He decides against ruining your fun night with your friend and tries to focus on his own drink, slowly sipping from it.

However, you seem to have a different plan.

"Long time no see," you greet him, as if he's an old friend and not a complete stranger. "You haven't been here recently."

"I didn't want to catch you getting yourself into trouble again," Seungcheol reminds you.

"I've been good," you promise, but for some reason he can't fully believe you. "And besides, what does it matter to you? We don't even know each other's names."

Are you asking for his name, then?

"Seungcheol," he introduces himself calmly. "I would say it's nice to meet you but I don't lie."

"Harsh," you chuckle. "I'm Y/N. I love lying, so…nice to meet you."

"Where did your friend go?" Seungcheol suddenly notices, not paying attention to your little jab.

"She went home to her boyfriend."

"So, you're drinking alone again?" he points out.

"I'm here with you, aren't I? So, I'm not alone," you explain logically.

"You don't even know me," Seungcheol shakes his head, as if to convince you that he's not trustworthy enough.

"I know your name, though. Doesn't that count for something?" you tilt your head to the side, taking a bold sip of your cherry-flavoured cocktail.

"You haven't changed," he groans bitterly. "You're just pretending to be more responsible to grab my attention."

"I thought I already had your attention," you grin flirtatiously.

"You do," Seungcheol admits reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean I'll act on it."

"What if I want you to?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

"You're insane, you know that?" he laughs.

"Aren't we all?"

And Seungcheol loses every last ounce of self-control he prided himself in usually possessing. He kisses you savagely, conquering your mouth with his own. The need to have you, to wipe that bratty smile off your face is overpowering.

You kiss him back just as eagerly, ravaging his lips.

"Let's get out of here," he suggests. Only this time, the words carry a different meaning from when he kicked you out.

Seungcheol leads you to his car again, too impatient to bother with finding hotels. It's so dark outside and he's parked at a place so empty and hidden that it gives you goosebumps. Not a soul in sight.

Perhaps, he is right. Perhaps, you are acting up, no self-preservation instinct in your body. But who cares? You've spent too long not feeling anything. This is the first time in a long while you've felt something so real.

There is no tenderness in the way he fucks you on the backseat of his car. It's as if Seungcheol makes it his mission to corrupt you even further, satisfying your reckless need for adrenaline.

"You're so sick, letting a stranger do this to you," Seungcheol grunts in your ear, as he rubs your pussy.

"You're not a stranger," you stand your ground, fully convinced this is normal behaviour.

"Knowing my name doesn't make this any better," his words are drowning in anger, but his actions are overflowing with the desire to pleasure you.

"What does this say about you, though?" you fight back verbally. "You're just as irresponsible as me."

"I. Need. To. Teach. You. A. Lesson," he punctuates with each thrust.

"Too bad I'm terrible at learning," you confess, scratching his back with your sharp nails.

"Say my name," Seungcheol demands.

"Seungcheol," you mumble obediently.

"Again."

"Seungcheol. Cheol. Seungcheol-ah," you repeat mindlessly.

"Good girl," he whispers.

"No, I'm not," you argue, biting his neck, while he's still fucking you viciously.

"I'll make you," Seungcheol promises and you are stunned by the assuredness in his deep voice.

"I'd like to see you t-" you fall apart beneath him before you can finish the word "try".

He truly ruins you so deliciously, making you forget everything that ever bothered you.

The only thing that remains in your mouth is the taste of whiskey mixed with the flavour of cherries.

Your first instinct is to run away. Every time you meet someone decent, you do that. Because if you don't, they'll leave you first. And you'd never let that happen again.

You start to put on your clothes hurriedly, attempting to flee the scene.

"Chérie..." Seungcheol pleads tenderly.

Fingers on the car handle, you hesitate upon hearing the gentle French endearment.

"What?" you ask despite yourself.

"Where are you going?"

"Doesn't matter. Did you think I'd stay?" at this point, being mean is a defense mechanism. Looking for danger, finding it and then running away.

Only Seungcheol is more dangerous than danger itself. Because you can see in his eyes that he cares.

A total stranger, you don't even know if you have anything in common. And yet...he cared enough to intervene that night. He cared enough to discipline you. He cared enough to give you just what you need.

But you are so afraid. That he'll start to care too much. And one day, he'll stop.

"I'm not done with you," Seungcheol stands firm, gripping your wrist. "I told you I'll make a good girl out of you, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," you confirm weakly. Too weak to fight him on it. Too weak to escape...

"Well, I'm a man of my word."

"And if I want to go?" you still try.

"You don't," Seungcheol pronounces with certainty.

"How do you know what I want?"

"Because we want the same thing."

He doesn't say what that is. But he's right.

You bury your head in his chest, allowing him to hold you tightly.

Somehow, this turns out to be not just what you wanted. But what you needed.

"I'll take care of you," Seungcheol vows. "I'll be so good to you."

And for some reason, you believe him.

You let him consume your darkness with his own. And bring your shared light to the surface.

Bonus:

~ A year later ~

That same bar where you met. A cocktail in hand. Your red dress. The dim lights.

"What's a bad girl like you doing in a nice place like this?" Seungcheol teases you, pretending to be a stranger.

Oh, how times change.

"Looking for love," you joke, as you slide the maraschino cherry into your mouth.

"You seem like the kind of woman who already has that," Seungcheol reminds you of the reality of your relationship.

"And how would you know what kind of woman I am?" you play along, enjoying this game far too much.

"Because of the ring on your finger," he points out.

Oh, right! You never take it off. You completely forgot how about you'd explain it in such a scenario.

"Careful, there. My fiancé is a very jealous man," you poke fun at Seungcheol.

"Is he, now?" your fiancé leans in. "What would he do if I did that?"

Seungcheol kisses you warmly but possessively. What starts as innocent turns more heated and passionate. Never before have you felt so safe and wanted.

"He'd probably kill you," you shake your head, gasping for air. "Lucky for you, you're him."

"I must be the luckiest man in the world," Seungcheol announces proudly.

"Not really," you jest. "Your fiancée is a bit of a brat."

"A bit?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a lot. But she loves you very much," you admit honestly.

"Then, it's a good thing I love her, too," Seungcheol hugs you strongly.

You don't get the urge to run away anymore. Because this? This is better than any adrenaline rush.

"Watch me dance," you request mischievously.

"Oh, I will," he promises.

Seungcheol watches you at a close distance. Always concerned. Only this time, you're not a stranger. You're dancing freely, feeling protected from danger. Not keeping an eye on your drink. It's okay. He's here now to keep you out of harm's way. You allowed him to use his darkness to devour yours. But there is light, in this world, too. And light will always prevail.

The End

[bradleysass]

strawberry - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 660

James flopped dramatically onto the grass beside Regulus, still wearing his Quidditch gear and reeking of victory and sweat. The Gryffindors were loud somewhere behind them, celebrating a narrow win, but James had excused himself under the very convincing excuse of needing “a moment of quiet reflection.” By which he meant “bothering Regulus.”

Regulus was perched elegantly under the shade of a tree, legs crossed at the ankles, reading a book with one hand and lazily eating slices of watermelon with the other.

“Oi,” James said, turning on his side to face him. “If you had to guess, what would my favourite fruit be?”

Regulus didn’t even look up. He bit into the watermelon with perfect poise, and James watched a bead of juice trail down the side of his mouth like it had a mission. Regulus wiped it off carelessly with the back of his hand, only then flicking his gaze toward James.

“I’m going to guess it’s not watermelon.”

James grinned, completely unabashed. “Nope. Though I wouldn't say no to a bite if you offered nicely.”

“You’re not touching my watermelon,” Regulus replied, holding the rind a bit protectively now. “You’ve been sweating all over the pitch for two hours. You look like you’d contaminate everything you breathe on.”

James put a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

“You wound yourself by existing.”

James rolled onto his back, hands folded behind his head, and let the sun blind him for a moment. “It’s strawberries.”

“What is?”

“My favourite fruit,” he said, squinting toward the branches. “Strawberries. Ripe ones. Summer ones. That sweet bit at the very center that’s practically liquid.”

Regulus went quiet for a second too long. Then: “That’s oddly poetic for you.”

James turned his head toward him again. “I get poetic about things I love.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, popping another piece of watermelon into his mouth.

“Strawberries,” James continued, “are the best part of summer. They make everything else better. Cake. Ice cream. Jam. Kisses.”

Regulus’s chewing slowed slightly. “You kiss strawberries?”

“I kiss people who taste like strawberries,” James said, shamelessly.

“Is this your attempt at flirting?” Regulus asked, tone dry.

“No,” James said, sitting up, now grinning far too wide. “This is me continuing to flirt. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed.”

Regulus looked back at his book, pretending not to be affected. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you haven’t told me your favourite fruit,” James pointed out.

Regulus sighed, snapping the book shut. “Cherries.”

James blinked. “Cherries?”

Regulus nodded.

James leaned closer, just a bit. “Are we talking the deep red ones or the pale ones?”

“Red,” Regulus said, unbothered.

“Cherries are supposed to be sexy, you know,” James said, mock serious.

“And strawberries aren’t?” Regulus countered, glancing at him with that knowing glint in his eyes.

James laughed. “Touché.”

There was a moment where neither of them spoke. Just the breeze, the distant cheering, and the sound of Regulus finishing off the last bit of his watermelon.

James nudged him with his knee. “We should eat strawberries and cherries together sometime. Real cliché picnic in the sun. Maybe I feed you one. Maybe you blush.”

“I don’t blush,” Regulus said, but there was colour in his cheeks already.

“Yet,” James added.

Regulus stood, brushing off his trousers, then looked down at James with a tilted head. “Bring the strawberries next time.”

James’s heart gave an embarrassing little flutter. “So that’s a yes?”

Regulus smirked. “It’s a maybe. I’m not promising you get to kiss me just because you bring fruit.”

“I wouldn’t dare assume,” James said, already mentally planning the entire strawberry-themed picnic. “But I’ll bring extra, just in case.”

Regulus turned, walking back toward the castle, and James watched him go, grinning like a man who had absolutely not just lost his mind over someone who smelled like watermelon and liked cherries.

He flopped back down on the grass.

“Strawberries,” he muttered to himself. “Totally better than cherries. He’ll see.”

[yan-randomfandom]

Heyyy! I was wondering if you could do yandere saja boys x reader where the reader hangs out with a guy and they get very jealous

Yandere!Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; the day im satisfied with writing a yan!saja boys and/or yan!huntrix one shot is the day i'll retire because this is still lacking 💔

warnings; uncomfortable, stalking, possessive behavior, more spotlight on Abby! no Jinu here, sry!

— 🌇

That's weird.

You're not anywhere in your house. You haven't responded to their messages yet.

"Think they finally had enough of us?" Baby mutters, looking through your snack drawer—nothing of interest—before closing it harsher than intended. The loud bang echoes in the empty kitchen.

Abby narrows his eyes as he looks through the window. The sun is going to set soon. "That can't be right. Maybe they went to buy something."

"Without telling us?" Mystery growls, his fingers fidgeting together. Well, it's not like you need to tell them every action you'll do. He's not even sure himself why he's so irritated.

After all, they were already planning to take your soul after the whole thing is over. But now that he's thinking of it again, the idea doesn't feel so good anymore...

The front door suddenly squeals open. All of them turn, expecting you, but instead meet Romance's face.

"Don't look so disappointed," Romance scoffs with an eyebrow raise. "I found the human. Come on."

— 🫧

First, they felt relief, then anger, then sadness, then nothing.

They found you alone, as Romance said you were, but then you started laughing. Your gentle laughter stopped them from getting any closer. A smile curls on your lips as your eyes consistently follow something.

"What?" Romance mutters, confusion scrunching his face. They can't see well from this angle—but they can't move either without being seen.

"I told you it's slippery," you snicker, walking over and extending your hand. Ah. So you weren't alone. "Come on. I'll help you up, I guess."

"Thanks," a voice replies, matching your energy, causing all of the boys to glance at each other. They watch as a hand takes yours. "I guess."

The person gets up—a man. Not a demon, but a human. Standing too close to you and still holding your hand. Or maybe it was just a normal distance, and time felt like forever watching you touch that thing—but, oh, Gwi-Ma. They feel like boiling their human forms.

You finally let go of him, using your hand to fish your phone out of your pocket. A frown snakes across your lips after a while. "Oh, no."

"Oh no?" your friend asks, tilting his head. "Is something wrong?"

You begin chewing your bottom lip, looking around. "No, uh, not really. But I have to go now. Nice catching up with you, man!"

"Aw, really?" he says, glancing at his phone. "Oh. It is pretty late. Isn't your apartment like right over there? I can—"

"There you are!"

You and your friend turn your heads, both of your eyes widening for entirely different reasons.

Abby approaches you with a charming smile, settling an arm over your shoulders. He hums as he takes a good, innocent look at your companion. "Who's this?"

"Saja— Abs—Abby? From Saja Boys?! Uh, I mean— Hi! So nice to meet you!" An unexpected blush blooms over your friend's face. He glances at you with nervousness and fascination before bowing his head.

Your friend shows off a crooked grin. He's a big fan already; he told you moments ago how he had Soda Pop on loop. You huff and remove Abby's arm from your shoulder, barely able to hold your flinch at the way he looked offended.

You gaze at Abby in anticipation.

Abby immediately gets the hint and masks himself. "Oh, a fan! Thank you for your support!"

They took a picture, Abby did his autograph, all the while giving him fanservice with his abs. Your friend giggles cheerfully as they shake their hands goodbye. You didn't miss the way Abby wiped his hand on his shirt when your friend wasn't looking.

"Take care!" you call to him, waving a hand before turning to a blank-faced Abby.

He stares at you humorlessly.

You blink, avoiding his eyes. "Uh, hey. Sorry about... not replying. I ran out of—"

Abby chuckles, smiles like he wasn't just judging your entire being, and shakes his head. He returns to draping his arm around your shoulder protectively. "No need to explain. We're glad you're safe. Let's go home."

Your brows furrow as Abby guides your walk. We're? We?

It's an obvious thing that once a member is involved, all of them are. Just... where are the others? Abby is the only one here.

You stray your eyes, landing on a window.

In the dim reflection, three pairs of glowing, golden eyes point at you in the distance. Ah. There they are. Watching, waiting.

Ugh. You look away. Jinu's never this level of creepy. He's not present again, as always.

You don't notice Abby nodding his head curtly next to you.

— need .. need to include more horrors..... ngl I'm stuck between funny or horrific yan!saja boys ,,

— also if you're wondering why Jinu isn't here, I just prefer not to include him in general! yeah my bad, in my other fics he's just kinda hanging around

— why's it so hard for me to write yandere (says the yandere blog)

[tobesolnelyx]

— not my fault! || cheerleader!jackie taylor headcanons

a/n: doing it mostly for my future fanfic on ao3 😛

summary: jackie is living her best life after she came out. best life with you. obviously. modern college au. girlfriend!jackie. fluff. song: not my fault by reneé rapp

warnings: slight NSFW content - MDNI

★ — when you see jackie for the first time she’s already panting, cheeks flushed and game hasn’t even started. she spots you while you’re rushing towards bleachers (mostly because your friend made you came here), and she looks like she sees jesus himself

“oh, hey,” she says, quickly making her way to you. you furrow your brows, a little caught of guard by that. she grins at you despite her disheveled presence, and the obvious fact that she technically should be on field by now.

she stands in front of you, then turns around. you blink few times, gazing at her bare back. hands hovering over her, unsure what to do. like you’re still trying to process that jackie taylor is acknowledging your presence.

“can you zip me up?” she asks. you spot yellow ribbon in her honey blonde hair. “please?” she adds when there’s no response from you.

“oh…” you say, nodding and reaching to zip her cheerleading uniform. “sure,” you murmur, trying so hard to not touch smooth skin on her back. no matter how tempting is that.

“thanks,” she smiles, turning again to face you. she quickly presses soft kiss to your cheek, and just…walks away. her footsteps are fast, echoing in the hallway as she rush on the field. leaving you stunned.

★ — jackie, who tells you, no, begs you to come to every single game after you get together. are you interested in soccer? debatable, but you should be interested in her. cmon, she spent so much time learning this damn choreography! besides, she’s a ten times more interesting sight than anything else that is happening on the field.

★ — on that note— she shortens her own cheerleading uniforms just to make you look. she’s balancing on a thin line, showing a little too much, but still not that much to alarm school authorities. cheerleading clothes might look a little too tight on her, hugging her curves just right. her skirt might be showing her ass and legs in a way that should be proactive. somehow, it looks just right on her.

★ — oh right, she also stretches on practices, making sure you catch glimpse of her ass, breasts, thighs…whatever, anything to make you look. cause obviously, you go to those boring practices too. okay, maybe not so boring when she stands right in front of you, shaking her pompons in that cute uniform. ribbon swinging as she jumps and swirls.

★ — and ohh, she loves to be fucked in that uniform. sucking on your strap, and smearing her lipstick on it few minutes before she has to go out and perform. backshots when you just can’t help yourself — pushing her little skirt with shorts down, bending her over, and fucking her nice and deep while she clutches her hands on the bench, whining your name.

“harder,” she begs even though she’s already being fucked rough. her perfect hair are already messed up, ribbon barely holding in them. “fuck me harder,” she moans.

skin slaps on skin when you smash silicone dick in her tight walls. and you know that she’ll struggle to keep herself upright during performance.

★ — side note: jackie, who loves riding the bulge of your strap. she’ll push herself on your lap the second you sit in the car. still in her skirt, now slightly ridden up, when she starts grinding her hips against you. she throws her head back, groaning.

“ugh, i’ve been waiting for that the whole day.”

★ — she’s not only preparing herself for the game — makeup, uniform etc, but you as well. she’s approaching you with blue and yellow paint in hands, usually painting her initials on your cheek. god forbid girl wants to mark what’s hers.

★ — you’re her personal help (not like she’s listening to you. she knows better anyway. duh.), but you’re always there to watch choreography she came up with. she looks at you at the end, frown on her face.

“what do you think?” she asks as she’s not thinking how to improve the whole thing.

“it’s great, babe…” you start, trying to raise up from the bed, but she pushes you down again. you blink few times, staring at her.

“no,” she says, shaking her head. “im not done.”

★ — she always, absolutely always, pleases you to carry her training bag. of course, she already has a lot to do! she’s tired after all those practices, gym days and stuff! she holds your hand every single time though <3

★ — jackie, who finally catches injury after overdoing herself, and refuses to take your help. even tho she needs that :(

★ — also, hear me out, she wears glasses!! she’s ashamed of that — always pulling with this bullshit about looking awful in them, but in reality, she looks super cute. you love to take them off only to kiss her nose. she wrinkles it, trying so hard not to smile. (also, she wears contact lenses to performances cause girl can se shit)

★ — going back to her cute customised uniform and possessiveness; girl is not only making you walk around with her initials on your face, but she wears has your initials as well on her ribbon :(

★ — finally, jackie, who has been terrified of the possibility of being queer, but once she got into college, she feels like she can breathe again. she’s no longer scared of openly being with you <3

[undyingdecay]

hi first of all you ROCK now a thought/thirst/request bob wearing a formal outfit suit and tie. tie that's perfect for reader to grab and pull him by btw.

(mwah, thank you nonnie)

it’s not just the suit, it’s how he fidgets in it, how he tugs at the collar like it’s choking him, how the tie hangs a little crooked cause he got nervous halfway through fixing it. how his eyes dart when you so much as glance at him — already pink around the ears and playing with the cuff of his sleeve like some bashfull idiot.

the event’s one of those stiff, boring things — a fundraise or a military gala, maybe. one of those nights where the drinks are too expensive and the conversation too dull. you don’t care. you’ve spent the whole evenning watching him across the room, watching the way his throat bobs when you catch his eye, how his jaw works when you deliberately lean a little too far over the bar to reach your drink.

he’s been squirming for an hour now.

so by the time you curl your fingers around the narrow silk of his tie and give a tug, he’s already halfway hard, already swallowing a whimper so tight it makes his eyes water.

“bathroom. now.”

he follows. like he alwys does. eager and quiet and flushed all the way down to the collar of his too-stiff shirt.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, you’ve got him pressed against the tile, mouth on his neck, one hand tugging the tie loose, the other already palming him through his dress slacks. he makes this sound — half gasp, half helpless little moan — hips rocking into your touch like he can’t help it.

“fuck—”

he’s trembling. it’s adorable.

you spin, lean over the sink, arch your back just enough to make it clear what you want, and bob’s hands are on you like it’s instinct. fumbling with his belt, panting like he’s run a mile, the outline of his cock already twitching against the fabric.

“c-can’t— can’t wait,” he stammers, voice wrecked.

“don’t have to.”

it’s messy. desperate. he hitches your dress up, grinds against you like a man starved, thick cock sliding between your thighs, rutting against your ass while you watch him in the mirror. his cheeks flushed, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eyes glassy.

“fuck, fuck—”

his tie’s dangling between you, perfect for you to grab again, to haul him down and press your mouth to his ear.

“gonna make a mess in your nice suit, baby?”

he chokes on a moan. practically sobs when you push your hips back against him, make it even worse. your hand sneaks between your legs, rubbing yourself while he ruts, desperate little whines spilling out of him as he gets closer, too close, too fast.

and when he finally comes — messy and hot, cock twitching against your skin — it’s with a broken little “fuck— love you— can’t help it, m’sorry—”

like it’s a crime.

you just hum, fixing your hair in the mirror, pulling his tie straight while he leans against the sink, panting and trembling.

“you’re buying me a drink after this.”

he nods. still dazed. still pink.

because bob in a suit is good. bob ruined in a suit? even better.

[blossomcola]

hi! i have a request if u don’t mind?

i need lara and megan CARNALLY it’s so embarrassing. especially after the gabriella mv. like how do u expect me NOT to thirst after seeing them in those SUITS????? SAPPHICS in suits nonetheless.

but anyway. that last fem reader x dani drabble was so hot OMG. it got me thinking. i’d like to imagine lara and megan tag-teaming someone (hypothetical 7th member? random hot girl from the club? mutual best friend? idk) they’ve had their eye on for a while. drawing her in, laying her down, whispering into her ear. lara being smooth and cool as always, weaseling herself between the girl’s legs - megan kneeling over the girl’s face and still somehow making her laugh without killing the mood, being the beautiful lovable goofball she is.

they make her cum over and over again, overstimulating her to the brink, switching positions, getting themselves off while they continuously fuck this girl’s brains out - treating this like one big game as their greedy fingers spread her nice and wide for their visual appeal. maybe there’s this one moment where it’s megan eating her out, and lara sitting right behind her, instead - coaxing her shaky legs open, whispering all sweet in her ear: “can you give us one more, pretty baby?”

pairing. dom!megara x sub!fem reader

content warnings. cunnilingus, face sitting, fingering, praise, scissoring.

knowing that megara often goes out to parties or events, either alone or accompanied by someone like emily, for example, i wouldn’t be surprised if something like this happens. they both have the vibe that they are going to a party to have fun and spend time together but without taking away the possibility of finding a third party for the fun of the night.

they together are a danger because it is a combination that makes you dizzy and feel multiple feelings at the same time. megan would be on one side, charismatic and cheerful as always, telling jokes or just common comments that sound funny coming from her lips — while lara would be a little less... subtle about her intentions. she’s a softer talker so she’d leave the talking part to megan, maybe occasionally giving you a compliment on your appearance and focusing on how the clothes fit your body perfectly, coming to rest a hand on your thigh and caressing your skin with her thumb in a way that makes it difficult for you to pay attention to megan’s words… of course you wouldn’t refuse when they offered you to go home with them!

they both definitely have restless hands. i can imagine that when you lie down on the mattress they don’t even let you think about the situation because they already have their hands on your body, making you practically whine since the touch of both has a great contrast to the other’s; of course lara loves being able to have these kinds of moments with a girl, but as much as she loves being passionate, she would consider making you enjoy the moment. so she would be a little slower and more sensual in her touching of you, leaving a trail of kisses all over your abdomen while her hands caress your thighs and massage the flesh between her fingers, slowly going down to your belly and trying to be slow just to make you squirm. it’s a shame megan can’t keep her hands for herself, and you realize it by the hand with which she shamelessly gropes your tits, it doesn’t take long for her to close her lips over one of your nipples and suck as if she were a baby.

lara being super gentle and putting your pleasure first, kneeling between your legs and leaning down until she was eye level with your dripping pussy, looking you straight in the eyes as she gives a slow lick along your slit that makes you moan beautifully for her. megan doesn’t want to be left out and knows what she has to do, sitting next to your head on the bed and stroking your hair to get your attention, asking if she can sit on your face like it’s the most common thing in the world, but that doesn’t mean you’d say no! she definitely loves how you whimper against her pussy as she uses your mouth to her liking while lara is between your legs eating you out in a way that makes your head spin, not wasting time making witty comments and jokes that only she laughs at because lara is busy and you can only babble — also at a certain point lara would choose to change technique, positioning herself between your legs and lowering herself until her pussy is pressed against yours, grinding against you and making pleasing megan a more than difficult task, especially when megan decides to slide a hand between your thighs and start playing with your clit.

since megan recently came out of the closet, we could say that maybe she doesn’t have the best experience with girls, so what better for her than for lara to teach her how to please one using your body as an example? things like guiding her to the moment megan is between your thighs, telling her what to do and how to touch you correctly, but this means that lara also has to give demonstrations to correct megan when she is wrong and not understanding her words! something like megan asking “so? am i doing it right?” when she’s fingering you or playing with you before she actually starts fucking you, only for lara to reply, “no, do it like this.” and not even giving megan time to move away because she joins in immediately, sliding two fingers inside you along with megan’s that were already inside and making you squirt instantly due to overstimulation — and this means there’s also a good chance they’ll both eat you out at the same time.

and letting megan practice with you is the best. lara leaning against the back of the bed, having you lying against her body and your back pressed against her chest, both of her hands holding the back of your knees and keeping them open for megan, who is between your legs devouring you and exploring. lara would give you soft and loving kisses on the curve of your neck and shoulder every time you started to sob and squirm, telling you to just hold on a little longer and that she’ll give you a nice reward if you can be a good girl for a little longer.

[mealodyd]

touchy pervy bf Jake who cant keep his hands off of reader even if they're in public he's just constantly groping n kissing her.

touchy pervy bf Jake who can't keep his hands off of reader even if they're in public he's just constantly groping and kissing her

Jake sim x Fem!reader

Warnings:  Groping(Consent).,  Kissing, public groping

WC: 1.1k(1,120)

Notes: Omg thank you so much for this idea. This is my first one and I love it!!  Also, this is proofread so if it has errors, it is all my fault and sorry in advance.

You are your boyfriend. Jake has been together for 5 years now and honestly nothing that you do anymore is new.  Until you go into public with him Ever since Jake started dating you, he had always been pervy and very touchy and it never ever bothered you until he started doing it in public where you knew it was weird for you.

You've been up all day looking through your closet drying to find a dress but nothing stood out to 

“Baby, can we go shopping? I need a dress for my sister's wedding.” Since your sister's wedding was in 5 weeks you wanted to be prepared so you know that you have a  dress that fits and is ready to be worn.

Jake looks up from his phone “Don't you already have enough dresses in the closest wear one of those” You look at Jake like he was crazy” Yeah i have dresses but not one for wedding i don't want to show up in a dress that doesn't look good enough for my sister”  You knew that would be his answer so you decided to test him.

Jake singed and put his phone down and got up from the bed “We can get a dress, but i have to be the one to choose it because i want to make sure you look extra good for me”  “Jake you don't even know how to choose a dress what makes you think you can choose one for the wedding?”  You knew that Jake didn't know how to clothes shop because you were the o9ne always buying clothes for him “Trust me I know how to dress shop”.

---

You and Jake headed to the mall and found a nice store that had some dresses to look at.  “I'm going to go choose a few dresses just wait by the dressing room”  You listened and went and sat in the dressing room waiting for Jake which took around 10 minutes.

The door opens and reveals Jake holding a few dresses” I got 6 dresses for you to Tryon and see if you like” 7 dresses which was a lot, but you decided that you really wanted to look at what Jake picked out, so you got the first one and started taking your clothes off.

---

“Jake I've already tried 6 on and haven't liked any of them. Do I have to try on the last one?”  YOu are already tired of trying on dresses and didn't really have the motivation to try on the last one.” Baby just try it on and if you don't like it we can just see if you can pick a few and try those ones on.”

You grabbed the last dress and started trying it on.  The dress was baby blue and was one that fit onto yourcurves.You put the dress on but couldn't do the zipper yourself so Jake had to help you out. 

Jake's fingers lightly touching your spine made you shiver, and he noticed it. “All done baby, look” It was amazing the dress you didn't think would look good snatched all your curves and made you look amazing “see baby i told you i can dress shop” Jake says as he hugs his arm around your waist and kisses your shoulder.

“Jake wow i didn't think that this one would look like this on me.”  Jake wasnt really listening to you as he had started to slide higher up and started to touch your boob. “Jake what are you doing you can't be doing this here right now.”  You knew that if he started touching you like this this normally would go so well.

“Baby just let me touch you.  You look so good in this dress I just can't resist.”  Jake was so in love he just wanted to touch you anywhere you went.

You push Jake off of you because you knew that you shouldn't be doing this and decided to take the dress off “i going to the dress and we are going to be get some food and maybe ice cream and if you do that again then i'm going to return the dress and wear something i already have I can't have you doing this right now.”

Jake ended up paying for the dress and you guys decided to get pizza. 

---

Once you sat down in the booth which for some reason had to be in the back of the restaurant which was just your luck with Jake being very touchy right now.  Once you told the waitress you ordered that when Jake put his hand on your thigh which was nothing but you knew what he was trying to do.

His hand slowly became closer to your skirt and you knew that if you said something he would most likely stop but you didn't really want it to stop so you didn't say anything. Jake leans over into your ear so only you can hear him even though there was nobody really around. “Baby you look really good in that dress” YOu close your eyes as Jake kisses your jaw.

“Jake, you know I don't like it when you do these kinds of things in public. I would rather wait until we get home.”  “I know you don't like it but i just can't wait i need you right now”

“I'm not doing anything with you right but you can do something that doesn't seem us in front of other people”  Jake looks around where you are ‘There are no other people around us right now?”  “STILL Jake I don't want people knowing.”

With you saying that Jake turns to you and kisses you on the forehead then looks down at your lips before kissing you hard with groping your boobs.  He  was obsessed that he could barely keep his hands off of you wherever you went.  Jake takes his left hand and puts in tino your shirt and then bra and squeezes your boob as if there was no tomorrow.

You knew you had to keep watch, but you couldn't because of how good it helped so you shut your eyes “Omg J-jake” Jake looks up at your face and smirks then continues.  Jake lifts his feed and kisses you “You so pretty” “Jake I-

---

Then suddenly you hear someone coming towards your table and push Jake away and pull down your shirt.  “Here you go mam thank you for waiting” The waitress sets down the pizza as you're breathing hard and flustered then you look at Jake and his face is all neutral as if nothing happened.

When the waitress leaves you look at Jake “I told you I didn't like doing this in public now emagine is she saw us doing that and if she ended up kicking us out.”  “It kinda seemed like you liked it” Jake was smirking hard and grabbing a piece of pizza and eating it as if nothing happened.

“As soon as we are done, we are ho8inh homie and not getting any ice cream” “fine with me”.

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

Guys I'm sorry if this doesn't seem good, not the best at on demand request anyway i hope you guys enjoy this whole thing and the second part of “What is Love?” will be in the works!

[calmcoldevening]

newly escaped (from the asylum) Micheal x nurse reader who was always nice to him (I have a lotof requests for this guy so take your time and no pressure)

Michael Myers x nurse!reader

• You were always kind to Michael, and at first he was surprised by that. He was used to being yelled at, to being stared at by doctors and guards, to being discussed and whispered about. But you were different. You were like an angel in this rotten place. You never yelled at him, and you spoke to him calmly, as if he were a normal person. As if his opinion really mattered.

• At first, he was noticeably suspicious and cautious around you, but he eventually got used to it. He didn't react to the voices of other doctors and nurses, but if it was your voice, he would turn his head towards the entrance door and tilt it to the side, as if he was really listening and trying to understand what you were saying.

• You were kind and attentive. A couple of times a week, nurses were required to spend time with patients in their rooms to ensure that they didn't become accustomed to being around people. You always chose him. He allowed you to sit on his bed, even though you usually chose that uncomfortable chair. He was lying or sitting on his bed, and you were sitting next to him, reading to him. He never liked fairy tales, even as a child, but for some reason, when you read them to him, he wanted to know what would happen to the characters.

• You told him about different things in life, and you brought him different materials for his art, which were safe and allowed in Smith's Grove.

• When you were there, he spoke for the first time. It was quiet, barely noticeable. His voice was rough from not using it for a long time. It was your name, spoken with such excitement and trepidation. He didn't expect you to hear it. But he wanted to see your reaction. So he said it again.

• It was your last day of work before your vacation. Michael was in a daze. He didn't like the idea of being alone in this cold, gloomy place for a couple of weeks. Without you, it felt disgusting and slimy, and the people were rude. You gently touched his mask with your fingers, stroking it softly, and quietly promised to return. Or believed you. But after two days of solitude, he ran away.

•••

You were always different from the others. Everyone at Smith's Grove was afraid of him, but you weren't.

It took some time to get to know him, but it was worth it. He almost opened up to you. He wasn't annoyed by your presence anymore, and he wasn't afraid of your touch. It was like he was a kitten that had been abandoned by its previous owners and was having a hard time adjusting to its new ones.

And then your superiors sent you on vacation. They were happy that a difficult patient like Michael (although he was the calmest and quietest) had made an effort. It was new. You even got a little raise for working with a particularly unstable patient.

It was supposed to be a quick two weeks. You were going to take a break and come back to Michael with new energy and ideas. You had even found an interesting new art kit, which was now sitting on your bedroom table, waiting for its moment.

And then Michael ran away.

They found out about it a couple of hours later, when one of the security guards finally came to check on "Smith's Grove's Quietest Patient." Dr. Loomis called you right away and warned you to stay alert, not to stay home alone, and to report anything strange. But you weren't afraid. You knew that he would never hurt you, not with those warm brown eyes.

The whole town was in panic, but you were sitting at home, watching a movie and sipping hot tea. You're not afraid.

Knock.

Silence.

Another knock on the door, this time more insistent.

You pause the movie, go to the back door and open it. He stands in front of you. In a strange jumpsuit that doesn't fit his body a little, in an incomprehensible white mask, with heavy breathing. He is silent. But this silence is better than any words. He was waiting. Looking. Missing.

"..come in." your voice is quiet but firm.

Michael doesn't respond, but he obediently steps into your home, and you close the door behind him.

"You're soaked to the bone."

You start gently removing his wet clothes and send him to the shower. He acts without question. And now, Michael is sitting on your couch, wrapped in a warm blanket. He doesn't seem to be cold, but you insist on keeping him warm. A hot cup of tea is in his hands, but he doesn't drink, just stares at it through the slits of his mask, as if he doesn't know what to do with it.

You place a basket of sweets in front of him on the coffee table, and his fingers twitch nervously, but he doesn't move.

You sit down on the couch next to him, studying him from head to toe.

He wasn't a stupid man, but you knew it would be difficult for him to survive outside of Smith's Grove, as he didn't know much about life.

"Why did you leave, silly? The hospital is much safer..."

But before you can finish, he leans closer. His masked face is almost touching your shoulder, and he...sniffs? He's actually sniffing your skin. His shoulders relax, and his breathing becomes quieter. He's calming down in your presence.

"...you're such a fool."

You gently touch his shoulders and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around him. Michael almost awkwardly moves his hand with the cup to the side, not wanting to spill the hot liquid on you. He feels warm. And calm. For the first time, the voices in his head, his inner demons, are quiet and subdued.

Ps: By evening the basket of candies was already empty, and his mask smelled like chocolate.