#most current rough draft

[moonsavior]

☆ Stellar Collision ☆

A stellar collision is the coming together of two stars caused by stellar dynamics within a star cluster, or by the orbital decay of a binary star due to stellar mass loss or gravitational radiation, or by other mechanisms not yet well understood.

"One moment, she had been about to punch a CEO. The next, she was stuffed like a sausage against her partner inside of one of the many ritzy coatrooms in this banquet hall."

🌒°•°☆🌙°•°☆🌒

  It was a cold autumn night, and a full moon shined over painterly stratus clouds after days of rain and 3PM sunsets. Amidst the hustle and bustle of Linkon City elite night life a sleek, all black car with tinted windows and sparkling rims sped down the I-90. The driver held the wheel steady while his precious passenger did her makeup in the sun visor, applying a matte red lip.

'In 500 feet... you will arrive at your destination.'

She puckered her lips in the reflection, making a kissy face at herself; For a brief moment, the driver considered being reborn as her mirror.

"You have no idea what you're doing to my heart right now." He admitted.

"You act like you've been waiting forever."

"I have."

"It's been 84 years..." She joked in a raspy, meek voice tempered by time.

"いいえ。It's closer to 200 by now."

"Ugh," His lovely partner closer the visor, "I hate when you speak in riddles."

"I prefer poetry."

'You have arrived.' The GPS beeped.

　 ×☆×

A tall, ash-blond man in a tailored navy suit checked stepped out of his expensive vehicle. He adjusted his star shaped cufflink while stepping around the front to the passenger side, stopping right as the door popped open to assist by opening it the rest of the way and holding out his hand to his lovely guest. Daintily, her shiny, black, ankle-strap kitten heels clicked onto the pavement, and she placed her soft palm in his grasp. Inching out of the ride with her short black dress, her escort couldn't help but notice how even under the moonlight, her thighs gleamed.

Since the valet also seemed to notice, he made sure to quickly take her midnight colored clutch under his arm before helping wrap navy blue satin around her waist in front of the guy.

Placing his lips right next to her temple, he gave her a sweet, gentle kiss on her temple. Raising his hand to smooth the fly-aways down her long, pearl pink hair.

"Um, Mister and Missー"

"Mr. And Mrs. Seiya Shen." Seiya corrected, politely handing his keys to the valet driver, albeit focused on his task.

He tucked a loc behind her ear and whispered down, "You'll get cold, Honey Bun."

"Aww," His partner smiled at him and him only, "Thank you, Pretty Kitty."

With her arm in his and her clutch tucked, they made their way up the stone staircase littered with couples of various ages. The building looked like a medieval castle with its gray stones and wall curling ivy. Light spilled out of the entrance way, peaking between suits and cocktail dresses, and the closer they got, the closer the couple could smell seafood boiling and meat sizzling aromas wafting into the chilly air.

"Nobody here looks like they know how to cook." Seiya covertly muttered, scanning profiles to easily ID.

"Woah. Have you developed a sixth sense for that kind of thing?" Heaven teased.

"Cooking is one of my best skills."

"Followed only by your impeccable honesty."

"Thank yoー"

"Mr. Shen!" A young man approached them from the crowd gathered at large, dark double doors.

They shared a glance: time to work.

Tonight, they were wealthy, young upstarts in the field of astronomy. Mr. and Mrs. Seiya and Celeste Shen, who had been cordially invited one of the largest in Linkon's biggest banquet hall for a gathering of some of the brightest astrophysicists in the country for their yearly summit. The glimmering chandeliers, overflowing booze, and finger foods promised an unforgettable night discussing the latest scientific papers and discoveries.

"Good evening, Mr. Hence," Seiya shook hands with a burly black man in his fifties.

His scraggly salt and pepper beard didn't hide his jolly visage. The old man seemed genuinely happy to see Seiya.

"Please, don't age me in front of such a beautiful woman," Mr. Hence said jokingly, shaking Celeste's hand, "Mr. Hence is my father."

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Hence." She replied, giggling.

A few years back, the Hunter Association sent the duo on an espionage assignment to a mansion party they believed was a front for a drug ring, and in all the commotion they'd made a friend in Mr. Hence, a wealthy philanthropist who donated his family inheritance to education and the arts. He was a funny old man who said just about anything after a few shots of Hennessy.

“All men are dogs. Have you considered my marriage proposal yet.”

“You’re a man.” said Seiya, pulling their handshake apart.

“I am an old man, it’s completely different.”

“It’s worse.” Seiya agreed, firmly holding his lady’s hand, “Can you ever say ‘hello’ without courting my wife?”

“I can’t help it son, I never see you courting her.”

“I’ve read that your eyesight worsens as you age.”

Celeste snickered, and then elbowed her partner for making her laugh.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring a date tonight, Mr. Hence,” she said, “There’s usually a star on your arm.”

“Have you exhausted the cosmos?” Seiya quipped, getting subtly elbowed again.

“Tonight, a few of the scientists that piloted the Rover I will be in attendance. I wanted to see if any of them were as fine as I remembered. You remember I told you I almost got Mae Jemison pregnanー”

“There’s nothing here for us, Darling.” said Seiya, ushering Celeste around the ridiculous old man as if in orbit. Mr. Hence laughed from his belly before rejoining them.

"Oh I’m sure something will pique The Great Shen Duo’s interest!" Mr. Hence exclaimed, now leading the charge, “There’s never a dull moment with you two.”

×☆×

However, as the night waned on, Celeste and Seiya came up short on details any juicier than the latest sleazy, salacious gossip. An entire list of a meeting of the minds and half were there to cheat on their wives, half were there to schmooze their bosses boss while the remaining, gullible stragglers were there to actually satiate their pure appetite for astronomy.

The CEO of N.E.P.T.U.N.E had been one of those people on the Associations’s ‘Reid Technique’ radar, which meant implementing an inductive approach where each individual suspect was evaluated with respect to specific observations relating to the crime. Consequently, factual analysis relied not only on crime scene analysis, which had all taken place so far at large socialite gatherings like this but also on information learned about each suspect. Only applying factual analysis would result in establishing an estimate of a particular suspect's probable guilt or innocence based on things like opportunity and access to commit the crime, their behavior before and after the crime, their motivations and propensity to commit the crime, and evaluation of physical and circumstantial evidence.

Simply put, Mr. CEO didn’t require as much analyzing as Celeste thought after their initial conversation in the front hall turned into him placing his decrepit hands demurely on the exposure of her back.

Surely he had some couth, anything she could respect about the man, because it was already on nine and countingーIt dropped to zero at the exact same time his hands dropped to her right cheek.

As Celeste squared her shoulders planted her feet and thought about her life’s choices, the CEO was suddenly holding his wrist in agony followed by her suddenly whisked out of his invasive atmosphere into an inky abyss smelling of old money and white diamonds, the heavy, expensive coats muffling the commotion just on the other side of the mahogany door.

“Henry! What’d you learn?” She could hear Mr. Hence’s laughter in the background. He had been right, there was never a dull moment with them.

That especially couldn’t be disputed now. Because Mr. Shen had pulled Mrs. Shen into a coatroom closet just in time.

　 ×☆×

"Thanks for the save." Heaven whispered, regaining her bearings by propping her chin against his navy lapel.

"He didn't know anything about Neptune."

Xavier whispered back, leaning down to his partner's ear where their communicators dangled in the star-shaped diamonds from her pretty earlobe. He wanted to nip it in frustration, even knowing it would do little for relief.

“This might not be the best moment, but," His lips brushed the tip of her sensitive ear, and he noted how cute it was that they twitched, "You smell really good.”

And maybe it wasn't the best moment for romance but being pressed against Xavier like a warm pleat had Heaven blushing regardless.

Besides, in another moment, she had been about to punch a CEO.

Being stuffed like a sausage against her handsome partner inside of one of the many ritzy coatrooms in this banquet hall wasn't the worst outcome.

"Did you find out anything on your end?" Heaven asked somewhat dazzled, amusing Xavier.

She was dangerously cute to him when she wanted to focus on the task at hand. He leaned farther back into the coats hanging up along the wall, and Heaven followed, her body sliding into place on his.

"Nothing too interesting to report, Leader. Some old man keeps bringing up his alleged one night stand with a former NASA astronaut." 

“You don’t believe him?”

“I believe African-American women have higher standards.” He deadpanned.

Heaven laughed but pretended to cry and sniffle, “You’re learning. I’m so proud of you, Partner.”

She poked his face while he continued his debrief and then Xavier finally stopped her with a playful finger bite.

Heaven’s gaze flickered from his strong jawline to his warm, blue eyes. She could feel his heart beat faster in his chest, smell his clean cologne, and even hear his breath hitch when she moved her hands beyond his chest up to his ears.

Slow, circular rubs to the earlobes had Xavier purring like a kitten. The different materials in the room buried his bubbling moans in cotton and fleece.

"Try..." Xavier's breathed hitched, "harder."

Their lips drew to each other like a gravitational pull, pressing against each other tenderly with slow, seductive movements.

Heaven kissed as though she had never done it, tentative and shyly brushing her heart over his lips like dust on the moon.

Xavier eyes popped open, excitement gleamed in them before fluttering closed.

A little smile dotted her mouth as he cupped her face, palming her blushing cheeks and leaning against her. Heaven's hands slid up his arms before settling on his shoulders, alternating between squeezing his muscles or massaging them.

Xavier followed suit, massaging their lips together, puckering his like satin against hers like silk, kissing her lips individually, then her cupids bow, even including the beauty mark on the bottom right corner of her mouth.

Each kiss break allowed space for nothing except air.

He'd craved her lips for so long.

Xavier could feel Heaven melting from the touch because he could feel himself teetering, too.

When she wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen their kiss, Xavier clutched her just as desperately, his body advancing more until Heaven was backed up through the coats on a more solid wall.

She couldn't find it in her to stop, not even for the sake of the mission, and as for Xavier, he had clocked out as soon as he saw her dress.

Heaven held the back of his head and gripped his hair. There was a hot sensation tightening her stomach that burned white hot when Xavier trailed wet, feathery kisses from her chin down her throat. When he started sucking on her pulse point and started grinding her against the wall as if unable to restrain himself any longer, Heaven nearly reached for the hem of her dress.

They had to leave this building.

"You surrounded me on all sides." He warned breathlessly, "Is it too late to surrender?"

"Yeah," Heaven moaned in his ear, "much too late."

Xavier had never telported them back to his apartment faster.

🌒°•°☆🌙°•°☆🌒

[gibbycat]

everyone say hi to my beloved fursona PEAS (percival anabel elliot scotts). they chose the name themselves <3

[adara-writer]

In the next 3 weeks, I’ll be finishing up all 3 of my ongoing fics (minus some editing) which means I’ll finally be able to work on something new!!! I’m super excited and have a couple ideas in mind (kanej hadestown AU is definitely happening). If anyone has specific ideas/requests, feel free to shoot them my way and I’ll consider it!

[sysig]

I have made

the rough

of an improv card game

[crystaltoa]

And now for something completely different.

This is the ADHD Teapot. I made it in a ceramics class a few years ago. I use it to explain executive dysfunction to people who haven’t come across the term before (and those who think of ADHD mostly as Hyperactive Eight Year Old Boy Syndrome).

So, most people’s brains are like a regular shaped teapot with a single spout. Let’s say that your time, energy, focus etc is the liquid you have in the teapot. Your executive function is the spout, that directs the tea into the specific cup you want to fill-aka the task that you’re meant to be doing. Spills happen occasionally, but generally most of the tea goes in the right cup.

If you have executive dysfunction, (a symptom of ADHD, trauma, autism, schizophrenia etc.) you have multiple spouts going in different directions. You can try pointing one of them at your chosen cup and you will probably get some liquid in there, perhaps you will even fill it right up (finish the task). But meanwhile, tea is also pouring out of several other places and not going where you want it. If you have another container nearby, perhaps some of it will end up in there. But quite a lot of it is going to end up on the floor and accomplish nothing.

And at the end of the day you’ll have filled one or two cups ( or sometimes not even one) compared to the five or six that somebody with the same sized teapot (but only one spout) has filled, and everyone wonders why you’re so bad at getting tea poured, and why you make such a mess in the process.

One day I’d like to spend more time learning pottery and create a really technically good fucked up little adhd teapot. But that’s a long way off since i currently live in the outback and the nearest pottery workshop is some 400km away. But I figure that for now, it might be a useful or interesting metaphor to somebody even in its rough draft form.

This post is the cup I filled instead of cleaning my house btw.

[willyoubemycherryy]

TAKE 1🎬 -> + Stack. M x Reader +

Since I’ll be in the hospital for a while, I figured I’d post some my drafts for entertainment :)!

Summary: You and a troublesome man you like more than you let on…in the end it’s easy.

Contains: smut, a dash of degradation, established enough relationship, fat d!ck Stack because LOOK at him, country accents, rough s€x, manhandling, multiple ørgasms, overstimulation, he puts it zowwwwnnnn, gives you some of that “move yo hand”, mating press dirty talk, petnames, fucking filthy kissing, cuddles, and as per usual- this is for the ✋🏽 strictly for the ✊🏽

Y’all thank @dollerin <333!

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

“Damn baby, you always this easy?”

Stack purrs out against the bare leg that’s currently hiked over his broad shoulder, voice dripping with condescension that’s a lot sweeter than the way he’s fucking into you.

The question is mean but it has its intended effect.

Goosebumps break over the surface of your flushed skin, choking on a whiny moan, cunt pulsating so tightly around him that he can feel you in his bones. A flurry of hiccuping sobs pour from your mouth cause you’re close. Again. Ordinarily, you’d try to defend your good name since you really were in fact not easy…or at least not until you’d met Stack. You’d heard of him before but never had the pleasure of making his acquaintance until he came strolling through your moms shop one day and found you instead.

At first you were stunned just making eye contact with him. Lidded brown eyes, dimples, plump lips- the gold on his teeth glinting at you and damn he was tall. Strutting up to introduce himself to you, accent thick with charm. However, you’d already heard of him and his way of giving women the roundabout and you’d decided right then and there that you’d be damned 11 ways to Sunday before you ever caught yourself on your back or knees for him.

Unfortunately, he was as relentless as he was gorgeous. Steadily pursuing you with the devil in his eyes and a grin on those full lips. Always hanging around- then, he’d disappear. As indifferent as you tried to be, dancing around his advances with light giggles and playful hands, when he’d vanish, you’d find yourself missing his face- or rather- his way of being, more like. See, Stack had this carefree almost cavalier demeanor but he was firm too. To you, that was his most attractive quality.

And he’d picked up on it. That you liked when he was a little firm with you.

From there all it took was a kiss.

Just barely brushing your lips when he leaned down, whispering teasingly against your lips, finger underneath your chin and you couldn’t keep the want from dripping out your eyes if you tried.

“Stop playing with me.”

To your surprise but not his- you listened.

Funny how you were so determined not to fall into his gravity and now look at you; sweat out hairstyle, sheer stockings ripped to hell along with your bra and underwear, being manhandled every which way, stretched out and creaming around the fattest cock you’ve ever had in your life as you moan in bliss- loving it.

Stack’s thrusts are deliciously brutal, hips snapping into yours while your legs hang over his shoulders like some harlot and sounding just like one, mouth dropped open while you cry and whine real pretty for him. Hissing through his teeth at the sight you make, Stack wedges his hands underneath the arch at the base of your back and grips tight- using your body as leverage to fuck into you even deeper. If the heat of the room wasn’t making you delirious then the way the fat head of his was smushing rough kisses into that soft patch of nerves would definitely do the trick. If this is what playing hard to get gets you then you’re seriously considering becoming a professional.

It gets to the point where your pussy is almost as loud as you are, prompting Stack to look down. A loud whistle barely makes it through the fog in your head and you try to bring your vision to focus. Your heart is going at least 100 miles per minute and you squeak as your legs are pushed so far back that your knees are touching your ears, Stack moving directly on top of you. Where the sudden flexibility came from you had no clue- but your awe is almost immediately overtaken by how full the new position has you feeling.

“O-oooh!”

Stack bites his lip as he watches your pretty face melt in pleasure, your normally sleepy eyes pop wide open, brows drawn together like you’re about to cry, lips forming that sexy ‘o’ as he slows down his strokes- letting you feel every inch of him. You were so gorgeous. Naked curves and soft skin crashing and rolling back into him then wrapping around even though you initially wanted damn near nothing to do with him. The thought makes him smirk in satisfaction until he’s brought out of his thoughts by the feel of your trembling hand just above where your bodies are connected. He pulls out halfway nice n slow, looking down to see what the fuss is and his heart almost pounds out of his chest.

Slathered all over his dick, is milky white. It streams out generously from your hole around where he’s stuffed in and Stack feels himself start to lose his mind a little bit as he moans out,

“Yeahhh mamas, she’s real easy f’me…”

He doesn’t take his eyes off your cunt as he slams back in with a wet ‘plap’- throwing his head back with a deep groan. The sound is so primal it sends nasty shivers up your spine but you don’t move your hand and he’s folding you even deeper, lowering his upper body almost completely against yours, pelvis grinding against your clit and you gasp wetly. Stack is wild, sucking bruising kisses into your neck, tongue trailing hotly up to your mouth to claim it in a deep kiss. It’s consuming. His big tongue flattening against yours in maddening swipes, sucking the muscle sloppily into his own mouth making you lightheaded- blood rushing through your ears as he starts his hips up again, grinding away at that spot inside you but not quite as deep and he pulls away.

He watches you gasp desperately, moving not even an inch away from your face as he nips at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue before whispering inside your mouth- eyes glazed,

“Move that hand, baby.”

Your name might as well be Sunday morning cause that’s exactly how easy you are, body obeying him before you even tell it to. As soon as you do, he doesn’t waste a second, big hands hook underneath your knees- railing you stupid. He’s not even trying to think straight, caught up in in not just the heat but how tight- how creamy- you are. Letting out a string of swears, he captures your mouth in another overwhelming kiss, cock aching while he swallows your wails as you twitch and shake around him.

You can’t take anymore. Stack gives another harsh, slick roll of his pelvis into your swollen nub while battering that tender spot inside you and you’re coming. And Jesus Christ on a bike- you’re coming hard. Clawing at Stack’s beefy muscles, a swarm of stars completely eclipse your vision while you’re shocked with wave after wave of vicious pleasure. You’re so loud you struggle recognize your own voice but Stack’s is clear as the ecstasy pumping through your body. Filthy words of praise and encouragement directly in your ear, prolonging your orgasm.

“Thaaat’s it, dollface.. aalll over me…”

Tears spill from your eyes and you’re close to tapping out when Stack buries his head into your chest, taking one of your puffy nipples into his mouth, thrusts slowing as he shoots deep inside your heat with a muffled groan, stuffing your hole to the brim until he pops off your tit with a satisfied sigh.

You’re tired, your back is killing you, and your shaking like a baby deer but a grin makes its way onto your lips regardless as Stack kisses all over you, pulling out slowly, warm eyes checking over your form for any sign of discomfort while you bask in the coziness after, closing your eyes to enjoy a much needed break until he interrupts it. Kissing your cheek in that tender way he does when he’s fixing to look after you.

“You okay? Ain’t hurtin’ none?”

You shake you head, eyes closed even as he pats you dry gently with his shirt, tossing on the floor when he’s done. Less sweaty, it’s easier for you to nap but something was missing. Reaching up, your hand swipes though the air as you blindly reach for him, eventually catching his chain as you yank him down next to you with a soft pleased little hum. Yes, you’d sleep just fine now.

And when you wake up?

You’re face to face with a big rock on your finger.

Stay tuned for take 2, 3, 4 and more yall🤠🫶🏽!!!

[neodazed]

enhypen -🎀- squirting for them for the first time

ot7xfem!reader - when they make you squirt for the first time

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f), cum eating, overstimulation, pussy slapping, slight daddy kink, lmk if i missed smth

alr started writing this when I saw recent similar fics for enha but there’s like a hundred of these here so don’t think that’s an issue

my sunki fics flopped so bad i went back to writing imagines instead of my other drafts LMAO ty for more than 2k views on the last one and for 200+ followers. pls request after reading my post regarding that, i’d love to see and write ur thoughts!! have fun reading 💋 masterlist

HEESEUNG

For Heeseung it’s almost like squirting = marriage.

A new found level of possesiveness awakens in him, basically.

You’re laying flat on your back, legs spread as wide as they can go, and he is plunging three fingers inside you.

His pace is no other than harsh, not an inch of his being is trying to be gentle. To be honest, he doesn’t need to be anyway — that’s just how you like it.

Thank God you were wet, or else those ocassional spits on your clit wouldn’t be able to match the rough bones of his digits carving their well earned place in your fluttering hole. With each quick thrust, the low side of his palm bumps against your little nub, drawing a lovely whimper out of you.

He’s not leaning over your body, doesn’t press comforting kisses on your face or neck. He is sitting on his knees between your two trembling thighs, and watches your cunt gasping for his fingers hungrily.

It’s getting way too sloppy now, creating those nasty almost slurping-like sounds, and it almost makes him want to lean down and bury his mouth in there, but then again, the sight is so pretty for him.

So instead, he stares and he talks. And oh, his way of talking is dirty, all possesive. Speaking of your pussy as it was the most beautiful masterpiece hung up in his favorite museum.

Your hole clenches, tighter and more intensively than normally, and you feel a flood rushing down in your tummy, one that has you curling the tip of your toes backwards, gripping the sheets underneath you like you’re about to fell off a bridge.

You try to warn him in time, you swear. The weakest ‘Hee’ leaves your mouth, a mix of a somewhat scream and moan, and you grab his forearm, but as expected, it doesn’t make him stop, it just encourages him to increase every sensation he’s currently providing. So there’s nothing you can do when a gush of liquid spills out of you, high enough to latch onto his black fitted shirt.

His heart fucking flutters at that, pride swelling up in his chest.

‘You made that big mess for me?’

‘Only I can make you cum like that. I now that’s right.’

‘C’mon, squirt again for me. You know I’m not stopping ‘til you do.”

JAY

His head has been hitting your cervix repeatedly for some time now, his balls slapping against your ass with each stroke, shaft hitting your clit.

Absolutely no thoughts in your head, just dick dick and dick.

It’s almost like every vein was created just to brush your gummy walls with the perfect force he always settles on. He’s curved to fit right into you, and if he wasn’t, well, he carved out his place in there well enough by now.

Feeling full of him has to be the most precious feeling, talking about any of your holes. And his hands are rough, they grip and sink and have completely no restrain when it comes to your body.

It’s a release you don’t even really feel coming (maybe because he already emptied you so many times), it crashes onto you.

Your scream is one the neighbours will give dirty looks about later on, but truly, who cares in the moment? Not like he would have the strength to muffle it, or the attention, he is fixated on you.

On the way your sudden finish spurts all over his cock, his abs, his arms- he goes feral.

‘Oh my god, princess. What’d you do there?’ He laughs in amusement, his movements never stopping, just letting down from the pace.

‘You came all over Daddy’s cock? Without saying a word?’ He’s already back in full force, ignoring your whines and lightly pained whimpers, slamming into you even harder now.

‘I’m sure you can do it on command then, too. Come on, show me.’

JAKE

You already came three times.

Yet, no amount of tugging on his locks would make him lift his head up from between your shaking thighs.

See, Jake is a greedy man. Every time he gives head, he acts like a starved man who is on a strictly ‘pussy for all meals’ diet, and hasn’t eaten for weeks.

One orgasm is nothing to him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice it happened, he keeps going. Goes between munching at your folds and sucking on your clit.

Two orgasms make him hum quietly, like he’s just starting to get the taste of it.

Three? That’s a good number, but still, it’s not enough. If you managed to cum three times already, what’s stopping you from cumming one more?

That’s the logic.

And you would think the upcoming one would be just a tired suffer with minimal semen going into the mix of spit and cum, but it’s something else. He plunges his tongue deep into you, and begin to move it right there, and it almost feels like he’s flicking at your cervix.

You cry out, legs locking his head in space (not like he wasn’t glued there already). You swash right inside his open lips, on his tongue. He grips your thighs harder, and wait until you finish. When he lifts his head up, finally, it’s kinda…full of cum. Like, literally. His chin completely soaked, his nose wet, his eyelids covered too. It’s a sight for sure.

‘Baby…that was so fucking hot.’ He says in awe, blinking up at you. He’s so in love. You smile softly, though your face is going red more and more by the minute. You are still sprawled out, sticky and open, and now you feel a bit sheepish.

‘Can you clean me up, please?’ You mean with a towel. Obviously. That’s what normal people do.

But Jake’s smile turns slow. Dangerous. Still hungry.

He leans in.

You freeze.

‘Jake, wait-‘

But it’s too late. His tongue is already on your inner thigh, licking a slow stripe up to where you’re still dripping.

Then his mouth is on you again. Soft, wet kisses over the mess he made, drinking you down like it’s water after a drought.

You try to squirm away, gasping his name — but he just pins your hips down with a firm hand and grins up at you.

‘I’m just cleaning you up.” — Then, quieter — ‘Gotta take care of my girl, right?’

SUNGHOON

You were getting punished.

So how on earth was it so good?

The way he’s spanking your pussy should have made you cry a long time ago, but instead, it’s just keeps on getting…better? Sure, it hurts, how could it not? A very sensitive area, indeed, probably not made to be spanked, but…

It was the good kind of hurt. The one that kept chasing slick out of your hole after every swing on your clit. Your body is thrown between two different reactions, half squirming away, half desperately chasing the sensation.

No fingers inside, no thumb rubbing your bundle, no tongue stroking your folds — just rough, precise hits.

He is spreading you open with two fingers, but keeps them strictly there, no slipping in between. Only so that he can reach all of you, making sure it hurts enough. Enough that you realize what you have done wrong, refrain from ever doing it again. Enough so that you feel that this pussy belongs to him, and he can do whatever he wants to it.

To his surprise, it’s also enough to make you squirt.

To Fucking squirt.

One minute, he’s spanking your nasty little cunt, and you’re crying to stop, then the next, his pace has to falter, cause a flood of liquid splashes out of it.

He snorts. Not really in amusement.

‘You’re unbelievable, you know that?’ — He looks down at you with a scoff — ‘I’m trying to punish you here, and you enjoy yourself more than normally’

‘It’s just…sensitive’ You sniffle. The hurt now comes in stronger, when you are no longer getting stimulated.

Sunghoon tsk’s and pushes his dirtied digits past your tear-soaked lips. Your face crunches up from the taste, but you do your best to swallow all of it. And that fucker turns that around, too.

‘You really just slurped up all of it? Didn’t leave me anything?’

‘I-I thought-‘

‘I must take another taste, then…’

You cry out the moment his hot tongue makes contact with your red swollen clit.

SUNOO

He’s casually hovering over you, mouth on left nipple, finger rubbing your clit. The suckling and stroking movements are equally hard.

You guys’ve been at it for some time now, lazily making out, most of his energy being put into pleasuring you. You were already on the edge a couple of times but he stopped there and went back into it just to drag it out.

‘Shh, just a little more. You’re not that impatient, right?’

He earns himself an eye roll for that, but only snorts, and pushes you closer.

His bare chest presses against yours, kisses soft and deep, and it’d be romantic even, if you could forget that he’s been edging you for half an hour. He always says it’ll make your release bigger and better, but hasn’t really convinced you yet.

Until now.

Because when he finally settles on the good space, even after feeling your stomach tighten, it doesn’t take you any longer to squirt.

And, the ‘see? told you’ look on his face could not be more smug.

‘Wow. Look who was right?’

‘My new take is that I can make you squirt two times in a row. Wanna find out?’

JUNGWON

Jungwon, to put it simply, is flabbergasted when it happens.

Like, on his tongue?

Around his fingers?

Because of him?

What did he do in his past life to deserve this? Whatever it was he is one lucky mothefucker.

You couldn’t even prepare him or give him a chance to pull away (he would never), since you yourself didn’t expect it at all. The truth is, you’ve never squirted before. Orgasms with a little more force? Producing a little more cum than usual? Sure, those happened, nothing too crazy. But it certainly never splashed onto his face like a fucking cunami, Jungwon thinks.

Poor boy wants nothing but to bury himself there right away, but he's not sure if you'd want that, given that you're still shaking under him. Instead, he strokes your thighs (still around his head), and murmurs,

'That was...good, right?' He asks, voice suddenly shy like he forgot what was he doing in the first place.

'Baby...you just made me squirt into your mouth. It was more than good, trust me.' You say with a weak chuckle.

'I want to taste. Can I?' How could you even say no to that adorable pleading gaze?

'Go ahead, Wonnie. Taste how good you made me feel.'

RIKI

It was just a matter of time before your first squirt after you started having sex, you knew for sure.

Riki's ego didn't need a lift though, and since he never brought it up by himself, you just assumed he either didn't know you were capable of doing it. or he's just content with the usual five orgasms he brings you to every time you guys have sex.

He absolutely knew what he was doing to you every time, but this?

This he did not expect.

You were bouncing on his cock with your best of strength, and he was watching you with a smirk, layed back on his arms, annoying and hot as ever. He wasn't putting in too much effort, but when he did move his hips to meet your thrust, God it reached the most perfect spot without a single miss.

He made a few statements, and those were...

'Your tits are all up in my business. Just how they should be.'

'Fuck, Y/N, this pussy is squeezing me so hard. You were hungry for my cock, weren't you?'

'From this position, I'll come right onto your cervix, You're gonna be dripping so bad...'

With a rather loud cry, cum splashed out of your slick hole with a nasty sound. No thumb circling around your clit, no lips suckling on your nipples, just Riki's cock, raw and hard, all for you to fuck your little cunt on.

Of course he followed you immediatelly.

And of course, he had things to say.

'Oh. So we're squrting now?'

'Why wait a month? Were you shy to show how much you love this cock?' His finger is dipping down into your heat, bringing it to his mouth to taste.

'Riki, I'm sensi-'

'Shh. Let me see. You'll have to do it again now, anyway.'

[alizha]

𝘓𝘦𝘷𝘪 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 - 𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 𝟤.𝟧𝗄 𝖳𝖺𝗀𝗌: 𝗆/𝖿, 𝗅𝖾𝗏𝗂 𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝟤𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗏, 𝖭𝖲𝖥𝖶, 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖫𝖾𝗏𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗎𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗌. A/N: I've been desperate for a way out my current slump of writing endless outlines and drafts, scrapping them, and rewriting them, so this Levi NSFW event (hosted by @levievent) has been a godsend and I jumped on the chance to write something short to break me out of taking my writing too seriously. Day 1: Authority Kink - Enjoy!

masterlist | cross posted to ao3

Levi sat stiffly—no, regally—behind the new desk in his office. The card beside the door outside now displayed in small, unassuming letters, as if embarrassed by its own novelty: Captain Levi. The office itself was simple but respectable, filled with solid, serious furniture. A tidy stack of reports rested at his left hand, a steaming cup of black tea to his right. No frivolous nonsense. Everything was meticulously arranged. Until you came along.

You had strolled in about ten minutes ago, arms crossed and wearing the world’s most irritatingly patient smile. And you’d said, “You know, captain, normal people celebrate promotions with something stronger than tea.”

Something about the way you’d drawled his title aloud like that sent a shiver down his spine. But Levi prided himself on being a man of immense self-control. “Normal people,” he said, his voice dry enough to soak up a flood, “are idiots.”

Undeterred, you shut the door and leaned over his desk like a particularly insolent cat. “Captain Levi, sir. I just want to say what an absolute honor it is to serve under you.”

Levi blinked and glanced up at you suspiciously. “No.”

“No?” you repeated innocently. “Wouldn’t you like that, sir. Me under you?”

“Cut it out,” he muttered, flipping the next page in his report—a poor disguise for the slow-burning heat pooling somewhere low in his chest.

“Cut what out?” you asked, fingers drumming lightly along the edge of his desk. “I’m just respecting your new authority, captain.”

You put a particularly venomous sweetness on the word once again, daring him to react. Levi slid his eyes up to your face, to that maddeningly smug curve of your mouth, the way you were leaning too far over his desk, too close to his center of calm.

“You’re bothering me,” he said flatly.

“You love it,” you said back, too quick.

That earned you a glare. His gaze dragged over your face, your lips, the line of your neck. You met his eyes, still grinning like you’d already won whatever game you were playing. He stood smoothly and leaned forward to meet you in the middle.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

He was close now, and your smirk flickered for just a second. You straightened a little as he stepped around the desk, turning to watch his movements, and your breath caught when he stopped in front of you. He didn’t touch you—not yet.

“I think,” Levi said, his voice like gravel, “you’ve got no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Try me,” you whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed. In one fluid motion, he backed you into the edge of the desk, and his hands gripped your hips with bruising precision as he lifted you onto the table. Your gasp was lost to his lips crashing into yours, rough and claiming. Papers scattered. Pens clattered to the floor. His tea nearly tipped over.

Levi shoved himself snugly between your thighs. He kissed you with harsh teeth, tongue filling your mouth. He knew you were trying to rile him, and he was giving you what you wanted. You were redolent with the familiar sweetness of your skin, piquant beneath the aroma of cleanness and cheap soap. Levi breathed it in as you whimpered into his mouth, his fingers twitching. Buckles snapped apart, the belts of your harness hanging loose around your arms. Feverishly, he unfastened the buttons at your collar to expose more of your skin, licking down the column of your neck as he went.

“Levi.”

His name floated from your mouth, beautiful and delicate. He loved listening to your lips forming the syllables. But it was not what he wanted to hear now.

He drew away and curled his fingers beneath your jaw, gently tilting your face up. “What happened to ‘captain,’ huh?”

You whined and bucked your hips forward to try to grind against the bulge at the front of his trousers.

His grasp on your jaw tightened, ever so slightly. “Well?”

He felt you swallow beneath his hand, your body relaxing. “Captain, please.”

“Good girl,” Levi murmured before leaning in to kiss you once more.

Your shirt came loose, rustling off the edge of your shoulders, held in place only by the ODM gear. Levi shoved a hand, rough with callouses, beneath your bra, harshly squeezing your breast. Your skin hummed from his touch, flushed and shivering.

“You’ve made a mess of my desk,” he said, low like a threat.

“You gonna write me up for that, captain?” you asked.

He thumbed at your nipple, delighting in the way your mouth fell open and your back arched ever so slightly toward him in response. “I should,” he said, lips brushing along the edge of your jaw. “Insubordination. Disrupting an officer. Provoking a superior. You’ve got a whole list of violations.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you going to do about it, sir?”

That did it. Levi grabbed your wrist and spun you, pressing you down until your palms were flat on the desk. Papers crinkled beneath your hands, and a book hit the floor with a thud. Behind you, he slid his hand along your waist and squeezed softly.

“I’m your commanding officer now,” he said, his mouth hot against your neck. “You want to play, you play my way.”

You let out a breathless little laugh. “Since when do you like power trips?”

“Since about ten minutes ago,” Levi said darkly, dragging his teeth along your throat.

He ground you gently against the desk with his hips, one hand slipping past the flap of your shirt to splay over your bare stomach, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. Your knees nearly buckled.

“Is this the part,” you whispered, “where you issue disciplinary action?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Levi growled.

Your moan was swallowed by the sound of a chair scraping back violently as he shoved everything else off his desk in one smooth sweep. He turned you around and kissed you again, harder this time, and your fingers gripped at his cravat, desperately pulling him closer. When he drew back, breathing hard, your smile was different. A little dazed, a little victorious.

“On your knees,” he said, commanding.

“Yes, sir.”

Arousal roared through him as you sank to the scuffed floorboards. You flattened your palms against his thighs and peered up at him through your lashes. Levi felt depraved for enjoying the sight of you, your shirt hanging half-open, bra askew, hair disheveled. You were awaiting orders. His eyes never left yours as he undid his belt and lowered his trousers. He took your hand and moved it to his half-hard cock, and you obediently wrapped your fingers around his shaft.

“Go on,” he said. “Serve your captain.”

You opened your mouth and took him in. Levi groaned low in his throat as you began to suck him steadily. His hand found its way to the back of your head, not pushing but gently guiding your rhythm as you bobbed on his cock. In your mouth, he twitched and quickly became larger and firmer as you dragged your tongue along his underside with each pull.

“That’s it,” Levi said, softly rocking his hips to meet your movements. “Take it like a good girl.”

You hummed around him, the vibration coursing around his length, and took him in deeper. Flattening your tongue, you swallowed him down and felt his hand tighten in your hair in approval. Your hand shifted down to the very base of him, holding him steady with just your thumb and your forefinger as you took him in to the root, your nose brushing the sparse dark hair surrounding his cock. Levi shuddered out a curse.

His hand grasped harder, and he gave a strong roll of his hips. You nearly gagged, your moan muffled as you forced yourself to breathe through your nose. He started up a rhythm, fucking your mouth slowly in an unmistakable show of control. Your fingers clawed at his thighs as he guided your movements faster, and your jaw ached as you focused solely on keeping your lips sealed around his cock. You whined when the tip hit the back of your throat, tasting the bitter liquid just beginning to leak from him.

“Enough,” he snapped, pushing you off him.

You inhaled your first full breath in too long and flexed your jaw to smile at him. Levi looked down at you, his lips parted and his chest heaving, the steel gray of his eyes eaten away by his pupils.

“I haven’t finished yet, sir,” you said, coyly wiping at your swollen, slick-darkened lips.

“I don’t care,” he said. “Take off your pants and get on top of me. Now.”

You scrambled to follow his orders, discarding the rest of your ODM straps and tearing down your trousers and underwear, messily kicking them off along with your riding boots. Levi leaned against the desk as he watched, his cock jumping at the sight of your ass bare. He tugged away his cravat and jacket and lay back on the cleared surface as you lifted yourself up into his lap. Your breasts spilled from your bra, and your shirt hung off your shoulders in a rumpled mess, but that only added to the lewdness of your appearance. It was almost more arousing to see you in this state than if you were fully naked.

His hands gripped around your hips as you straddled him and ground down on his erection. Levi groaned at the feel of your hot, velvet folds. “You’re already this wet?” he said gruffly. “Just from sucking off your captain?”

Your fingers curled against his shoulders. “Fuck—yes—”

He let you roll experimentally against him, grinding your wet little cunt against his hard length. It drove him wild to see you working that lovely body of yours atop him, your brows drawn in effort, and your thighs flexing on either side of him. The sounds your dripping sex made sliding along his cock were obscene.

“Ride it,” he commanded, tightening his fingers hard enough to bruise. “Fuck yourself on me.”

You moaned and reached between your bodies to guide his cockhead to your slick entrance. Then, you sank down on him, instantly surrounding him with your tight heat.

“Oh, fuck.” You rocked your hips and shivered, the ache inside you blooming into pleasure. “Captain, you’re so deep.”

True to his directive, Levi remained still. He made no move to thrust up into you, not even to push at your hips to help you move on top of him, giving you no choice but to bounce yourself on his lap. You moved your hands to his chest to brace yourself as you split yourself on his cock over and over, feeling your wetness drip out of you to coat his length. Gradually, you found your rhythm and moved faster, desperately seeking your own pleasure and giving him his in the process.

Your thighs burned, and your pace stuttered. You quickly readjusted and found it again, shuddering from the pressure of his brutal hardness pushing tight against your walls. He recognized your efforts and lavished his praise.

“Good girl, oh, that’s it. Doing so well,” Levi rasped.

The wooden surface of the desk bit harshly into your knees. Your hands slid against his chest, feeling the damp of sweat beginning to coat your skin. Levi wetted his thumb on his tongue and reached down to rub your clit. You spasmed on top of him and lost your rhythm again, once, twice, then paused with an almost petulant moan. Levi’s palm smacked into your ass, and you let out a whimper at the sting.

“Did I say to stop?” he demanded.

“Please,” you begged, heart thundering in your chest.

“Please what?” he asked, refusing to drop the harsh authoritative tone he’d adopted.

“I’m tired—please, fuck me.”

Levi slapped your bottom again, eliciting a stifled cry from you. “Try again.”

“Please, fuck me, sir.”

The thrill of your words roared through him. He took you by the jaw and pulled you down to him with a growl to kiss you hungrily. You cried out sharply as he slammed up into you, spearing you on his cock. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close as he pumped himself into you, hitting something deep and delicious within you with each stroke. He could tell how close you were from the way your legs shook and your cunt clenched him viciously.

“Come on, give it to me,” he urged you breathlessly. “Cum for me.”

The order pushed you to your edge, and Levi watched your eyes slam shut as you came on his cock with a strangled moan. Your core pulsed around him as he fucked you through the orgasm flooding you veins with a burning, throbbing pleasure.

“Fuck, good girl—I’m close,” Levi said hoarsely.

There was no ebb of your climax, no time to recover as he continued the frenzied snapping of his hips. His thrusts slammed, echoing through the room as you bit back a wail. Levi’s panting breaths turned absolutely ragged as he desperately chased his high. He held on until the very last moment, then sloppily lifted you off him just as he burst. A broken moan shuddered out of him as his spend violently spurted onto your chest. You groaned and reached out to milk him through his release, letting the warm, sticky liquid spill over your fingers.

Levi slumped against the desk, boneless; the few times you’ve ever seen him so relaxed are always post-orgasm. He let you rest your cheek against him, your chests heaving in uneven rhythms as you caught your breaths. One of your legs dangled lazily off the side of the desk, and one of Levi’s arms was draped across his brow. For a long moment, you were both quiet, basking in the aftermath.

Finally, Levi turned his head to survey the mess around you with a faint, resigned sound in the back of his throat. His papers were everywhere—some wrinkled, some torn, at least speckled with tea. His pen was nowhere to be seen, and his tea cup lay on its side, dripping slowly onto the floor.

“Fucking disgraceful,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

You snorted and propped yourself up to look at him with open amusement. “You didn’t seem too worried about paperwork a few minutes ago. Or order. Or dignity.”

“That was before you started defiling military property.”

“Oh, please,” you said, flopping onto your back beside him. “You defiled me on military property.”

There was a pause. Then, a quiet huff—unmistakably a laugh, at least by Levi’s standards.

“Don’t worry,” you said, turning your head toward him. “I’ll help you clean. Eventually. Once I can feel my legs again.”

“Tch.” Levi worked a hand under his head, gazing up at the ceiling. He was quiet for a beat, then you felt his other hand come to rest on your thigh. “For the record, I prefer it when you call me by my name.”

You blinked at him, then the corners of your mouth lifted slightly. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. He looked at you and brushed the hair from your cheek. “Captain’s fine when we’re in front of the recruits. But when it’s just us…” He trailed off, his thumb pausing against your skin. “...Levi’s better.”

You beamed at him and leaned in to press a kiss to his jaw.

“Alright, Levi.”

[serialkilluh1996]

𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖋𝖊; könig x female reader [sfw]

a/n: finally posting one of the MANY könig drafts that I've been letting collect dust in my notes

The worse part of having a house wife, in König's opinion, was that he was never at the house where you, the wife in question, resided.. Sure, he was in the army, and he would leave you alone for days and occasionally weeks at a time, but that didn't mean it wasn't torture for the poor man.

While he was at work, you'd spend your time having solo living room concerts and dressing in his oversized clothes, walking around and pretending to be him. Your favorite part was mimicking his accent. The result was always sounding like a goblin, given the struggle to match his high pitched, yet rough voice.

Meanwhile, he would be pretending to be invested in conversations with coworkers (he hates small talk) as he day dreamed about being at home with you. König just about fucking had it with hearing how his work "buddies" (if you could call them that) had such amazing stories about their wives.

They always had some romantic or comedic adventures that they could share with the group. Not that you weren't a great wife, but he just... wasn't there to experience it. You knew König's schedule like the back of your hand. It was simple; leave around four in the morning, come back two to four days later around the same time, and spend his days off resting and indulging in whatever activities you wanted, as long as they didn't exhaust him too much.

Which is why you were so confused about your current predicament: cold, tired, and just barely conscious as you stood at your front door, staring blankly at the silhouette of a tall man in your doorway. "Good morning, love bug." He says affectionately, sliding past you and closing the door. "wha.....what?" You shook your head in confusion, rubbing your eyes.

Two things: It was eleven at night, meaning he was five hours early, and König never called you "love bug". "Come. Have a seat." He plops down onto the couch, patting his lap. You yawn, approaching him with subtle irritation. "What do you want?" you ask flatly. You were too tired to be understanding.

"Just sit." He pulls you onto his lap. A few seconds pass. "....Okay? Now what?" "Now, we cuddle." You held back a laugh. It was almost humorous. Hearing him say the word "cuddle". It was almost foreign. "Can't we do this in the bedroom?"

"Sweetheart, we spend my days off in that bedroom. I wanna sit right here in the living room." He lifts his hood, kissing your forehead. "...I've got the next two weeks off and I plan to spend them spoiling you." He pinches your cheeks. You had the most confused, sleepy face, and he thought it was absolutely beautiful.

[salemrph]

Careful, kitten

Summary: Sylus is tense, quiet, and clearly off his game and you can’t help but poke at him to figure out why.

Character: Sylus & MC/You

Genre: unresolved romantic-sexual tension, pre-relationship, teasing

Word count: 3.5k | Reading Time: 14 min | AO3

A/N: Had this for a while in the draft, I needed to see Sylus flustered somehow, without getting off character. Story is base on the moment with the Lipstick and the helmet, but not the moment itself. Picture source

Second part > Dreamy Date - Careful Kitten II

You crouch down, placing a small dish of food near a group of stray cats. It has almost become a ritual to go feed the cats in the park. Sylus picks you up on his bike on those days in the morning, sometimes you still notice the tiredness and the dark circles under his eyes from not having slept enough. Or not having gone to bed at all. You have told him many times that you don't have to see each other so early, that you want him to sleep a few hours at least. But the gentleman insists that he doesn't want to keep you waiting and prefers it this way. He's just as stubborn as you sometimes are. Sylus is standing behind you, sunglasses on. It's a gorgeous day this morning, it's getting warmer. You enjoy the rays of the sun that caress your skin. 

The usual trio of cats approached, the cautious steps quickly turning into eager little trots as the scents of food reached them. You smile when you see them eating.

“Not so fast… you will choke, Marshmallow”. You are very immersed in the scene of the three cats eating with fervor.

His lips parted slightly before he closed them again, exhaling through his nose. “You’ve started naming them?”

“Of course I have”. You gestured lazily at the largest of the three. A round, fluffy white cat with a soft gray patch over one ear, currently inhaling its food like it hadn’t eaten in days. “That’s Marshmallow. He eats like he’s in a competition. Every time.” 

Then pointed to the second one, a lean, all-black cat with striking green eyes, the one who always lingered just a bit further back, observing before approaching. “That one’s Phantom. He’s a little dramatic.”

You grinned in satisfaction before finally gesturing to the last one. A scrappy little tabby with a torn ear, the smallest of the three but easily the most energetic. “And that’s Bandit. Tries to steal everyone else’s food and somehow still stays tiny.”

Then, with a smirk, he said “Mephisto will get jealous of all these new friends you're making.” 

You scoffed, nudging his arm lightly. “Oh, please. Mephisto knows he’s irreplaceable. This is just my little morning gang.”

Sylus hummed, gaze flicking to the trio of cats devouring their meal. He coursed down, eyes flickering back to you. The way you sat comfortably on the pavement, fingers gently brushing against one of the cats, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, it was an oddly soft image. More cats approved, Sylus pulls out more small food out of a bag. As soon as he popped the lid, the cats perked up, their ears twitching at the familiar sound. You watch him with an amused smile. 

“It still surprises me, for someone who acts all untouchable, you sure are soft on them.” 

Sylus huff, not looking up “They’re be a nuisance if they were starving and desperate.” 

“Uh-huh” You don't say anything else. Marshmallow gets closer to him. Sylus just scratched him behind the ear, the cat leaned into this touch, purring loud enough. A small chuckle escaped you. 

“Your hands are really beautiful, you know.”

Sylus froze. His fingers stopped mid-motion, his eyes moved to you. You weren't even looking at him, when you said that. You were still watching the cats, head tilted slightly, your expression thoughtful “Long fingers, clean nails, nice veins… a bit rough. I bet people would pay just to see them in those hand model ads.” 

Sylus blinked. He flexed his fingers instinctively, as if trying to understand what you were seeing. They were just hands, functional, efficients, and dangerous. These hands had killed many times. Ended lives without hesitation or remorse. The blood that had once coated them wasn't something that could ever truly be washed away. And yet, here you are, calling them beautiful. 

He scoffed, still trying to follow you. “Don’t say weird things first thing in the morning.” 

You just hummed, Sylus exhaled sharply, looking away. He massages his eyes, slightly lifting his sunglasses. He wasn't a morning person. Never had been. And this one was especially hard. You’ve started to blurt out things like that latly, without a second thought, throwing him off in ways he wasn’t prepared. Normally, he’d have some sharp remark, a smirk, a teasing jab to keep the balance from tipping too far. But today? No chance. He hadn't slept much. With that bit of sleep he had gotten was plagued by a dream so vivid, so tangible, that waking up had felt like a cruel joke. You were tangled in his sheets. Fingers gripping his shoulder. Lips parting in breathless whispers saying his name… 

So vivid that when he woke up, the first thing he had done was grip the sheets in frustration, jaw tight, body thrumming with leftover heat that had nowhere to go. Even if he had taken the time to deal with his painful erection that very morning, it wasn't enough. Not after a dream like that. It was getting difficult.

Difficult to sit next to you without his mind wandering. Harder to keep his gaze from lingering on the curve of your neck, the way your lips parted slightly when you focused too hard. Harder to pretend like he wasn’t aching every time you said something dangerous without even realizing it. It wasn’t fair. Today, he was tired. His patience was worn too thin, his self-control stretched to its absolute limit.

“You okay? You look kind of out of it” 

“Didn’t sleep much” 

“Nightmares?” you frowned slightly.

Sylus snorted, shaking his head. “Not exactly” Far from it. If it had been nightmares, that would have been easier. This was needed. It was hunger, deep and aching, wrapped around him like a slow-burning fire that refused to go out.

“You sure? You seem…”

“I’m fine.” He cut in too quickly, voice rougher than intended.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Clearly, you aren't buying it. But you didn’t push but you didn't drop it entirely either. Instead, you turned back to the cats, scratching Phantom under the chin as the sleek black cat purred in contentment. 

His mind was still stuck on your voice, breathy and needy from his dream, whispering his name in ways you never had in reality.

“Well, whatever kept you up, it must’ve been pretty intense.” His brain was still rebooting when you smirked lightly. “Was it a mission thing? Or something else?”

You rested your chin on your hand, watching him like you were solving a puzzle. “Wait… don’t tell me you got into a fight with Mephisto again.” Sylus blinked. You nodded to yourself, looking way too serious now. “It makes sense. The broody look, the weird tension, the fact that you’re avoiding eye contact. Did you two have a jealousy spat over the cats?”

“You think this is about the cats? What's wrong with your head?” Sylus shakes his head then he runs a hand down his face, his fingers pressing against his temples. He needed this conversation to end. Immediately. “We are leaving. I need a coffee.” 

Still sitting on the pavement, you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. "Okay…? You could’ve just said that instead of having a mini crisis."

Sylus didn’t respond. He was already walking away, jaw tight, hands shoved into his pockets. 

You frowned slightly before glancing down at the cats. "What’s his deal?" Phantom, as if in solidarity, flicked his tail and turned his head away with an exaggerated huff. You chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, I don’t get him either.”

Today, he’s weirdly quiet.

He keeps rubbing his fingers over his temple like he’s trying to will away whatever is bothering him. He runs a hand through his hair too often, exhales too heavily. You tilt your head, watching him, amusement bubbling in your chest. Oh. Oh, this could be fun. Maybe if you push him a little, just a little, you’ll figure out what’s wrong. What could possibly go wrong?

The engine growls beneath you as Sylus kicks the bike into motion, but you can feel the hesitation in his movements, the slight rigidity that wasn’t there before. Sylus inhales sharply, fingers gripping the handlebars tighter.

"Hold on" he mutters, voice tight. You grin. You press yourself closer than usual on the back of his motorcycle, arms wrapped snugly around his waist. Normally, you keep a respectable grip, not too loose, not too tight. But, you let your fingers drift just a bit lower, brushing the firm muscle at his waist. You don’t miss the way his entire body tenses beneath you. Oh… Interesting. You’re sure he curses under his breath. 

By the time he pulls up to your destination, you can tell he’s barely holding himself together. The moment the bike comes to a stop, he mutters a firm “Get off.”

You blink innocently. Sylus twists around to look at you, and he’s struggling. His red eyes are dark, sharp, his jaw tight like he’s fighting something. And it’s glorious.

“Off. Now.”

You huff playfully, but slide off the bike, stretching as if nothing happened. Sylus stays seated for a moment longer, like he needs to breathe. This is too good.

At first, you thought maybe he was just tired, maybe a little irritated about something mission-related. But now? Now, you’re starting to suspect it’s something else entirely.

Because every little touch, every offhand comment, every time you press even slightly into his space, he reacts. Not in a big way, no, he’s too good at keeping himself composed for that. But you see it. The flicker in his eyes. It’s like he’s… sensitive. And then it hits you. 

Oh. Ohhh. Maybe he just… 

…hasn’t gotten fucked in a while. Sylus is an attractive man who could have anyone relieve his stress. You've read in some articles that men with so much power often forget to relax. You almost laugh at the thought. Is that what’s wrong with him? Is that why he’s all tense and restless? Well. You’re not cruel. But you are curious. Which is why you decide to push. You wait until you're sitting across from him at a café, sipping on coffee, watching him struggle to act normal. His usual confidence is still there, but it’s fragile, like it could crack at any second.

You smirk. "You know, Sylus…" you start, propping your chin in your hand, voice slow and thoughtful.

He lifts a brow, already looking suspicious. "What?"

Your smirk widens. "I read something interesting earlier."

Sylus exhales, dragging his fingers over the rim of his cup, gaze flicking to you warily. "Should I be worried?"

You shrug, swirling your drink absentmindedly. "Apparently, if someone goes too long without… a release…." you pause just long enough to see his fingers tighten slightly "...their body starts getting all restless. Irritable. Sensitive."

His eyebrow twitches. Sylus lifts his cup to his lips. You continue, your voice taking on a casual, almost curious lilt. “Have you… released yourself lately?”

And then he chokes on his coffee. You blink, watching in fascination as he coughs into his fist, setting the cup down too aggressively. He tilts his head slightly down, running a hand over his mouth, exhaling sharply like he’s trying to stay alive.

You purse your lips. "Wow. That was dramatic."

Sylus glares at you, voice rougher than usual. "What kind of question is that?"

You lift your shoulders in an innocent shrug. “It just made me think. Maybe that’s why you’ve been all weird today. Maybe you just need to, you know…” You gesture vaguely with your fingers. “Take care of…”

Before you can finish, Sylus snatches the small bun from your plate and shoves it into your mouth, effectively silencing you. Your eyes widen in pure betrayal as you glare up at him, muffled by the mouthful of bread.

"Kitten…" he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he’s suffering some great burden. "You know very well that I adore you, but do me a favor and keep those ideas to yourself."

You chew slowly, staring at him, piecing things together. His grip on his cup, his stiff posture, the way his gaze seem desperately focused on anywhere but you. He’s embarrassed. Flustered.

You swallow the bite of bread, smirking as you tilt your head. "You’re blushing." You lean in, resting your chin in your hand. "You’re really telling me you’ve never gotten like that?"

Sylus exhales sharply, shifting in his seat. "Sweetie…" he said, warning.

"Come on," you press, voice dipping just a little, teasing. "You’re all moody, tense, acting like you haven’t had a moment to yourself in forever."

Sylus suddenly leans forward, his face mere inches from yours. You freeze. The café noise around you fades as his eyes flicker with something you hadn't seen.

"Kitten," he murmurs, low and smooth, "do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

You blink. Your heart does an unexpected little flip. …Wait. Did you just? Did you accidentally walk into his trap? Your throat bobs. Sylus’ smirk curls back into natural place. He sees it, sees the moment the teasing turns back on you. And that’s when he leans back, taking a slow sip of his coffee like nothing happened.

"Eat up."

You stay silent, but your mind is racing. He thinks he won. He thinks he got the last word. But no, oh no, you’re not letting this go. You know you’re right. You just need to make him admit it. Still, you force yourself to drop the subject for now, watching as he takes another casual sip of his coffee, like he didn’t just send your thoughts spiraling with that stupid smirk.

You spend the rest of the day together, running errands, taking the long way back through the city. Sylus, despite his usual sharp awareness, seems tired. It’s the kind of exhaustion he hates showing, but even he can’t hide it completely.

By the time you both make it back to your place, the sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the floor. You unlock the door, stepping inside as Sylus leans against the frame, rubbing again his tired eyes. 

You glance over at him. "You should take a nap."

“I'm fine, I can go home.”

You gesture toward the couch. "Nap here. You can leave after." Sylus stares at you for a moment. Then, in a move that genuinely surprises you, he actually sighs in defeat. He shrugs off his coat, tossing it over the armrest before sinking onto the couch. You make space, removing some plushies and pulling out a blanket. You move away to get some water when a strong hand suddenly grabs your wrist. 

Your voice hitches. "Sy-!?" pulling you down onto the couch, straight into him. Your back hits solid warmth, his body firm beneath yours, and for a brief moment, you forget how to breathe. His head drops forward, resting against your back. A slow, steady breath fans against your shoulder. Your carefully crafted schemes? Gone. Vanished. Replaced by the very real, very warm reality of Sylus beneath you, his breath slow and steady, his body solid and impossibly close.

"C-Can you sleep like this?"

Sylus doesn’t answer. Instead, he just lets out a low growl, shifting slightly as if trying to get comfortable. You swear you feel the vibration of it through your whole body. You shift slightly, trying to regain some sense of control. "Sylus?"

Again, no verbal response. Just another slow breath, another barely-there rumble of a sound. His arms tighten just a little more around your waist. You swear he’s doing this on purpose. You stay completely still, your mind racing, desperately trying to figure out your next move. But then Sylus nuzzles slightly against your back, and every single thought leaves your brain. Oh, this bastard.

You huff, twisting slightly to get a look at his face. "Hey, are you actually asleep or just pretending so you can mess with me?"

Nothing. Just the slow rise and fall of his chest, the completely at ease expression on his face, his lips slightly parted, his head still resting against your shoulder blade.

…Okay. Maybe he actually is asleep. That was quick. He must be really at the end of his strength. You bite your lip, debating your options. You could move, try to wiggle out of his grasp, but that would mean more contact, and you’re not sure if you can break free that easily. Or you could be evil. Your lips curl slightly.

You shift again, this time, intentionally. A slow, careful movement, rolling your hips just slightly in his lap, like you’re innocently adjusting your position. The reaction is instantaneous. Sylus lets out a low, sharp inhale, his grip tightening just a fraction before his entire body freezes. For a moment, there’s silence.

So, you do it again. Another small roll of your hips, your weight pressing slightly into his lap. Still nothing. You try it a few more times and then you feel it. Something hard presses against your butt, unmistakable even through layers of fabric. Your breath catches. Your entire body locks up in realization, the warmth rushing up your spine now burning at your face. Oh. Oh, shit.

You freeze completely, pulse hammering, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. The firm press of Sylus' thighs beneath you, the heat of him against your back, the fact that you started something you weren’t sure would lead. You just wanted to tease him and now he is hard under you. 

“Kitten...” Your heartbeat slams against your ribs. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Stay still.”

You bite your lip, waiting, expecting him to react, to throw some cocky remark your way but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays completely still like he’s fighting something, like he’s trying to force this moment back under control. You’re not going to let him. Slowly you shift your hips again. Sylus exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching where they rest against your waist.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "Are you going to tell me why you’re so tense?" You push further. "I mean, you’ve been acting weird all day." You let your voice dip just slightly, playing into the innocence of it. "Wouldn’t have anything to do with what we talked about this morning, would it?"

Sylus finally speaks with a dangerous rasp against your ear.

"You should stop."

A shiver actually runs down your spine because of that tone. That is not his usual teasing. Slowly, cautiously, you turn your head to look at him, really look at him. And that’s when you see it. Sylus’ face is flushed. His jaw is tight, his lips slightly parted like he’s struggling to breathe evenly. His hair is slightly messy, strands fallen across his flushed forehead.

His eyes flick to your lips… then lower, linger on your thighs, before dragging back up to meet yours. That paralyzes you because Sylus never looks like this. Your mouth goes dry. You’ve seen Sylus in many states: bored, smug, amused, deadly. But this? This is something else entirely. You’ve imagined it, sure. On lonely nights, in quiet fantasies, in those dangerous thoughts you don’t usually entertain for long. And it’s such an erotic image that the idea of getting off his lap now feels like a death sentence. Like stepping away from something you might never get the chance to see again.

You want to burn this into your memory. Your heart is thudding, loud in your ears. You swallow, barely trusting your voice as you whisper.

“…Why?”

His eyes darken instantly. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand comes to rest on your thigh. Is light but the heat of it burns through the fabric.

“Because if you keep going…” he murmurs, but stops himself. A mocking smile appears on his lips again. “Why do you want to know so badly?” His thumb brushes the inside of your thigh, maddeningly light. “Is it curiosity?” he continues. “Is it the power? Or…” his eyes flicker to your lips again, “do you just like imagining it?”

Your heart stutters. He leans in, just enough that you feel the heat of his breath ghost over your cheek, his voice a whisper meant for no one but you.

“Be honest, kitten. Is it me you’re thinking about… when you’re restless?”

Your pulse trips.

“You ask that like you want it to be you.” You tilt your head, eyes dancing with mock thoughtfulness. “I mean, it could be. But there are so many options. It’d be unfair to name just one. Why so curious?” you murmur. “Feeling a little... worked up yourself?” You move a bit more on his lap. He is still hard, you bit your lip. 

“If I said yes,” he murmurs, voice low and velvety, “would that change anything?”

Your lips twitch with a teasing smile. “Maybe,” you say, leaning in just enough to make it sting. “Or maybe I’d just watch.”

“Careful, kitten. If you watch too long… you might beg to join.”

Second part > Dreamy Date - Careful Kitten II

Go to MASTERLIST

[tgirlfeeedeee]

In reference to my previous post, heres the gluttony month challenge

This is just a rough draft so recommendations are greatly appreciated!

Month of gluttony

(Feel free to adjust the numbers to make sure the challenge suits you, if the current challenge is too easy, add more, if its too hard eat less, but i do encourage that you only make it easier if you absolutely can’t)

Day 1 add 1000 calories to whatever you eat on a normal day

Day 2 full pizza in one sitting

Day 3 everything you wanna eat, eat double

Day 4 stack a burger as high as you can and add as many fries as can fit on the plate

Day 5 weight gain shake chug

Day 6 4 eggs, 4 pancakes, 4 slices of bacon (or meat alternative)

Day 7 tacobell binge, get AT LEAST 3 items

Day 8 2 liters of soda and a footlong sub

Day 9 grazing day, no big stuffing just continuous snacking, make sure theres always food by your side

Day 10 add 2k calories to what you usually eat

Day 11 do a food challenge at a local restaurant or desert place

Day 12 no turning down food for the day, anyone asks you to eat something, you have to (to make this day best, make sure to let people in these communities know youre doing this challenge)

Day 13 eat 2 pints of ice cream in one sitiing

Day 14 grazing day, no big stuffing just continuous snacking, make sure theres always food by your side

Day 15 add 3k calories to what you usually eat

Day 16 break day, youve worked so hard and the hardest is yet to come, you get one day to eat normally

Day 17 a full pt of pasta for you

Day 18 eat a full cake/pie

Day 19 grazing day, no big stuffing just continuous snacking, make sure theres always food by your side

Day 20 add 4k calories to what you usually eat

Day 21 break day, youve worked so hard and the hardest is yet to come, you get one day to eat normally

Day 22 move as little as possible, lay in bed all day and have your meals brought to you or bring snacks at the beginning of the day

Day 23 go into your local grocery store/gas station with $10 and get the most calories you can out and eat it in one sitting

Day 24 grazing day, no big stuffing just continuous snacking, make sure theres always food by your side

Day 25 add 6k calories to what you usually eat

Day 26 break day, youve worked so hard and the hardest is yet to come, you get one day to eat normally

Day 27 “bulking” a full pot of rice

Day 28 pick 3 fast food restaurants to get a full meal from in one trip

Day 29 a dozen donuts in one sitting

Day 30 10,000 calories in one day

If you’re looking for fun names for this depending on the month you could go with Balloon June, thick thigh july, stuffing september, fatober, and those are all I can think of, I’ll probably try and do it in balloon june or thick thigh july, not sure which 🤔

[97linelover]

Late-Night Convenience Store - Jeon Jungkook

Summary:You work night shifts at a 24/7 store. Jungkook, a sleepless idol, becomes your regular customer. Slowly, your awkward small talk turns into comfort, jokes… and something more.

A/N: I’m currently in the hospital so this was just a quick draft I finished

The neon sign buzzed softly above the glass doors, casting a pale glow over the sidewalk. It was almost 2 a.m. on a Tuesday, and the world felt paused — like the city itself was holding its breath. Inside the store, you leaned against the counter, half-listening to the hum of the refrigerator units and the distant drone of late-night traffic.

The night shift was mostly quiet. A few regulars shuffled in and out — exhausted students, truck drivers, the occasional drunk group looking for instant ramen. You didn’t mind the stillness. It gave you time to think, to breathe.

Then he walked in again.

Hood up, mask on, dressed in baggy black clothes that tried (and failed) to make him invisible. Jeon Jungkook. BTS’s golden maknae. You had recognized him on his first visit two weeks ago — his eyes gave him away. Not because you were a fan (though you were, secretly), but because no one else looked like that. Eyes too sharp to be tired, but too sad to be awake.

He came in most nights now, always around the same time. Bought the same things: banana milk, a protein bar, and sometimes instant tteokbokki. Never said much. Just a quiet “thank you” before slipping out again.

Tonight, he lingered.

You glanced up as the door jingled. There he was, pulling his mask down just enough to sip his drink.

“Rough night?” you asked, instantly regretting how casual it sounded.

Jungkook blinked at you, surprised. Then, a corner of his mouth twitched up. “You could say that.”

You shrugged, trying not to look too interested. “Well, you’re two visits away from a loyalty card.”

That earned a quiet laugh. “Do I get a prize?”

“A sticker. Maybe a free ramen if I’m feeling generous.”

He smiled again, and this time it reached his eyes. He leaned against the counter across from you, sipping his banana milk like it was the most natural thing in the world. The silence wasn’t awkward anymore — it was… easy.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.

You told him, pretending it didn’t feel like a moment.

“Nice to officially meet you,” Jungkook said, offering his hand across the counter.

You shook it, your fingers brushing his. Warm. Real.

And just like that, the night shift didn’t feel so quiet anymore.

The next night, he was back.

Same hoodie. Same banana milk. But this time, he placed it on the counter and raised an eyebrow.

“No sticker?” he asked, deadpan.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You said I get a sticker. This is visit number… what, five?”

You leaned on your elbows, pretending to check an invisible chart. “Actually, you’re only at four. The loyalty program is very strict.”

Jungkook gasped — a dramatic, exaggerated sound that made you laugh before you could stop yourself.

“Scam,” he muttered, grabbing his milk. “This place is a scam.”

You shrugged. “Welcome to capitalism.”

He was already halfway to the door when he turned around, walking backwards now with a mischievous look in his eyes. “You owe me a sticker tomorrow.”

You pointed at him. “Only if you bring me coffee.”

Jungkook smirked. “Deal.”

And just like that, a ritual began.

Each night, he came in with a different kind of coffee — sometimes black, sometimes sweet, once with a whipped cream mountain and rainbow sprinkles “just to mess with you.” In return, you made him stickers out of anything you could find behind the counter — price tags, receipt paper, even a Band-Aid once (which he proudly stuck on his hoodie).

The small talk turned into inside jokes.

The silence turned into glances that lingered just a second too long.

And somewhere between shared snacks and mock-arguments over which instant ramen was superior, you started looking forward to 2 a.m.

One night, while he was sitting on the floor by the snack aisle (his unofficial spot now), he looked up at you and asked, “Why do you work nights?”

You paused, then said honestly, “The world’s quieter at night. People don’t expect much. It’s kind of… peaceful.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

Then, as if realizing he’d said too much, he flashed you that boyish grin again.

“You know,” he added, “if this was a drama, this would be the part where we fall in love over instant noodles and banana milk.”

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping into your cheeks. “Good thing this isn’t a drama.”

He tilted his head. “Isn’t it?”

It was raining. The kind that made the streets shine like mirrors and the whole world feel softer. The store was empty except for the two of you — like always, these nights belonged only to you and him.

Jungkook came in late. Later than usual.

His hoodie was damp at the edges, and he looked… tired. Not the usual idol-tired you’d started to recognize — the kind where he joked about needing seven espressos to function. No, tonight, he looked the kind of tired that sleep couldn’t fix.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just grabbed his banana milk, walked over to the snack aisle, and sat down on the floor — head tilted back against the shelf, eyes closed.

You waited. No questions. Just grabbed a second banana milk, popped the top, and sat beside him. Not too close. Just close enough.

He cracked an eye open and smiled faintly. “No ramen today?”

“Didn’t want you accusing me of making you a noodle addict.”

That earned a chuckle. Small. Real.

Silence stretched between you again, but it wasn’t awkward. It was patient.

After a while, his voice came — soft and slow.

“Sometimes I forget who I am.”

You turned slightly, but didn’t say anything. Just listened.

He went on, eyes fixed on the ceiling tiles. “Like… everyone has this version of me. On stage. Online. In interviews. Even the other members. And I just… try to be all of them. All the time.”

He let out a breath.

“But then I’m here. And I’m just some guy sitting in a convenience store at 2 a.m., drinking banana milk with someone who doesn’t ask for autographs.”

You smiled, still quiet.

“That’s kind of nice,” he added, almost shyly.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder. “I’m pretty great company. Especially for someone who hands out stickers made of receipt paper.”

He laughed again — that beautiful, breathy sound you were starting to crave.

You didn’t tell him it was okay.

Didn’t say you understand.

Because maybe he didn’t need that. Maybe he just needed someone who wouldn’t try to fix anything — someone who let him exist, unedited.

The rain tapped softly against the store windows. Somewhere in the back, the ice cream freezer hummed.

And there, between the snack shelves and the tired neon lights, he rested his head on his knees and let the quiet hold him — and you, just sitting beside him, made it feel like he could breathe again.

It started without warning.

One night, after your shift ended and you were locking up, Jungkook was just… there. Hoodie up, hands in his pockets, waiting by the bench outside like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked at him. “You know we’re closed, right?”

He shrugged. “I’m not here for snacks.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then?”

He hesitated, then nodded toward the street. “I’ll walk you home.”

You laughed — not because it was funny, but because it was unexpected. “Since when are you my personal bodyguard?”

He smirked, kicking a loose pebble. “Since I found out you walk alone at 3 a.m. in a city full of drunk uncles and shady alley cats.”

You shook your head, but you smiled. “And what, you’re gonna scare them off with banana milk?”

He pretended to think. “Could weaponize it. Sharp corners.”

And just like that, it began

Night after night, when your shift ended, he was waiting. Sometimes with warm drinks, sometimes half-asleep and yawning like a little kid. You always told him he didn’t have to — he always ignored you.

The walks weren’t long. Twenty minutes through quiet streets. But in those twenty minutes, something happened.

You learned he liked the cold more than heat. That he missed busking sometimes. That he still sometimes dreamt of dancing in front of tiny crowds, not stadiums.

He learned you talked to street cats. That you hated silence in elevators. That you used to sing under your breath when you stocked shelves — and he never told you, but he’d heard you.

One night, as you neared your apartment, he slowed his steps.

You looked at him. “You okay?”

He nodded, but his voice was softer than usual. “I don’t really like saying goodbye.”

You stopped at your door and turned to him. “It’s not goodbye. It’s just… see you tomorrow.”

He looked at you for a long moment, like he was memorizing something. Then he smiled.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

The city felt different that night. Too quiet. Too cold.

You glanced at the corner where Jungkook usually waited. Empty.

Maybe he was running late. Or tired. Or had a schedule change — it happened. Still, as you locked up the store and stepped into the dark, something in your chest twisted.

You walked quickly, hands stuffed deep in your pockets, keys wedged between your fingers like makeshift claws. Just in case.

You didn’t see them at first — two figures leaning against the wall near the alley that cut through to your street. Too casual. Too still.

Your gut screamed before your brain caught up.

“Hey,” one of them said, stepping into your path. “Got the time?”

You kept walking. Didn’t answer.

“Hey! I asked you something.”

A hand grabbed your arm.

You reacted fast — years of city instincts kicked in. You twisted, tried to pull free, shoved hard. But there were two of them. And it was dark. And your voice caught in your throat.

There was shouting. Pain. Then nothing.

⸻

The next night, the store stayed dark.

Jungkook stood across the street, hood up, banana milk in hand — unopened.

He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Your light should’ve been on by now. You always left it on early, even when you were annoyed about night deliveries. But the shutters stayed closed. The door locked. No music humming from the small speaker by the register. No face behind the counter rolling your eyes at his coffee choice.

Just… silence.

Something was wrong. He felt it like a drumbeat under his skin.

He called the store. No answer.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

Panic started as a whisper and rose like a tidal wave.

He paced. Called again. Looked up your street — the one he always walked with you. Where had you gone? Why hadn’t he come last night?

He didn’t sleep.

Didn’t eat.

Didn’t go home.

He just waited.

And the next day, when you still didn’t come back, he finally whispered into the quiet morning air:

“Please be okay.”

Jungkook stood nervously outside the convenience store, pacing the cracked pavement. The door was still locked, the usual hum of fluorescent lights replaced by silence.

Then, the store manager appeared, a kind but worried expression on his face.

“Jungkook,” he said quietly, “I need to tell you what happened.”

Jungkook’s heart thudded in his chest. “Is she… okay?”

The manager nodded slowly. “She was attacked last night, on her way home. Some guys tried to mug her. She fought back, but they hurt her.”

Jungkook’s breath caught. “Why wasn’t she here last night? Why didn’t she call?“

The manager looked down, regretful. “She didn’t want to worry anyone. She’s resting now — at home, with some friends helping out. But she’s shaken up. Physically and… well, emotionally.”

Jungkook clenched his fists. “I should have been there.”

“You’ve been walking her home every night. It’s not your fault.”

“But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t with her.”

The manager placed a hand gently on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You can still be. She’ll need people she trusts. And I think… she really trusts you.”

Jungkook looked at the locked door, then back at the man. “I’m going to see her.”

The manager gave a small, hopeful smile. “She’ll be glad to see you.”

⸻

Outside, the night felt colder, but Jungkook felt something else: a fierce determination.

No more banana milk runs or stickers.

Tonight, he was going to be her strength.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

You hated the silence now. It pressed against your skin, too close, too loud in your ears. Every creak of the floor above made your heart race. Every shadow outside your window felt like a threat.

You hadn’t left the house since it happened.

Bruises were fading, slowly. The swelling around your cheekbone had gone down. But the ache in your chest – that constant, tight knot of fear – that stayed.

Then came the knock.

You froze.

Not the doorbell. Just a soft, careful knock.

You grabbed the edge of the table for balance and called, voice shaky, “Who is it?”

A pause. Then a familiar voice.

“It’s me.”

Jungkook.

Your knees nearly gave out.

You opened the door slowly, heart pounding for reasons you couldn’t name. There he was — hoodie up, cap low, but nothing could hide the look in his eyes.

Relief. Anger. Guilt. Something else, too — something soft.

“You look…” he started, then stopped. “You’re okay?”

You nodded. “More or less.”

He stared at you for a beat longer, then gently lifted a takeout bag. “I brought soup. And banana milk.”

That made you laugh — a small, cracked sound, but it was real.

“You always bring banana milk,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You sat down on the couch, and he followed, careful not to get too close too fast.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then you said it.

“I was waiting for you that night.”

He winced. “I know. I should’ve been there.”

“You’re not responsible,” you said, but your voice betrayed you — because some part of you had looked for him in that moment. Some part of you had thought: If he were here, this wouldn’t be happening.

“I want to be,” Jungkook said quietly. “I want to be someone who’s there.”

You looked at him. Really looked. The tension in his shoulders, the way his hands trembled just a little, the storm behind his eyes.

And then you said, softly: “Then stay.”

He exhaled — like he’d been holding his breath since the moment he knocked.

“I will.”

So he stayed.

He didn’t ask you to talk.

He didn’t try to make it better.

He just… stayed.

That night, you fell asleep on the couch with your head on his shoulder, the empty banana milk bottle on the table and the city outside finally, finally quiet.

[genieswishes]

money’s got you working ft. Saxon Ratliff

screenshotted from @men-in-4k

MDNI 18+

pairing: Saxon Ratliff x Reader

cw: p in v (protected), squirting, saxon, work rivals

a/n: ughh another saxon drabble where he’s fucking his dad’s work favorite cause he’s a deranged freak 🙄 anyways, got this out of drafts now & title inspired by drake’s “practice”

Moving to North Carolina was your first mistake, but fucking SAXON RATLIFF? Someone needs to grab the dunce cap and pass it straight to you. It definitely fits in your current predicament.

Saxon is one of the most entitled assholes you’ve ever met, and he’s likely also going to be the best dick you’ve ever had. With the way he’s slamming his hips into you, you might as well throw your degree away, because you’re going dumb, dumb-dee, dumb, dumb, dumb.

Not to mention, you’re slurring your words… the only audible sounds coming out of you are begs and squeals. Not that Saxon really gives a fuck what you say, just that you keep trying to run away. He’s manhandling the fuck out of you, using his hands to keep yours on your back. He can’t help that your body keeps lurching forward, so naturally, he needs to keep a hold on you. Every time you go towards the front of the bed post, he’s got you slam back onto his cock.

Keep in mind, Saxon only really thinks about himself. He has it in his head that he’s a sex god because every other girl he’s gotten his dick wet in always ended up dick-dazed, y’know? That particular look on their face of fucked out and pleased? No one ever told him otherwise. Other than you, maybe. You with your prissy little attitude and your snarky quips, that only makes him wonder if your impressive resume is really going to matter when he has you pulsing around him. (Spoiler alert, no.)

Of course he thinks it will be the same with you. You’re his dad’s go-to person in the office, you wouldn’t disappoint now. Which is why he has you on all fours, fucking you rough and having you scream his name and foam white all around his base. Except he doesn’t know that all the other girls had their fingers circling their clit, while yours are trapped in his hands as leverage to move you at his will.

“Sax, let me touch myself this time, please.” The growing pile of condoms on the floor as testament of you letting him have his way.

“What do you mean? Can’t you cum like this?”

“No, I need to be touched!” You whine out.

“Come onnn,” And Saxon has the audacity to draw out his words. “I bet if you try really hard, you’ll get there.”

You’re telling him you can’t, he won’t accept that just his dick can’t bring you to completion, and now he’s whispering obscenities in your ears with your hands pinned by his large palms.

You don’t mean to moan from that. You really don’t. But you can’t help that he is punching that certain spot in you and you feel so full, and that feeling is turning into something that you recognize isn’t just your arrival.

Before you can even warn him, you’re tightening around him, spasming as you soak his base completely. He’s got you squirting and messing up the hotel bedsheets. Your mascara mixed with your tears and dried at your cheeks, your lips all plump from before, sweat sticking strands of your hair around your face; you are a mess.

You look behind you to see this asshole’s smug smirk. He looks a little crazed too; eyes just wide with amusement. His hair, while not as messy as yours, is tousled a bit. He hasn’t even taken himself out of you, sitting you up on his dick.

“Holy shit, did you just squirt?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[sapphicantics]

Three’s Trouble, Four’s a Threat

Pairing: The Plastics x fem!reader

Summary: Just some headcanons on what it’s like dating the Plastics

Word count: 1.3K (27 bullet points)

Contents: poly!Plastics, bad girl!reader, Shane slander, mentions of violence

Note: HAPPY PRIDE!!!! I have a lot of fic ideas that I’m working on, several of which I’m hoping to put out this month, unfortunately none are ready at this current moment, but I wanted to post something on the first day of pride to welcome this month in and I’ve had these sitting in my drafts for months (technically a year as of March) so what better time to post them than now. A translator app was used a few times in this fic so incorrect Hindi translations are probably present, anyone who actually speaks Hindi please politely correct me on any mistakes. And before anybody asks, which you might not, this is not the same badgirl!reader (same fonts, different people) as my series. That said, I hope you all enjoy!

— — — —

SFW:

This relationship was a surprise to everyone because what do you mean The Plastics, the most perfect girls in school, are dating The North Shore Menace, the leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding girl with tattoos and a nose piercing who’s always causing trouble (the words of one (1) Shane Oman who is obviously so very jealous they’re not with him)

You’re never actually causing trouble, just putting an end to it… in a rather violent manner

Of course, The Plastics are the only ones who know your whole “Menace” rep is a façade that stems from your home life and that you’re actually a major softie on the inside (but that stays between the four of you)

You’re always getting in fights to defend your girls, mostly with Shane Oman (sometimes some of his jock buddies too) who never seem to learn that this is not a battle they want. You’ve never lost a fight 😎, and honestly it’s embarrassing for them that they keep trying, but that doesn’t mean you don’t come out without some injuries. The girls always nurse you back to health after and make sure to thank you with lots of kisses and cuddles.

Possessive. Possessive. Possessive. You’re all possessive of each other (Regina the most) not because you don’t trust each other, but because you don’t trust everybody else at this fucking school to keep their hands to themselves.

To combat this, you got the four of you matching leather jackets. Each of them has your names embroidered at the top and say Property of The Plastics & The North Shore Menace on the back. This only succeeded in making you guys more possessive.

One day, you decided to try something different and showed up to school glammed the fuck up, by your own hand and not The Plastics who are stunned into silence at the sight of you - like I’m talking shiny gold hoop earrings, a thin chained shiny gold necklace with your zodiac sign on it, thigh high boots, a fitted strapless dress in your favorite color that accentuates your figure, and of course your embroidered leather jacket to finish the look - you know, the works. (Shane decided to be a dick and tried to use this opportunity to beat you up… he still lost) Regina tried to convince you to ditch after she saw you, but you refused and the three had to wait till after school to show you just how much they loved your outfit. The next day, there was a campaign going around with a long ass fucking name called ‘Be Like The Plastics and Get You a Girl Who Can Do Both’

Did I mention you have tattoos? Because you do, several of them actually. One arm is a full sleeve of basically your special interests and the other has a few tattoos that the girls designed to represent each of them. You even have their initials tattooed over your heart.

Addicted to their kisses. Regina’s kisses are rough and fast and demanding. Her hands are always either tugging you closer by your shirt or gripping your ass. Karen’s kisses are quite the opposite - they’re soft and sweet and gentle, often broken up with giggles, and her arms are usually wrapped around your waist in a hug. Gretchen’s kisses are definitely a mix of both. They start out slow and soft and gentle, but can speed up and turn rough faster than you can blink, her arms wrapped around your neck and tugging you as close as possible. All of their kisses leave you with hearts practically swirling in your eyes and smiling like a love-drunk idiot.

You never have to pay for anything anymore. They all have more than enough money to take turns buying things for you (look at anything for more than five seconds and it’s yours), but majority of the time Regina is buying for everybody.

Karen, Gretchen, and you always take turns cooking dinner when you spend the night at Regina’s because she can’t cook to save her life, but she is an excellent taste tester so it all works out.

You love to bake, it’s one of your favorite things to do. Cookies, cakes, brownies, muffins, anything sweet really. Honestly, you much prefer to bake over cook so majority of the time when you’re in the kitchen, you’re making something sweet. You’ve got each of their favorites sweets memorized and make them after especially hard days, on special occasions, or just at their requests.

Pet names go crazy with the four of you. You’ve all got different pet names for each other and they are all sickeningly adorable. Regina is Gigi, Gi, and Reg or Reggie by Gretchen, Karen, and you respectively. Gretchen is Mi Sol, मेरा प्यार (mera pyaar - my love), and Chi-chi by Regina, Karen, and you respectively. Karen is Mami/Mama, Ren, and Kar by Gretchen, Regina, and you in that order. Regina calls you dumbass and idiot (lovingly!) and also baby too while Gretchen calls you mi amor and Karen calls you जानेमन (jaaneman - sweetheart).

— — — — — —

NSFW:

Bottoms, the lot of them. Luckily for them, you love watching them writhe underneath of you.

Regina, despite being the apex predator of North Shore and having the three of you wrapped around her finger in public, is the bottom-est of bottoms in the bedroom. The number one Pillow Princess between the four of you.

Regina is a slut for praise and degradation, believe it or not. Call her a good girl and she’ll melt. Call her a slut and she’ll moan, but call her ‘pretty little whore’ and she’ll fucking scream in bliss.

She’s also a brat who needs to be reminded of her place sometimes, and what better way to remind her who’s in charge than a spanking that leaves her ass red, her pussy throbbing, and her begging for release? 😏

Contradictory to my first statement, Gretchen is a switch! Argue with the wall. Not only that, but when Gretchen is in top mode, she’s mean. Again, argue with the wall.

Gretchen loves edging you and Regina. Holy shit, it’s like her favorite thing to do when she’s in the mood - turning the two of you into absolute moaning messes who cling to each other and can’t cum without her permission lest you want to be edged for longer next time.

While Gretchen loves to do the edging, she actively hates being edged herself. She much prefers to be overstimulated and cum and cum and cum until tears are streaming down her cheeks and she can’t take it anymore.

Power. Bottom. Karen. Argue 👏🏼 with 👏🏼 THE WALL 👏🏼👏🏼 Listen, I know Karen isn’t book smart, but I strongly believe she is sex smart and knows a lot about sex. Like she knows what she wants from her partners and even though she’s on the bottom, she’ll guide you or Gretchen on how best to get her off that day.

Karen loves to be ate out. She loves sitting on your face and riding your tongue until her thighs are quivering and she physically cannot hold herself up anymore.

Karen’s got you and Gretchen wrapped around her finger in the bedroom. You two can never tease her for too long before either of you are caving to her demands and giving her exactly what she wants.

Surprise! The first time you guys have sex together, they realize you have nipple piercings, and oh wow, you’re so sensitive there. Even the lightest touch from the girls has you shivering and your hips bucking with pleasure. Yes, you can cum from just nipple play. Gretchen is always using this to tease you when she’s topping and always convinces Karen and Regina to join in (you hate it so bad, but you love it so much.)

Resident munch. Eating out is your favorite thing to do. Your ankles always end up crossed in contentment when your face is buried between any of their legs bringing them pleasure.

Mommy kink for you.

— — — — — —

All in all, while it’s a very shocking relationship to others (and also none of their business really), the four of you have a very healthy and loving relationship together filled with copious amounts of love and happiness.

[anantaru]

BONUS KINK — BODY WORSHIP

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

a/n. the last bonus kink is about them worshipping you just the way you deserve <3 and thank you for supporting this year's kinktober, enjoy <3

𖧡 — including — diluc, zhongli, childe, alhaitham

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, all about how much they love your body and putting your pleasure first, very passionate & rough, oral (fem! receiving), fingering

𖧡 — DILUC

the closer diluc got to his mansion, the more he realized that he had missed you this entire day— and he desires you with every inch of his being, in a special way that wasn't temporary but made him believe that love wasn't a hoax after all, and that he wasn't hard to love either, because you made him feel again.

the idea of losing you could truly ruin him.

and sometimes he catches himself become embarrassingly jealous of the glinting sun rays being eminent in the sky, for they can kiss you whenever he cannot.

a primal rush of pleasure shivers through him when he first places both hands on top of your hips, waiting for a moment and dwelling on your warm frame diffusing the stiffness of abused muscles located around his shoulders and chest as he absorbs the vibrations of your tranquil mewls into his aching body.

"i missed you, diluc," you say, "so much," before teasing his shaft with your walls and constricting ever so wonderfully, remembering the shape of his length as you wince at the additional pressure his cock sent straight into your core, clenching your muscles rhythmically that the rest of his body would shiver whilst pressed against your own, your facial expression continuously satisfied with the treatment he always gave you.

diluc clears his throat and attempts to hide the scarlet redness manifesting on his bristling cheeks, "i missed you," he whispers and emphasizes the last word with an octave higher, "been thinking about you all day," before lapping wet streaks over the areas on your neck that he knew were the most sensitive, it was the combination of one bite and a possessive huff on the wet flesh that made you whimper softly on the next thrust— not to forget that your body was simply divine to the red haired, each curve and bend reacting when he pumps you full of his cock, letting it glide smoothy in and out of your warm hole as you moan out his name, your face ecstatic with release.

you knew you wouldn't last very long, and as you continued to be fucked with diluc's precise thrusts consisting of long, slow movements, you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach, your throbbing cunt hot and tight sealed around his shaft as it took every ounce of restraint for diluc to not just cum and release his seed to pulse in hot rivulets on your inflamed walls.

it's almost too much to bear— but alas, that was what diluc craved, and even if he didn't say anything too directly or would admit it to you, he's been secretly hard and painfully throbbing for the majority of his day that consisted of nothing but work on top of work, his pulsing erection unbearably hard and rubbing against the rough confines of his pants as he day dreamed about his current reality.

alas, he was able to feel this now, feel you now— turning it evident that he wanted to please you more than anything else, even if just for a split second.

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

lowermost the brilliant stars ablaze within the moonlight sky and a chilling draft welcoming your frames, zhongli made love to you in an unforgettable matter— and the man has found himself wholly entranced by the fullness of your beauty.

you look up at him in a daze, and your eyes were the first out of many things that drew him into complete obsession, your sultry, lowered gaze in particular— the type that appeared to be seductive without trying as he grabs your knees and hoists them over his shoulders, the new position allowing him to lean forward enough to place a passionate kiss to your dampened forehead before pushing himself deeper. 

an icy chill shoots like a cold lightning down his spine when you  exhale tremulously once he was fully inside, a proud smirk represented on his darling lips as he found himself pleased by your reactions.

the atmosphere manifests in a sensual tone, tenser, and your heart beat was pounding so fast and loud that it almost entirely dulled out the penetrative sound of your hips bucking against each other in quick, sloppy slaps. your mouth panting and eyes squeezed shut with every new meet of his cock rolling inside of your walls, your arousal sticking to his shaft and marking him sinfully— it's like those sweet traces and his hips bouncing in a steady pace ignited something inside you, your figure melting from heat when zhongli touches the very depths of you.

zhongli groaned inwardly, and by his very nature, seeing you mewl and sob, with your hips swirling up and down his cock to handle more of him, such submission was almost too erotic, and his body responds in a feral perception, his length mapping through every rill and spongy spot that his low eyes and long lashes look down on you with twisting lust, your thighs shifting against each other as his hips rock back and forth against the softness and the feeling of just how good you felt. 

𖧡 — CHILDE

"you drive me insane," for a moment, childe let his gaze follow over the soft, glimmering skin on your sensitivity, his eyes lingering on the way your cunt was practically awaiting to be claimed by him— your face contorting in pleasure when he lastly, presses a soft kiss to the pulse point on your clit, licking inside and dipping his head lower.

suckling gently, you writhe and mewl under him, your back arching up a little for an extra amount of contact from his tongue as one large hand skims over the expanse of your chest, palming over your breasts while the other prods at your hole as childe coats his chin and cheeks with a generous amount of your arousal.

"you're perfect," he mutters into your flesh, every nerve in your body quivering when he put you into the deepest sensations of euphoria— a trance of which you do not wish to be freed from, and neither does childe want to stop pleasuring you, on top of being allowed to taste your beauty on his tongue, losing all his strength as he fell head first again, just like he always did whenever he admired what was his.

he lightly traces around the tight opening, fluttering his eyes up to your face before sliding one finger inside, immediately feeling you tense down, then moan out angelically when he scissors you lightly, his tongue leisurely lapping out the very surface of your glistening folds while he keeps a steady pump on your hole, continuing his careful ministrations and pressing his digit deeper, always more, and maintaining the pleasurable torture until you would whimper at him, only the slightest bit desperate, at least that's what you believed it looked like.

you clench your jaw to brace yourself, whimpering softly at each press of his fingers hitting your sweet spots almost a little too good, the next pleasured mewl escaping your aching throat when childe seals his lips on top of your clit before trapping the tingling skin in between his mouth, sucking gently.

"ajax.." you hiss softly, "need to feel you," as he repeatedly enters you with his slender digit, the stimulation overflowing your lower area as an intense burning sensation settles on your wet sex, deliciously limiting your noises so that you're hiccuping in shattered words and phrases.

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

"you are deliberately provoking me," there wasn't a realistic possibility for you to keep something hidden from alhaitham, and he observes you thoughtful and stoic, a devious glimmer creasing around his eyes when he pins your wrists above your head, watching your clouded expression contort in pleasure as if you wanted this to happen.

he holds you down effortlessly, and while in any other case, alhaitham wouldn't let you play him like a violin, he cannot help himself but think about how lucky he truly was— or, how utterly enchanting your figure looked even while squeezed underneath his larger one.

to know that you had this power over him was dangerous, to know that he needs you like air to breathe was lecherous, or to know that the pleasure you placed on him concealed his vision with no doubts in his mind.

momentarily, he resists the flourishing desire to pay you back with skilled teasing and a robbed orgasm when he softly soothes one palm over the curve of your trembling body and stifling a groan in his throat when he slides his tip into you, the chaste downward flutter of his long, pretty eyelashes contrasting the strong set of his jaw clenching the second he tastes the hotness of your sex engulfing him.

you take him like he was begging you to, his biceps flexing enticingly as he braces himself up for what's to come when he crowds you with his inches in slow, tantalizing movements, the hot edges of your mewls burning violently through alhaitham's lust as he moans deeply, pushing into you with a hard buck of his hips reaching your softest spots.

you shudder, a harsh bolt of heat shooting through your tensed muscles as you clench your thighs around his hips, your hands wiggling underneath his palm that were keeping them pinned as you arch your back off the mattress, unable to take control of the passion infused jolts yearning for his searing touch as his rigid cock sinks hard enough to sting with a mild pain into you that evidently enough made you unravel into a trembling, dazed mess of a person.

"fuck, ahh," the pitch of your needy moans and whines manifest into crushed tunes with each convulsing thrust into your heat twisting you apart, shuddering and spattering all aver his length as you coat him with your arousal, the liquid rush of intense thrusts hitting you from nowhere as alhaitham throws his head back in ecstasy, releasing your hands from his grasp to fuck you deeper, so you're on the brink of splitting in half from the sheer intensity.

your hands find the softness of his hair as you merely wince at him, absorbed in your own pleasure and reveling on those sweet and personal caresses that felt like his skin was fusing with your own.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Partner

Masterlist

Pairing: Tim Drake x (F) Reader

Tags: NSFW workplace romance, mutual pining, friends to lovers, protective Tim Drake, Red Robin, kissing, sweet, caring, fluff, smut

The sound of your ringtone interrupted the silence of your bedroom, jolting you up from a much needed sleep. Squinting against the glare of your screen, you read the name: Tim Drake.

You sighed and answered, your voice thick with sleep. “Drake, what are you doing up at three in the morning?”

“L/n,” His own groggy yet excited voice spoke through the phone, his voice far too alert for the hour. “Have you ever heard of The Obsidian Order?”

You leaned back against your pillow. "Uh... vaguely? They’re some fringe cult or something, right?"

"Right. Meta-human involvement, mystical artifacts, and alien technology," he rattled off, unfazed by your tired tone. "This matches the crime scene on Baker's Alley."

"... mystical artifacts, sure." you mumbled, already regretting picking up the phone.

"The shops that were attacked were connected by some underground ring of demonic worshippers. The Obsidian collection is probably their endgame,"

"Okay, Tim."

He then said flatly. "I need you sharp tomorrow."

"Drake, I need sleep to be sharp."

"Coffee's on me then," he joked before hanging up.

You shook your head, pulling the blanket over your face, but a sharp tug at the corner of your lips betrayed you.

Tim Drake was the youngest detective in the organized crime division in Gotham's federal investigation office. The branch was filled with seasoned detectives who have undergone rigorous training, examination, and experience in the field. Tim should have been a novice at his age, but you learned quickly that the young man was a prodigy. Like yourself.

You both graduated early, so most people were either jealous or impressed with your accomplishments in forensics at such young ages age.

When you met Tim, he began by countering with a detailed breakdown of your own academic history, citing several theses that you have written in college and showing he’s done his homework. You blinked, stunned and slightly ashamed. By comparison, you didn't bother to read much beyond his brief.

Tim was easy to like. Every time you were ignored by a higher up, he spoke up for you. Every time he got some news, he'd check in with you. It was so... sweet. He made you feel seen. Listened to.

When it came to investigations, Tim picked up on details no one else noticed, while you scientifically debunked his initial theories, he still insisted on them and oddly enough his hunches ended up being right about half the time.

Currently, the two of you were assigned to investigate a string of gruesome, ritualistic murders taking place in Gotham.

You sat across from Tim, showing him the rough draft of your plan. When you spoke, Tim watched you with an unexplainable intensity. Like you were telling him a valuable secret.

"So, if the Obsidian order place their bets at the drag race, thats where we can find and trap them." You finished. "What do you think -"

"Really?" A loud, condescending voice cut in before Tim could respond.

You stiffened as Richardson, one of Tim's fellow detectives, strolled up with a patronizing grin. "You do realize the drag race takes place in the city’s underground tunnels, right?"

"I know," you said through clenched teeth, trying to keep your composure.

"Do you even know who sponsors it?" Richardson asked, folding his arms smugly.

"Cobblepot," you replied with a clipped tone, suppressing the urge to snap at him.

He smirked. "So I assume you’ll be placing your own bets, then? Do you even know who the favorite is?"

"Richardson," Tim’s voice interrupted, sharp and unimpressed. "She knows more than you pretend to."

Richardson blinked, taken aback by Tim’s clipped tone, before lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright." He walked off.

You exhaled heavily, slumping back in your chair. "He’s such a tool," Tim muttered.

"Tell me about it," you grumbled, flipping your notebook shut, but a lingering feeling bubbled in your chest. The same feeling that rose every time Tim stood up for you or defended you. You knew that he likely saw you as a friend, which was why he went out of his way to make you feel comfortable, but you wished he didn't.

It didn't help that he had a handsome boy-next-door look to him that fit your type exactly. Messy dark brown hair falling over light blue eyes and his pair of square rim glasses that rested cutely on his nose. Always wearing an unkempt button up, with the buttons done wrong, tie loosened, and sleeve rolled up to his elbows and showing off his impressive forearms. And those lips, with their annoyingly cute habit of chewing on a pen while he concentrated on a file, tapping away with his foot.

Many times, you caught yourself biting your lip and gazing at him.

Like right now.

You realized you zoned off again when your captain’s voice echoed through the precinct, "... which means we're getting audited."

A collective groan rose from the team, interrupting your daydream.

Tim leaned in beside you, his voice low and conspiratorial as his coffee scented breath brushed your ear. "Kill me now."

You glance at him, knowing your face was red. You offered a forced chuckle. "You first."

“Deal,” he whispered with a ghost of a smirk, leaning back as your captain walked off. "Now, let's go to the drag race. I like that plan of yours."

You smiled to yourself. He always liked your plans.

The plan didn't go according to plan.

As you arrived at the underground race, the chaos of gunfire from the Obsidian's rival gang filled the space, deafening your senses. Your chest heaved as you crouched behind a toppled table, struggling to steady your breathing. From your vantage point, you caughed glimpses of Tim, his figure darting between overturned furniture and scattering glass.

He took on three assailants simultaneously, never once reaching for his gun. Instead, he used the environment to his advantage, deftly maneuvering his attackers into each other and sending them sprawling over broken furniture. His movements were precise and calculated, a masterclass in efficiency.

Meanwhile, around him, the rest of the detectives grappled to hold their own, barely managing to fend off one opponent at a time. That included you.

A shuffle to your right caught your attention. Your stomach dropped as you spotted several men advancing your way. You reached for your weapon, but before you could aim, Tim was there, tackling you to the ground just as a new barrage of bullets tore through the air.

His body shielded yours, the weight of him pressing you into the floor. You barely noticed the pain in your shoulder as your head swam with adrenaline.

The gunfire faded, replaced by the sound of your labored breathing. Tim shifted, his hand cupping your face as he tilted your chin upward. His sharp gaze locked on yours, scanning for injuries. "Are you okay?"

Your pulse hammered, but you managed a shaky nod. "I’m fine." Then your eyes landed on the crimson cut running down his cheek. "You’re bleeding!"

Your fingers instinctively brushed the gash along his face. The dark blood against his pale skin stood out, but as you observed it closer, your stomach churned. The blood wasn't just red. It was tinged with an unnatural green.

Tim winced at your touch but didn't pull away. "It’s nothing," he muttered, trying to brush it off.

"It’s not nothing," you shook your head. "Tim, you’ve been poisoned!”

His brow furrowed, his movements slowing as your words registered. He shook his head to clear it, but you could see a sudden glassiness in his light blue eyes.

"I’m -" His breath caught, and he stumbled, blinking rapidly. His voice grows faint, tinged with confusion. "What the hell…?"

"Tim!" Your voice hardened, your concern barely concealed. "We need to get you out of here. Now."

He nodded weakly, his legs threatening to buckle. You quickly moved to support him, slipping his arm over your shoulder. Together, you stumbled toward his car, your heart pounding as you tried to ignore the blood soaking into your shirt. "No, no, no, please, no." You weakly muttered to yourself, not knowing what you would do if something were to happen to him.

You fumbled with the keys to Tim’s apartment, your arms straining under his weight. By the time you managed to open the door, you were both out of breath.

The space was a mess - papers and books scattered everywhere. You navigated to the bathroom, lowering him gently onto the cold tiled floor.

"I’ll be right back," you said, brushing his damp hair from his forehead before running toward the kitchen.

His first aid kit and the forensics kit you gave him as a gift were exactly where you remembered, tucked beneath the kitchen sink. You grabbed them and rushed back to find Tim slumped against the wall, his glasses slipping down his nose, sweat curling his dark hair against his forehead.

"Stay with me, Drake," you urged, kneeling beside him. You used tools from the forensics kit to collect a sample of the poison from his cut. The strip reacted instantly,

"What is it?" He mumbled, trying to concentrate on the kit in your shaking hands.

"Likely plant-based," your vocie shook. "Possibly laced with synthetic compounds - need to clean you up."

You twisted the shower handle, letting ice-cold water from the faucet, intending to keep him under cold to slow his circulation and prevent the poison from spreading too quickly.

Ignoring the spray soaking your clothes, you reached for him, guiding him to his feet. He swayed, leaning heavily against the wall as you helped him toward the water.

His bloody shirt clung to his skin, and he fumbled to pull it off. Your breath caught as the fabric peeled away, revealing the injuries scattered across his torso. Thin cuts seeped green-tinged blood, and your stomach churned.

Beneath the injuries, his chest and abdomen were a canvas of ridged muscle and faded scars. You realized you were staring when Tim swayed again, nearly collapsing into the shower.

You caught him, your hands slipping against his damp skin as you steadied him.

His short, shallow breaths brushed against your ear, distracting and intimate, and you felt your face heat despite the cold water soaking through your clothes.

You pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on holding him under the spray. Tim tilted his head back, letting the water stream over his face and into his open mouth. He drank greedily, desperate to flush the poison from his system.

"Tim," you said softly, your hand resting on his shoulder. He blinked at you, his usual sharp eyes dizzy.

"Thanks," he mutters hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the rush of water.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you grabbed a towel. "Don’t thank me yet. Let’s get the antidote for you first."

You applied a cold compress soaked in pain relief gel to reduce the effects. The antidote had worked, mostly. Tim lay sprawled on his bed, his shirt discarded, and the fresh bandages on his torso stark against his pale skin. He still looked feverish, his cheeks flushed, and his breaths slow and shallow.

You sat beside him on the edge of the bed, putting the blanket over his chest. You'd discarded your clothes, exchanging them for his t-shirt and a pair of shorts. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the window. You reached out, brushing a damp lock of hair from his forehead.

Tim’s eyelids fluttered open, his blue eyes glassy with exhaustion. "I’m freezing," he said hoarsely, his voice cracking slightly. His brow furrowed as if the chill was burrowing into his bones. "Stay. Please."

You hesitated, but the pleading in his tone unraveled you. "Okay," you said quietly before climbing into the bed beside him.

You lay down, pulling the blanket over both of you. He turned to you instinctively, his body curling slightly, seeking warmth. You felt the heat of his skin as you wrapped your arms around him, letting him tuck his face into the crook of your neck.

"Better?" you asked softly, your lips close to his ear.

He hummed in response, the sound low and drowsy. "You’re warm," he muttered.

His arms circled you loosely, his fingers brushing absentmindedly along your back, tracing your skin.

"Tim," you whispered, your voice a mix of amusement and shyness.

"Hmm?" His voice was groggy, but his hand moved lower, resting at the curve of your waist. His thumb stroked slow, lazy circles against your side, the touch sending a shiver up your spine.

"You’re supposed to be resting," you scolded gently, though there was no real heat behind your words.

"I am," he murmured. His hand traveled up again, sliding along your back, his fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt. "You're wearing my shirt."

"I am." Your heart raced as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of the shirt, his touch warm against your skin. His movements were languid, exploratory, like everything else about him.

You whimpered when his exploring fingers reached the peak of your nipple under your bralette, and your voice came out breathy.

His head tilted, and you felt the faintest brush of his lips against your shoulder.

The air grew hot, the space between you shrunk. You felt his lips move higher, grazing the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His fingers continued drawing circles on your sensitive nipple as his other hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer.

“Tim,” you said his name in a question.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes darker now, the fog of his earlier exhaustion replaced with something sharper, more intent. “Stay,” he said again.

How could you possibly say no to him.

His lips continued their exploration on your neck, making you shiver as you felt wetness pooling between your legs. You couldn't process what was happening. You were in bed with your work crush as he touched you in a way that co-workers shouldn't. You were half expecting yourself to wake up from a dream.

Unable to mask your reactions, you found yourself whimpering with every movement he made on your body.

"You feel good." He moaned against your ear.

Your voice hitched when his reached your panties, cupping your sex. Every place he touched sparked with shivers, making you jump. His finger was now brushing back and forth between your folds, each movement brushing over your pulsing clit. "Tim,"

He hummed and one look at him confirmed he was watching you, studying your reactions. The same way he did at work.

"Oh," you arched your back as his fingers zeroed in on your nub, rubbing small circles around it.

He rolled you onto your back and leaned above you, then lifted up your shirt and lowered himself until his lips wrapped around the tip of your bralette wetting and weakening the already thin material until it was transluscent. He then did the same to your other breast. Your fingers curled around his messy locks, and you brought your hand up to cover your mouth from moaning too loudly.

"Dont cover your mouth," he gazed down at you through long lashes, bringing his hand to yours, interlocking your fingers together in a surprisingly firm grip, and holding it above your head Fully exposed, you struggled to suppress your moans.

"I need to hear you." He rasped, gazing into your eyes as his finger sped up on your clit.

Your stomach muscles flexed as you pushed yourself further into his hand, desperate for that feeling. "Ah, ah," you gave up on suppressing your noises and wimpers. "Please," you cry.

"Please what?" His eyes roaming across your features. "Tell me what you need. Tell me and I'll do it."

"Want to feel you," you reached for his waistband and pushed it down. "Wanted this for... so long."

"Me too, fuck-" He sucked in his breath sharply. "Keep touching there baby, please, please-" His breath caught in his throat when you brushed the top of his dick. "Yes, just like that baby," he closed his eyes as he brow furrowed. He looked beautiful like this. Chasing pleasure. You didn't know such kind of beauty was possible.

The two of you continue to pleasure each other, foreheads touching, as your joint breathes mixed with each other. You both competed to achieve pleasure for one another.

Just as the warmth spreads to your core, and you begin shaking. Suddenly, Tim cups your cheek and brings his lips down to yours, enveloping you in a deep kiss. Your lips twist against each other. His tongue exploring yours in an eager study as the two of you moan into your kiss.

Once the two of you draw apart, gasping for air. Tim lowers himself to kiss your cheeks and neck before moving to your collarbone and breasts, licking up the thin sheet of sweat on your body. Just as your eyelids grow heavy, he reaches his tongue to lick at your sex, cleaning you up with gentle licks. As sleep takes you, the last thing you feel is Tim lying down beside you and cradling you against the warmth of his chest.