#⠀⠀⠀✿ ⠀⠀⿸⿱⠀⠀𓈒⠀𓈒⠀⠀𝅘𝅥𝅮 ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏⠀

[shifterautopsy]

@lovedbugg

sleepover

[astrstqr]

who are you? ' ☆ personalities & traits ! 2

𓐄 𓏸 ˒ TRAITS

𓋜 athletic, smart, handsome, helpful, confident, playful, passionate, open minded, respectful, thoughtful, hardworking, extroverted, bright, hangry, inpatient

𓐄 𓏸 ˒ HOBBIES

𓋜 fashion, writing, makeup, ice skating, reading, archery, pottery, boxing, gaming, drawing, yoga, baking, photography, hikes, cooking, tennis, traveling, ballet, shopping, collecting, tennis, streaming, fashion, shopping

𓐄 𓏸 ˒ SKILLS

𓋜 running in heels, sign language, mores code, play the eclectic guitar, first aid, gymnastics, archery, multitasker, good aim, at all types of rapping, at all types of dancing, at all type of singing, volleyball, reading, math, biology, psychology, photography, drawing, painting, count money, high pain tolerance, high spice tolerance, medium alcohol tolerance, solving problems, persuasion, good at direction and navigation, know how to use my skills to the fullest, comforting, critical thinking, listening, good memory, high stamina, producing

[wonfie]

enha hyung line react to ur transparent cleaning videos

` I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU ! ₊

　　　　 🛴　　𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍

𓈒𓈒 boyf!enhypen ✶ f!rea  1743───  >ᯅ< masturbating petnames degrading transparent cleaning

HEESEUNG

heeseung’s had a long day. just got back from practice, muscles sore, hair damp from a rushed shower. he collapses onto his bed, throws an arm over his eyes, and taps the link you sent with a lazy thumb—half-curious, half-teasing.

the second it opens, he sits straight up.

no music. no intro. just you.

kneeling on all fours, in a translucent maid apron that shows everything.

his lips part.

his cock twitches.

your back’s arched. your chest spills over the top of the lace. the thin tie at your waist barely holds the fabric in place. he can see everything.

and you? you’re wiping down a glass table like it’s your goddamn job—slow, hypnotic circles while your hips sway, your thighs rub together, and your voice hums low.

then you say it.

“the floor’s still so dirty, sir… i’ll get down lower.”

you flatten your body. arch deeper. shift your hips like you’re grinding against the tile—like the scrubbing’s getting you off.

your apron slips. your nipple’s out. you don’t fix it. you just pout.

“oops. made another mess…”

heeseung’s hand shoots down. no thought. no hesitation. he palms himself through his shorts, breath shaky, eyes laser-locked to the screen. he bites his lip so hard it leaves a dent, trying not to moan.

trying.

but you drop the sponge. you crawl toward the camera. you look right into the lens and giggle,

“gonna punish me for being so clumsy?”

and that’s it.

heeseung yanks his cock out and strokes it rough, pre-cum slicking his knuckles in seconds. his breath catches—his whole chest rising and falling like he’s drowning in it. the way your tits bounce with every movement, the angle of your knees, the high arch of your back—it’s all too much.

but the worst part?

you moan.

a real one. soft, breathy, just a little desperate.

and he goes numb.

his legs tremble. he chokes out a broken gasp. cum spurts over his abs, hot and thick and endless, his toes curling so hard it aches.

his head falls back. his throat’s dry. he’s twitching in his own fist and the video isn’t even halfway done.

and you? you’re still wiping the floor like nothing happened. smiling like you didn’t just break him. dragging the sponge between your thighs while your nipples harden against the cold tile.

heeseung just lies there, dazed, vision white at the edges. his heart’s pounding. he can barely breathe.

then he swallows, replays the last 30 seconds, and starts touching himself again—slower this time. murmuring your name like a prayer.

“fuck, baby… what are you doing to me…”

he’ll never be normal again.

JAY

he opens the link in his kitchen. just finished cooking. fork in one hand, phone in the other. casual. relaxed.

until he sees what it is.

you—dressed in a transparent maid apron. nipples out. ass bare. on your knees, scrubbing the floor like you’re performing. like you want someone to see.

his jaw tenses.

his hand tightens around the fork.

his cock swells in his sweats so fast it’s painful.

you don’t even look guilty. you look proud. you’re humming to yourself, slow, sultry, a little pout on your lips as you say,

“gotta clean every corner… wanna be a good girl for sir…”

his nostrils flare.

he doesn’t touch himself. doesn’t moan. doesn’t even blink.

he watches.

stone still.

silent.

but his body is on fire.

his blood is hot, his breath shallow, his cock so hard it twitches with every filthy thing you do. when you bend over and drag that sponge in slow circles between your thighs, when you spread your knees wider, when you say in that fucking voice—

“so messy… i think i need to be punished…”

—he snaps.

the fork clatters to the floor.

he closes the video.

grabs his keys.

and the next time you hear from him, it’s not a text. it’s the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by boots on tile and a voice so dark it makes your knees buckle.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

you barely get a word out before he’s in front of you, grabbing your face, dragging you up by the chin with rough fingers that shake with how angry he is.

not because he’s mad.

because he’s turned on.

insanely turned on.

“you wanna show that to people? you want them jerking off to you on your knees like some dumb little whore?”

you whimper. he laughs. dark.

“no, baby. you don’t get to play housemaid for strangers. you clean my floors. you wear that little slut outfit for me. and if you’re gonna put on a show…”

he shoves you against the wall.

grinds his hard cock against your stomach.

growls in your ear—

“then i’ll be the one holding the camera next time. while you moan my name and cum all over the floor like the filthy bitch you are.”

JAKE

he should’ve never opened the link. really. should’ve ignored it, should’ve muted the groupchat, should’ve respected his own dignity—but the second he sees your name next to the word maid, his fingers move on their own.

he’s in bed, shirtless, lights off, just trying to wind down when the screen flashes and the video loads—and there you are.

on your knees.

in heels.

in the dirtiest, most whorish little apron he’s ever seen—if you could even call it that. it’s just sheer lace. nipples poking through. no bra, no panties, nothing protecting your dignity as you bend over, hum softly, and drag a sponge across the floor like you’ve never done anything more serious in your life.

his whole body locks up.

“wait—what the fuck…” he whispers, but his mouth is dry and his voice is cracking.

the camera pans lower. he sees your legs spread, just a little, like you’re bracing yourself. the arch in your back is so deep he swears it’s a threat.

you glance back at the camera with that dumb little smile, like you know he’s watching.

like you planned this just for him.

and then you say,

“mmh… can’t believe how dirty it gets down here…”

you pout.

“guess i’ll have to use both hands…”

he lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard. fully covers his face with one hand and slides the other straight into his boxers. he’s already dripping, the tip of his cock red and twitching and soaked. doesn’t even pretend he’s trying to hold back.

his hips buck off the bed. his thighs tremble. he moans—actually moans—every time you squeeze the sponge or press your tits together or drag your tongue across your lips.

“she’s so fucking… fuck, fuck, fuck—”

his hand moves fast. too fast. he’s humping into his palm like a dog, panting so hard he feels dizzy, whispering “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry” because he’s gonna cum in under a minute and he knows it.

and just when he’s about to lose it—when you lean back and let the apron fall open, completely baring your pussy to the camera with a breathy,

“oops… guess that part wasn’t clean enough either…”

he fucking explodes.

his back arches. hot cum spills across his stomach. he gasps your name with a whine so high it doesn’t even sound human. and he doesn’t stop moving—hips grinding against his own hand, desperately chasing every last drop like a loser who doesn’t know when to quit.

he finishes dazed and sticky and trembling. the video’s still playing. you’re still moaning. he stares, completely wrecked, and mumbles,

“…i’m gonna die. i’m gonna die for real this time.”

and then he texts you, hands shaking.

jaeyu 🐾 [1:04am]

fuck fuck fuck

were u thinking about me???

when u made that???

can i watch u do it live next time

can i film it

can i cum on the floor when ur done

please. please please please

SUNGHOON

sunghoon was more surprised than angry when he saw your transparent maid cleaning video. quiet at first. way too quiet. and then dark, mean, razor-sharp with control that snaps the second your voice turns sweet. he doesn’t beg. he doesn’t text you like a simp. he jerks off once, clenched teeth, trembling thighs—and then he shows up at your door without saying a word.

he watches it at his desk.

airpods in. hoodie on. one hand on the mouse. it’s late. he’s half-asleep.

until the video loads.

until you appear on your knees, lace apron tied low on your hips, nipples visible through the fabric, tits swaying with every slow wipe of your sponge.

sunghoon blinks.

stares.

leans back in his chair like he’s taking it all in.

he doesn’t pause.

doesn’t replay anything.

doesn’t even flinch when you pout and say, “so dirty, sir… want me to clean it with my mouth?”

his cock twitches. he breathes out slow.

“you’re actually out of your mind,” he mutters. quiet. almost fond.

his free hand drops to his sweats. just a brush over his dick at first, slow and impersonal—but when you turn your back to the camera and crawl, when your apron rides up to reveal the curve of your ass, when you moan softly like you’re getting off on it—

he jerks off hard.

his jaw is tight. brows drawn. eyes fixed to the screen like you’re under him right now. he fists his cock with quick, precise strokes—no teasing, no build-up. you’re moaning, scrubbing, bouncing slightly as you move, and he lets it fuel him.

“what the fuck are you doing to me,” he mutters.

then again, lower: “dirty little tease…”

when you look into the camera—wide-eyed, shy, panting—and whisper,

“can you cum for me, sir?”

he grunts, low and guttural, and cums all over his hoodie, thick white streaks across his stomach and palm.

but the way he stares at the screen when he’s done?

that’s what should scare you.

he doesn’t look satisfied.

he looks pissed.

possessive.

starving.

he wipes his hand off, slams his laptop shut, and texts only one thing:

hoonieieieieieie 🌚 [1:27am]

don’t move.

i’m coming over.

you’re going to clean my whole apartment dressed like that.

and if i see one camera…

i’ll fuck you so hard you won’t walk for days.

you hear the knock ten minutes later.

he doesn’t smile when you open the door.

“you want attention? fine. you’ll get it.”

before he throws you over his shoulder, making beeline for the bedroom.

[eufezco]

DINNER WITH FRIENDS𓂃 𓈒 ❀

thunderbolts*!bucky x fem!pregnant!reader

synopsis – when bucky returns home he's not alone and a quiet evening turns into a full house. seven months pregnant and unprepared, you're caught off guard but family is family.

a/n – this is just a little scenario that crossed my mind when i got out of the cinema after watching thunderbolt* for the fourth time. pleasee send me bucky requests i want to write for him but i have like 0 ideas. writing this i realized that i've oficially fallen for the john walker propaganda 😞

fluff

it was later than usual and bucky stil hadn't come home.

rebecca was in her room, playing quietly as she waited for her dad. you were in the kitchen. dinner was already done so with nothing else to do, you found yourself rearranging things on the counter, trying to distract your mind from the worry. you rubbed your seven-month pregnant belly as if it were a magic lamp and you were wishing for him to return. and then you heard the front door creak open.

—bucky? —you moved quickly out of the kitchen but you stopped on your track when you saw he wasn't alone.

—yeah, it's me.

—oh my god, —you breathed before he could finish talking, your hand flying to your chest. you weren't expecting five people with him. their faces familiar yet you'd never met them in person.

bucky stood in the middle of the group, his lips pressed together in a guilt line. he knew full well you weren't expecting this and that he should've warned you beforehand, but he hadn't known they'd all need a place to drop by on the same night after the same mission.

he'd hesitated, worried about adding more stress when you were already seven months pregnant. but then he thought of home and you and rebecca and how it might be the one thing that could soften the edges of everything they'd been through that day. and god help bucky, you'd told him a million times you'd love to meet them.

so here they were. on your doorstep. in your hallway.

—hi, —you said to them. you blinked, caught between surprise and disbelief.

bob waved his hand. yelena, ava and john pressed their lips together.

—oh, hi john —you knew john. he and bucky had caused each other a lot of headaches in the past, but you were glad that at least now they tolerated each other. john showed you a little smile.

alexei made his way through the group and approached you with open arms. you raised your eyebrows and just let the big man cover you in a hug. he smelled like vodka and leather but surprisingly, he was really careful with your belly as he hugged you.

—mrs. barnes, the wife of the soldier, oh, it's so nice finally meeting you, —he said with a rough russian accent. —behind every great man is a great woman, they say. a greater woman, may i add.

as he held you, you caught all the other faces around the room, all rolling their eyes. you giggled when he finally released you, alexei was just as dramatic as bucky described him. —thank you, alexei.

—you know my name, she knows my name! —he turned to tell the others. they gave him plain nods and lazy smiles.

—of course, everyone knows your names now. plus, bucky talks about you five all the time.

bucky closed his eyes and ava grinned and nudged him with her elbow.

—yelena, right?

you approached the blonde girl standing next to bucky. she had the same stormy look in her eyes as him, she could definitely be his little sister. she looked at bucky a little unsure when you called her name, almost as if for reassurance. she hadn't wanted to come at first, she didn't want to cross that line, didn't want to step into something as private and sacred as his home.

yelena nodded to your question. you softened your expression and offered a warm smile. bucky caught her hesitation and he gently pressed his hand to her back, giving her an encouraging push. you opened your arms and puller her into a hug before she could think too hard about it. she tensed for a moment but then her arms came high around you, as if she was afraid of even brushing your belly.

you hugged ava, careful not to press against her delicate suit. you'd heard enough from bucky to know how sensitive the tech could be and how guarded ava was underneath it.

bob was so ready when you hugged him and welcomed him to your house. he'd seen bucky's photos of you, the lock screen on his phone. he knew how after every operation, buck's first texts were always to you, checking in, making sure you were safe and letting you know that he made it out alive. if bob had the power of one million exploding suns, he was certain it still wouldn't match how fiercely bucky loved you. and that gave him hope.

you smiled before you hugged john. he wasn't sure if you'd want him in your house, after all, he'd been a pain in bucky's ass but hey, in his defense, bucky had been just as much of a pain in his. still, you welcomed him.

and the best for last. as the rest inspected your living room, looking at the photos and tripping over rebecca's toys, bucky stood with the most exhausted expression on his face. he stepped closer and let his head fall against your shoulder. one of your hands went to the back of his head, fingers slipping into his hair.

—long day?

bucky just hummed.

—how was yours?

—good. the baby barely kicked after last night, —in that moment you felt bucky's hands come to rest on both sides of your belly, his thumbs rubbed slow circles, up and down, protective, telling the baby he was finally home, taking care of his mom. —and rebecca drew alpine. with eight legs and no ears. she's very proud.

he breathed a laugh, —sounds about right.

bucky's friends were busy, the five of them around a photo frame on the wall. the only photo you had of bucky from 1940s, stiff and young in his uniform soldier, eyes still full of something bright that hydra hadn't yet extinguished.

he lifted his head from your shoulder and you cupped his cheek, your thumbs brushing over his rough beard. you pressed your lips softly against his, as if you were trying to transfer all the calm and love he'd missed during the day. as you pulled back, you noticed his shoulders dropped, releasing the tension, but the worried expression remained.

you reached up again, brushing your thumb over the line of his cheek as bucky's arms wrapped around your body, resting on the small of your back and pulling you closer to him, carefully, until he could feel your belly pressed against him, a connection between the three of you.

—talk to me, —you whispered.

he sighed, —didn't want to bring the day home, but they needed a place... and i couldn't leave them on the street. i didn't want to add more into it, not in your state.

you smiled. so it was that.

—you did the right thing, buck. they're family. if they needed somewhere to go, then they're welcome here. they'll always be.

bucky pressed his lips together. his two families. the one he fought beside and the one he came home to.

he'd never called them that before, not even in his head. they cared about each other in the quiet, protected one another during missions and watched each other's back in battle. they stood between each other and the line of fire and carried each other when the mission left someone too hurt to stand.

it doesn't matter if bucky never said the word, they were his family.

he slowly nodded at your words, —it was supposed to be just bob... didn't expect all of them to show up at once.

—well, neither did the couch, —you teased, getting a soft laugh from him.

ava caught both your eyes as she turned from the wall where she'd been quietly observing young bucky's photo.

—you were so clean-shaven, it's almost like seeing you naked.

you burst out laughing just as bucky groaned beside you, head dropping on your shoulder again like the comment physically wounded him.

—look at that jawline, it could cut glass, —bob said, squinting his eyes at the photo, hands on his hips.

—sharp enough to be a war crime, —you kissed the top of bucky's head. he lifted it slightly, oh so you were joining them now?

—were there toothpaste ads back then? because you sure look like one. fight fascism and fight plaque.

—that's the image of a man! of the soldier! a hero! —alexei boomed, gesturing toward the photo like it belonged in a museum.

—yeah, a man that gave speeches on liberty bonds or punch hitler.

—i did punch hitler, —bucky said flatly, barely looking up.

—how many times are you gonna bring that up?

—as many as it takes, john.

—you should put that on a t-shirt, —john continued, —i punched hitler and all i got was this brooding personality.

you noticed yelena's attention was on the rest of the photos. the teasing in the room faded to a hum behind her.

her eyes moved from frame to frame, pausing on each one. a photo from your summer in wakanda, bucky with his hair tied back, sunlight turning the metal of his arm into gold as rebecca sat on his shoulders, his hands steady at her ankles. next to that was a shot of the hospital room, bucky still in scrubs, circles under his eyes, holding his daughter for the first time. all memories you'd been building through the years. not all of them were easy, not all of them looked like picture frames. it was what yelena had been looking for all her life.

—bucky, —yelena called him, getting everyone's attention. the teasing died down completely when everyone looked to the stairs.

rebecca stood halfway down, clutching her uncle sam captain america's plushie, her socked feet fidgeted against the step like she wasn't sure if she wanted to go back up or keep coming down. her thumb hovered near her mouth the way it only did when she was unsure of something.

—damn, she definitely is your daughter, —yelena said to bucky.

the little girl was a small version of bucky. blue deep eyes, brown hair that curled at the ends in soft waves, the way she looked at everyone without saying a word, just like bucky always did. she had that look on her face just like his, the one where even though she wasn't talking, it showed that her mind was moving fast, watching everything and everyone.

mostly, she looked overwhelmed. strangers filled her living room, standing loud, tall, unfamiliar in the space she knew as home. until she saw bucky. her bucky. she didn't hesitate. she ran down the stairs, her little feet pounding against the steps. without hesitation, she threw herself into her dad's arms, wrapping her small arms tightly around his neck. bucky lifted her effortlessly, smiling big as he held her close.

—oh, you definitely ate all of your veggies today, bug, you got stronger, almost knocked me off my feet.

rebecca's giggles filled the room. the others stood nearby, watching the scene, unsure how to react to seeing bucky all soft. even alexei, who rarely blinked at anything, went unusually still. you rubbed your daughter's back as she tucked her face in bucky's neck, her little fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt, when she realized all eyes were on her.

—she's a little shy at first, but when she gains a little confidence, you'll be begging her to stop talking, —you explained to the group, half apologetic, half proud. they all nodded and smiled, understanding. —'becca, these are dad's friends. they're here just for tonight. you okay if they stay a little while?

she gave the smallest nod, still hiding her face in bucky's neck. he turned, holding her against his body, toward the rest of the group.

—boss says you can stay, —bucky announced.

yelena let out a yay, bob mumbled a sweet thank you.

rebecca peeked a little from the crook of bucky's neck, her eyes finding john first. he offered her a small, friendly wave. she hesitated but she ended up lifting her hand a mimicking the motion.

—out of all of them, —bucky murmured, more for john to hear than to her, —you had to wave to walker first?

john of course heard it and rolled his eyes.

in that moment your feet started to hurt more than you realized. too much standing for a seven months pregnant. you shifted your wight, trying to ease it, but even the small movement sent a bolt of discomfort up your spine. one of your hands instinctively moved to the curve of your belly and the baby fluttered under your palm, not a kick, just a little roll.

bucky noticed, but not just him, everyone in the room did.

—you okay? —ava asked.

—you should sit, —yelena added.

alexei immediately grabbed the nearest chair to him as bucky carefully lowered rebecca. —okay, bug, let's help mama, —he approached you, wrapping his metal arm around your body and helping you sit carefully.

rebecca stood, clutching with her captain america plushie tightly as her eyes flicked between john, bob, yelena and ava. none of them knew how to respond to her watchful presence, except for john, who caught her gaze again and with the little experience he had with kids, knelt down to her level, making himself less intimidating.

—why don't you guide me to the kitchen and we'll get your mom a glass of water?

she blinked, thinking about it for a second, then slowly nodded. john stood, not expecting her to wrapped her small fingers into his hand as she lead the way. to say that bucky was freaking out would be an understatement.

in the kitchen, rebecca pointed at the cupboard where the glass where kept. john took one of them and filled it with water from the tap. then, she gave him her captain america plushie so she could grab the glass, was this kind of bad joke? john followed her, still holding the plushie like he wasn't sure if it was meant to curse him or recruit him.

yelena and ava huffed a laugh when they saw him carrying the plushie.

rebecca carefully approached you, then gently handed over the glass. bucky gave john a grateful nod. you smiled warmly, taking a sip, —thank you, sweetie.

—my sister makes mama sick sometimes, —rebecca explained to everyone. the room was still, hearing her voice for the first time like it was something sacred.

—but you take good care of her, —bob said, his voice gentle.

—yeah, you sure are doing a great job, kid. i couldn't have brought that glass of water better myself, —john added.

rebecca showed a little smile, proud. with extreme care, she placed her tiny hand on your belly, her fingers splaying and she waited, hoping for the smallest kick from her baby sister. bucky kissed the top of your head.

—i made dinner, but i only expected bucky...

a chorus of don't worry, not hungry, i'm okay, i ate earlier, happened before you could finish talking. you looked around them all, tired, boots dusty from whatever roads they'd taken today, and hungry. no matter what they said.

—so we could order something, —you finally suggested.

bucky thought it was a great idea because there was no way he was going to let them go to bed with empty stomachs. while he made the call to the pizzeria, rebecca marched to the kitchen, ava and walker behind her like shadows as she pointed out the drawer with the cutlery.

back in the living room, you stood up from the chair. yelena, alexei and bob didn't let you out of their sight for a second. bucky, still on the phone, caught your movement and gave yelena a sharp nod, a silent command to keep you from doing anything else and to get you to the couch. you assured that you were fine, but it was no use.

at least alexei was no bore, he talked nonstop, about everything that came to his mind, most of the times embarrassing memories of little yelena. and rebecca had abandoned ava and walker to their luck in the kitchen and sat down next to bob with her notebook. you heard her mumble a wanna see my drawings? and the boy, as the sweetheart he was, couldn't deny. she explained every detail to him, not even letting bob get a word or ask a question.

ava helped bucky spread the tablecloth and john placed carefully the plates and glasses on the table.

—so, —ava said, looking at bucky with a teasing smirk, —another girl? you're the ultimate girl dad.

—yeah, three girls plus you and yelena. keeping me on my toes.

ava didn't say anything but she felt a little warmer at the way he'd included her and yelena in that count, like they were a bigger part of his life. he hadn't said it with any special emphasis, hadn't even looked at her when he said it but still, it stuck with her.

and the dinner was nice. so nice. bucky sat close by your side, his fingers gently holding your free hand over the table. rebecca was between yelena and ava but she was laughing at something walker had said to her, something funny enough to light up her whole face. bob had a soft blush on his cheeks. people laughing, sharing stories, the clink of plates and glasses, it almost felt unreal to him.

bucky leaned to kiss your cheek. you absolutely had no idea where all these people were going to sleep. the couch, the floor, a few air mattresses if the closet still held them, but definitely not enough beds. but looking at all together, sitting around the same table, full and happy, it didn't seem to matter at all.

[petalbcrnes]

؛ ଓ ⸼ ࣪ ✿◌ ۪ ࣪ INKED SENSATIONS ┈┈ j. todd ִ ᭡ 🗯‌

　　﹒　 　 †　　　 𓈒　 　　୧　 　　₎

𐔌 ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙🫐⃟.꩜‹　𝓹airing𓈒　j. todd　tattooed ! reader𓈒 　　†

؛ ଓ ✶ your boyfriend reacts to your new tramp stamp tattoo　 𝜗 ། 　suggestive﹐1.3k wc　 𝜗 ། 　𝓵inks𓈒　　mlist　　rules𓈒

A simple tattoo. That’s all it was supposed to be. Ink— detailed swirling patterns and striking shapes all coming into one beautiful design— settled right above your tailbone. It was a decision that had been simmering in your mind for some time. Tattoos could be painful— and this one was no less painful than any other tattoo, but there was something alluring about it. Something like a siren’s call. The reaction of your sweet boyfriend proved that.

It was only a few days after you had gotten the tattoo that Jason noticed something different about you. Maybe the tattoo adorning your lower back had given you a different aura, or made you more confident, because he was like a hound who had just picked up a different scent.

His eyes stared at you with more intensity. Simple moments spent with each other— cooking in the kitchen while his head rested on your shoulder, cuddling on the couch on lazy week-days and so on— had changed with one minor detail.

His stare.

Maybe not so minor. You don’t think Jason knows how much power he holds with his gaze— the sea-green that mirrors a violent ocean turns into something softer when looking at you.

Even now, in your shared bedroom, at the early hours of the morning, he’s watching you as if you’re some puzzle he’s trying to solve. You can feel his gaze deep in your bones.

“Jay?”

You question, slowly turning around to face him. Your head instinctively settles on his outstretched arm. The corners of his lips curl upwards instinctively.

“Good morning, Pretty.”

His voice is like honey in the morning. The soft touch of his fingers caressing your cheek is actually sweeter than honey.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I can’t look at you?”

You snort, for a moment hiding your smile by nuzzling into his arm.

“Yes, you can. But you’ve got a different look to you.”

He grins— the action almost dangerous as he shuffles closer and his arms cage you in his hold.

“You’re the one who’s been different.”

He answers while pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Maybe because I did do something a little bit different a few days ago.”

That catches his attention. His fingers tip your chin a bit higher so he can look at you. There’s a confused glint in his eye and a small pout on his lips, as if to complain about him not knowing about this change.

“Show me, please.”

There’s soft desperation to his voice. You’ve long discovered that Jason takes pride in you showing yourself to him— inside and out. You shuffle from the sheets, sitting up. He reluctantly lets go of you, but his hands still settle on your hips.

His eyes widen a bit when your hands find the hem of your sleep-shirt. Bringing the fabric up, you switch to your shorts, tugging it down slightly.

He gulps, eyes fluttering and mouth slightly open.

“Baby?—”

“Hush.” You stop him before he can question you. “Just look.”

You turn around, giving him a view of your exposed lower back. The tattoo is still healing, but the ink swirls on your skin beautifully. You lick your lips, anticipating his reaction.

Jason eyes truly widen at the sight. His hands that were settled on your hips ball up into fists��� the knuckles turning slightly white. He instinctively licks his lips before his eyes find yours— a bit of a panicked glint in them. He sits up and you can only contain your giggles seeing his flustered reaction.

“Who did it? Was the place clean? Did it hurt? Did they make you uncomfortable?”

Of course his first concern was your well being— you can’t fault him for that. Though you want to push him a bit— tease him about it.

“You wanna touch it?”

You shuffle closer. The fabric is dangerously low— the entire tattoo is on display. You notice his hands flex, as if they desperately want to touch the inked skin. His eyes are ripped away from the tattoo as you offer him to touch the tattoo, as if to ask if you’re being serious.

“You’re such a—”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to.”

It’s a game at this point. Who will give in first? You decide to push his buttons a little more.

“I mean— I thought you’d wanna touch me after seeing the tattoo. Consider the fact I let some stranger stare and touch my back for hours.”

Jason scoffs, rolling his eyes. The annoyed click of his tongue only makes you want to try harder. You can tell your getting closer when his fingers push firmly into the skin of your hips.

Just a little more.

“I wanted to give you a surprise. Something nice to look at for next time we have—”

You don’t get to finish that sentence. He’s already on you. You can’t even comprehend how fast he pushes you on the bed, settled on your stomach and face in the soft pillows. His thighs keep you in place as his fingers trace down your exposed spine delicately before reaching your lower back and stopping at the tattoo.

“You wanted to give me an excuse to stare, huh?”

Even when talking, you can tell how focused he is on your tattoo. There’s concentration in his voice as he traces the ink. His touch falters sometimes, as if the sight of it is too much.

“Oh shut up. You like it.”

You quip back, turning your head around get a better look at him. You almost lose your breath.

His eyes are locked on the tattoo. His fingers trace the design. There is something completely different in the way he’s handling you right now. He’s acting as if he’s got a priceless art piece in his hands.

“Jason.” You sound breathless. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“Didn’t you ask me to look?”

“You’re not just looking. You’ve literally straddled me to just stare at it—”

You don’t get to finish, he has a knack for stealing the words straight out of your mouth.

Speaking of mouths— his is currently on your back, leaving small kisses down your spine.

“Jason!”

Your whimpers are muffled by the pillow under you. Your hands grip the sheets. You instinctively arch into the sheets as his kisses go lower and lower until he reaches the tattoo. You can feel how his kisses because even more attentive and slower. You can even feel his tongue graze the inked skin.

You let out a small, pitched moan at the sensations of his lips on you. The skin is still sensitive, making the sensations even more downright sinful as he kisses all over your lower back. He even smiles against it. A stupid fucking grin appears on his lips and you can feel it.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You ask, voice shaking. You try and muffle any sounds coming out of your mouth by digging your face even deeper in the pillow. That only seems to excite him even more.

“I think you’re the one enjoying this more that I am, Pretty.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Sure.”

He hums as he snatches the pillow from under your head. You yelp, caught of guard by his sudden action. His hand cradles your cheek to let you lay your head on the bed softly.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Shut up. I need better access. Can you raise your hips for a second?”

He asks as if that’s just normal.

“I’m not— Jason, oh my god.”

You hide your flushed face in your hands. You can feel him shuffle right above you. He probably has a satisfied grin on his face. Curse him. Curse him and curse that stupid handsome smirk on his even stupider beautiful lips.

“What? You started it. Now, raise your hips for me, Pretty.”

﹒   ♪   ┊ INBOX OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

˖ `· . 𓏵 © 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 don’t use my work without my consent. ... ⏤ㅤ Ⳋ ⊹

[bbyg4rl]

ﾉ .╰ BBYG4RL’S 2K CELEBRATION ..

P!LINKS —   18+  !⠀mdni  (  ...  )⠀✦.⠀links  lead  to  p0rn,  do not open  in  public!  ──  ❜           ٩(^ᗜ^  )و  ´-   ⋮   you  need  to be logged  in  to  x.com  for  these  to  work!   𓈒     ﾒ  ゛

see what else im doing here !

in your bedroom and he just cannot stay silent . . . — ft. artsy!reader

using a paintbrush to play with your pussy . . . — ft. artsy!reader 

he has to stop and kiss you bc you're just so cute . . . 

not so secretly fingering you under the counter while you're trying to help customers at the surf shop . . . 

fucking you in the back of the bakery with your apron still on after he came to “fix” something . . . — ft. sugarplum!reader & carpenter!jj

fingering you on john b's excuse of a couch . . . 

riding him in the chateau while everyones outside . . .

fingering you while hes driving because he can’t keep his hands off his girl . . . — ft. clingy!boyfriend!jj

fucking you with the gun . . .  and again . . .

when he can finally get his hands on you . . . — ft. stalker!jj & camgirl!reader

lifts you up . . .

came back home just to fuck you . . .

after a bad day at work . . . — ft. sugarplum!reader & carpenter!jj

what he sends you from work when he misses you too much — . . . ft. sugarplum!reader & carpenter!jj 

you made him mad . . .  and again . . .

cant keep his mouth off you even when you're playing video games . . . — ft. clingy!boyfriend!jj

mouthing your tits while you ride him . . .

kissing you better after . . .

he loves your pastel pink panties . . . — ft. sugarplum!reader & carpenter!jj

[amordixon]

can i touch you here? john price 🎀

ᯓ★ 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

nsfw. minors dni. kissing. consent bc price is a consent king. touching over the panties. reader has a vagina. pet names aka. ‘good girl’. porn with no plot.

price kissed you hungrily, almost desperately, his moustache tickling your upper lip as his tongue invaded your mouth. he tasted of beer and cigars, a combination you typically weren’t fond of, but on him it tasted so good.

you pull away reluctantly, your chest heaving as your breath ran ragged. you needed air but that didn’t stop him from continuing his vicious attack on your throat. his lips nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, hands roaming your inner thighs and pushing up under your skirt.

“darlin’, can i touch you here?” he asked as his fingers ghosted over the front of your panties, but going no further until you gave him a small nod of the head.

his fingers danced over your core, soft delicate circles that were so unlike the cold, abrasive man you had grown to know during missions. he was warm, and sweet, and god, he knew what he was doing with his fingers.

“s’that feel good?” he asks, noticing the way your chest was beginning to rise and fall as your breaths grew heavier. you were already sensitive and aching for his touch.

“uh huh,” is all you can manage to say, your legs involuntarily spreading a bit and giving him more access. you were a mess, a mess for him.

“that’s a good girl,” his voice vibrates lowly in your ear before pressing his lips to your neck once more. his tongue gliding over your skin before sucking gently.

his large calloused fingers continue to work you over the thin material. small calculated circles over your bundle of nerves as your arousal began to soak through, an evident dark patch growing. price loved what he was doing to you. that you were so turned on by him and his touch alone.

your breaths began to fall from your sweet lips like music to his ears, as you were fighting the urge to start rutting your hips against his large hand. your head lulled back against the sofa, hands clenching at whatever you could get them on, which just so happened to me his arm.

“oh my-” your body writhes beneath his touch now, moans drilling from you in such an intimately dirty way. price was a goner for you, for the way you were coming undone.

he leans in closer, his forehead against the side of your own face, “just like that, darlin’. wanna see you come, yeah? wanna see your pretty little face as i make you come.”

you’re already lost on the sensations, begging and writhing for that release, and it only takes a few more pressured ministrations for you to fall into the depths of your orgasm. price continues his to work you through it, loving the way you tensed and your mouth fell open as you came undone.

“such a good girl,” he smirks, his eyes watching you with so much awe and adoration as your body falls limp against him now, craving his comfort.

[fairytopea]

ཐི ♡̵̼͓ ཋྀ ۫ 𓈒 caress me. ♩

[bnnysweets]

LOVE IS ON THE AIR

abby x fem!reader on love island

author’s note: english is not my first language. i never watched love island just some clips soo maybe i was inaccurate, but just imagine some couple reality show on a island.

warnings: pure fluff and some yearning. r! is more on a shy side. abby defends reader. so so so sweet, kinda of love at the first sight trope.

❥ first episode

when abby arrived it was like the air changed. she was a little nervous about being on cameras 24/7 but she was hiding it very well, walking like she owned the world or has a bbc i didn’t say it!.

she was on a more introverted side, very charismatic but quiet. didn’t liked the girls throwing themselves at her and all the attention she got.

❥ when you arrived

you enter a little later, everyone has already found their groups, so you ended a little alone. but abby notices, she notices your pretty dress and the heart-shaped reliquary that you always wear, the way you try your best to fit in but just don’t work. it takes a while for you connect with someone.

❥ abby’s confessional

“she looks like a fucking dream, like i would be chugging melatonin pills to see her face every night.”

producer asks: “do you gonna make a move on her?”

she just groans, “i want! but i don’t know, she doesn’t even look at me.”

❥ your confessional

“i don’t really think anyone here really likes me, it’s a little hard to do the dynamics.” you confessed.

producer asks: “you don’t fancy anyone?”

you start to laughing like a high schooler with her first crush, and just answer “no.” and laughs more.

“what you think about abby?”

and you just deadpan “the hot one?” and cover you mouth, realizing what you just said. “i mean, the blonde tall one, with big arms?” you say between giggles, fully embarrassed. “i think she’s pretty. she’s sooo kind, but i don’t think i’m her type.”

❥ when you got paired with another girl

it’s just a stupid game, to try make some kiss and some fight, and your pair was the girl who had kissed everyone in the show. abby was losing her shit.

the girl really tried to flirt with you but you were so focused on win that you didn’t noticed.

later the community strap girl was talking bad about you with her friends near abby, “i swear to god i think she’s dumb, like for real.” and abby just turn to at her with a questioning face, “who are you talking ‘bout?”, the girl answers a little nervous with the tone abby used, “y/n.” and abby doesn’t even think just says “you’re the dumbest one here, making out with everyone thinking you’re hot but you just desperate.” and walks away.

❥ when you two talk for the first time

someone told you what abby said and you approached her at the gym, late at night, only you there.

“uhm, abby right?” you ask and she just nods, but fully focused on you. “so, sam told me what you said to nick and i just wanted to say thanks, it was really nice.” you smile to her and she swear the stars are more shiny.

“don’t need to thanks, i just did the right thing, that girl is insufferable.”

“oh my god, yeah! everyone likes her but i just think she’s inconvenient.”

and you two started to talk, talk and talk. you spend the whole night just talking, about everything and anything. when the sun starts to rise you both lay on the sand, watching.

“i thought you hated me.” you confess.

“whatt?!” she looks at you in disbelief. “i want you since the first day.”

“what?!” you have the same reaction that her. “i thought i wasn’t your type.”

“you’re totally my type.” she looks at you, while you’re staring at the sky, mesmerizing.

❥ twitter’s reaction

“i like to see my lesbianas YEARNING”

“the way abby looks at her omfg Y/N WAKE UP THIS GIRL LOVES YOU”

“y/n being excluded on the first weeks 💔💔💔 and abby scared to approach her 💔💔💔 and on the first opportunity she defends her💔💔💔 and they just click together💔💔💔”

[grieferkisser]

helping griefer clean his leaves ♡

griefer would be super reluctant at first, but after some convincing—maybe if you promise to do something for him—he’d finally give in and let you.

be gentle while doing it though; you don’t want to tug on his vines too hard and make him mad, right? …or maybe you do, if you want to hear that weirdly cute sound he makes before telling you to fuck off.

the leaves around his neck are definitely the dirtiest, and the fact that he only showers like once a week doesn’t exactly help. if you gently move them aside, you can see the skin underneath—dusty and tangled with dry vines, but nothing a bit of soap and water can’t fix!

the ones on his wrists and legs are easier to manage, but when it comes to the ones on his torso? yeah... that’s when things get a little trickier. the vines there cling closer to his skin, and every time your fingers brush too close to his ribs or his waist, he tenses up—whether it’s because he’s ticklish or just sensitive, he won’t say. but the way he glares at you with flushed cheeks and mutters something under his breath?

…well, maybe you’re not in such a hurry to finish cleaning after all.

𓎢𓎟

not really that suggestive but ill put the tag just in case! ,, go my beatiful plant boy. i think he's really shy / embarassed when it comes to ppl touching his leaves so yeah..lalalalaaa

ok other little note. this is important by the way. since grades are coming tomorrow i may get all of my stuff taken away since. im probs gonna fail something so.. yeahh i'll disappear for a long while

[isaqlare]

TROUBLE

stalker!patrick x reader

18+ — Stalking, obsession, toxic/possessive behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dark themes, voyeurism, mentions of past encounters, power imbalance / cnc ? , smut, p in v, cunnilingus, squirting , light biting , overstimulation as punishment + aftercare

please do read the warnings and if you are sensitive to topics like that, please do not read.

He was everywhere. In the shape of a man leaning against a building in the distance. In the voice of a stranger saying your name just a little too soft.

In the mirrors—no, in your own eyes. You saw Patrick in you. You’d only ever had a few close encounters with him. A few that meant nothing. A few that meant everything.

You’d called it off, called him off. back when you realized just how deeply he clung. When you’d found a photo of yourself tucked between the pages of a tennis magazine in his gym bag. When he recited things you’d never told him. what kind of toothpaste you used, what you ordered when you were sad, the color of your bedroom walls.

Still, you stayed longer than you should have. Part of you liked being looked at like that. That was the part you hated most.

So you left.

New city. New locks. New phone. No Patrick. Except now, it’s like the air remembers him. You swear you’ve seen him, just once, twice—maybe more. It’s enough to drive you mad.

Now, two months later, you're in a new city. New job. New apartment. New everything. You’re not running, you told your friends. Just starting over.

But every time a car slows down outside your building, you wonder. Every time someone looks at you a second too long on the train, your stomach twists.

Every time you shower, you wonder if a lens could fit behind the vent. You’re not sure what’s worse: if he’s still watching… or if he’s not.

Tonight, you try to forget it. You wear something short. You dance with a stranger. You drink too much. You laugh louder than you mean to.

You kiss someone you don’t know just to prove you can but all you feel is hollow because his shadow follows you even in the flashing lights of the bar.

The cab ride home is a blur. Your keys slip twice in your fingers before you manage to unlock your apartment. You toss your heels off. You reach to flick on the lights. But they’re already on.

Dim. Low. Coming from the kitchen, did you leave those on? no— you wouldn’t, the light bill. you’d remember but you freeze. Your pulse stutters.

And then, you hear it. That voice. Like gravel and smoke and something forbidden. “Hey, trouble.”

You turn around slowly. He’s there. Patrick Zweig. Leaning against your kitchen counter like he’s been here all night. Like he lives here.

He looks the same, but rougher. There’s stubble along his jaw, a tiredness under his eyes, but the way he watches you is the same. Still. Unblinking.

“What the fuck,” you whisper. “How—how did you get in?”

“I never left,” he says simply. “You moved, but I didn’t go anywhere.”

“That’s not an answer.” you murmur as he walks towards you, speaking, almost angrily. “You changed everything. City, job, locks. You really thought that would keep me out?”

You back up half a step, but his expression softens, only slightly.

“I didn’t come to hurt you,” he says, voice quieter now. “I just couldn’t take it anymore. Not seeing you. Not hearing you. You don’t understand what it’s like.”

“What you’re doing isn’t love,” you snap. “It’s sick. You followed me. That’s not normal.” He laughs under his breath. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself when I sit outside your building and imagine what you’re doing behind the curtains?”

You stare at him. There’s no fear in your chest. Not really. There should be but it’s something worse—something hungrier.

He takes another step. “I just wanted to see you,” he murmurs. “Just once more. But then I saw you tonight. Dancing. Laughing. With someone else.”

There’s venom in his voice once again, He closes the space between you in two strides. “I know how you look when you’re faking it.”

You flinch. He’s right. His hand reaches up, brushes a piece of hair from your face. You don’t pull away. “You thought about me when you kissed him,” he says. “Didn’t you?” Your voice is barely a whisper. “Yes.”

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for weeks. His forehead presses to yours. “I could never stop wanting you,” he says. “Even when I tried.” His mouth is on yours before you can respond—hot, desperate, claiming. You melt into him, nails digging into his shoulders, breath catching as his hands roam over your hips like he’s relearning your shape.

You pull him with you toward the bedroom, steps tangled. Clothes hit the floor one by one. your dress, his hoodie, the bra he once kept a photo of tucked into his wallet, leaving you in only your panties.

He pins you to the bed like a prayer. Mouth trailing down your neck, down your chest, down your stomach.

“I think about this every night,” he says. “How you sound. How you look when you cum.” You shiver. You shouldn’t like this. Shouldn’t want him. But the truth is, you’ve never felt more alive. You quickly pushed your lips back together, making him groan, now his tongue dragging down the curve of your throat, his stubble scratching over your collarbone, your chest. You arch under him, mind dizzy, heart pounding, everything tilting as his hand wraps around your neck. not tight, just there. A silent reminder: I see you. I own you.

his mouth went back to your stomach “Tell me,” he growls, kissing down your stomach. “Tell me you missed me.” he then started kissing the laced edges on your panties that he loved so much.

“I stole a pair of these.” He slightly chuckled, now fiddling with the lace. “I know you did.” You admitted, a small flush on your cheeks. He laughed and shook his head, “you’re just as crazy as me, you’re perfect.” He murmured.

he kissed your thighs softly before gently biting one of them, making you gasp. His big hands now trailing to your ass, squeezing hard enough to possibly leave a mark. He really needed you back, if that wasn’t clear enough.

his hands now at the waistband of your panties, he rips them off of you. Making you gasp, “Patrick!— my underwear!” You scoffed, he quickly passes you a wolfish grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones, baby.”

and now his head was deep inbetween your thighs, his hands tightly squeezing them. He knows when to tease, when to hold your legs open, when to press down hard with his tongue until your back arches off the bed and your fingers twist in the sheets.

you groaned as he sucked on your clit, making your grip on his sweaty hair tighter. “oh my—“ you gasped. your eye lids half lidded and before you could cum, he pulled away. A small grin on his face.

His lips find yours again, and this time, it’s messy. Open. Hungry. You taste yourself on him.

and he doesn’t hesitate to line himself up, no softness. Just that searing, possessive stillness before he presses in. Stretching. Filling. Claiming. And when he’s fully inside you, forehead pressed to yours, his voice turns ragged.

“You’re mine,” he says, thrusting deep. “Say it.” You don’t. Can’t but your legs lock around him anyway. You meet every thrust, clinging to his shoulders, moaning into his neck, your teeth scraping against his skin like you want to devour him back.

You feel the shift. The unraveling. Like something inside you finally gave up and gave in. To him. To all of it. You don’t know how long it lasts. The way he touches you like you’re something fragile and fucked-up all at once. The way he groans your name like it physically hurts to say it. The way he lets you finish first, your juices shooting out in a way that makes him chuckle but not pull out, not just yet.

Your body is still twitching when he kisses you again.

Not soft. Not sweet. Not anything forgiving. His tongue pushes into your mouth like he’s trying to steal the breath from your lungs. And you let him. Even as your muscles tremble beneath him, even as your thighs are slick and sore and your chest rises and falls too fast, too shaky, you let him.

He’s still inside you. Still hard. You whimper against his mouth, and his fingers tighten on your hips.

“You didn’t think that was it, did you?” he whispers, breathless, dragging his nose down the side of your face. “You moved across the country and kept me starving for months—and you think I’m done with you after once?”

Your hands tremble against his back. “I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he says. “And you will.”

He slides out slowly, and you cry out at the empty stretch of it. slick and raw, nerves flaring. But you barely have a second to breathe before his hand slips between your thighs again, fingers teasing at the place where your body still aches from him. You jolt, hips twitching. “Patrick—!”

He groans like your voice alone is enough to undo him. “You sound so fucking pretty when you beg.”And then two fingers slide back inside.

Your back arches, your body spasming. The aftershocks from your last orgasm haven’t even stopped when he starts fucking his fingers into you again, slow at first, deliberate. But when your thighs begin to shake and your eyes roll back, he picks up the pace, thumb circling your clit in tight, overwhelming pressure.

“You don’t get to run away from me,” he growls. “You don’t get to disappear and leave me wanting and then act like you’re done.”

He’s punishing you with pleasure, and it’s working. You’re crying out again, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes from the sheer overload of it. The edge builds too fast, too sharp, then your second orgasm crashes over you, slamming into you like a wave that doesn’t end.

“P-Patrick—please,” you whimper, thighs trying to close.

But he forces them back open, pressing one hand against your knee to pin you down.

“That’s two,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “You’ve got more in you.” He pulls his fingers out, only to guide himself back inside you with a groan that sounds like it’s dragged from the bottom of his chest. Your body clamps down around him, too sensitive, too tight—but he doesn’t care. He thrusts into you slow and deep, like he’s reclaiming something sacred.

“You feel how perfect this is?” he mutters against your mouth. “No one else gets to have this. Not after me. Not ever.

it was all too much, resulting into your third orgasm. and after?

He lays with you, comfortably. He presses his forehead against yours and stays there, like he can’t bring himself to let you go yet. Not even an inch.

“I should clean you up,” he says eventually, but he doesn’t move. His arms tighten around you instead. Possessive. Fierce. His hand slides between your shoulder blades and the curve of your spine, holding you to him like he’s trying to press your hearts together until they beat in sync.

“You were made for this,” he murmurs into your hair. “For me.” And you hate how it doesn’t sound crazy anymore. Not when you feel this safe. This ruined. He kisses your temple. Then your eyelid. Then the corner of your mouth. Each kiss slow, reverent.

Then he gets up. You think he’s leaving at first—panic flares in your chest until you hear the water running in the bathroom. You hear drawers open. Footsteps. The clinking of a glass on the kitchen counter.

And then he’s back, shirtless, soft-eyed, carrying a warm towel and a bottle of water. He kneels at the foot of the bed and wordlessly begins wiping you down, slow and methodical. You watch him work, jaw clenched, brows furrowed like he’s angry at himself for letting it go too far. But his hands are gentle. Tender.

“Too much?” he asks after a beat. His voice cracks just slightly. You nod. Then shake your head. “I don’t know.” He pauses. Looks at you for a long moment. And then he climbs back into bed. Pulls you into his arms like it’s instinct.

You curl against him, bone-tired. Still aching, still overstimulated, but held. “I’m never letting you leave again,” he whispers. “Next time you run, I’m coming with you.”

You should protest. You should scream. But all you do is nuzzle into his chest and close your eyes. Because no one’s ever stayed like this.

No one’s ever loved you like a curse and a promise at the same time.

[wonfie]

WRINKLED ❤︎ PAPERS

　　　　　 🥣　　𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇

𓈒𓈒 tutor!sunghoon ✶ f!rea  352───  >ᯅ< 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝖻𝗂𝗆𝖻𝗈!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

“if you’re not gonna learn with your brain,” sunghoon mutters, dragging your panties down to your knees, “then i’ll teach you with your body.”

you squirm, bare ass in the air, cheek pressed to your spiral notebook like a flushed little ragdoll. “i am trying,” you whine, voice thick with desperation. “i just—i forget stuff sometimes…”

“then let’s see what you remember.” his palm hovers threateningly over your ass, cold compared to the heat of your skin. “you get it right, i’ll fuck you. you get it wrong… i spank you. deal?”

you nod, eyes wide. you’re already soaked.

“first question.” he leans in, grip tightening around your waist. “what’s the pythagorean theorem?”

you freeze. your lips part. your brain knows you’ve heard this one before—he’s asked it so many times—but the second you open your mouth, it’s like pink fog rolls in.

“uhhh… a plus b equals c?”

smack. his hand lands hard, and your whole body jolts forward.

“a squared plus b squared equals c squared,” he snaps. “again.”

you hiccup on a moan. “a… squared… plus b squared—”

“equals?”

“c squared!!”

“good girl.” he slides his cock between your thighs and gives you one slow grind, barely pushing in. “next one. spell hypotenuse.”

you stutter, brain blanking as you try to focus with his tip dragging over your folds.

“h… h-y… no wait—”

smack. your moan’s cut off by the sting, tears prickling in your lashes.

“h-y-p-o-t-e-n-u-s-e,” he grits out, voice thick. “again.”

you sniffle. “h-y…p-o…t-e-n…u-s-e…”

he sinks into you so deep and so sudden you almost scream. your notebook crumples under your fingers. your nails scrape the edge of a sticky note with a heart drawn on it.

“there we go,” he breathes, fucking into you now with purpose. “maybe you can learn, if i teach you right.”

“mmph—i c-can!” your voice breaks with every thrust. “i wanna be good—wanna make hoonie proud…”

he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs your head back so you’re gasping up at him, mascara running, drool shining on your lips.

“then spell it again,” he growls. “while i ruin you.”

[dunktape]

felt like doodling dr stone

[haobae]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒 ㅤׂㅤ 𓋭⠀ ⠀𝄞ྀི ࣪ 𓈒

　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❀꫶᳜᳝ᰭ✿⃨ 　　.　　　ﾟ✦　　⠀. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀.　　✚ ⠀.⠀⠀⠀⠀.    　  ֗  ۪    ❤︎᭮⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒 ㅤׂㅤ ࣪ 𓈒

　　　　　　*⠀　　.　　　ﾟ .　　⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀.　　✚ ⠀.　　. ⠀✦⠀

˳ ׁ ♥︎̼ ❀ ۟ 食人者 ㅤྀ͟ ♥︎̼　

⠀⠀ ✦⠀　⠀⠀⠀⠀*　　　.　　　ﾟ . ✦

[isoobie]

BOYFRIEND STORIES 𓈒 park sunghoon

◜ᴗ⁠◝⁠ instagram stories of you and your man ⎯⎯ bf!sunghoon x fem!rea ♱ fluff est—rs

bun─ri for @tzyunaes my hoonie pie