#And has a soft spot for Dimples Hood

[wishing--butterfly]

hold me, touch me, love me

Characters: Aaron Warner x fem!reader (established relationship)

I imagine reader and Aaron being in their 20s

Genre: SMUT, fluff (just you and aaron being hopelessly in love with each other)

Warnings: SMUT, Unprotected sex (please always be safe), mentions of fingering and oral (f!receiving), a little bit of doggy style at the end, edging (sort of…), cursing, lots of kissing, Aaron being a tease, Aaron Warner (yeah, he’s a warning himself)

Word Count: 3.4k words

A/N: I think I sort of got carried away. Had to write this one because Restore Me constantly mentioned about Aaron’s “breathless gasps” and I know sounds beautiful. I’m hella embarrassed so there’s a chance I might delete this later. Also, beautiful header credits goes to @/cafekitsune !

I’m writing smut for the first time as well. In general, please be nice and respectful to me and everyone.

I hope you enjoy! :) Please do LIKE, comment or reblog if you enjoy ❤️

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY.

It was late at night when the two of you indulged yourself in the stillness of the late hours, the darkness enveloping you from the world as Aaron kisses you, holding you flush against his body as you pulled away for air but immediately latched your lips against his defined jaw. His five o'clock shadow tickled your cheeks a little which made you smile against his skin.

Your lips traced his soft skin, sucking and nibbling on spots to ease the pain but in fact it was only making Aaron breathless. A sharp gasp escaped his lips when your teeth slightly grazed the soft spot on his neck, his hold on your hips tightening. Aaron couldn't handle the heat and need to taste you so bad. His fingers tugged on your hair to pull you away from his neck. The action made a moan escape your lips which made Aaron stare at you with hooded eyes; palest shade of emerald irises filled with utmost love and an emotion you were too shy to consider, desire pooling. His lips found yours, hands travelling up and down your body, feeling you up in an intoxicating way.

The way he kisses you, marking your heart and soul made you both feel like there was no neccesity for air. As if you could relinquish oxygen for this. This felt like the best way to go. It was a constant reminder that even after all the wonders and surprises the world could offer, moments like these were always different, always so memorable. Each touch, each sound, each action tattooing in your hearts and souls.

Both of your hearts raced in a steady rhythm. Your heartbeat elevated, the rapid sound of it droning in your ears. He gently placed your hand to let it rest atop his chest, just above his heart. And your eyes stinged with emotion. His was thundering against his chest so loud he was sure you could hear it.

Aaron felt your needy hands travel through the expanse of his torso, tracing his broad chest to his abdomen, heated skin on fire wherever your fingers traced as you reached down to pull him even closer by his belt. He felt shivers down his spine, each touch of yours sending him on a tingling edge, a high he never wanted to come down from. Your hands tugged desperately at his shirt, unbuttoning each button quickly and before you know it, he has already taken it off, pulling away to breath for air. The heat and tension between the two of you clouded your senses, lips chasing his in an attempt to close the distance.

Aaron flashes you a breathtaking smile, dimples and a flush of pink painting his cheeks and he looked so beautiful, so adorable, so enchanting that it made you stop for a moment and marvel at the man in front of you. Aaron was stunning, a dream, someone so amazing inside out. How is he so beautiful?

You probably said those words out loud because he chuckled lightly, the sound tugging at your heartstrings, "You give me too much credit, sweetheart. But thank you so much. It means so much to me hearing that from you."

"Well I'm just stating the truth."

"Mhm, is that so?"

He bites his lower lip to stop a giggle but nevertheless his lips still tugged up with a smile before his hands wraps around your waist and the back of your neck, lips locking with yours hungrily. Aaron pulls your clothed self to his warm body, closer beyond possibilty. You nibbled on his lower lip before opening up for him. You could feel the hard ridges, dips of his muscles, chest heaving with each intake of air, compelling you to touch the smooth skin of his flawless chest. He gently pushes you back, backing away until your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fall backwards, pulling him with you.

The moment causes you both to break the kiss, pulling a smile from the both of you. Aaron leans down to kiss you deeply again, an audible 'mm' escapes his lips at the blissful meeting of your lips with his, the sound making heat pool at your abdomen.

His eyes would occasionally open up a little to look at your reactions, to see if there's any sign discomfort from you. When he found none, he intertwined your hands together, squeezing your hand in reassurance.

Your hands finds solace on his broad shoulders this time, fingers travelling down his bare chest, so warm and firm, his skin soft as your fingers traced valleys and rivers at every dip and curve of his defined muscles. He visibly relaxed under your touch, his free hand reaching down to cup your cheek. Aaron moaned quietly when your fingers caressed his abs, shuffling to cup him from the pants, outline evident through his desire and need for you. His lips part against yours in a soft moan when your fingers teased his clothed length which caused him to involuntarily grind against your hand, making him break the kiss for a moment, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

Your hands unbuckled his belt, unbuttoning the pants. Slipping your hand inside, you started stroking his length in a painstakingly slow motion. He hummed, biting his lips when your thumb pressed on his tip, his eyes blinding with pleasure. Aaron was sure that he was losing his mind, pleasure blurring the edges between reality and an euphoric dream. He stopped your movements when he started feeling too good, white hot pleasure shooting up his veins. He was so close but he wanted to finish with you, inside of you.

He could feel your heat, your need to have him close against you and he has been right there with you; hands fumbling with your jeans desperately. Your actions and need for him left him intoxicated, head fuzzing out all thoughts out of his mind but you, you, you. It felt addicting, unreal, impossible to him that you want him as much as he wants you. So close, so much that it felt unfathomable to thread it through vocabulary.

His lips kissed your jaw, down to your collarbone as he marked you, smiling against your skin at the moans and whimpers of his name you let out.

When he felt your fingers reach his pants to unbuckle his belt all the way to pull him out, he broke away and held both your wrists in one hand. A smooth, unbelievably attractive smirk etched on his lips, "Not so quickly, sweetheart. I have to remove these restraints from yours first. It's not fair that you're fully clothed. "

And soon you found yourself and him naked to each others eyes.

Aaron knelt between your legs in all his glory, chest heaving up and down, a trickle of sweat trailing down his cheek as he held his cock, stroking and squeezing it tight all the while staring at you, intensive gaze filled with so much passion that it felt like he could light your insides on fire. He let go of torturing himself further and hovered above you, one hand caressing the skin of your hips and the other resting beside your head.

He is breathtaking in every way possible. You really need him inside you. But the way he was looking at you, so passionately, gaze filled with unbridled emotions, like he could see right through you. You felt bare underneath him in more ways than one. You almost felt a little self conscious for a moment before his fingers found your weeping entrance, teasing you and never breaking eye contact. And in the stillness of the hour, in the private whispers of the late night breeze Aaron swore, "You are a freaking goddess, baby.”

You moaned, it was impossible to hold yourself; first, his teasing fingers and then the way he was looking at you made you close your eyes just so that you could hold onto your sanity before you let go, before you let your wants devour this man on top of you. His eyes too intense, irises pooling with deepening emotions. Also, he rarely swore but he let go in the moment, too careless to worry about what he was even saying anymore, which was a plus.

His lips kissed down your body, your skin on fire wherever his lips traced invisible lines on your frame. Aaron kissed you in the most sensitive areas, a gasp leaving your lips as your fingers immediately buried in his hair, holding him as if to ground yourself to this moment. He nipped, sucked, ate you out in such a way that you were struggling to breath, one hand clutching the comforter so tight that you were sure it would tear off. The gasping, the heavy breathing, you losing yourself in pleasure made Aaron lose himself in the beauty of your chase. It was an auto pilot response, the way his hips started grinding against the comforter for some friction but you caught on.

"Aaron, I— ah, wait— I see you! Don't you dare! I want to touch you and come with you— " You were cut off when he gently bit the skin under your thigh.

He stopped his movements and stared up at you, his chin glistening in the dim lighting of your room, eyes taunting and teasing in a way that made you clench around nothing, "Oh yeah?"

This side of Aaron Warner has always felt new to you, exclusively and only for you. That teasing gaze filled with mischief and ideas you could only wonder. If he could, he would tease you forever, edging himself and you to the point where later he ends up driving his hips into you to a state of oblivion.

Hard and merciless and heavenly and gentle is Aaron Warner.

"Aaron, please — "

"Please what, baby?" You could hear the smile in his voice. He let go of your thighs to climb up your frame. His thumb tugged at your lower lip,  "Look at me, sweetheart. Talk to me."

Aaron could be such a tease that sometimes it made you want to yank his hair out but you knew better. He loves his hair too much so you wouldn't do that ever.

You huffed, eyes still clenched shut, “Need you inside me.”

“Look at me first.” Aaron's voice dropped, husky and seductive, commanding to some degree which pulled you into a trance like the angelic devil he is. So alluring, so seductive.

You opened your eyes to see him scanning your features, tracing from your eyebrows to your eyes, resting a little longer at your lips. But he willed himself to look back up at you.

“I want to touch you, Aaron. Can I?” You asked what you initially wanted before the said confession, chest heaving up and down rapidly as your hands traced his bicep.

Aaron simply smiled, that dimple one, “You don’t even have to ask, love. I’m all yours.” He kisses your nose gently. But when you sat up to touch him, he held your shoulders, “But not today, okay? I really need to be inside you.” His voice was feather soft, caressing your cheek in assurance. He felt a little worried about your reaction but when you saw the look in his eyes, you nodded eagerly and settled down back on the sheets.

“Now tell me what you want me to do.”

You almost choked on air, sputtering, “Wha– you already know! Why do I have to say it…” Heat rushed to your cheeks because of his proposition. You hide your face behind your hands, lightly slapping his arm in protest.

Aaron knows everything so well and knows exactly what you want. It’s just that he has a habit of flustering you to no end, have you all shy in his arms before he indulged in you, devoured you. He finds so much pleasure in seeing you all shy and then moaning out his name to the world the very next moment.

He laughs, “Don’t hide yourself from me now. Or do you want me to tie your hands?”

You pulled your hands away from your face just to squint at him, shooting him a look of faux disinterest as if your heart isn’t just thundering against your ribcage, “You wouldn’t.”

“I never lie, sweetheart.”

That shut you up. You knew that riling Aaron up to no end would just end the night in a completely different state, till dawn even. Not that you minded, because it’s always a win-win situation.

Aaron placed an exaggerated kiss on your tummy, “Now tell me. I need instructions, baby. My patience is running thin.” You felt his thumb unconsciously graze the inside of your thighs.

"Aaron, please... Make love to me. I need to feel you," Your hands travelled up to thread through his hair, fingers caressing and tugging on his blonde locks, "Touch me, Aaron. Want you so bad." You internally whined because of how cringe you thought you sounded, but it’s a totally different story for your lover.

And then he was gone. It was a frenzy of emotions and actions as he sinked into you. Both of you moaned loudly at the feeling; so freakishly insane and beautiful that it knocked the air out of your lungs. It made you mad with emotions, this connection. It’s a reminder that Aaron was really yours and you were his, a reminder that despite whatever the world throws at you, the two of you still believe and love each other.

"I love you, Aaron." Those words escaped your lips inadvertently, his thrusts stuttering for a moment before he picked up his pace.

Both of you lost yourselves in the feeling of each other, each meeting increasing his pace as you met his thrusts. This was always something which felt beyond the description of 'beautiful', a state of infinite euphoria. An addicting ecstasy so delicious that it made you breathless, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

He felt so good, so freaking good. The blunt head of his cock touching parts inside of you that you thought was impossible. A particularly harsh thrust made your eyes roll back to your head. His movements are so fluid, so precise, so deep. He was driving you insane, that being his aim. You are addicted to the feeling, making you arch your back off the mattress.

Your warmth, wetness and tightness embraced him in a deliciously vice like grip, your scent reaching his senses and he was already drunk off of you. The squelching noise between your bodies grew, making your ears heat up but you also couldn't care less. This is your and Aaron's private moment after all.

Aaron groaned, his grunts growing louder with time, movements growing deeper, harder, “Oh, love. My beautiful, beautiful love,” He is practically a babbling mess, breathing heavily when you clenched around his length, your heat pulsing rapidly, “I love you so much, you have no idea.” That tugged at your heartstrings and you wanted to reply but you couldn't; his thrusts rendered you speechless and breathless.

It's pure instinct when he moves to embrace your entire figure within his arms, thrusting into you at a different angle which definitely felt even more deeper, hitting your spot so perfectly. Your gasps and moans fueled his urgent desire to feel you closer and make you come. His biceps flex as he pins you down, pounding mercilessly into you. You moaned his name like a prayer, chanting his name like he’s the only one filling each of your senses. Aaron. Aaron. Aaron.

He stared down at you; head thrown back, eyes clenched shut, moaning out his name in wanton as you moved together with his harsh and fast thrusts. You looked so beautiful in his eyes, his to love and his to hold. You feel like a dream to him, someone so gentle and kind, someone who took care of him in a way he never expected.

His hands grasped the comforter beside your head tightly at the increasing fervour of the movements. The room fills up with the sound of rapid skin-slapping, moans reverberating off the walls. He gasped for air, uninhibited moans escaping his pretty pink swollen lips. Your name leaving his lips in a state of absolute bliss, just you filling each and every fibre of his being. Aaron's eyebrows scrunched together, eyes closed in concentration to not let go soon. Sweat trickled down his temples and clavicle, landing on your chest. His cheeks were flushed pink, lips opening to let out a quiet moan, a whimper even.

Dear God, how is he so pretty?

You tightened so hard making Aaron throw his head back at the bliss, so wet and so warm, so tight; all for him.

That thought ignited something in him, hands fumbling down to hold your hips in place as his fingers trailed down your bottom to the back of your thighs, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist to adjust the angle and pace. He started thrusting harder and faster. Now, he was moving in a completely different pace.

"Aaron— ah— slow down— "

“I can't, love. You feel too good— ” He sucks in a breath when your hands trails up to embrace him, as if holding onto him for dear life.

Your fingers travel down his clavicle and rest just above his chest. Aaron looks down at you with hooded eyes, barely able to keep them open due to the ecstasy filling his senses. His eyes searched yours, for any sign for discomfort. When he found none, he relaxed a little. But then you had to run your mouth,

"God, you sound so good and feel so, so good. I could never— ah, shit— get tired of your voice. Your moans — "

Aaron cut you off with a groan, his hips slamming against yours in an unforgiving pace. He was slowly losing it, having already lost himself in you, he decides this wasn't enough. He needs to have you even closer.

"I need you to flip over for me, love," Aaron huffed, urgency lacing his voice as he pulled out of you. He helped you get into position, taking in a moment to marvel at your beautiful back, stretch marks painting parts of your skin. You are perfect in his eyes.

"You are so beautiful, love." He confessed, caressing your ass before lining himself to your entrance, "Right back in..." He gasped at your tightness again, warmth embracing him, heat travelling up his spine.

You moaned loudly, muffling the sounds against your pillow which smelled so much like Aaron; gardenias with a hint of peppermint. You were right near the edge and knew Aaron is right there with you, his hold on your hips tightening.

“I’m close— ” You breathlessly gasped, the coil tightening in your abdomen.

You were close, so close but Aaron pulled out. A cry of protest settled on your tongue before he flipped you on your back and pushed right back in, your wetness being more than enough lubricant to push himself into your plush warm walls. You screamed, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“Right there with you, love,” Aaron has a habit, a natural response, an unspoken urge to always see your face when you come undone on him, for him, so lost in the pleasure that your climax always pushed his, “Come. Come on my cock, baby.”

The moment he said those words, the tightening coil inside you snapped. You moaned loudly, the climax hitting you in waves that you had to turn to your side and bury your face in the pillows to calm your voice. But Aaron wasn’t having it. He merely grabbed the pillow and threw it on the floor.

Your tightness triggered Aaron’s climax, hips stuttering against with no rhythm. You stared up at his beautiful face, trying to blink away the blur, “Want to come inside me, handsome?” You teased him which awarded you with a sharp thrust into your already sensitive walls. He playfully glared at you.

“If you continue talking to me like this, I’ll keep you up all the night. Till we see the dawn.” Aaron groaned, to which you feigned nonchalance. But it only ignited your excitement.

He leaned down to kiss you, wanting to muffle his grunts and moans as he felt himself coming. But this time, you are not having it. Wanting to hear his moans, you pulled him away as your fingers tugged on the roots of his hair. Aaron whined, you pulling on his hair immediately making him come.

Even though breathless, he still had to say,

"Oh love, I could stay inside you for the rest of my life. Hide you away from the world if that means I get to take you any time, every time."

• • • • • • • • • • •

(a/n 2: tbh reading his thoughts from his pov and his extreme desires and needs really makes me feel like he does dirty talk but in such a rich way, seducing you to no end)

© wishing--butterfly, 2023. Please do not plagiarize or repost without permission.

[pankowperfection]

A Hard Days Work

Summary: Watching JJ do what he does best turns you on

Warnings: smut, JJ's filthy mouth, spanking, rough sex, exhibitionist kink, oral (fem receiving), 18+

JJ was working late again, always staying after hours at the garage to either work on customer's cars or work on his own build. You hadn't seen much of him this week, only catching a glimpse when he finally came home hours after his shift ended to shower, eat, and fall asleep beside you. Truth be told you were missing him, missing your quality time together. So after you finished work, you decided to pay him a visit.

Everyone else had left for the night, JJ's boss telling you both to take it easy before heading out. You perch yourself on the rolling stool in front of the car he was working on, admiring the way he looks when he is working. Your sweet plan of just keeping him company is quickly replaced by something dirty. The way his strong hands looked wrapped in black mechanic's gloves, fingers curled as he held a screw in place to tighten it reminded you of how good those very fingers would feel curled inside of you. You press your thighs together, hoping to help relieve the ache as you continue to watch him work.

"Earth to y/n, you alright over there?" The deep timbre of JJ's voice pulls you from your trance. "Sorry, zoned out. What did you say?" He gives you a knowing smirk, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I said, will you come over here and adjust this when I tell you to?" "Sure baby," you push to your feet, joining him and leaning over the engine bay. "Okay, turn it a little to the left sweetheart." You do as he says, turning the distributor slightly to the left while he watches the timing belt spin. You get distracted by his body once again, noticing how the muscles in his forearm jump out when he turns the wrench. Unable to ignore the pulsating need between your thighs any longer, you break the silence again. "J..." you whine out, waiting for him to look up at you. "Yes baby?"

You can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly what you want, but he's going to make you ask for it. "I need you." He sighs and sets down the wrench, clang of metal slightly distracting you before he walks over, caging you in against the front of the car. "My poor baby. So desperate for my cock that you want me to fuck you at my work?" He removes the gloves, calloused fingers gliding up the inside of your bare thigh to the edge of your shorts. You can’t help the moan that leaves your lips, panties soaked through just at the thought of all the things he could do to you. “Please J. Fuck me.” “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he smirks, closing the hood of the car quickly before pressing you against the cool metal.

He kneads the flesh of your ass, landing a soft spank which makes you moan again. You hear his belt buckle clank followed by the sound of his zipper, looking back over your shoulder to watch him stroke his cock. "Good thing you wore these slutty little shorts, I don't even have to take them off." He teases his ringed fingers over the denim before roughly yanking it to the side, delving into your folds and groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. "God, you got this turned on watching me work? You should come visit more often cupcake." His thumb finds your clit and you moan out his name, desperate to feel him inside of you. The contrast of his hot skin and the cool metal of his rings sends shivers down your spine, toes curling in pleasure. "Shit J, feels so good. Please, need your cock baby."

He gives you your favorite sexy smile, dimples on display before lining up with your entrance. Wasting no time he slams inside, burying himself in one swift thrust that has you both crying out. His thrusts are brutal, surely bruising your hips as you bounce against the car each time he pushes inside. He easily pins your hands behind your back with one of his, forcing you to be at his mercy. "Fuck J," he's hitting so deep, each thrust massaging your g spot and building your orgasm quickly. "Don't you dare cum yet, I'm just getting started." With that he pulls out, roughly flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the hood of the car. "Spread those pretty legs for me." You do as he asks, opening your knees as wide as they'll go so your glistening folds are on display to him.

Unable to resist he leans down, lapping at your clit as your hands fist into his hair. When he flicks your clit you pull hard, causing him to groan against you. "Tastes so sweet. Your legs are extra sexy when I'm in between them." Your head falls back, too overwhelmed with the pleasure he's bringing you to watch any longer. Two fingers easily glide inside, curling just right with each push and pull as he continues to massage your clit with his talented tongue. Just when you are about to fall over the edge he stops, a loud whine of protest leaving your lips at the second denial. "J please. I need to cum." "Not yet baby. Be patient, I promise it will be worth it."

He kisses a slow path back up your body, stopping to wind his tongue into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself on his lips. His tip nudges your entrance and you shudder, so needy for him. This time he slowly presses inside, watching each inch of his length disappear before your pelvises meet. "God damn, squeezing me so tight." You wrap your legs around his waist, wanting to keep him at the perfect angle as he starts to move again. He chose this position on purpose, knowing now that you would be in perfect view of the security camera. He smirks into your neck as he starts to fuck you hard, basking in the sounds of your pleasure and how your nails dig into his back.

"You see that flashing light up there baby? That's the security camera. My boss checks them regularly after hours. He could be watching right now. Watching how much of a slut you are for my cock. Hearing how you begged me to fuck you, seeing how your face looks when you're about to cum." The thought only turns you on more, the exhibitionist in you loving the idea that his attractive boss could be watching. "Fuck JJ, please." He grins, secretly knowing that this was a kink of yours. "That's it baby, moan loud for the camera. Let Matt know how good I'm making you feel. Bet he would want you to be a good girl and cum for me. Now." You can't help but obey, falling apart spectacularly as curses and chants of his name fall from your lips like a prayer. "Such a good girl," he coos, giving a few final thrusts before painting your walls white.

You both struggle to catch your breath, sweat dripping from his brow as he takes in your fucked out look. "Is that why you came to visit me today?" You shove him playfully, pulling your shorts back into position as his cum starts to leak out of you. "Yes and no. I did just miss spending time with you, but watching you work just got me all hot and bothered. Will you get in trouble if your boss did see us?" He laughs, adjusting his own shorts before popping the hood on the car again. "Nah, those cameras don't really work. I just wanted to test my suspicions about your exhibitionist kink." You blush slightly, embarrassed that he knows but also glad that he doesn't seem to mind. "Any time you want to fuck with an audience, let me know. I would love to show off my girl, let everyone see what they are missing." He kisses you quickly, getting back to the task at hand while you fantasize about all the public places you can fuck in.

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @hoebx @ailee-celeste @pankhoeforlife @outerbankspov @houseofperfecttaste @drewbooooo @my-baexht-ls @maybanks-luver @blueicequeen19 @toystory2wasjustokay @i-always-come-back-xoxo @onmykneesforrafe @penny4yourthoughts

[slytherinshua]

LEGO DATE NIGHT

genre. fluff. warnings. none. pairing. kyrell x fem!reader. wc. 431. request. no. a/n. inspired by kyrell's lego live this was just smth quick and cute to write. but i love him so much he's so sweet srsly such a big soft spot for him :(

“Can you find the yellow 1 by 2? It’s like small and flat and has the little—”

“Yeah, here.” You passed Kyrell the piece, safely transferring it to his palm half-covered by his hoodie sleeve. 

“Thanks.” 

You’d decided to relive some childhood nostalgia and buy some lego sets to build with your boyfriend. Lego had always been a core part of your childhood. Growing up with brothers, you had a big bin full of miscellaneous pieces to build and play with. 

“You know, when I was little, I had this pirate ship. It was huge and super detailed, but I’m sure some of the pieces were missing. I used to play pirates versus sea monsters with my brothers.” You pieced together the roof of the house from ‘Up!’, smiling as it fit perfectly onto the body of the house.

“Who won?” Kyrell asked.

“Usually the sea monsters would destroy the ship at some point.” You giggled, the nostalgia filling your body. 

“Are you almost done with that set? I finished Wall-E.” He leaned on your shoulder, cheek bumping against the hood of your hoodie.

“Almost. Gotta do the balloons.” You poured the bag of balloon pieces out, flipping to the page in the instruction manual. 

“Looks nice— Wait, do you even have Doug?!” The lilt in Kyrell’s voice caused your heart to leap in your chest. Cute.

“Yeah, right here.” 

“He’s adorable!” Ky’s exclamation makes you laugh, sneaking your arm down to his waist. You squeezed him closer to your side, adoring his squeaky giggle.

“You’re adorable.” You counter, unable to resist the urge to press a kiss to his cheek, the little dimple forming on his skin at the touch of your lips. 

The little date finished with 4 sets complete; the house you had built, Wall-E and eVe that Kyrell lovingly put together, insistent that it was you two in robot form (“cause they’re in love! and we’re in love, so it’s us!”). And, finally, two star wars themed ships complete with clone troopers and a little darth vader. 

“We should do this more often. It’s so relaxing.” 

You nodded, “Whenever you find cute sets, let me know. Let’s build them together.” 

“Alright. Lego date night every other week then?” Kyrell proposed.

“Don’t have to ask me twice for me to be there.” You assured him.

That’s what you loved about your boyfriend. He made even the most simple activities romantic. Setting the mood with your favourite K-Pop songs, giving you little compliments and teasing remarks just to get you to laugh, he knew every way to your heart.

↳ ampers&one taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,

[miasmaghoul]

I present to you something my mind came up with:

Dew with another ghoul in front of a large mirror, worshipping their body and breathing in their ears how gorgeous they are, how he can't wait to fuck them, how much he loves them, to keep looking in the mirror while Dew kisses every body part the other ghoul is insecure about to show how how amazing they are (bonus points for blushy partners)

Love you 💚

This will be an unpopular choice, but I don't care.

Dew lovin' on Cumulus, exactly the way she deserves.

Cumulus sighs as she stares at her reflection, biting her lip.

She's naked, the soft light filtering in through her sheer drapes giving her pale gray skin a silvery sheen. Her white curls cascade over her shoulders and down her back, tucked behind pink-tipped ears to fully expose her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes hooded as she takes stock of herself.

Her breasts are full, but they sag, pink nipples pointed towards the floor. The stretch marks by her armpits are so obvious, dark and shiny. Ugly.

The rest of her is much the same, soft and squishy and dimpled with cellulite. Every part marked by growth in the same way as her chest. She stares at the darkest marks, the ones that run vertically over her hips. Stares at the roundness of her belly, the width of her thighs. A tally mark in her head for every flaw, every mark and divot, every little imperfection. Ugly.

She feels so ugly like this.

And yet,

"Beautiful." It's sighed directly into her ear, Dew's warm breath fluttering over her skin. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

There's no room for argument in Dewdrop's words. They're filled with adoration, with praise and worship. Inarguable truths, at least according to the fire ghoul. Cumulus watches him in the mirror, a small smile doing its best to tug at the corners of her lips.

Dew's callused hand trembles as it glides over her stomach, down onto her hip. His lips graze the shell of her ear as he repeats himself, bony fingers pressing into soft flesh. Cumulus lets her eyes drift shut for a moment when Dew moves to lay his head on her chest, trailing kisses over the swell of her breast. She can feel how hard he is, hot and slick against her side and she throbs with it, already wet to her thighs. Cumulus groans when Dew squeezes the softness of her hip, fingers slowing dragging south.

"Love the way you feel," he purrs, kneading down towards her thigh. He dips down to plant a kiss in the valley of her breasts and kneels before her. Dew looks up at Cumulus like she hung the stars and the ghoulette feels the way her blush spills down her throat, her knees going wobbly. Dewdrop smiles, a soft face that few others get to see, as he raises one hand to cup her ample chest. "Love your tits, fuck I love your tits."

Cumulus giggles - Dew has a certain way with words, but at least the vulgarity suits him. Her laughter melts into a breathy moan as Dew flicks his tongue over her nipple once, twice, three times over before taking the stiff bud between his lips and sucking.

She loses herself in their reflection, at the sight of Dew's slight body knelt at her feet. It should make her feel large, unwieldy, the way she can see her hips past his narrow shoulders. But with the way Dew moves, the way he speaks, the way he touches her like she's something precious - she can't feel anything but revered.

Dew pulls away from her chest to smile up at her again, resting his chin against Cumulus's belly and wrapping his arms around her waist. He looks like he's seen something so astonishing that he can't bear to close his eyes, lest it disappear. She cups his cheeks with both hands, thumbs grazing sharp cheekbones. Dew's gaze is heavy, weighed down by lust, and he looks -

"Beautiful," Cumulus sighs, the one word filled with all the love she carries for the little ghoul before her.

"Yeah you are." Dew winks up at her when Cumulus huffs out a giggle, and she watches him kiss the softest spots of her stomach. It tickles and she tells him so, squirming and pushing at his head when the ghoul doubles down and starts dragging his claws over her sides.

"Ah, no, no, stop!" Cumulus has tears in her eyes in no time, making the cutest little yelping sounds when Dew finds a good spot to tease. He doesn't press to the point of pain, only enough to keep her wriggling around so he can feel the way her body shifts and jiggles against him.

"Never," Dew declares into her skin, but his touch gentles. The claws become exploratory fingertips, ghosting over her sensitive skin and coming to rest at the fronts of her thighs. Cumulus is panting and red faced, wiping the moisture from her eyes when Dew dips down.

"Oh."

Cumulus gasps when Dewdrop places a firm kiss just above the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, inhaling deeply. She threads nervy fingers into his silken hair as he moves, kissing every inch of velvety skin he can find. She's panting by the time his hands slip between her thighs, and Cumulus lets him open her up. He groans deep in his throat as the space around them is filled with the heady scent of honeysuckle and musk.

"Can't believe I'm lucky enough to fuck you." Dew sounds like the air has been pulled from his lungs.

So does Cumulus a moment later when he sinks two fingers into her aching cunt, the flat of Dew's tongue dragging through her slick folds. She keens with it, thighs trembling when Dew crooks his fingers and licks slow circles around her clit. Cumulus catches herself on his shoulders and Dew catches her gaze, the copper of his eyes blown black. He pulls back after a moment, still working his fingers in and out.

"Want you to ride me," he kisses into her thigh, the words hot against her skin, "wanna see how beautiful I can make you feel."

Cumulus nods.

He already has.

[foxofthedesert]

RQ OUaT FF | OGA: Ch. 7

Chapter 7 – The Evening Song

Drained of energy yet buzzing with barely suppressed rage, Regina stalks through the cluttered hallways of the Dark Palace, skirts swirling and servants scattering in the wake of her fury.

In the immediate aftermath of the disembodied encounter with the witch who murdered so many of her people, including one of her closest friends, she accompanied Rodrigo on his inspection of the ruins of Tamerlon. To their horror, at the tail end of the looping canvass they discovered a densely packed pile of bodies, perhaps forty or fifty individuals, still smoldering in the ashes of what used to be a twelve hundred fifty square foot octagonal chapel to the goddess Ēostre, the matron deity of fertility and renewal. No lengthy investigation was required to deduce that these were civilians unable to evacuate and thus trapped inside the fort when the assault began. No doubt Robin, the garrison commander, ordered the noncombatants there for their safety, not anticipating he would be unable to defend the stronghold against a single sorceress. That error in judgment, however reasonable it would have seemed in the heat of the moment, cost so many innocents their lives.

Regina offered no comment as Rodrigo poked and prodded around the often brittle remains on the outer rim and top of the pile, in a futile search for any surviving identification. As he gingerly, and respectfully as possible, dug through the charred corpses he began verbalizing the conclusion she had already arrived at as to how these poor souls met such a grisly demise. Instead of offering her thoughts on the matter as she probably should have, all Regina could do was stand there staring, transfixed by the grotesque scene, impotent rage and indescribable grief becoming more and more unbearable by the second. Only when Rodrigo reached the inner ring amongst the slain and started uncovering the children, the first of them barely a toddler, did she manage to wrench her eyes away. Unable to tolerate anymore of the unspeakable tragedy, she fled as fast as her legs could carry her and scurried outside to where no one could see her just so she could vomit what little remained undigested of the lunch she and Red were served during a break at court. As she wiped her mouth of the sick with a handkerchief she then promptly discarded, she silently vowed justice for the atrocity perpetrated on the residents of Tamerlon, soldier and innocent civilian alike.

That abominable bitch is going to pay if it's the last thing I do, Regina thinks, the olfactory memory of ash and roasted flesh along with the sight of burnt women and children fresh in her mind as she thunders through a clogged tee intersection. She shoulders her way past a throng of bodies milling across and then emerges into the less busy Royal Wing of the castle. When at last she reaches her bedchambers, she bursts through the doors without bothering to knock and announce herself, having forgotten in her hyper-agitated state that she had left Red asleep less than three hours ago. Fortunately for Regina, Red is already awake, relieving her of any guilt at her raucous entry.

Seated upon the cushioned bench under the grand bay window that overlooks the forest stretching as far as they eye can see beyond the citadel, Red's posture telegraphs an exceedingly gloomy state of mind. She is scrunched up as tightly as possible for her lanky limbs, legs folded up against her torso, arms draped over them holding them in place, her head resting upon them with her cheek against her knees so that she can stare morosely out the window. She is no longer in the dress she wore to court, having exchanged the formal garment for a drab gray cotton shift that spills off her starkly pale shoulders and swallows up her svelte frame. Her long bangs are tied back behind her head by a butterfly clasp she borrowed from Regina's collection. With every breath she takes, her chest shivers and the muscles in her forearms constantly twitch as she incessantly worries her hands together.

Regina doesn't need to hear the mournful sniffle that disturbs the silence to have known what was going on. Red had not even flinched in acknowledgement of her dramatic arrival, which never happens because Red can hear her heartbeat from several yards away. There is practically no sneaking up on her, which means she had heard Regina coming and made a conscious choice not to greet her. That alone is cause for alarm, though Regina tempers any fretful reaction by reminding herself that Red is hurting right now and that, self-sacrificial, beautiful, wonderful idiot that she is, she probably did not want her crying to be the first thing Regina saw upon coming home.

Approaching with respectful caution, Regina steps up beside Red at the bench and risks passing her fingers through her wife's silky locks. She runs them through from temple all the way down to its end at her lower back in one long, languid stroke. Red shudders at the contact, her breath hitching over a choked sob. Rather than speak or act in any way that might pressure Red to engage with her before she's ready, Regina forces herself to remain as she is, just slowly and tenderly sifting her fingers through Red's hair as she cries without making any noise other than a few plaintive whimpers and a lot more sniffles. Eventually the tears and the shaking cease, and only when that happens does Red lift her head from her knees and crane her face up to brave looking at Regina. Bloodshot green eyes lock with hers, such indescribable sadness staining them Regina feels her own eyes well up with moisture. Tear tracks have eroded a wavy, irregular path through mascara lightly applied to Red's cheeks, which are visibly ruddy from her overwrought emotional state. Her chin trembles and creases as she gazes up, silently imploring Regina to make the hurt stop.

"Oh, sweetheart," Regina says, nearly breathless due the suddenly pervasive ache in her chest. With the same gentility she might support a newborn baby's head, she cradles Red's cheek and brushes the tears away with her thumb. "What can I do? Anything at all. Name it and I'll do it without question."

A plump lower lip disappears between pearly white teeth, Red appearing more uncertain and shy and frail than she has in years. Still, she is so distraught and needy, she scrounges up the courage to speak her desire.

"Would you hold me for a little while?"

Rather than chastise Red for doubting for even a second she would accommodate such a reasonable and welcome request, Regina gives her a gentle smile followed by a soft brush of her fingers down the length of an elegant jawline.

"Of course I will," she says, then gestures at Red. "Scoot forward a bit so I can slide in behind you."

Once Red obeys, Regina snaps her fingers to change out of her dress into a pair of tan cotton breeches she likes to garden in and a plain white blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the top three buttons left undone. Feet left bare and now much more comfortable, she clambers up onto the bench behind Red, arranges herself against the back wall with her outstretched legs open and propped up slightly leaving an acute inverse chevron beneath her elevated knees, then pats her lap a couple times in invitation. Red does not hesitate to slide back into Regina's waiting arms, which wind low around her waist as she settles her back against Regina's front, her head resting against Regina's collar, cheeks pressed together, warmth to warmth. Regina tilts her face so she can nuzzle her nose into Red's cheek a few times, then presses a series of kisses to Red's temple before returning to their original alignment.

She chuckles when Red heaves a deep sigh of contentment and covers Regina's arms with her own, their hands automatically weaving together almost of their own accord.

"Is this okay?" she asks, starting to sway them gently side to side like a doting mother would when rocking her troubled child back to sleep after a bad dream.

Red hums confirmation, then adds with a pleading inflection, "Know what would make it even better? Das Abendlied."

Regina groans, stilling their movement. Just her luck Red would request a traditional like that, knowing she would want it sung in the seldom used tongue of her kin.

Like Regina and most nobles whose houses are expected to regularly entertain foreign dignitaries, Red is multilingual – another aspect that makes her a rarity among the class into which she was born. Although hailing from a poor backwater village to a line of peasant stock stretching back as far as her family history kept records, Red was raised speaking her native language alongside the common one used throughout the Enchanted Forest. Most of her peers spoke only the common, their kin having relinquished the old ways for the sake of gradually encroaching modernity, which not only included eschewing local linguistic flavor but religious fervor as well – worship of the many colorful deities native to that region has nearly been eradicated. Despite this prevailing abandonment of regional heritage, and a profound aversion to all religion, Red's grandmother was unwilling to cast aside five hundred years of tradition and wished to keep alive their deeply burrowed roots within their indigenous soil. Even if most of Red's generation could barely put together a sentence in their ancestral tongue, Red was made to learn it first before being introduced to common in time for her to grasp it before beginning what little schooling was afforded children of her station.

Out of respect for Regina's heritage, Red also learned the language of her father-in-law's people, so the least Regina could do was return the favor. Red proved a patient teacher, and a good one, able to confer the meaning of words phrases in a simple way that improved memory imprinting. Such was Red's knack for linguistic instruction that Regina recommended she formally teach any palace-dwellers who wished to add another language to their portfolio – Red has since hosted three such classes and has seventy new speakers of Saxon to boast of.

Admittedly, Regina has grown quite fond of Saxon. So much so that she enjoys speaking it every bit as much as her native Andalusian, if not more, as the language has a certain bite to it, a sort of intrinsic fury that rides knuckle tight upon every harsh syllable. When she gets really upset and does not want to cause too much of a scene in public, she will often resort to unleashing a string of unutterable expletives in Saxon upon her unwitting and confused victim. Strangely enough, though, Red feels the same about Andalusian, preferring it to her mother tongue, especially when they are locked in an intimate embrace. Says it is energetic and romantic and gets her tongue good and loose. Regina does not protest very much because for one she sort of agrees about Andalusian being energetic and romantic, and two she's not a moron. Naked Red can get away with saying a lot things without being contradicted, especially when she's referring to the use of her tongue. Funny thing how that works...

In any case, the problem isn't having to sing the lullaby in Saxon so much as it is having to sing at all. Regina has never considered her singing voice to be anything special. While she can carry a tune just fine, it is sounds rather plain to her if not a little huskier than most women. By no means is her voice as extraordinary as Red makes it out to be. If Red is to be believed, it is a rival to that of the angels, as if she the idea she has ever heard such a sound is not absolutely ridiculous. And when Regina tells Red she's just biased, that her voice is really not so great, Red either ignores her altogether to continue insisting otherwise or suggests she might need to pay a visit to Victor and get her ears checked out. The sassy little minx. How Red gets away with all she does is a puzzle Regina has yet to solve, nor is particularly keen to since she is either the primary beneficiary of those shenanigans or is far too amused by them to be upset.

"Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

Glancing over, Regina finds Red staring at her with those huge soulful puppy eyes, lips pursed in an exaggerated pout there is no arguing against. Resistance would only be a waste of time and energy when both of them know she is going to concede no matter how much she does not want to sing right now. Looking at her that way, Red could ask her to belch the alphabet and she would probably give it a try.

"Bah. Fine." She rolls her eyes for show, then narrows them at her suddenly much perkier wife. "Just don't blame me when all the dogs start howling."

Red makes an offended noise that is more genuine than it is for the sake of obstinance, reminding Regina that she really does believe the words that follow. "Shut up. Your voice is gorgeous, and I'm not the only one who thinks that. Iris has told me more than once she agrees with me about that."

"Iris is merely concerned about her job security, as she should be," Regina points out half-heartedly. Their handmaid is a woman of intelligence who understands one never bites the hand that feeds them. That said, Red is handily winning the argument, although habit dictates Regina never give in easily. "If she were allowed the luxury of honesty, I'm sure her opinion would be very different."

"Oh, stop it," Red says with a dramatic eye roll of her own, clearly getting a little upset. "You're being ridiculous right now. Can't you do this one thing for me without making a frustrating production out of it?"

Regina tuts, then squeezes her arms around Red's waist. "No need to get snippy, even if you're right."

Deflating more quickly than an air bladder just popped, Red sighs wearily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's alright, mi amada." Regina rubs Red's arms, accepting the apology. "You're under a lot of stress and reeling from a loss no one could have anticipated. A little moodiness is to be expected."

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't apologize for being an ass."

"Fair enough. In that case, I accept. But only if you accept my apology for being just as much of an ass as you were." That earns Regina a smile, muted as it is.

"I can live with that compromise," Red says.

"Good." A sharp nod precedes clearing her throat and a redirect back on track. "With that settled, do you still want to hear The Evening Song?"

Red perks up instantly, eyes dancing with barely restrained excitement as she bounces up and down, her butt slamming into Regina's pelvis like a one hundred fifteen pound bony hammer. "Yes, please, please, please, pretty pleeeeease!"

"Alright, calm down before you knock us both off," Regina chuckles at Red's antics, then laughs outright when Red starts wiggling like an unruly worm just to be stubbornly amusing. She tightens her grip in response, wrestling the squirming monster until she is subdued. "Now then," she says when Red goes limp then huffs in mock surrender, "why don't you close your eyes and try to relax. And if you start to fall asleep don't fight it. When I get uncomfortable I'll use magic to get us both in bed. Deal?"

To her credit, Red does not act up again, merely yawns and nods listlessly. "'Kay. Sounds good." Her eyes slip closed for just a second before popping back open, her neck craning to catch Regina's eyes as she calls out her name. When Regina answers, she sweetly adds, "Thank you for doing this. I know it's an imposition, but I really am grateful. And I love you."

That does the trick. Regina melts, her insides turning into so much goo. The power this woman has over me ought to be illegal. And yet she loves it far more than it is bothersome.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she replies from the bottom of her rapidly warming heart. "I love you, too. Go on now and close your eyes. I've got you." To emphasize the point, she snugs up her hold and presses another kiss to Red's temple before resting their cheeks together one last time. Then she starts humming the tune to the requested song and waits for the opportune moment.

When Red finally stills, her breathing settling in a relaxed cadence, Regina takes her cue. With a preparatory breath, she begins to sing the familiar Saxon lyrics she learned just for Red.

"Der Mond ist aufgegangen,

(The moon is risen, beaming,)

Die goldnen Sternlein prangen

(The golden stars are gleaming)

Am Himmel hell und klar;

(So brightly in the skies;)

Der Wald steht schwarz und schweiget,

(The hushed, black woods are dreaming,)

Und aus den Wiesen steiget

(The mists, like phantoms seeming,)

Der weiße Nebel wunderbar.

(From meadows magically rise.)

Wie ist die Welt so stille,

(How still the world reposes,)

Und in der Dämmrung Hülle,

(While twilight round it closes,)

So traulich und so hold!

(So peaceful and so fair!)

Als eine stille Kammer,

(A quiet room for sleeping,)

Wo ihr des Tages Jammer

(Into oblivion steeping)

Verschlafen und vergessen sollt.

(The day's distress and sober care.)"

As the stirring melody drifts through the room, Regina swaying their tangled bodies to the gently flowing rhythm, she feels a sense of serenity wash over her that she was in desperate need of. The horrors of the day fade away with every line of the beautiful lullaby. Robin's twisted, agonized face is no longer visible; the mounds of smoldering corpses and skeletal buildings of Tamerlon disappear into the shadows; and the sorrow she shares with Red over their mutual losses gradually secedes to the realization that they are still together and that tomorrow will bring a new day. No matter what may come, they will face the trials ahead and emerge on the other side stronger for them. Because together they can withstand any assault. Together they can weather any storm. Together they will rise from the molten ashes of grief, a mated pair of phoenixes the fires of pain and death and despair can never destroy.

Swelling with hope, she pours her heart and soul into the song, allowing it to carry her away on the wings of love for the woman in her arms.

Seht ihr den Mond dort stehen? –

(Look at the moon so lonely!)

Er ist nur halb zu sehen,

(One half is shining only)

Und ist doch rund und schön!

(Yet she is round and bright;)

So sind wohl manche Sachen,

(Thus oft we laugh unknowing)

Die wir getrost belachen,

(At things that are not showing,)

Weil unsre Augen sie nicht sehn.

(That still are hidden from our sight.)

Wir stolze Menschenkinder

(We, with our proud endeavor,)

Sind eitel arme Sünder

(Are poor vain sinners ever,)

Und wissen gar nicht viel;

(There's little that we know.)

Wir spinnen Luftgespinste,

(Frail cobwebs we are spinning,)

Und suchen viele Künste,

(Our goal we are not winning,)

Und kommen weiter von dem Ziel.

(But straying farther as we go.)

Götter, lassen uns deine Herrlichkeit sehen

(Gods let us see thine glory)

Auf nichts Vergänglichs trauen,

(Distrust things transitory,)

Nicht Eitelkeit uns freun!

(Delight in nothing vain!)

Herren uns einfältig werden,

(Lords, here on earth stand by us,)

Und vor dir hier auf Erden

(To make us glad and pious,)

Wie Kinder fromm und fröhlich sein.

(And artless children once again!)

Wollst endlich sonder Grämen

(Grant that, without much grieving,)

Aus dieser Welt uns nehmen

(This world we may be leaving )

Durch einen sanften Tod!

(In gentle death at last.)

Und, wenn du uns genommen,

(And then do not forsake us)

Lass uns in Himmel kommen,

(But into heaven take us,)

Oh Götter, bitte halte uns fest!

(O Gods, please hold us fast!)

So legt euch denn, ihr Brüder,

(So lie down, my friends,)

im Vertrauen hier auf der Erde

(In trust down here on Earth.)

Kalt ist der Abendhauch.

(How cold the night-wind blew!)

Verschon uns, Gottes! Mit Strafen,

(Oh Gods, Thine anger keeping,)

Und lass uns ruhig schlafen!

(Now grant us peaceful sleeping,)

Und unsern kranken Nachbarn auch!"

(And our sick neighbor too.)

When the last words have passed through her lips, Regina pulls back enough to chance a glance at Red. Dead still, breathing even, eyelids closed yet relaxed, lips slightly parted, she appears more a slumbering deity than a sleeping woman, like an Olympian wreathed in flesh, Artemis fair and lithe and powerful become mortal just so Regina can know the incomparable gift of her love and be given the extraordinary privilege of returning it. And that she does with an intensity that burns brighter than a thousand furnaces heated to seven times capacity until the end of time.

Nothing will ever change the way she feels about Red. There is no erasing or interrupting or dimming a love so great there are moments she can hardly contain it within her body due to the intense pressure, as if her chest is so full of love that it is going to rupture at any moment and spill out of her along with the rest of her vital organs. Nor is there any force on earth capable of sundering them forever. They are of one heart and soul, geistgebunden, as the elders of Red's people say. Soul bound. Even death will be only a temporary parting for them. Eternity is where their love will live on when this mortal coil has faded from view, and there it shall thrive in youthful vitality forevermore.

Unwilling to move or let go of Red for even one second, Regina tightens her arms around her sleeping wife, readjusts her shoulders, and settles in. Soon, her eyes also begin to grow so heavy she can no longer hold them open, as if her lids have been touched by some mercury-infused Midas. Her last thought is that if the woman who mercilessly killed Robin had a Red in her life, perhaps none of this would be happening.

The sky above Misthaven is a startling blue on the day Robin of Locksley is buried. A week and two days have come and gone since his death and with it news of Tamerlon's destruction. The blanket of sadness that rolled over the citadel as news of these events circulated has yet to dissipate. To Regina the gorgeous weather seems especially cruel in light of the bleakness that has rested over those who knew and loved Robin like a misty cloud comprised of a sticky uncertainty and a guttural anguish. It feels almost purposeful, as if nature is conspiring with their enemy to mock the grief of so many.

A sizable crowd has gathered in the courtyard before the Dark Palace for the dolorous event. Robin was almost universally admired. He was a man's man who was not above being sensitive when called for, ruggedly handsome whose enormous smile matched his generosity and amiability with kind eyes and the ferocious heart of a lion. Children flocked to him for rides upon his broad shoulders. Women, and a number of men, married and single alike swooned when he passed by them. The soldiers he lead into battle nearly worshiped him as much for his fair and considerate treatment of them as for the unerring sense of discipline he instilled within each and every one of them, all of whom he knew by name as did he the names of their spouses and children.

As to be expected, the people closest to him were the hardest hit by his sudden passing. His Merry Men left all they had ever known to follow him with blind trust into Misthaven after the Sheriff of Nottingham finally rooted them out of Sherwood Forest. That they were offered sanctuary in Misthaven would not have mattered if Robin had been in the mood to decline; it was only because he accepted that so too did they. He was more than just a leader to them but a friend and a brother who was as happy to shed his blood for them as he was to make merry amongst them. Now what once was a rowdy bunch of hard-nosed fighters, passionate lovers, and shameless revelers have been reduced to a lethargic group of discordant, drifting compatriots at the brink of utter fragmentation. Whether they survive this tragedy intact or splinter to the four winds remains to be seen. Robin was the glue that held their disparate and often at-odds personalities together; without him Regina cannot image the band surviving in any recognizable form. That said, there is no doubt in her mind that Little John will stay close to Marian and Roland, which means he is unlikely to leave any time soon since Marian has already expressed to Regina and Red her intent to stay in Misthaven rather than return to Tamerlon where the made their home while Robin was in command of the garrison there – 'Roland was born here in the citadel,' she had told them, 'it is his home, so it is mine also, therefore we shall stay.' John was set to fetch the Locksley's belongings from Tamerlon a fortnight from now. Of all the Merry Men, it is Will Scarlett, Robin's half-sibling, who is least likely to remain, his heart already being split between family and love. He stayed only out of loyalty to and affection for his older brother, but now Regina wonders whether or not he will soon disappear in search of his beloved, the long lost Red Queen Anastasia.

The many other friends Robin made during his years in Misthaven, such as Red and Victor, are faring somewhat better, though all are visibly submersed within one of the various stages of grief. In all things, Red wears her emotions on her sleeve, and wraps her grief about her like a terribly depressing shawl. She cries often and otherwise constantly appears on the verge of weeping yet again, as if inside her lies an infinite sea of tears. Regina comforts her wife as best she can, though her efforts produce only meager results. Red's normally buoyant demeanor remains subdued and her rare, hesitant smiles never come close to reaching her eyes. Meanwhile Victor is typically stoic, though when Regina glances at him there is a glimmer in his eyes that suspiciously resembles tears, which is surprising – Victor is not one to let people close. It was no small feat that Robin managed to get past the iron door erected around Doctor Frankenstein's coldly rational heart. But that's just how Robin was, every bit as stealthy with his friendship as he was in the woods, able to sneak up on a person without them hearing a sound before springing the trap, and suddenly he was there inside the walls, close to the heart, a friend whose humor, loyalty, and affection can only truly appreciated now that he's gone. Regina knows this because he snuck up on her the exact same way. Red, however, was a different story. With Red, Robin was the one who got ambushed. Turns out he'd never been drunk under the table by a girl before, or beaten fair and square at an archery contest, or lost five times in a row at a high-stakes version of hide-and-go-seek in Sherwood Forest of all places. Most men would have hated Red for showing them up that way, but not Robin. To Robin, she was to be toasted and given a rousing welcome to his happy band of misfits, the first Merry Woman amongst the Merry Men. One other female would follow in Red's footsteps to join Robin's informal crew, which turns Regina's mind to those absent due to prior engagements or the inescapable call of duty.

As the final well wishers and payers of respect filter by the stately coffin she paid for out of the Crown's coffers, she wonders how Graham and Mulan will take the news. Other than Red they were the closest to Robin outside of his family and the founding members of his Merry Men.

Speaking of Robin's family, Marian is doing her best to stay strong for little Roland, who vacillates wildly between inconsolable confusion over his Papa's disappearance, awful realization that Papa will stay gone forever, and that enviable childlike tendency to let such burdensome emotional tolls slide off their shoulders as if the loss is a mere inconvenience. He is only six years old. Far too young to be burying a parent. It pains Regina more than she can express to see him struggling so tremendously. His dimpled smile is one of her very favorites, and few other children enjoy the rare privileges within the Citadel he does simply because both of his Queens are wrapped around his little pinky finger. She makes a mental note to keep a close eye on the lad for the foreseeable future, as well as on his brave-faced mother, who is barely holding on to her composure as the bald, pudgy, lush of a friar affectionately called Tuck begins to officiate the solemn ceremony.

Marian is, without a doubt, one of the strongest women Regina has ever met. There is nothing at all about the woman she does not like or at the very least respect. While she and Marian were never as close as she was with Robin, they have enough common interests to have formed a solid camaraderie, not the least of which was their shared love of spouses who would just as soon be traipsing through in the woods on a month long camping trip, and that for leisure, as to enjoy their evenings in a house with all the furnishings one could ever wish for. Even if Regina had hated Marian, she would not envy what the woman is going to have to endure over the next several days, weeks, and months. Being a young widow in a world like theirs is a precarious situation, even for those with support systems as wide and deep as Marian's. Many reprobates and schemers lacking even a modicum of compassion or a miniscule regard for social decorum will try to take advantage of her grief. No doubt a line of heartless scoundrels a mile long will be vying to replace her dead husband in her bed within the week's end. Marian's financial stability has been shaken to the core, for while she is an industrious woman who is now sole owner and operator of one of the three taverns within the citadel, an establishment Little John has been tending since the family moved to Tamerlon due to Robin's assignment, the loss of Robin's sizable income from the army will mean she will need to make some difficult decisions – and very soon if they were beholden to any debtors. There is every possibility that barring intervention she will have to move out of their modest home near the inner ring of the citadel and into one of the rooms above the tavern's beer hall, all of which are inadequate for the mother of a rambunctious, adventurous, and impressionable little boy. An establishment where people are routinely getting insensibly inebriated and randomly break out into fisticuffs is no place to be raising any child.

Perhaps she will accept some aid from Red and I, Regina thinks. That is, if she can stow her pride long enough to see the logic in accepting it. And there isn't much chance of that.

However much Regina wants to force Marian to take the help she and Red can more than afford to give, she knows better than to try. Especially since that would make her a hypocrite. If she were in Marian's shoes, there is no way she would accept a handout. She would rather scrape by, starving so long as her baby was fed and his needs met, than to extend her hand palm up to take the monetary pity being offered by some condescending aristocrat. Pride has ever been her crowning character deficit, and it is one she has in common with Marian. Nevertheless, she determines to find a way to help the family currently under so much undue duress, even if she has to resort to underhanded tricks to do so.

Maybe a convenient tax refund? Or a heretofore undiscovered relative dying who bequeathed her a sizable inheritance? Regina shakes her head, clearing away her potential machinations as Tuck delves into what a good father and husband Robin was. The impassioned speech evokes the first visible cracks in Marian's previously resilient composure. There will be time to scheme later when a heartbroken wife isn't saying goodbye to her beloved husband. So for now, Regina focuses all of her attention upon paying respects as much to her fallen friend as to the family he left behind.

When the service is over and Robin's coffin is being carted away to his final resting place within the military sector of the Royal cemetery, Regina joins Red, both clad in black as the rest of the mourners, in escorting Marian and Roland along behind the ornate horse-drawn bier. At Regina and Red's insistence, the grief-stricken family are allowed for this somber affair the distinction, though they probably do not see it as such, of walking between the royal couple. The wide cobbled road exiting the courtyard cuts a lazily curved path through the rest of the citadel, the side streets and pavements are all lined with citizens standing outside their shopfronts or observing the passage of the procession with friends and family, all with straight backs and dour faces. Robin was not just a husband, father, friend, and beloved commander, but a hero to the people. His reputation cultivated during his days as an outlaw elevated him to somewhat mythical stature amongst Misthaven's common folk. Robin Hood, as they call him even here, will be sorely missed as one of the most outspoken champions of the disenfranchised.

Holding Roland's hand, who clings to his mother's, who is in turn clutching Red's with a white-knuckled grip, Regina strolls with a dignified pace several yards abaft of the honor carriage bearing Robin's body beneath the colors of his house. The golden lion atop an olive green background was restored to him along with his title by edict of the Queens, an order no one, however adamantly opposed, was prepared to rebel against. Behind them an impressive stream of mourners stretches beyond the curve of the main thoroughfare, a sea of people whose hearts have been stirred and whose wrath has been kindled against the enemy who so callously deprived the nation of one her very best. The witch has made more than one enemy by this deplorable act, and scores more by the destruction of the garrison at Tamerlon. There will be a reckoning, only the when, the where, and the how have yet to be decided.

At the thought of the heartless wench that has been wreaking havoc upon two realms, Regina's heart swells with defiant, acridly bitter loathing. The more she dwells on what has happened, the loftier her hatred grows until she is gritting her teeth against the urge to kill something or someone, anyone really, who has committed an evil worthy of death. How easy it would be, and how fun, to visit the dungeons afterward and carve out her acrimony upon some wretchedly filthy criminal, preferably a rapist or a murderer, to flay them head to toe and bathe in the glorious noises of flesh being shaved away from muscle and the screams of agony erupting from her hapless victims. Perhaps after she has accrued a pungent coating of blood she will feel more composed and less likely to allow the inner beast, now ranting and raving from the dark fringes of her psyche, to slip her suddenly rusty leash.

The dark turn of mood only breaks when Roland fortuitously peers up at her and sniffles loudly. His precious little face is streaked with tears, eyes enormous pools of despair, chin quivering, lips trembling, clearly on the verge of a hysterical, infantile fit of misery. With great effort, she stamps down violently upon her clamoring rage, cowing it and stuffing it back into the warped black box whose surface weeps liquid animus, the malevolent throne room wherein the Evil Queen rules upon a dais of wicked thorns and gaudy spikes of bloody iron. The door barring entrance to that place devoid of all warmth and light and goodness can never be opened again.

Taking a deep breath to master herself, she meets the young boy's eyes straight on. "Courage, Roland," she says, commending herself internally for this latest victory against her murderous, tyrannical, megalomaniac of an alter ego. Roland holds her gaze with a maturity that inconsistent with his age. "We must give your father the honor he has earned," she goes on, "and show him the respect he deserves. He was a hero and must be treated as such if we are to remain a civilized people. Later, there will be plenty of time to scream out our anguish and frustration to the seemingly disinterested heavens. Later, we can stop pretending we're not about to crumble into a million pieces. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, ma – ma'am. I t-think so," he says, hiccuping around the words.

Not wanting to be overly harsh, she gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Good boy. When you are a man in your own right, you will look back on this day and be proud of how you conducted yourself in honoring your father. But for now, I can promise you that it won't hurt like this forever."

His eyes widen as if he has heard something astonishing. "You lost your Papa, t-too?"

"No. My mother," she says with practiced patience. Roland knows very well that her father is alive, having just went fishing with him little more than a moon ago. The poor thing is simply too discombobulated by emotional turmoil to recall that right now. Their arms swinging lightly between them, Regina offers him a soft smile meant to encourage rather than belittle. "Though she was not half so good a parent as your Papa, I loved her." She pauses then, brows furrowing before she continues, "My heart was sad for a very long time after she died. I missed her every single day. I wished I could talk to her again, tell her I loved her one more time, but I couldn't. All I could do was remember the good times," and there were good times, just not very many, though she does not mention that to Roland, "and try to remind myself that she did the best she could." Glancing down at the precocious little boy, she tries to impart any measure of comfort she can to him, even if it proves insignificant in the grand scheme of things. "You must do the same whenever possible. Try as best you can to remember the good times when the pain gets so bad you can't stand it anymore. Try to focus on how much your Papa loved you – and he did so very much, so more than you will ever know! Don't ever forget the things your Papa taught you. Hold on to them like they're gold. No, like they're more than gold, because there is no value that can be put on those things. And promise me that if you need me, at any time day or night, you will come to me. My door will always be open for you, Lord Roland of Locksley, and not only for your father's sake. I care deeply about you and that will not change just because this bad thing happened."

For a moment, Roland just stares up at her in awe, his tears ceased, now merely dried tracks on ruddy cheeks. There is a rapidly renewing strength in his eyes, an unquenchable fire of hope that reminds Regina so much of his father that she wants to cry, partially for sorrow but mostly for joy. Robin has not been wholly taken from them after all. Some portion of him remains in the person of his son, who Regina can already tell will grow up to be a young man of such indomitable character as to make his father beam with a pride that cannot be put into words.

"I promise. Thank you, my Queen," Roland says after a bit, blushing at having broken etiquette so badly. It is unbecoming for anyone to stare so long at a Queen without expressed invitation.

"You are most welcome, my sweet boy," Regina replies, giving his hand another squeeze as they share a smile that bodes well for the future.

Somehow, that impromptu little speech breaks the pall hanging over the day. When she looks up, Red and Marian are staring at her much like Roland was, though for differing reasons – Marian out of gratitude and Red out of that infinite fountain of love that flows from deep within her soul. The rest of the journey to the cemetery is accomplished in silence, though there is no more sniffling to be heard amongst the crowd. Marian and Roland's spirits unfurl like a banner held up into a brisk breeze, and the effect is contagious, passing from row to row, column to column, until the entire procession is a line of valiant faces are ready to pay tribute to the man whose acts of kindness and compassion have unified them all toward that one noble purpose.

The remaining portion of the ceremony at the graveside, while melancholy, is underpinned by that same surge of positive energy. In unison, they bask in the remembrance of man who would want his life to be celebrated with foaming ale and boisterous laughter, not mourned with endless tears. A man who would wish those he loved to testify to the indelible impact his life made by doing as he did: living life to the fullest, not taking a moment for granted, smiling and laughing whenever possible, and by surrounding themselves with family and friends and love – whose combined warmth can ward off the most unforgiving winter chill. So that is what they do. By unspoken agreement, not a single tear is shed save for the joyous ones that spring up while sharing stories about Robin and his many amazing adventures.

When all is said and done and Robin has at last been laid to rest, Regina and Red stay with Marian and Roland until they retire to their home with the Merry Men to feast and get rip roaring drunk in Robin's memory. Sadly, with many duties ahead on the morrow, Regina and Red must return to the palace, but not before wresting an oath from a reluctant Marian to come at once if she has any need of them whatsoever.

The next several hours are spent attending to duties that were neglected in lieu of the funeral. Regina spends several interminable hours nose deep in a quarterly report regarding the citadel's emergency supplies and once finished with that breaks open the seal of Mulan's first report from the border with Drakkenhall. The General's succinct information does nothing to improve her mood, which has waned precipitously since parting from Marian and Roland, and Red, who had kissed her farewell upon arriving at the palace so she could oversee repairs to a breach in the western wall incurred by runoff water erosion of the foundations. According to Mulan, the situation in Drakkenhall is more dire than previously suggested. Two more villages have been torched right on the other side of the border, making it clear to Regina that the witch is moving freely between the realms with zero regard for the danger such bold maneuvering poses. Only a deranged individual would do such a thing, or one absolutely confident they will not be stopped, even by force. Neither option is agreeable to Regina.

Only long after the sun has dipped down below the rim of the world is she finally free to retire from her duties. Expecting to be greeted by Red, she instead finds their chambers unoccupied. Worry niggles at the back of her brain for a while, though she dismisses it knowing Red's attention is probably still being hogged by a very serious issue. The western wall is the one most vulnerable to siege and therefore repairs must be completely not only swiftly but precisely and utilizing only the best materials and workers available. Work is ongoing around the clock, and up til now neither of them have had time to make a personal inspection. Red is no structural engineer, but she has a keener eye for detail than any human and has an eerie knack for spotting weaknesses in defenses, an ability that served her – and Snow – well while she was not in Regina's good graces. Which is why she was sent in Regina's place.

Surely, Regina reasons with herself, she is simply caught up in ensuring the work is being done correctly. That or she's pitched in herself, which isn't out of the question. It is the strangest thing how Red sometimes bemoans the lack of manual labor she gets to do since being crowned, as if she almost longs for days of an endless string of backbreaking tasks her grandmother used to assign her.

Knowing Red is likely to be late if that is the case, Regina changes into a light satin dress, ties a warm robe around it, and then settles beneath the bay window to read the book Red lent her a couple days before. She picks up where she left off in the oddly rousing and romantic tale of a snooty noblewoman who was abducted on her wedding day by a roguish do-gooder who plans to ransom her back to her husband-to-be for enough coin to feed the small community inhabited by fellow outcasts and tenderhearted miscreants. Lo and behold, the woman finds out her captor is not a man but a woman who was orphaned young, grew up poor and fell in love only to lose her lover to the violent tendencies of the husband-to-be, who it is revealed is the evil minion of an oppressive ruler whose excesses have nearly bankrupt the realm. The tale is rather trite and full of mawkish sentimentality, but there are elements that ring true and are familiar enough to make the yarn mostly enjoyable. Especially how the obtuse noblewoman slowly becomes aware of the suffering of the common people around her as she falls in love with a woman who is as afraid of loving the noblewoman back as she is angry at the world for the innumerable tragedies that have befallen her.

She is just about to the part she has been anticipating for several chapters now, where the hopelessly in love women in pointless denial are about to kiss for the first time, when Red finally slogs through the door. Coated from head to toe in a thick layer of sweat and grime, her wife is the picture of happy bone-deep fatigue. Regina sighs affectionately at Red, who shrugs and gives her a sheepish smile.

"I couldn't just stand there and watch them work," she says, and wisely does not protest when Regina promptly orders her to the shower posthaste, her nose wrinkling at the smells wafting from Red's direction.

About half an hour later, Red pads back out of the bathroom wrapped in a downy robe with her hair tied up in a fluffy towel. She ambles straight over to the bay window and sits down next to Regina, then wordlessly takes her left hand between both of her own. Idly, deep in thought, she rubs at Regina's wedding band, eyes cast down toward her lap. When she lifts them a minute or so later, there is more than just exhaustion there.

"I can't believe he's actually gone," she says, eyelids lined with the shimmering silver of tears she refuses to let fall.

"Me either," Regina says after a deep exhale. It seems surreal that one week and three days ago Robin was laughing with them about Roland's latest stunt climbing trees while chasing after the elusive – and hideously ugly – black cat the Merry Men dubbed Prince John. Now he's nothing but a cold husk, his soul having departed for lands unknown, rotting beneath six feet of earth that now seals him away from the open skies and thick grass and tall trees he so loved. "It's going to take time to get over it. For all of us. He left a gaping hole behind."

"Yeah." Red glances up at her, pensive. "I'm worried about Marian, too. Roland is tough and young, so he'll adapt. But she's just so, so sad. And vulnerable."

Regina nods in agreement. "I know. I've already had a talk with Little John. He's going to keep an eye on her. Chase off any potential unwanted suitors. Protect her interests at the tavern. Babysit whenever he can. I told him we would help however we could."

"Thanks." Red squeezes Regina's hand between her long, elegant fingers. "That was nice."

Regina shrugs as if the praise was unwarranted, which it is. Common decency needs no reward in her estimation.

"She would do the same for me were our roles reversed."

"Still," Red says, cracking a soft smile, "you didn't have to offer. I'm sure if the nobles found out they would criticize you for making yourself accessible to those, and I quote, beneath the charity of the Crown."

Most of the nobles never accepted their decision to restore Robin's title and grant him an estate in addition to his holdings within the citadel. They still hold a grudge to this day for his activities in Sherwood, some of them having been his beleaguered victims. Marian originating from humble farming stock did not aid their opinion of the Locksley's, nor did her skin color. Racists and elitists, the lot of them.

"Fuck them," Regina growls, then winces when Red's brow arches. "Pardon my language, but I really don't care what those arrogant bigots think. Marian is a friend. I'll do what I can to help her. If they object, well, then they can kiss my royal ass."

Grinning, Red bumps her shoulder and gives her a wink. "They can kiss your ring maybe. Nobody gets to kiss your tushy but me."

Feeling grateful for the reprieve from the gloomy direction of the conversation, Regina chuckles and returns the shoulder bump with one of her own. "Touché. And you're so good at it. A professional ass kisser if ever there was one."

After a mock bow, which is awkward due to her sitting down, Red chirps, "Happy to be of service at any time, milady."

Eyes catching, they both allow a quiet moment of good humor and mutual adoration to descend over them, enveloping them with the familiar incandescent glow of their love. As with all good things, however, it comes to an end when Red clears her throat.

"So," she says, fiddling with Regina's wedding ring again, a sign of nervousness if ever there was one, "any ideas how to deal with the person responsible for all of this death and destruction? I'd like to be able to tell Marian and Roland and all of those poor families in Tamerlon that we got them some much deserved justice."

Eyes sliding shut, Regina shakes her head and breathes out through her nostrils. "Sadly there isn't much we can do. I have Mulan at the border. Chances are she'll encounter the witch before anyone else. If so, I've no doubt she'll put an end to this with her typical efficiency. That said, I have a feeling in my gut that things are going to get worse before they get better."

"What do you mean?" Red asks, not bothering to hide her rising fear.

"I can't explain it aside from saying that this woman, whoever she is, is not a threat to be taken lightly. She is smart, she is ruthless, and she is powerful. If it weren't for the fact I hate her, I'd admire her. In fact, her tactics remind me a great deal of how I used operate in the Dark Days."

A shiver works through Red's slim frame. "That bad, huh?"

"I'm afraid so." Drawing her strength, Regina pats Red's hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, though, mi luna y estrellas, mein Herz und meine Seele. No matter what happens, no matter what that egotistical, pompous, brain-addled bitch has planned, I will protect you. I swear it. If I have to stand between you and all of the legions of hell, I will protect you."

"Oh, Regina, you don't understand," Red whispers, a solitary tear finally breaking free. It tracks a sinuous path down her cheek only to drip mournfully upon their joined hands. "I heard what she said through Robin that day. I know what she wants. And I know who she's really after. I love you for wanting to keep me safe, but it's not me I'm afraid for. It's you."

If only Regina had known then what she would in the near future, she would refused to allow those words to dissuade her from enacting the outrageous security measures she had been planning to institute around Red twenty-four hours a day. If only she had listened to her gut and let her paranoia do the work it was designed for, namely to safeguard the most important thing in all the world to her. If only she had not let Red's sweet kisses and tender caresses distract her from her most important job as a wife. If only she hadn't been such a damned fool.

If only...

[sweet-villain]

I need some good smut about Eddiexreader making love both being crazy in love, no f*ucking just love making you know? Pretty please ?

Smut isn't my best writing but I'll always give it a go

Sensation

Eddie x Reader

Smut Ahead

He looks at you with those chocolate brown eyes, you never thought you see them more beautiful above you. His smile with his dimples showing makes your heart speed faster.

The way he makes you feel, so unreal. But wanted.

Eddie takes you into his arms, kissing you as sweet as ever, lays you down on his bed. You have been in his room so many times, but this time it felt like everything was a blur. It was just him, and you. His bed is soft filled with his scent and warm from the body heat. The two of were cuddling earlier before now, as he hovers above you.

The way he's smiling down at you makes your heart flutter and eyes shining with love. He leans down to brush his lips against yours but you move your head a bit causing you to laugh as he kisses your nose. His cheeks beet red as he misses where he wanted to kiss you, but straddles your waist as he sits up removing his Hellfire shirt off of him.

You have been already been undress, just in your bra and panties. His curious fingers wanted to see you, his ring covered fingers loves to brush against the expose skin.

Your eyes roam his face admiring how beautiful he is, from his curly hair to his brown eyes to the way his nose was, to his smile, to the tattoos on him, to his skin that you want to touch. Everything about him is perfect.

To him, you're perfect.

His ring covered hand touches you. Grinning, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, to see you shiver at his touch. He hooks his fingers underneath the straps of your bra pushing them down, and you unhook the back of it letting your bra fall. His fingertip run over your nipples and your eyes flutter.

He knows your sensitive there.

It's like his mind is taking a picture as he gazes lovingly at you.

Eddie leans down placing a kiss on your neck, letting his tongue run over as his mouth latches on the one spot he wants to mark you at. His lips gently graze the spot that he has been sucking on for awhile. His hooded eyes and lips turn into a smirk seeing the mark he placed on your neck.

You sigh longing for his lips against your skin. Your fingers tangle in his curly hair watching as he continues to smirk.

" lay down for me, sweetheart" he follow as he say leaning down settling on your back. His fingers dance across your panties and hook his fingers underneath as he slides them off.

" open up your legs for me, let me take care of you" he says.

You open your legs, letting out a small whimper as the cold feeling of his chilly bedroom.

" Look at you, my pretty girl. So beautiful" he moves his hand to your lips, slipping two fingers between them and his thumb finding your clit. He began to rub circles against it, causing you to gasp as you were hit with pleasure.

" So wet for me, so pretty" he praises you while pressing the pad of his middle finger into your entrance.

" Only for you Eds" you tell him, his fingers curls, feeling you squeeze around his finger. He uncurls them and pumps his fingers in you at a slow pace.

Eddie begins to move in a faster pace, making you moan louder. His cock twitching in his boxers. Eddie's eyes beamed loving how you were reacting to him and curling his finger again, making you thrust your hips up.

" Tell me how it makes you feel?" he asks.

" Feels so good" you tell him, you feel yourself coming close gripping his wrist helping him get you there.

" Eds" you whimpered.

" Cum, sweetheart. I know you want to" he says, leaning down kissing your stomach and hips moving his fingers faster.

Just like that you, you cum throwing your head back moaning his name.

" I need your cock, please" you whined, wanting something bigger.

" My girls so polite" he removes his fingers from you and brings his fingers to his mouth as he sucks your juice off his fingers. His hands go down to his boxers removing them. His cock springs, slapping against his stomach.

Eddie glances down your pussy, groaning at the sight of you just laying there for him to take.

" Eds" you called out to him as you stared hungrily at his thick length.

" yes, sweetheart?" he asks positioning himself between your thighs, his eyes raking over your body.

" You're so pretty" you praise him. His cheeks beet red hearing the praise. He leans down kissing you and kisses down to your neck feeling the tip of his cock graze your entrance.

" Pretty girl and just mine" he rubs his cock against your entrance, teasing you for bit before pushing the tip in.

You let out a whine as he pushes deeper inside of you, filling his cock in you and take a hold of your hands in his, he laces them together.

He locks his gaze with you as he thrust slowly in, but deeply, filling you in with every thrust.

Eddie rolls over and his hands are still in your bringing them to his lips as he kisses each hand staring up lovingly at you as you bounced on him. You let his hands go and bury your face in his neck as he rolls his hips into you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you down on him as he thrust up into you.

You both moan each others name as he continues to thrust into you, hitting you deeper each time.

" I love you so much, sweetheart" he says, followed by a groan as you squeeze around him, " I love you too, Eds"

You can feel yourself coming closer and closer.

" I want you to cum on my cock, sweetheart. Cum for me" he whispers into your ear, kissing it there.

He continues to thrust into you, with one more thrust going deeper you came harder than you usually do grounding your hips with Eddie's as your wall clenched around him.

He moans throwing his head back as he comes too, he coats your walls with his cum, making you full.

His cum and yours drip down your thighs onto his bed but he didn't care as he holds you there, kissing on top of your head.

" you are my everything, Y/N" your hooded eyes glance up at him to see he's already looking down at you with a smile on his face.

" You're my everything too, Eddie Munson" you lay your head back on his chest, you wanted to stay there for a bit before you had to pull off of him.

This was perfect right now.

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Can you write smut for jaehyun where the reader is also an idol and jaehyun has had the biggest crush on her for a long time? He finally asks for her number backstage at inkigayo and they finally meet up at his dorm after texting for the longest time and things go from there 🤠

Pairing: idol!jaehyun x idol!f.reader

Genre: a bit of fluff?, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: nipple sucking, fingering, protected sex

Word count: 2k

A/N: haha i got carried away with this one :) hope you like it, anon, and thanks for sending it in!

“Don’t look, but it’s Y/N,” Jungwoo whispered, trying to appear casual. Despite Jungwoo’s fair warning, Jaehyun couldn’t help but turn his head in your direction. Whereupon he blushed to the tips of his ears when you caught him looking and smiled.

“Smooth, Jaehyun, real smooth,” Johnny laughed, while Jungwoo just sighed.

“I told you not to look!” Jungwoo elbowed Jaehyun, who just shook his head, scratching the back of his neck in frustration.

“I can’t help it, she’s like a magnet,” Jaehyun admitted, “I can’t help but look at her.”

“And think about her, and talk about her, and bore us all to death about how much you like her,” Haechan complained, while Mark laughed and scolded him playfully.

“You should just ask for her number,” Yuta commented matter-of-factly, and everyone just nodded in agreement.

“No harm in asking,” Taeil shrugged, grinning at Jaehyun.

“Of course there is!” Doyoung suddenly piped up, “she could say no, and then Jaehyun can never show his face at Inkigayo ever again!”

Everyone groaned, Haechan even rolling his eyes at Doyoung.

“Don’t listen to him,” Taeyong finally came over and wrapped an arm around Jaehyun’s shoulder, “I’m sure she’ll say yes. Just ask, yeah?”

Jaehyun nodded, rubbing his hands together nervously. He left the room, making his way over to your waiting room while the members cheered him on loudly.

---

“So what are you going to wear?” Dahyun asked you, trying to find a space on your bed to sit amongst the pile of clothes you were throwing onto it.

“Ugh! I don’t know!” you lamented, discarding every article of clothing you owned. Nothing seemed to work for you, and you were about to give up and tell Jaehyun you couldn’t meet up with him because your wardrobe was a disgusting mess, when you got a text.

JJ: hey we’re still on for today?

You groaned, while Dahyun started to meticulously go through your pile.

Me: yes of course!

JJ: great! change of plans though

JJ: can we meet at my dorm instead of the park?

JJ: my manager doesn’t want dispatch getting any pictures :(

Me: that’s fine

JJ: awesome! can’t wait to see you :)

Me: me too

Me: see you then

You tore at your hair in frustration, but Dahyun just looked at you triumphantly. “Ta-da!” she said dramatically, holding up an outfit that she had picked out from your pile. You had to admit, it looked good. “What do you think?”

“It’ll have to do,” you said quickly, grabbing the clothes from her hands and hastily getting dressed, “I’m already running late!”

---

“Where is everyone?” you asked, when you finally entered the tenth floor dorm. Jaehyun shrugged sheepishly as he led you through the hallway.

“They, uh, went to practice.”

“Don’t you have to practice too, then?” you questioned, noticing that the dorm was cleaner than you imagined it would be, and smelled nicer than you imagined too.

“Uh, unofficial practice,” he swallowed nervously, opening the door to his room and motioning for you to go in, “here’s my room.”

You walked in, noticing his bed and Jungwoo’s made up neatly. The furnishings were sparse, and any belongings and knick knacks were arranged neatly in their spaces. You wondered if he was really this tidy or if he did it just for you. You had to smile if it was the latter.

“This is nice,” you said, sitting on his bed and getting a whiff of fresh laundry detergent.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t lie, it’s awful.”

You couldn’t help but laugh with him, knowing these dorms, even in the biggest companies, certainly weren’t five star lodgings.

“You’re right,” you agreed, and found yourself smiling from ear to ear at the endearing look on his face, the way his eyes seemed to dance in the light, and the way his dimples dented his beautifully bread-like cheeks. “Come sit with me,” you said, because you noticed he was still standing by the door.

Almost hesitantly he came over, sitting on the bed beside you but keeping a respectable distance. You could tell he was nervous, and that made him even more endearing to you. To further break the ice, you commented on the bracelet he was wearing.

“I like that bracelet,” you said, pointing to his wrist.

He fingered it, smiling. “This? It was something all of us in the ninety-seven line got together.”

“That’s sweet,” you commented, bending your head towards it to get a closer look. He brought it up closer to your face so you could see it better.

“See how it shines in the light if I turn it like this…” he moved his wrist and you had to admit it was beautiful, and you couldn’t help but touch it lightly with your fingers. At the contact he inhaled sharply, and you looked up at him, not even realizing that your faces were so close together.

“Y/N, I want to kiss you,” he said, his eyes roving to your lips. Unconsciously you bit your bottom lip, and that certainly made his heart beat faster, but still he waited for your consent.

“Yes, please,” you said softly, and he leaned in, capturing your bottom lip. His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed you gently, tentatively. You sighed into his mouth but still he went slowly, as if he were relishing every moment. You felt his hands move to your waist, then around to your back, and the way he was holding you and kissing you made the heat rise in your body. Your hands went up to his chest, feeling the hard lines of his pecs, and that made you feel even hotter, and you moaned softly into his mouth.

He kissed you harder, your reaction to his actions making him bolder, his hands now pulling you closer to him. You could feel the pressure he was applying to your back to press your body closer to his, and it made your core clench around nothing.

“Y/N,” he groaned softly, when you pulled away from his mouth for air, “I’ve wanted you for so long.” His hands roamed all over your body as he tucked his face into your neck, kissing softly until you inhaled sharply, gripping his arms when he found your sweet spot. His kisses became more urgent then, sucking the skin ever so lightly, careful not to leave marks.

“Jaehyun,” you whispered, already losing yourself to his touch, “I want you too, I want you right now.”

He groaned, deep in his chest, then laid you back down onto the bed. The feeling of his body on top of you, the weight of him, the heat of him, the hardness between his legs, made you so wet you knew your panties were probably soaked with your arousal.

“Are you sure?” he still asked, even as he started to peel your clothes off of you, “I just want to be inside you so bad.”

You stifled a whimper, he was making you so hot with his words, with the deep rumble of his voice, with the way he was stripping you leaving you naked underneath him.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, eyes drinking in your nude form. Before you could even be embarrassed with the way he was looking at you, he leaned in and sucked a nipple into his mouth, making your back arch off the bed.

“Jaehyun!” you cried out, fingers threading through his hair as he pleasured you, sucking on each nipple in turn, pressing his still clothed bulge against your core.

“Do you want me, Y/N,” he asked, his voice raspy against your chest, fingers slipping between your legs. “Do you want me here…”

A high-pitched cry escaped your lips when he slid his fingers into your sopping pussy, two fingers stretching you, scissoring inside you as he watched your face with hooded eyes.

“Oh Jae, oh fuck,” you moaned, your stomach tightening as he fucked you with his fingers, hitting you so deep you were seeing stars. You came without warning, just your body convulsing when he stimulated your clit with his other hand.

“That was sexy,” he said with a low whistle, licking his fingers, and finally pulling his shirt off over his head. You’d seen the pictures, seen the video of his bare chest, but nothing compared to the real thing. You reached up to touch it, running your palm over the hard planes of his chest, down to his abs.

“You’re sexy,” you said, with a low whistle of your own, which elicited that cute blush that spread to the tips of his ears. You pulled him down, kissing him deeply, your tongue in his mouth, your hands going to his pants and tugging the rest of his clothes off of him. When you felt his bare cock against the inside of your thigh you groaned into his mouth. He pulled away reluctantly, fumbling around on his headboard for a condom. You watched, mouth watering, as he slid it down his impressive length.

“You want it, baby?” he asked cockily, catching you staring.

You nodded, licking your lips and giving him your sultriest stare. He answered with a smirk, spreading your legs even further apart and teasing the tip at your entrance.

You threw your head back, he hadn’t even entered you and you were already losing it. He started to push in slowly, and you couldn’t help the whimpers that were tumbling out of your mouth.

“Oh fuck, oh shit, so good,” he moaned, “so fucking tight.” He was almost rambling, losing himself in the feeling of your pussy spreading to accommodate him. Suddenly he stopped, dropping his head to your chest.

“Jae?” you asked, when he didn’t move, “are you okay?”

“Sorry, I gotta stop for a moment,” you could hear him breathing heavily, “I’m gonna come too fast, you feel too good.” You clenched involuntarily at his words and he hissed. “Y/N,” he groaned, “that’s not helping.”

“Sorry,” you smiled, rubbing his back soothingly until he felt ready to continue. He made one slow thrust, and when you moaned at the feeling of it he kept going, starting a slow pace of fucking into you.

“Jaehyun,” you moaned, the way his cock was filling you up, the way it was dragging in and out of you, was building up your orgasm slowly but surely. “You feel so good inside me.”

He groaned at your words, picking up his pace, his muscles flexing as he started to pound you into the mattress. You were glad no one was home, because the headboard started to bang loudly against the wall, and you couldn’t help the loud moans coming out of your mouth.

“Fuck yeah,” he growled, “your pussy feels so good, so tight.” Sweat started to form on his face as he railed you, his features tense, hair falling into his eyes but he couldn’t spare a moment to do anything about it, his focus only on fucking you.

“Jaehyun!” you cried out, your orgasm washing over you. You had your hands wrapped around his biceps and you squeezed as you came, making him flex, which made your pussy clench around his cock even harder.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re gonna make me come,” he pulled you flush against him as his orgasm hit, pressing your body against his as his hips stutttered, a loud groan escaping his throat as he came. He was breathing so hard, you could feel his chest heave, the thrum of his heart beating against yours.

You could only smile to yourself as he continued to hold you tightly to him, not caring how sweaty you both were, just wanting to hold you. When his breathing slowed down, he started to kiss along your collarbone and neck, just soft kisses on your skin, his lips warm.

“You feel so good, Y/N,” he murmured between kisses, “I hope that was good for you, because it was damn good for me.”

You smiled wider, holding him tightly to you. “Yes, Jae, that was really good for me.”

---

Thanks for 1.3k :)

[aquagustd]

lexicon love - KNJ

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: who is the tall, mysterious stranger with an impeccable taste in books that visits your café every day?

genre: fluff

word count: 1.7K

warnings/tags: idol au, s2l, book café owner!y/n, writer!y/n, meetcute, y/n is as clumsy as namjoon, no warnings except dimples

a/n: my first namjoon fic!

↳part of the Serotonin Series

∞

The security door makes a soft beep as you push it open, shuffling to the power outlet behind the counter to turn on the lights. The hazy blue sky casts a dull light into the café. The cool Autumn’s morning breeze causes a shiver to run down your spine, therefore you opt to leave your coat on until the heating kicks in.

It won’t be long until customers start to pour in. You glance at the clock above the coffee machines, 6:43AM, Soobin will be in to cover his Monday morning shift any minute now.

Always the early bird, the bell above the front entrance door chimes as Soobin walks in, umbrella in hand.

“Morning Y/N noona”, he gives a bright smile as he makes his way around the counter to deposit his bag and umbrella in the lower shelves.

“Morning Soobin, I haven’t looked at the weather forecast for today,” you point to his umbrella, questioning.

“Ah, light showers later this afternoon as well as for the rest of the week,” he smiles while tying his apron.

“Ooh, I love this chilly weather, it makes me appreciate all the hot drinks, not to mention the stream of customers,” you wiggle your eyebrows, and he laughs.

“Ah yes, I better get to work then, are you okay? You seem a bit tired.”

You rub your temples, “I hardly got any sleep last night, had some editing to do plus I was working on the newspaper article for next week. I just got a bit held up because I got home late last night.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, noona. I know you can’t say no to anyone,” he raises his eyebrows, concerned.

“Don’t worry about me, ah look,” the bell chimes, “you have customers. I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

He’s right, you can’t say no to anyone, it seems like you’re the only editor in this town with all the calls you get. You barely have time for your weekly newspaper segments and must work around all your editing jobs instead of the other way around.

You sit at the office desk and boot up the computer to check the weekly sales of the book department.

It seems like most customers prefer to sit at the café and read, your book sales have declined since last month, but it’s nothing you’re too worried about because the café sales seem to have skyrocketed ever since you started stocking up on pastries, cakes and the like from Odeng’s Bakery.

You make your way to the service desk near the second entrance and can already spot a few patrons on the couches near the bookshelves.

The enticing smell of coffee greets you when you see that Soobin had left your regular coffee order and a croissant with strawberry jam ready for you to tuck into on the counter.

-

The day goes by hassle free and its around 3PM when the café is filled with the quiet chatter of all the college and high school students who are taking up ninety percent of the seat space.

But as you scan the area, you spot him.

The, you’ve assumed from his build, guy, who goes by the name ‘RR’ when he signs for rentals and purchases. Apparently, claiming the single couch and table at the far back section of the shelves as his.

He never approached the service desk, and his coffee order never changes. You see Mina, the afternoon shift waitress, take a slice of vanilla sponge or a few beignets to his table now and again.

He always has his face mask on with his hood over his head, in the more humid weather you wonder if he’s frying up in there. You peeked at the books he signed for and his list is filled with a wide spectrum of literary pieces. From fiction to non-fiction to autobiographies to poetry, the list is endless.

He’s tall and is well-read? Attractive.

Could he also be some sociopath with a strong affinity to books and coffee? Maybe.

But he comes to your café every day, even on Sundays, where he arrives a little earlier than usual, 11AM, to be precise. So, there will be a day where he’ll have to interact with you at the service desk. You thought about approaching him a few times, but what will you say?

Hi, I went through your reading list and I just want to say I love your sexy brain?

No. That’d be weird. So, you opt to just watch him from afar.

But you’re not…keeping tabs on him or anything. You find him intriguing, and you want to know more about this tall stranger, whose taste in books is so vast. Yes.

It seems that day has arrived.

You say your goodbyes to Mina, lock up the cash register and switch off all the computers but before you can turn off the main switch, you notice a figure, at the back of the shelves.

Particularly where tall guy usually sits.

Now’s your chance, you think.

As you slowly approach him, you notice he is slumped in his seat and his head hangs low, chin against his chest, cap secured over his hair.

“Excuse me?”

No response.

As you get closer you notice that his eyes are closed, and you can hear a faint beat from somewhere. You assume it must be his earphones.

You clear your throat. “Excuse me?”

That won’t do, the music is too loud.

You place a hand on his shoulder and shake once, twice, the third time he wakes up with a start and knocks his half full coffee cup, spilling its contents on the table and dripping onto the carpeted floor.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” his deep voice startles you and you stare at him.

His mask had fallen off his face when he jerked as he woke up, and you realize that you recognize him.

“RM?” You squeak. “Kim Namjoon.”

Oh no. He thinks. He looks around and sees you’re the only two in the café.

“That’s me, I’m sorry,” he looks at the time on his phone, “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“It’s totally fine,” you chuckle, and he’s shocked at how calm your voice sounds.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, you could probably hear a pin drop.

He looks around, “Oh! I’m sorry”, he gives a deep bow, “I’ll leave now.”

“No, stay,” you splutter, and he quirks an eyebrow at you.

“I-I mean, I’ve been wondering who you were, I mean not that I’m acquainted with all my customers, but you always come in and I can’t really see your face and you wear that mask all the time and your books, and…” You look at him and he has a bemused expression on his face.

“What I meant to say is…It all makes sense now, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

He chuckles and the sound makes your insides flutter.

“Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Huh,” your throat suddenly feels dry.

He leans back in the couch, “You know, I buy the local newspaper just for your segments.”

“What,” it comes out a lot softer than you intended and you wonder if he even heard you.

“I really enjoy your reading, the topics you touch on have me, what’s the word,” he looks to the ceiling as if the word is up there and you take the chance to stare at his neck.

“Reflecting…It has me reflecting on a lot of things.”

You blink at him and he stands up, knocking the menu stand on the table and he bends to catch it- unsuccessfully.

“I’m really sorry about the coffee, and about the uhm, random review.”

“Is that what ‘RR’ stands for?”

“What?”

“RR, random review? You always sign off with those initials.”

He laughs and stares at his shoes, two deep dimples making an appearance and you’re smiling at him. You have no idea why.

“’RR’ stands for ‘Runch Randa’, my uhm, old rapper name.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

More silence.

“Once again I am so sorry about the coffee, where are the tissues, I can help you clean it up”, he starts to look behind you towards the service desk, taking a few steps around the table.

You lift your hands up to stop him, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean up here.”

He picks up his bag and phone, getting ready to leave. In your haste to step out of his way, the heel on your boot gets caught in a part of the carpet that has buckled, and you brace yourself for the fall and close your eyes.

But your back never meets the floor, instead your body is cradled by two strong arms.

Opening your eyes, you are met with two brown orbs staring directly into yours.

You do not know how long you stand like that, him holding onto you while you grip on his, very large, bicep.

You can’t hold it in anymore and you burst out laughing. He seems to have been broken from a spell, because he immediately straightens up and steadies you with his arms on your shoulders.

“What?” He asks almost exasperatedly.

“Nothing, its just…” And another round of giggles starts up.

He starts laughing too and you both stand there like two clumsy fools.

This whole situation is hilarious to you both. From the few minutes you've spoken to him, he seemed, uncoordinated, yet he managed to catch you.

When things quiet down, you’re still smiling at each other, even if you wanted to stop smiling, you can’t, he has such an infectious smile.

“You should watch your step, Miss,” he has his hands on his hips now, sort of berating.

“ME?” And you gesture to the coffee now sinking into the carpets.

He raises his hands defeatedly.

After you’re done cleaning up the mess, you turn to the door, glad you know who tall guy is now: a very handsome, famous rapper who comes to your book café every day!

He follows you out and you enter the security code.

As you’re walking to your car, you hear a shout of your name. You turn and see he’s still standing by the door, hands in his pocket, shy smile in place with two sweet dimples.

“Coffee, 3PM?”

You beam at him. “Coffee, 3PM.”

-

a/n: let me know what you think!

[singtotheskiies]

dried blood on smooth skin // five hargreeves x reader

summary: five hargreeves really needs patching up—in more ways than one.

words: 1655

warnings: brief language, descriptions of blood, otherwise just that sweet touch-starved fluff we all crave

a/n: i’m a klaus kinda girl, but this is me working through why i find five so goddamn attractive

✖️✖️✖️

Normally, when Five Hargreeves blinks into your room, it’s because he wants to escape from the stifling presence of his father or because you’ve begged for his help with your math homework (the man has no right being so smart). He always manages to sneak out on your birthday and bring you a donut from Griddy’s and something you value even more—his companionship, even if only for a few minutes. Sometimes, you tell him he should be more careful—his father has eyes all over the house; he must suspect that something’s going on. Five always dismisses your protests, telling you not to worry about it—he’s got it under control.

He comes to you because you’re a constant for him, a sense of normalcy. Whenever he needs an escape from the constant hierarchy and trauma of his house (which is often), he can come to you and relish in your laughter and friendship and caring aura. Of course, he’s never said all of this to you outright, but you understand anyway. You know Five well enough to know that underneath all his bluster and know-it-all attitude, he appreciates you—the only person he can really call his friend.

Today is different, though. When the blue flash of light materializes in your bedroom, you jump, dropping your book to the ground. “Christ, Five, didn’t we talk about—“ You trail off as you see the state he’s in. His clothes are torn and disheveled, something he would normally never allow. The parts of his face not covered in blood are stark white, matching his knuckles as they clench up at his sides. God, there’s blood everywhere. Is it his? There’s so much—there’s no way his body could produce that much, right?—and it’s thick and clotted onto his normally pristine skin and suit, concentrated especially on a spot on his right side. You notice he’s barely moved in the several seconds you’ve been gaping at him, merely swaying side to side weakly.

“What the fuck happened?” you begin, but are cut off by his knees buckling. You catch him just in time, guiding him to your desk chair before he can ruin your carpet.

“Mission—gone wr-wrong,” he pants, barely able to get the words out.

“Why didn’t you stay with your siblings? They know how to handle this st—“

“I don’t want their help.” He cuts you off, managing to instill an incredible amount of venom in his words as they stutter past his gritted teeth. “Their fault.”

“Okay, well, why didn’t you jump to a hospital, or your mom, or someone who could actually help!? Jesus, Five, you could—“

“I—I did come to someone who can help. It would be really—nice—if you started,” he breathes, brow drawn tight in pain. Sweat and dried blood mix together in the furrows of his dusky skin, and something about that sight kicks you into action.

“Okay, I need to get this jacket off you. Can you lift your arms?” He grunts in what you take to be an affirmative response, and you manage to wrestle the piece of clothing off him without jarring him too much. You’re left with the sight of blood pouring out of him, staining the weave of his bright white dress shirt, and you tighten your jaw as realization sets in. “Uh, Five? I need to—um—take your shirt off,” you almost whisper, trying to ignore the rising flush in your cheeks. He barely summons a weak nod, and you take that as your go-ahead.

Hands shaking, you start at his neck, working your way down. With each button unfastened, more and more tanned, smooth skin becomes visible. After what seems like an eternity, you reach the last button, sliding your hands back up to his shoulders to ease his sleeves off. You take in the expanse of freckled, smooth skin now exposed to the air. You wonder how he hasn’t got more scars on missions—every inch and plane of skin you can see is soft-looking and somehow catches the light as he breathes in and out laboriously. But then your eyes land on the bullet wound spilling blood onto his side and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “Shit,” you curse. “I’ll be right back.”

You run into your bathroom, grabbing the first-aid kit you have for emergencies. Your breath is coming quickly—you know that every second is crucial to Five’s wellbeing. Coming back into the room, you grab gauze and disinfectant. “This is gonna sting,” you warn, and he merely rests his head back onto your desk, clenching his jaw.

There’s far too much blood to wipe off completely, so you focus on cleaning the area around the wound quickly. You can’t see the bullet, and a quick question to Five confirms that it’s not lodged inside—just scraped up against some things and went on its way. You grab a few gauze pads, placing them securely against his torso with medical tape. The softness of his skin makes your heart soar and drop simultaneously, but you push the thought out of your head. You need to get him feeling better.

Once the gauze is on, you focus on cleaning up the rest of his bloodied torso. After a few minutes, Five feels the strength to sit up and take ginger sips of the water bottle you’ve offered him. The water seems to do him some good, and you sit back from cleaning his skin for a moment, relieved at the sight of some light returning to his eyes.

“Better?” you ask, sliding his shirt back on gently. He merely nods in response, lips pursed in a half-smile. His dimple is covered in sticky dried blood, and that sets you on your next mission.

“I’m gonna clean up your face, okay? You don’t want anything getting in your eyes or mouth,” you say. Five tries to protest, but you cut him off. “If you came to me for help, then you’re going to sit there and get it,” you say sternly.

“Fine,” he concedes. “Guess I brought it upon myself.” You shoot him a look and get busy.

There’s quite a bit of blood at his hairline, and you clean up the series of cuts there. His normally perfect, shiny hair is sweaty and slightly matted in spots. Before you can stop yourself, you bring a cool hand to his forehead and sweep some of the dark strands off his forehead. He makes a soft noise in response, green eyes fluttering halfway closed in relief. Your heart clenches at the sound. You take in the weary and touch-starved boy before you, all dusky skin and stirring limbs. Bending closer, you press a feather-soft, lingering kiss to his hairline before you can think better of it. His eyes shoot back open and he regards you with a look so intense you can barely decipher what’s going on.

“Okay?” you ask in a whisper.

“Please—“ he mumbles hoarsely. “Don’t—don’t stop.” Your brows draw together in both pity and overwhelming affection, and you begin to softly clean up another cut on his cheek. After the blood is soaked up by the disinfectant, you place your lips on the small wound. You give the same treatment to a spot on his chin, then to a bruise under his eye, and then to his dimple—the dimple that’s tugged at your heart every single time he’s smiled at you in the past. As your lips leave the freckled spot, you meet his eyes again.

His lids are hooded, tired. They barely close when he blinks, his eyelashes dipping down to brush the freckled apples of his cheeks. His eyes, though, are less drowsy and more intense. They regard you with something akin to both sorrow and want. You blush under their gaze, wanting to look away from their intensity but finding yourself unable to. Your hand reaches up, your middle three fingers tracing an impossibly soft line from the shell of his ear to the corner of his lips. Your fingertips pause, hovering just over where the tip of his mouth is curving into the smallest of smiles. Five’s hand comes slowly up to meet yours, his fingers enveloping yours splayed over his cheek. He breathes in, once, and the look in his eyes breathes with him. Then, the space between you is filled and your mind is narrowed down to two things: the overlapping of your fingers and lips.

He’s soft, and so so warm—almost feverish, but it just adds to the potency of every tiny movement. His mouth is both quiet and everywhere, filling up the backs of your closed eyes. You change the angle slightly, nosing his cheek as you reconnect your mouths with gentle hunger. He smiles softly, and you pull away a fraction to kiss at his dimple as it imprints itself on his cheek. His hands come up on either side of your head, softly combing through your hair before stilling at your jaw. He rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel his eyelashes brush against your cheeks as he kisses the bridge of your nose. His lips are lingering and filled with so much love it makes you want to cry.

“Thanks for patching me up,” he whispers, voice husky due to the quiet volume.

“If that’s what’s waiting for me every time you get hurt, I’d almost tell you to get in trouble more often,” you manage.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, and you straighten his unbuttoned collar before going in again. He moans this time, soft and low, and you smirk at his exhalation.

“That good, huh?” you quip. He grimaces, indicating where you’ve accidentally pressed on the bloody gauze. Giggling an apology, you reposition yourself so that your hands are around his strong, wiry arms.

“Guess I’ll have to take another look at that,” you say.

“If you must.”

And his eyes regain their roguish light.

[lavenderboneswrites]

Pillow Pleasures

Izaya spends an evening pampering his boyfriend.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Orihara Izaya/Heiwajima Shizuo

Warnings/Tags: Izuo - Freeform, Izaya tops, Shizuo is lazy, Shizuo gets pampered, Izaya gives Shizuo a massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Come Eating, Izaya on a lil power trip, Established Relationship, They are very much in love sir, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, again this is Izuo so if that's not your jam probably skip this one?, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anal Play

Read on AO3

Izaya is getting worked up as he rubs oil over Shizuo's muscles.

He starts at his upper back, traces each defined line lightly at first, caramel skin glistening from the coconut oil.

He pushes the tips of his fingers into solid muscle causing the first breathless exhale to leave the body beneath his.

He continues up and down Shizuo’s upper back, making note of which spots get the most sounds, until his beast is groaning into his pillow with relief.

He slowly makes his way down the others back, digging his thumbs on either side of Shizuo’s spine as he slides his hands down.

‘Mm, feels good, flea.’

Izaya's grin goes crooked, Shizuo unable to see the wicked glint in his eyes. Having the strongest man in Ikebukuro between his thighs singing his praises was quite the ego boost.

Izaya digs his fingers into a harsh knot of muscle.

“Harder.”

“Mm, so demanding Shizu-chan,” Izaya’s going to have to use the points of his elbows soon. “Perhaps I should get out a hammer to work out these monstrous knots?”

Shizuo mumbles a noise of something like agreement into his pillow making Izaya grin even wider. Even the beast had his cute sides.

“Less talking, more working,” Shizuo’s patented deadpan has chuckles falling from Izaya’s lips softly.

Shizuo was unfairly attractive, the body of an Adonis laid out all for Izaya. What a thrill, to have such a dangerous beast melting like putty in his hands.

Izaya smiles down fondly as the blond turns his head, mussed fringe covering closed eyes. His lips are parted softly and Izaya resists the urge to swoop down and steal a kiss.

He shuffles down, hands moving to work at Shizuo’s lower back. He lets the motions of his hands become automatic as his eyes rove this body that’s all for him. Shizuo’s waist is slim and Izaya spreads his hands wide on either side, thumbs pressing into the little dimples at his lower back.

Another groan has Izaya’s smile going wolfish.

They’re both naked, still fresh from a shower and Izaya can’t help but bite his lower lip as he moves his hands lower.

Shizuo’s muscular glutes curve to quite the cute bubble butt. Izaya has quite a mind to give his behind a little slap but no, that wasn’t the game he wanted to play tonight.

Shizuo grumbles a little as Izaya pauses to get more oil; such an unthinking beast sometimes. He really just follows his instincts blindly. If he’s hungry he eats. If he’s angry he explodes in rage. If something feels good, then why would he stop?

“You know, I think you could get too used to this kind of pampering, Shizu-chan,” Izaya can’t help but tease as he puts his hands back to smooth skin.

He sneaks a look at Shizuo, there is a frown pulling at his brow. It’s like he can almost see the gears whirring in that blond head.

Shizuo is obviously beyond relaxed because he chooses to let out a derisive scoff rather than bite back.

Izaya’s got his tongue between his teeth, a pleased little noise somewhat between a hum and a laugh escaping his lips. He lets his hooded gaze trail down Shizuo’s glistening back slowly, taking in every shift and contraction of muscles, every slow breath his beast takes, from broad shoulders to his skinny waist, all the way to the globes of ass in Izaya’s hands.

He cups each cheek, rolling the soft flesh, dragging his thumbs down to press into the top of his thighs.

Izaya can feel his mouth water, half a mind to straddle one of those thick, muscular limbs and begin grinding.

Selfish, very selfish … not tonight’s game.

Izaya slides his thumbs back up higher, slightly forcing Shizuo’s cheeks to part and he doesn’t miss the way the other’s breath hitches slightly.

“Mm, what’s wrong, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks as he massages the glorious ass under his hands.

Another quick glance shows a slight flush to the tops of Shizuo’s ear.

“You’ve gone awfully quiet.” Izaya lets his hungry gaze slide back to the ass beneath his hands. On his next move upwards, he brushes his thumb lightly against puckered skin; not hard enough to be anything more than accidental … if it wasn’t for the predatory glint in Izaya’s eyes.

There’s a meal laid out before him and he’s going to have his fill.

Shizuo’s body stiffens only slightly at the contact before going limp again, Izaya taking it for the go-ahead it is.

There’s another hitch of breath, louder than before, as Izaya sweeps over that puckered hole with more purpose. Watches in fascination as it seems to tighten slightly before his very eyes.

Izaya’s laughter comes out in breathless awe. He keeps kneading at the pliable flesh, working his fingers at the curve of Shizuo’s ass, while his thumb strokes gently over his asshole.

“Mm, this is a good look for you.” Something pleasant thrums in Izaya’s chest. He increases the pressure, teasing but never pushing in.

Shizuo’s panting a little, obviously beginning to get worked up.

It’s only when his brow is fully furrowed with the tell of frustration that Izaya sinks his thumb past the tight ring of muscle, slick oil easing his way.

Shizuo gives an elongated groan, finally given some relief from the light touches and teasing.

“Eager tonight, aren’t we?” Izaya works his thumb in deeper, beginning a slow slide in-and-out as he speaks. “You seem pretty happy to just lie there while I do all the work, you know?”

His thumb slides soft against Shizuo’s insides, even down to the knuckle it’s not deep enough.

“Still too much talking,” Shizuo grumbles though Izaya can see how red his ears are. “You ever shut your mouth, flea?”

“Mm, maybe I can think of something else to occupy my mouth with.”

Izaya doesn’t give him any more warning before he bends down to bite at the flesh of Shizuo’s ass.

He almost breaks into laughter as Shizuo’s entire body jolts, pressing the outline of a grin into skin.

“Flea-,”

-Izaya doesn’t answer, rather he’s withdrawing his thumb and sweeping his tongue over puckered skin.

“Fuck!” Shizuo’s yell is strangled, his fists twisting into the sheets.

Izaya gets himself comfy between Shizuo’s spread legs, lying down on his stomach as he gets to work. Shizuo’s hips raise slightly, making it easier for Izaya to lick and suck at that sweet little hole.

Shizuo’s pants are coming faster with each swipe of his tongue. Biting his lips to stop the whimpers as Izaya pushes the tip gently past that tight ring of muscle.

“Mm.” Izaya makes a noise of satisfaction as Shizuo’s moan fills his ears. Shizuo was always fairly vocal when Izaya pampered him, just another one of his cute sides.

His motions are turning from teasing to something hungry, each little noise egging him on as he spears Shizuo with his tongue.

“Oh fuck, flea,” Shizuo’s got a hand fisting the pillow he lays on, “fuck that feels good.”

Izaya hums again, the vibrations pulling another sweet sound from Shizuo.

He slowly increases his pace, tongue licking into soft muscle. His cock is heavy against the bed and yet he thinks he could spend all night teasing the other.

He adds a finger next to his tongue, working both in as Shizuo opens up for him.

Such a good boy.

Izaya’s thoughts are getting hazy, something warm curling in his stomach as his beast shudders beneath him.

“Don’t … don’t even think it.”

Izaya is forced to pull back when Shizuo’s words come out as threatening as one can be when you’ve got your tongue in their ass.

“Mm? What?” Izaya’s lips are wet with saliva and oil, russet eyes hooded as he peers up at Shizuo. The wicked glint in his eye doesn’t match the innocent tone he speaks with. “What am I thinking?”

He’s on his knees and he brings his hand up again, teasing Shizuo without fully pushing in.

Shizuo glowers down at him, and Izaya almost wants to bite down on that gooey feeling inside his chest.

“I can hear your shitty thoughts from here flea,” Shizuo grumbles into his pillow.

“Mm?” Izaya answers with a hum and pushes a finger past that ring of muscle. “I didn’t know Shizu-chan was a mind reader.”

“I’m not,” -Shizuo’s words cut off with a groan, “ah … I just, fuck, know you.”

Izaya gives him no relief, adding a second finger as he slowly thrusts in and out.

“And I know you,” Izaya grins, pawing at the flesh of Shizuo’s round ass with his other hand. “Relax, I’m gonna take good care of you.”

He’s pushing deeper as he speaks, voice tinted with mockery yet he’s completely sincere. Shizuo’s legs are spreading more unconsciously, letting Izaya push deeper as he searches for that spot that will have the beast melting.

“I was just thinking whether I could make you come from my fingers alone.”

“You-,”

-His growls are cut off as Izaya drags his fingers deliberately slow across Shizuo’s prostate.

The wet moan he receives has his smile going Cheshire cat wide.

“Good boy.” He practically purrs the words out.

“You-, goddamn … fuck!”

Izaya quite likes how Shizuo still tries to argue with him as he fucks him, brushing past his prostate but never hitting it dead-on.

It must be maddening.

His breaths are coming fast, chest heaving and Izaya adds another finger.

“Ah aah.”

Izaya chuckles darkly as Shizuo moans with each thrust. He’s working up a steady pace now, Shizuo’s hips doing these little jerks to meet him and he thinks he really might be able to make him come untouched.

“Ne, Shizu-chan?” Izaya presses that smile to his lower back, giving a playful nip to one of those cute little dimples. “Wanna come like this? Just on my fingers?”

“Talk. Too. Much.” Shizuo growls out between each downward thrust.

“Heh,” Izaya’s letting his head tilt to the side, devouring the sight of Shizuo practically fucking himself on Izaya’s fingers. “Hey Shizu-chan, can I fuck you? I kind of really wanna fuck you.”

There’s an honest hunger in Izaya’s voice that pulls a rather enthusiastic sound from Shizuo. Izaya’s grin goes predator-wide at such a noise, unhidden desire alight in his eyes.

He’s all of a sudden awash with the desire to absolutely wreck his beast.

“Gods, you sound so amazing, you feel amazing,” Izaya bends down to rest his forehead against Shizuo’s temple. He can’t stop staring at the blissfully frustrated expression before him. “I wanna fuck you up so good.”

“Izaya…” His name is breathless on his lips. Izaya twists his fingers, tips finally stroking against that spot inside Shizuo that has his moans turning wet. “Fuck, fuck just there-”

Shizuo lets out a strangled noise as Izaya swiftly withdraws his fingers.

He sits back up, eyes pulled in watching the way Shizuo’s open hole twitches, just begging to be filled.

Shizuo’s eyes open in a burning glare and Izaya giggles rather meanly.

“Easy beast, I promised to make you feel good, so let me take care of you.”

Shizuo’s ears and cheeks flush at the unusually genuine sentiment. Shizuo was startlingly cute that way … Izaya could degrade him for hours, but as soon as he was soft with him, gave him genuine love and affection, praise … he literally became putty in Izaya’s hands.

Izaya can’t stop from groaning as he finally wraps a hand around his neglected cock. He hadn’t realised just how hard he was from finger fucking Shizuo. He slicks himself with the oil, giving himself a few extra strokes as he devours the image before him.

“Izaya,” the growl on Shizuo’s lips doesn’t match the red on his cheeks or the cloudy look in his honey eyes. There’s a note of pleading that has something in Izaya’s gut swooping, turning his insides hot and he’s forced to grab the base of his dick tightly lest Shizuo’s pampering is over prematurely.

Izaya readjust his position, knees between Shizuo’s spread thighs as lines himself up. He keeps the grip at the base tight, rubbing the blunt head up against Shizuo’s ass.

Shizuo groans, something between anticipation and the sting of the stretch as the head of his cock breaches his rim. Izaya’s breathing out through his nose, trying to steady his throbbing heartbeat as he slowly sinks into that mind-blowing heat.

Their groans mix together in the air, Izaya’s eyes closing as Shizuo adjusts around him. Even being worked open by his fingers and tongue he’s still so tight.

His hands are once more at Shizuo’s waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise if Shizuo was a normal person. Izaya finally bottoms out, hips pressed tight against Shizuo’s ass. The other’s legs are spread around his thighs, Shizuo’s own resting on the top of Izaya’s knees.

“Fuck.”

He’s not sure who said it but it has Izaya’s eyes blinking open.

Shizuo’s laid out under him, fingers twisting in his pillow and sheets. His eyes are squeezed shut, panting harshly against his pillow. The muscles in his back are twitching, glistening as Izaya burns a trail down that glorious expanse until he lands on Shizuo’s ass.

He swallows, mesmerised by the way his rim stretches red and wide around Izaya’s cock.

Izaya can’t help himself. His fingers go to that mouth-watering sight, tracing over the part where they’re connected.

“Oi flea.” Shizuo doesn’t meet his gaze, staring out to the side as crimson stains his cheeks. Obviously beyond embarrassed to have Izaya staring at him so intently. “You can move, you know?”

“Mm,” Izaya makes a non-committal noise. He’s not entirely sure that’s true, thinks he might come prematurely if he shifts even an inch. “Just enjoying the view.”

“You’re disgusting,” Shizuo huffs, ears flushed red not from anger but embarrassment. It’s disgustingly adorable.

“Don’t be shy,” Izaya coos and yeah that has Shizuo throwing him an actual look of disgust. “You look amazing like this. Stretched around my cock. Kinda wish I had my camera.”

Shizuo glowers at him and Izaya thinks if he didn’t currently have his cock in him, he would be thrown halfway back to Shinjuku by now.

“Not this time, perhaps?” Izaya suggests, knowing just how to temper that rage before it gets too hot. He’ll have to broach the subject of making a sex tape slowly knowing Shizuo.

“Damn pervert.”

“You’re the one getting fucked by me. Who’s the real pervert?” Izaya quips back, a wicked look on his lips.

Shizuo actually rolls his eyes so hard Izaya thinks they might fall out of his head. “You don’t seem to be doing much, I thought you were gonna make me feel good? Or do I have to do everything myself like usual?”

Izaya had a few choice words in mind right now, but he’s sure if he said them out loud, he really would kill the mood because Shizuo would no doubt implode with a mixture of embarrassed rage and that was not what Izaya was going for tonight.

“Mm, I kinda like the sound of that.” Izaya hums as slides his hands across Shizuo’s lower back. Watching Shizuo fuck himself on Izaya’s cock would really be something … maybe next time. He did promise after all. “But you’re right, I did promise to take care of you.”

Shizuo scoffs at such sappy words, ears blazing red and Izaya can’t help as his insincere smirk turns a little softer.

Izaya shifts his knees slightly, the movement reminding him just how tight and hot it was inside Shizuo.

The body beneath his tenses in anticipation, and Izaya finally gives him some relief.

He moves slowly at first, pulling out in an almost torturous drag that has Shizuo groaning into his pillow; whether in relief or pleasure or neither Izaya’s not sure but the sound shoots straight to his dick.

Izaya keeps his pace slow and steady, letting his hands once again map a path out over Shizuo’s back. When his fingers meet muscle, he digs in at the same time as thrusts down and Shizuo lets out another pained-pleasured groan.

“Ah, feels amazing flea.”

Izaya was sure it did. Speared and stuffed full with a cock while someone worked out the tension from your back. Had to feel wonderful. It definitely felt wonderful having his cock sucked in by velvet heat.

“Mm, does it feel good when I press here?” Izaya moves to Shizuo’s shoulder blades, fingers digging in as he gives a harder thrust with his hips. “What about here?”

“Mm, yeah … feels really good flea.” Shizuo’s eyes have fluttered closed, panting breaths coming from softly parted lips as he relishes in the sensations. “Feels nice.”

Izaya’s smile turns up at one side, crooked and wicked. He wanted to wreck the beast beneath him. Wreck him with gentle touches and kindness, with praise and affection and love, until he was choking with it.

“Aah,” -Izaya pulls out until just the tip is inside and then he’s plunging back in, being swallowed fully by that blistering tight heat.

“Fuck you feel so good Shizuo.” His hands slide down Shizuo’s back, grasping either side of that slim waist for leverage. Shizuo’s hips are moving to meet each push and pull, sucking Izaya in even deeper.

“Gods, fuck yes.”

“Y-yeah?” Izaya’s own words are coming out breathless. He’s keeping his pace steady, trying not to lose himself too quickly despite how eagerly Shizuo’s taking him. “You feel incredible, fuck … you’re taking me so well.”

Shizuo gives a frantic nod into his pillow, action so genuine it tugs at something inside Izaya’s chest.

He leans forward, not breaking his pace as he drapes himself across Shizuo’s back.

There’s a blush creeping down Shizuo’s neck and reaching his shoulders and Izaya can’t help but put his lips to the reddened skin.

A gasp spills past his lips as Shizuo tightens around him at the press of lips and before he knows it, he’s putting kisses to every inch of skin he can find.

“Such a good boy for me,” Izaya whispers between kisses. “You’re taking me so sweetly, Shizuo.”

With each gentle kiss, each sweet word, Shizuo’s tightening around him to the point where it’s almost painful.

He drapes himself over the other’s back further, forearm next to Shizuo’s head to hold him up as he twists his other hand with Shizuo’s. Their fingers intertwine, breaths mixing together as Izaya leans his forehead against the other’s temple, their hips moving together in a sensual and steady rhythm.

Izaya can’t take his eyes away from Shizuo’s face. His biting down into the soft of his bottom lip, eyes half closed with intoxicated pleasure and Izaya wants to kiss him. Wants to devour this beast that is all his.

Izaya shifts, angle adjusting just slightly and the head of his cock brushes against Shizuo’s prostate.

“Fuuuuck.” Shizuo moans the words. “Fuck right there.”

“Right here?” Izaya asks with a wicked grin, once again thrusting at that spot that pulls such sweet sounds from his beast.

“Aah ah ah.” Shizuo’s pace is turning frantic, hips desperate to thrust down on that spot again and again. “F-faster.”

Izaya’s laugh is breathless over Shizuo’s temple, but he can’t help but pick up his own pace, falling in time with Shizuo.

“Harder.”

Izaya is forced to sit back up, hands going back to Shizuo’s slim waist for leverage as he fucks hard into the other.

Their breaths are going faster, skin slick with sweat, the scent of sex mixing with the slapping of skin together an intoxicating mix. Izaya’s head feels dizzy with heat, his heartbeat throbbing against his chest like it’s trying to escape. There’s this manic feeling inside of him, growing stronger, climbing higher with each punctuated moan beneath him.

“You’re so, fucking, demanding.” Izaya’s tenor comes out low, almost a growl as he speaks between panting thrusts.

“Says,” -pant, “you.”

Shizuo really was a goddamn beast. A beastly lazy pillow princess.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Shizuo’s groaning with each thrust into the bed. “Fuck, that’s it … harder.”

Gods he wants to fuck him so hard he’ll feel it in his throat.

Izaya’s hands slide to his hips, lifting them slightly so he can get the perfect angle to really wreck the other.

“Oh fuck, fuck right there Izaya,” Shizuo’s eyes have snapped closed, praises spilling over his lips as Izaya drills into his prostrate. Hitting it dead-on with every vicious strike. “Fuck me, feels so good. God, oh gods, fuck!”

Izaya bites his lip hard. There’s sweat beading at his temple, his hair slicked down against his forehead as he fucks the other into the bed. That manic feeling has taken over, he feels possessed, body on fire, sensation after sensation ripping over his skin and he’s gonna come-

“-Come for me Shizuo,” Izaya’s words are a breathless plea. “Come for me.”

He needs to touch him, needs to make him feel even better, but before he can even snake his hand to Shizuo’s front, the other is going tight around him.

“Fuck!”

Shizuo’s face goes slack with bliss, walls convulsing around Izaya’s cock as he comes untouched.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Izaya’s mind is in complete disarray. Awash with sensations, with Shizuo coming around him and he can’t slow down, can’t stop, breaths harsh as he fucks Shizuo through his orgasm.

He lets his head fall back, eyes closing as he zeroes in on all of it. Shizuo’s skin is warm beneath his hands. Slick and squeezing his cock so tightly he feels it in his balls. His pleasure at its peak, pulled tight across every part of his body, nestled at the base of his cock being swallowed wet by every downward thrust and his hips slam in a frenzy.

“Ah, fuck!” He gives one more harsh thrust, burying himself balls deep and then that pleasure snaps.

“Shizuo.”

He comes with his name on his lips, head thrown back as his vision goes white. His cock spurts with come, his mouth slack as his moans in ecstasy.

Shizuo is groaning when Izaya comes back to himself.

They’re a mess. Sticky and sweaty. Izaya’s skin feels hypersensitive, the very cool air almost stinging on his boiling skin.

“F-fuck,” he can’t stop the breathless swear spilling over his lips. “Fuck that was good.”

“Mm.”

Izaya looks down to find Shizuo’s eyes closed, as if Izaya has actually managed to fuck him into unconsciousness.

Knowing Shizuo, it would take more than one round to do that, and honestly Izaya didn’t have the stamina for that. The thoughts don’t stop his grin from going wicked though, not when he remembers how Shizuo had come basically on command.

Izaya pulls out and Shizuo winces slightly at the sensation. His grin is going wider as he watches the string of come that still connects them.

“You know,” Izaya’s actions are almost unconscious as his fingers scoop up the come dripping down Shizuo’s balls to stuff back into his ass. “That was pretty hot, you coming without even being touched.”

Shizuo had rightly jumped when Izaya started playing with him, head picking up to shoot a glare his way.

“What are you doing? That’s fucking disgusting flea.”

“Heh, is it?” Izaya’s got three fingers pushing the come back into Shizuo now, the digits sliding easily past his stretched rim. “I think you look pretty cute.”

Shizuo’s murderous glare is slightly dampened by his red ears and blushed face. Not to mention the post-orgasm haze in his eyes or his sex ruffled hair. Izaya had done all the work after all, he was entitled to some teasing.

Shizuo’s got an indignant pout on his face as he tries to shuffle away.

“C’mon, don’t be like that … want me to clean you up, Shizu-chan?”

Suspicion is clear across his face, eyes narrowed as Izaya bats his own eyes; the epitome of innocence if it wasn’t for the wicked way he holds the tip of his tongue between his teeth.

Izaya can practically see Shizuo instincts warring with his desire to be lazy and pampered once more inside that blond head before the other slumps back down.

“Fine,” Shizuo spits out like a brat. He crosses his arms over his pillow, leaning his head down on his forearms.

Izaya bites down on his tongue as his lips spread wider in an attempt to stop a single snigger from escaping. Shizuo looks so happy to let Izaya just dote on him.

Shizuo expects Izaya to get up and come back with a warm washer, cleaning him up how Shizuo usually did. So when he feels the other’s tongue once again licking at his ass he yelps.

“What the fuck!?”

“Mm?” Izaya answers by licking up a drop of come that slides down the back of Shizuo’s balls. “What’s wrong, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo’s face is beet-red as Izaya licks up the come around his rim, plunging his tongue in every now and then for good measure.

“That is absolutely disgusting, you filthy pest!”

Shizuo's outrage is making it hard not to burst into a fit of laughter.

“But Shizu-chan … you said to clean up … you didn’t tell me which way…”

Izaya’s whine has Shizuo hiding his face in his pillow, ears blazing as Izaya eats him out like a man starved. His cock is twitching with interest and Shizuo can’t help but groan.

Izaya cleans up every last drop with his tongue, the taste of his own bitter come in his mouth somewhat thrilling. He sits up, moving over to slide in next to Shizuo.

“Wanna kiss me, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo rolls to his side so Izaya can press up against his back once more.

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“Mm,” Izaya leans on his elbow, humming a pleased noise into Shizuo’s shoulder. “You know, Shizu-chan really seems to enjoy being pampered by me.”

Shizuo huffs, as if to say ‘as if’. Izaya’s arm is going around his waist, hand searching out for Shizuo’s and they once more entangle their fingers.

Izaya’s mischievous grin against Shizuo’s shoulder doesn’t match the gentle way he holds hands with the other.

“I couldn’t help but thinking something during...”

Shizuo narrows his eyes, head turned so he can properly glare at the flea lording over him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm, yeah … I wanted to say it during but I thought your heart might explode in your chest.”

Oh yeah, Shizuo’s brow is pulled tight in a frown, he was not going to like this.

Izaya's mouth is twisting in that way of his when he knows the punchline to a joke Shizuo doesn’t.

“Just say it, I know you’re dying to,” Shizuo grumbles, he’s way too relaxed and sated to get worked up by whatever shitty thing Izaya’s avoiding voicing.

“Mm, did you know, Shizu-chan” Izaya’s lips are moving up his shoulder, breath tickling his neck as his whispers reach his ear. “You’re a bit of a pillow princess.”

Izaya watches in fascination as Shizuo's face goes through the five stages of grief. Pink blooms on his cheeks, his entire face turning red and then finally purple as he clenches his jaw, mouth shut in a thin line.

Izaya cracks it.

His laughter is raucous as he rolls around in the sheets, Shizuo’s hands trying to wrap around his throat to throttle him properly. It’s half-hearted at best, because it doesn’t take long before Izaya’s giggles are dying down and Shizuo’s slumping atop of him.

Izaya cards a hand through Shizuo’s hair, smile soft at the corners as his beast snuggles into his side, tucking his head under Izaya’s chin.

There’s still a grumpy look on his face and Izaya’s fingers touch his brow, massaging out the frown there as Shizuo huffs.

“You really are the worst,” Shizuo grumbles, his next words almost unintelligible. “And I am not a pillow princess…”

“Mm,” Izaya presses a soft kiss against his beast’s forehead. “I never said it was a bad thing Shizu-chan … I kind of like it.”

Izaya gets a close-up view of Shizuo’s cheeks once again tinged pink. He’s contemplative only for a moment before, “…y-yeah?”

Izaya hums again, the pathetic ray of hope in Shizuo’s words truly befitting such a simple-minded beast. Izaya can’t believe just how cute he finds it.

Their eyes have slipped closed, bodies sated and heavy. Izaya’s last words full of sweet adoration before they’re finally pulled under.

“Yeah.”

[freckledbeom]

studio time with needy changkyun [imagine]

if y’all haven’t noticed already i ult changkyun 💀 a lot of the content here is gonna be changkyun/mx related.

warnings: 19+ content, suggestive scenes

for better reading listen to collide by justine skye

imagine changkyun finally getting time to work on music with you. he has you propped up on his lap, a hand resting on your inner thigh. you finally get to preview one of your songs to him and he seems to be into it until you feel a hand slither under your skirt. you try not to let it distract you, giving kyun a sharp look.

the music continues, your heads bob. his palm drags itself farther up, this time inside your garment, rubbing your soft bud. you suck in a breath, biting down on your bottom lip. it’s hard to be defiant when pleasure strikes you this hard all at once. kyun sucks your neck, kissing all of your tender spots whilst massaging between your legs.

as you grind yourself against his finger, you can feel yourself leaking out. you felt flushed. you couldn’t believe he was making you this aroused and all he did was pet your bud a little. feeling yourself coming to a climax, you grabbed his wrist slightly and grinded out your orgasm.

kyun kissed your jawline groaning slightly. his thick member jumped in his sweats, making you flinch a little. before you could uncover it, kyun pulled his manhood out stroking in softly. he pulled your arm lightly, motioning for you to get on top of him.

usually changkyun wouldn’t hesitate to get inside you, but it was times like these where he felt especially mischievous.

before you knew it, changkyun had pushed your panties to the side just enough to where he could pump his fingers in you. between each few strokes of his fingers, kyun pulled them completely out of you to massage your clit. you felt yourself falling apart.

this position gave kyun easy access to your chest. he took this as an opportunity to push up your sweater, exposing your bare chest. almost painfully slow, he took one of your full breasts into his mouth, littering it in soft sucks and love bites. 

changkyun moved his free hand back on your ass to keep you balanced, coming up to kiss your earlobe whispering sweet nothings.

“you sound so fucking pretty. do you know how good you sound?” changkyun asked, slapping your ass.

it was hard to manage out any words as you felt yourself nearing your climax on his fingers for the second time.

“baby...im gonna come again.” you struggled to say, your response spilling out in a whiny tone.”

“hm? you’re gonna come?”

you nodded.

just before you could reach your high, kyun pulled his fingers out. his erection sat waiting it seemed, precum drooling. blood flowed through him to the tip as his erection rested on his stomach.

“i want you to come on my dick first.”

you watched as changkyun took his time sliding his fingers out of you and in his mouth, sucking your juices off. he slid a thin condom out of his pocket, you leaned back a little to give him room to put it on. once complete, kyun grabbed your ass and hunched his hips forward, beckoning you to start riding him.

slowly, with your arms pressed up against his chest, you came down on changkyun’s length until you finally bottomed him out. your hips kept at this agonizing pace for a few moments while changkyun’s hooded eyes never left yours, his bottom lip tucked under. this tempo didn’t last for long though, kyun seemingly was growing impatient.

with both hands now on your bare bottom, he thrusted up into you right as you slithered down.

“fuck...” you hissed.

bringing a hand up to cup your face, changkyun made direct eye contact while pulling you close. “please let me fuck you the way i want to. will you let me do that for you?”

all he needed was simple nod from you and he was pounding you from up under, his palms cupping your ass. you let out a high pitched squeal as you bucked your hips at the sudden harsh movements.

you steadied yourself on his shoulders, moving your lower half along the same speed as him. heat brimmed your entrance and you started to feel those familiar curls in your lower stomach. kyun was going to make you come soon if he kept going like this. 

“fuck you’re so wet. i made you this wet?” he questioned with lust in his eyes.

you nodded, unable to form a sentence.

“mm mm. fuck. i need you to say it.” his hips never stopping to rest.

“you made me so wet baby.” you managed out, throwing your head back a little.

shadowing from over your ass, up to your neck, changkyun clasped your neck in his hand. it’s like he knew all the spots that set you off. these hard thrusts combined with your warm inside was enough to make him come as well. his grasp on your neck and bottom tightened, the room full with your whining and his low toned groans.

pushing into sloppily, changkyun gave you long hard thrusts, just wanting to feel sweet release.

“fuck, im close.” he heaved through gritted teeth.

the sounds from your wetness alone were enough to set him off.

you moaned faintly in voiceless agreement. your bottom half grew numb and you could finally feel the growing pressure of your orgasm.

“baby im coming.” your whimpers only made you more vulnerable to him giving you one hard thrust, bottoming you out. your legs shaking slightly, you let out a shrill cry, one that made you grateful for soundproof walls.

looking for balance, you held changkyun’s arm as he ground his hips into you, a tight grip still on your neck.

you could tell he was coming by the way he started to groan and hold your frame for support.

spilling into the condom, changkyun had finally reached his peak.

“fuck...” he murmured out.

the two of you sat there in heat, breathing heavily.

changkyun, now releasing his hold from your neck, pulled you in to kiss you.

breath shaky and warm, you couldn’t help but feel safe after having sex with changkyun. even if it was just a studio affair.

the song you were showing him had long ended by now. at this point whether he liked it or not was in the back of your mind, the memory etched to this song was now engraved in your head.

“did you like it?” your dimpled popped as you smiled, looking up at him.

“you? or the song?”

[palbabor-writes]

Latibule pt. iii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: hi, the sexy stuff has arrived, so SMUT/18+only ahead, solo masturbation, blow jobs & hand jobs, mentions of hypochondria  

Words: 5314

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: hello! this week has been a little crazier than i anticipated so i wasn’t able to finish editing the last part of this chapter - but don’t worry! i’ll have the second bit up soon! 

Latibule 

pt. iii: Roll shot - section i

when a player slows down the speed of their arm swing while attacking to send the ball in front of the defenders

[ pt. i: an opening ] || [ pt. ii: four set ] || 

His head feels heavy. 

Kiyoomi blinks; eyes cracking open, peering into the murky darkness that envelops him. Little by little, he comes back to himself, heaving out a wearied exhale as he digs the heels of his palms against his face. 

Where is he? Did he fall asleep? He can’t remember. 

He’s splayed against something soft and he twists to his side, pillowing a muscled bicep under his cheek, somber brows furrowing as he tries to piece everything together.

Is he with you? No. You’d said you were busy. 

So why...no, that’s not right...you’d told him you weren’t busy; that you were excited to see him. 

He’d been the one who’d had to cancel. He’d hated hearing the disappointment in your voice when he’d called you. His fingers tense as they clutched his phone. 

It’s not supposed to be like this. A week has gone by, and he hasn’t seen you. There’d been days of nothing but [ late ] texts and feeble conversations. It’s all so rushed, incomplete. It... he doesn’t like it. He misses you and he hates that it’s turned into this; a shitty, half-assed back and forth. He’s been so frustrated...no...not frustrated; angry. 

Angry at his schedule, the endless repetition of games, meetings, and practices; angry at himself for not making more time, for not trying harder. He needs to try harder. 

After he’d called you, cancelled your shared plans, told you a vague “maybe later,” all he wanted was to call you back; to ask [ beg ] for you to let him come over to yours. He wanted to [ hold you; be with... ] see you.  It had been on his mind all day, but had he actually asked? Texted you? Called to see if you’d let him slip into the easy sanctity of your apartment? Did he? Think, think. 

He can’t remember when he’d left the training facility. Practice ran long [ again ], and it was late. He’d thought it was too late to call you; you were likely asleep. So he must have come to his condo; he must have. Then... if he came home.... 

Nothing feels wrong, but nothing feels right, either.

And this isn’t his room. 

It’s not a frightening revelation, but it is a distant curiosity; muddled by a sensation of heaviness that’s pressing against the back of his mind. If he’s not at his condo, where is he?

The air is chilled, but it holds the lingering fragrance of your perfume, and Kiyoomi’s nostrils flare as he dips his dark head against the softness of the mattress. It’s such an exquisite smell, that rich pull of patchouli and the balm of oranges. It’s his favorite; and he can picture you so clearly that he reaches for you in the darkness.

Even though you won’t be... won’t be... oh.  

You’re warm under his hands, against his chest, and his lips instinctively work a damp line up the arc of your neck, his tongue and teeth sucking marks into your pulse, your throat, your shoulder, the shell of your delicate ear. He hums as he flexes his arms, rough fingertips pressing into the supple skin of your hip and thigh.

You’re here. You’re here, and he can touch you, can wrap his arms around you. When did... 

“When did I get here?” he asks between caresses, mouth full of you. You don’t answer, opting to turn, slatting your curves against his angles, before easing your legs between his. Kiyoomi leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, raven curls spilling over your brow as he urges you closer, the flat of his hand bracing along the twin dimples of your lower back. 

Your skin feels good. 

It’s hot against him, holding the coldness of the room at bay, and he wants more of it. He tugs at your shirt, slipping it up, his fingers coursing over your stomach, your ribs, the gentle dip of your belly button, and the upper swell of your hips until you’re laughing, mirth bright as he strips you. As soon as the collar pops over your head you reach for him, mimicking his motions with his own top, teasing the cotton fabric upward, your arms tangling with his; eyes wide, and lips parted as you take in the chiseled expanse of his broad chest.

Your touch is featherlight; fingertips tracing over the coiled flex of his abdominals, and up the rise of his pectorals; stroking and exploring his exposed brawn. His hips unconsciously rock forward, breath sharp behind his gritted teeth, and a low apology slips from his curled lips. 

“Why are you sorry? You shouldn’t be,” you say coyly, helping him fling his shirt over his mop of curls and off, the material fading into the hazy darkness as his hands slot you closer. It’s hard to make out the bra that’s covering you from his greedy stare, so he settles for a touch, easing a thumb under the wire, dexterously seeking the pert swell of your nipple. 

He should’ve asked, he thinks, knocking stray waves of his hair from his hooded eyes with a jerk of his bowed head. He’s never touched you like this. But he can’t stop; not now, not when you’re this close, when he wants you so much. 

“Take it off,” you purr, arching into his tentative pinches and pulls. “Take it off for me, Kiyoomi.”

Oh, fuck. 

He bites his lip to contain a hoarse moan, touch fumbling as he reaches around your back, hands rough as they fiddle with the pronged clasp. Shit. He’s not good at this. Does he... can he pull it over your head instead? You’ve asked him to do it, and he wants to... he wants to; no, he will. He’s going to. 

Can you just––Wait. 

He shakes his head, eyes blinking. When did..? When did you move?

Somehow, you’ve disappeared from his side and are straddling him, your thighs tense against his, a pleased grin quirking your upturned lips. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to?” 

He gulps, tongue heavy behind his teeth, and nods once, praying you won’t ask him to answer you verbally. He doesn’t think he can; not when this ache is pooling in his gut and that burgeoning throb is making him shift restlessly under you. 

“You’re so quiet tonight. That’s not like you, Kiyoomi,” you murmur, catching his hands in yours, sweeping his arms above his head. “Where are those quick retorts? You’re good at saying what’s on your mind. I like that about you, remember? Come on, Kiyoomi, tell me what you want to do.” You hover over his flushed form, slowly, carefully, overlapping his boneless wrists before pinning them down. You’re so close; he licks his lips when you drift languidly against him, your eyes vivid [ beautiful ] in the gloom. 

One of your hands lifts and he twitches, a deep shudder echoing its way down his spine. The uncontrolled movement makes you squeeze your remaining fingers against his entwined wrists; reminding him of your control. 

“Talk to me,” you entreat, tracing your thumb over his lips, using the wetness his tongue has left behind to part them. You drag your touch over him, cupping the other digits across the base of his jaw, teasing the tip of his well-formed neckline, your gaze watchful. “Do you like this?”

He nods again, and you smile, rewarding his silent answer with a smooth roll of your hips. The pressure against his straining bulge is electric, instantaneous, and Kiyoomi gasps; his mouth falling open, sharp teeth latching onto your probing thumb before his lips ease the sting with a hurried, apologetic suck.

“This is nice,” you hum, circling and grinding over the hardness that’s trapped between your spread thighs. “It’s such a rush, having a big guy like you at my mercy. I bet you’d do anything I say, wouldn’t you, Kiyoomi? Come on… Stop being so quiet. Talk to me. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

He bucks at that, his back arching as he ruts upward, rubbing himself against you until he’s panting. Damn it. It… It’s not enough. You’re too far, and that ache, fuck, that ache keeps spreading. It’s making his head spin, but he wants so much more. 

“Come here,” he grunts, surging forward, hunting for your lips, for anything [ everything ] he can reach. 

“That’s better,” you croon, holding yourself away from his desperation, running your saliva dampened thumb down the robust lines of his chest as you watch him writhe. “Tell me, Kiyoomi, what do you want?” His eyes wince closed, and a hissed moan falls between his teeth. He doesn’t… He wants… 

“I–” he begins, lashes fluttering open as he looks for you. “I want… I want to… wait–Wait.”

Huh?

He’d blinked; now you’re under him, trapped between his braced arms. Your arms curl around his shoulders, one bent knee and arched ankle wrapping over the back of his thigh, your head tilting curiously against the sheets. 

“Why did you stop?” you question, urging him down to your lips, “you didn’t finish telling me what you want.”

He’s inches from you; can feel the steady puffs of your breath when he stops himself, pulling away and easing onto his haunches, obsidian eyes wide. What’s going on? 

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?” you ask, following him, crawling across his tensed thighs, lifting your fingers to tangle in his dark curls. 

“Where are we?” Kiyoomi rasps, already bowled by the catch of your covered breasts and the heat of your bare skin against his. 

“Don’t you remember?”

[ Wake up ]

“No,” he swallows thickly, easing you into a more comfortable position; helping you to steady your thighs on either side of his hips as his hands rest between the jut of your shoulder blades. “Am I at your place?”

“Uh-uh,” you smile, lowering your fingers from his scalp, reaching behind yourself to trace them over his own. The stretch of your arms makes your back bow and his eyes fall to the tantalizing swell of your cleavage, full lips parting as he curves himself over you. 

“Then...” he grits, his splayed digits jolting as you slip him down to that tempting clasp of your bra once more. “I don’t understand. Where are we? How did you… how did we get here?”

“Does it matter?” You help him pull the metal eyelets apart, and the give of the elastic, the hollow dip of the cups that are modestly covering your plush breasts, makes his heart thud against his ribs. 

“Kiyoomi,” you breathe, leaning close, your lips sucking against his earlobe, “It’ll be ok, touch me.” But when he reaches for you, the world fades into a blinding emptiness. 

[ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ]

Kiyoomi gasps, surging from his pillow; sleep thickened tongue catching in his mouth, making him cough and sputter into the stuffy darkness of his bedroom. He feels breathless; lips agape, long fingers curling behind his head as he hunches over bent knees. Damn it. A dream. It was a fucking, ah…

The drape of his thin sheet covers hips, cloaking his straining [ aching ] want, but he knows he can’t ignore it. Not when he can still see you, can feel the remnants of your touch, the whisper of your voice; no, he’s too far gone.

He’ll need to deal with it.

The fine mist from his shower fills the bathroom and Kiyoomi steps under the heated spray, dampening his thick waves, before catching the water between his palms, splashing it over his burning cheeks. 

Just dream; a lucid dream, one that seemed so alive, so full of you. He can’t shake the sight of your avid want out of his head. You were so forward, eager to touch him, to tease him. And when you’d clasped his hands above his head, he’d almost–damn. The heat of the water isn’t helping with these remembrances, but he doesn’t want to dim this.

He wants to see it through. 

His palm drifts down his stomach, sliding past the trimmed thatch of curls and stroking over the aching hardness of his cock. The tip is swollen, flushed, and he easily gathers the beading pre-cum, coating his fingers before starting that familiar squeeze and tug that will lift him out of this lust-filled haze. He goes slowly, [ it’s more about the pressure than the speed for him, anyway ] gripping the base before he swipes forward, and his hips follow the rhythm, bare feet restless against the slippery tiles.

Your hand is smaller than his.

Would you need to use both? Would you start like this? With your fingers caressing over his velvet softness until he’s blanketing your touch with his, showing you what he likes. Or would you linger against his tip? Using your thumb to send sparks up and down his spine as you stroke over his slit.

Kiyoomi groans at that thought, one palm bracing against the wall as he leans forward, cascading heated water over his muscled back. His own thumb mimics the vision that’s in his head, and the sensation makes his hips rock forward as another line of pre-cum dribbles between his fingers. Oh fuck, that feels good. 

Would you want to taste him?

Run your lips under the weight of his engorged dick, your tongue lapping over his veins until he’s a heaving mess above you? Would you like that? 

He can picture you stepping into the steamed metal and glass of the shower with him, your body pressing close as you scatter kisses against his neck, your hands reaching for him. You’re gentle; so gentle it makes his teeth ache, but he doesn’t want gentle. Not now. He pushes against your shoulders, forcing you to fall to your knees, to peer up at him from the sopping floor, that beguiling smile on your lips as you stroke your hands along his tensed thighs. 

You’re so pretty. 

He cradles your cheek as he lures you forward, hissing out a string of low curses when you cup his balls, and slick your fingers against his bulbous head, working your palm over him until he’s gasping. When your lips part and you draw him into your mouth, his head thumps dully against the wall; broad chest stained with splotches of pink, hands shaking as he holds you between them.

Your cheeks hollow and he watches the up and down motion of your languid bob through drooped lashes; obsidian eyes faded. You’re taking him so well; tongue licking under him before slurping up to his slit, fringing the tip along the trickling flow of his needy cock. 

Fuck, you’re so damn perfect. 

He’s moaning out your name now, and his dick is throbbing from the rough tugs he’s inflicting upon himself, but he can’t stop; not when he can almost feel [ see ] you. 

When he [ accidentally, he swears ] thrusts himself deeper into your wet mouth, he’s got an apology against his lips, but you shake your head, a low laugh reverberating around his pulsing cock as you suckle him harder. [ Yes ] he says, combing his fingernails across your scalp, [ good, girl, just like that. ] He can feel your grin, the answering rumble of your moan, the teasing squeeze of your water pruned fingers against the meat of his buttocks, and he’s lost.

His cum splatters bone white across the dark tiles and Kiyoomi falls to the floor, [ alone ] his limbs shaking and heart pounding. He runs a trembling hand through his wet curls. 

Fuck. It’s not… it’s not enough.

There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep now.

They’re losing this set. 

Sure, it’s a team effort, but his feeble performance isn’t helping. 

None of his serves are landing, and a good deal of his blocks are a tempo behind. It’s not enough to bench him, but he can feel the eyes of his captain, and Miya’s made it abundantly clear that he won’t set for him again until he proves he can get past a ‘‘freakin’ two man block’. 

It’s not a matter of caution, or upping his momentum. This slump isn’t about his preparedness as a volleyball player; but that doesn’t matter, he reminds himself, bracing into his slouched ready position. No amount of coaching, or smack talk from his teammates can give him back his sleep. 

After his shower, he’d sat in front of his bedroom’s standing fan, a towel draped over his bowed head, and stared at his waterlogged fingers. He’s masturbated plenty of times; it was something quick, or scratched a dull itch. Never anything more than a mindless stroke and pull; a routine. As easy as hopping in the shower, or changing his clothes. It meant nothing. 

But last night?

It felt like he’d slipped back into that dream; like all he needed to do was reach out and touch you. This time he couldn’t get it [ get you ] out of his head, and he’d spent the rest of his precious twilight hours replaying those heady visions; a hand stroking over his cock and teeth gritted against the pain of his self-inflicted overstimulation. 

But it’s not enough. After all, none of these fevered imaginings have a real life comparison; not yet. 

You’ve both taken things slow. Sure, there had been moments. Points when he wanted to keep pressing, or when you took your touches lower, keen fingers cupping him over the rough material of his clothes. But neither of you broached that last boundary. 

When would you have had the time? 

If he didn’t have a practice, a game, or a meeting, then you had a job interview, or a shift at the coffee shop. Some days even going to dinner felt exhausting, and both of you had drifted into an unsteady doze against the other [ on the train - your couch - as you leaned against him at the dinner table, or when he leaned against you in the station's emptiness ] on more than one occasion. Most people are busy; it’s expected, but it feels like he’s missing something. Other members on his team have wives, long-term partners, or kids; so how do they do it? Is it scheduled? Or are they content with those short 4 or 5 hours bursts? Is that really enough time?

Maybe he’s being greedy, but with you, how can he not be?

“Sakusa,” the assistant coach calls from across the gym, breaking him out of his myriad of thoughts. “Next time out, come see me.”

Miya laughs, sucking his teeth obnoxiously from center court; golden head flashing under the lights before giving him a knowing leer. Kiyoomi takes a deep inhale, pointedly avoiding those umber eyes, focusing on the stretch of his long arms as he rolls them forward and back.

Damn it.

His shoulder hurts, he thinks glumly, listening for the starting whistle as he eases his muscles, tenderly poking at the strained tissue. Maybe he should have gone a little easier in the shower… on his futon? Not gone as fast or as hard? But the image of you had come so easily, and it’s been so long since he’s had the chance to see you, to touch you. Of course he’d been excited; ready to release that pent up pressure.

Tch, wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake? MSBY’s star wing spiker, Sakusa Kiyoomi, forced to sit out because he tore his rotator cuff during masturbation. It’d be just his luck.

“You needed to see me?” Kiyoomi asks, toweling the perspiration off his curls as he tempers himself for a discussion about his lousy receives and sloppy serves.

“Ah! Yes!” the assistant coach nods. “I realize you’re missing the meeting for that event, but I need to go over a few points with you before you take off. About the recent change in rotation, are you alright with your placement on the–Hey?Sakusa? Are you listening? You… seem a little off today. You alright?”

No, he’s not ok.

His nails cut into his palms, and he can hear his teeth grinding between his clenched lips. Shit. Five weeks, he’d had five weeks to ask you. Plenty of time.

Sure, he had a packed schedule, and you’d been busy with your own work, but how had something this important slipped his mind? He shouldn’t have waited. He should have asked you the first night he’d seen the invitation. 

It’s such a simple thing, asking you if he could come; he’d talked to his coaches about it, but he’d neglected to speak to the one person who mattered; had the final say. How could he be so stupid?

“Sakusa… Hey, you look pale, do you need to sit, or–”

“I’m fine,” he sighs, giving his fists a last squeeze before looking up at the bewildered face of the assistant coach. “I forgot to check on something.”

“Really? That’s not like you. You’re usually on top of stuff.”

“I know. I’ll take care of it during the break.”

“Will that be enough time? I can–”

“No, I’ll handle it. What were you saying about the rotation?”

The cafe is busy, but he cuts past the bustle, using his imposing height and sturdy build to shoulder his way to the divider that separates you from the main floor. You don’t see him at first, too focused on the timing of your shots and the velvety foam that you’re building in your steaming pitcher, but when you look up, spying his engrossed gaze, your face lights up.

“Oh my God! Hey! I didn’t know you were coming by! You guys on a mid-morning break? You want your latte? Or just a coffee again?”

“I didn’t order anything,” he blurts, running his tongue over his mask-covered lips. 

Damn. It’s so good to see you; to watch you move, see that grin, hear your voice, be this close to you. Yes, the dream was nice, but his fevered imagination paled compared to this.

To you.

His remembrances hadn’t fully captured the glow of your face, the brightness of your eyes, and the ease of your smile. You’re so [ beautiful ] pretty. The stark vibrancy makes him want to reach for you. To see if he at least got the warmth of your skin right, or the familiar slide of your touch against his.

No, focus; that’s not why he’s here, and he doesn’t have much time.

“That’s alright,” you continue, seamlessly topping off a drink as you grin up at him. “I’ll just add yours to my tab. So you want a coffee or a latte?” 

“Uh, I–coffee? It’s quick.”

“Oh,” you remark, arching your eyes at his sober explanation. “You running behind? You didn’t need to walk all the way down here if you didn’t have time.”

He’s about to elaborate on his belated presence when you break away, walking to the brewing urns. Shit, he should have said he didn’t want anything, he thinks sullenly, sinking his curled fists into his jacket. Now it looks like he only traipsed down here for the caffeine. This isn’t going the way he wanted it to. Not that he had a concrete plan, but it feels like he can’t get off the back foot today. 

Kiyoomi puffs out a stilted sigh, twisting his head to glance at the clock by the door. It’s alright; he’s got a little more time. Just ask her about it. Say sorry for waiting so long to ask, but he wants to see if he can go with you tonight... and if you have plans, if you tell him no, then it’s not the end of the world. There will be other chances, other events, but he’ll understand [ hate it ] if he misses this one. 

He’s so lost in thought that it takes you calling his name twice to snap him out of his head.

“What?”

“I said, here’s your coffee. You alright? You look preoccupied,” you note, passing him an insulated to-go cup brimming with the aromatic house brew. 

Ask her. Stop stalling.

“I’m fine. Your event, I mean that Dean’s welcome thing. At your school. It’s tonight, right?”

“Welcome– um, event?” you question, tapping a used espresso puck from your portafilter. “What do–Oh! The panel. Yeah, it’s tonight. How did you–”

“Saw it on your fridge,” he gulps, fingers twitching around the sharp heat of his cup. [ Please, don’t say he’s too late. ]

The puzzled cock of your head straightens, and you chuckle. “Ahh, right. Totally forgot I’d put it up there. I always clip the things I need to remember on the door, hoping that seeing it every day will somehow keep it in my collective consciousness, but clearly that doesn’t work too well, huh? God, I don’t think I’ve looked at that for months, I’m surprised you noticed it.”

“Can I come?”

Your eyes are wide when you look up at him, your raised hand rotating the steam wand off, meeting his obsidian gaze through a mist of condensation. He knows his dark brows are knitted, that his head is likely comically dipped forward, but he hopes he looks sincere. He wants to go with you so badly. Then, tentatively, your lips curl into that amiable smile, and he lets a belated breath leave his lungs. [ Yes. ]

“Uh, sure! I feel like I have to warn you though... it’s not going to be the most exciting thing we’ve ever done, but, yeah, I’d... I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Good,” he nods, easing his shoulders back, glad to feel some of that coiled tension dissipating. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay. Text me the time?”

Wait. Leave? Already? But he just got here…

“I–sure, I’ll do that,” you fumble, blinking after Kiyoomi’s half turned back. 

“See you soon,” he murmurs, voice catching against his hidden smile. “Have a good day.”

Hold on. He can’t just walk in here, tell you he wants to go to your boring faculty meet and greet, and then walk back out like nothing happened. This is... well... for the two of you, it’s big. It’s almost like you’re making this whole thing… official. Something where you’ll need to introduce him to others. To say he’s with… with you. Will he want you to call him your… your…

No. That’s not what’s important right now. You’ve hardly seen him these past few weeks. Who does he think he is? Swooping in, turning your whole day around, and then coolly heading back to his practice.

No way; you’re not gonna let him go, not like this. 

“Saku–Kiyoomi!” you call out, stepping away from the heat of the espresso machine, and the long line of drinks that are waiting for your attention, your feet pattering across the dark flooring, following his long strides as he makes his way across the cafe. He stops when he hears your earnest cry, dark eyes watchful as he meets yours, and you gasp out a choked laugh. Great. You got his attention and now you don’t even remember what you were gonna say. 

Your cumbersome fingers tingle as you fiddle with the knotted strings of your apron, and you shake your head at your abashed clumsiness, but when you glance at the door again he’s still waiting, his stark gaze following your movements. Finally, fucking finally, you’re free and you fling the cotton apron across a back counter, calling a quick excuse to a snickering Kane as you rush to Kiyoomi’s side.

“Hey, sorry, I know you–look, just… it’ll only take a second, promise,” you gasp, snatching at the corner of his jacket. 

Your grip brushes against the arch of his wrist and he sucks in a drag of air, jerking his hand out of his pocket and wrapping it up with yours, interlacing warm fingers as you lead him outside. Soft; your touch is so very soft, and he clasps you tighter, pulse drumming against his breastbone. He’s been waiting for [ missed ] this.

“Sorry,” you pant, hauling him past the glass doors. “I don’t know why I–I just… I know you need to go. But, ha, that was so nice. Like… I wasn’t... after not seeing you for… I wasn’t expecting it. You wanting to come to something of mine. It–” your footfalls stop when the two of you are beside that bench under the tree, the one where he’d first kissed you; drawing him closer, resting your palms against his muscled chest as you look up at him. “It’s going to be so boring, and I know you’ll totally think: ‘what a waste of time,’ when you get there, but… shit. I can’t even… get my thoughts together. Take your mask off, you clumsy romantic; I want to kiss you.”

The strip of protective material is down in an instant and his long forgotten coffee nearly topples out of his wavering hold in his headlong scramble to feel you against him. Thankfully, you spot the tottering cup, and pluck it out of his hands, dropping it haphazardly on the wooden slats of the bench.

“Sorry. Not up for second-degree burns, heh. I’ll make you another,” you bargain, arms curling around his powerful neck as you tug him down to you. 

“I didn’t want it. I only came to ask you about tonight,” Kiyoomi rumbles between his impassioned presses, full lips rubbing and sucking greedily against yours.

“That so?” you smart, snatching hold of his lapels, arching onto the balls of your feet as you reach for more. He shakes his onyx curls, hands sliding to the round swell of your hips, delirious in the knowledge that this isn’t some dream that will slip between his fingers. 

He’s missed [ you ] this so much.

The break was only a half hour. But time doesn’t matter, not when he can hold you like this, and he takes advantage of that revelation, cupping your chin under his palm as you open for him. He nips at your lower lip, pleased when you clutch him tighter, and soothes the lingering sting with a quick swipe of his tongue.

You taste like espresso and nutmeg, and now that he’s had it, he can’t get enough of that heady flavor. So he hunches himself over you, nose pressing against the warmth of your cheek as his eyes wince closed; trying to memorize every piece of [ you you you ] this. 

“Kiyoo… mmm, Kiyoomi,” you hum, fingers bracing against his weight, “You’re gonna be… you’re gonna be… sorry… so late.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he scolds, hands dragging along your neck, fingers hooking under your jaw, lips pouted as he searches for yours. [ Not yet ] He’s not ready. [ Not yet. ]

You allow him one more kiss, but when he tries to shift you upward, powerful arms wrapping around your waist, you wriggle away from his insatiable hold, grinning up at his disgruntled expression. “You better go. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

His thick brows furrow and his mouth falls into a slant; disappointed that you’re being so [ damned ] responsible about all of this. “Fine. Send me a text about where to go and the time. I’m not going to the meeting today.”

“Yes coach,” you tease, and he grunts out an exasperated sigh at the playful nickname, tugging his mask over his kiss shined lips, black eyes concealed behind his lashes. A blush stains the apples of his cheeks when he meets your gaze, and while he wishes you wouldn’t look at him so smugly, he can’t say he’s not mesmerized by your own kiss swept appearance, too.

“Go,” you repeat, lifting on your tiptoes, chastely tapping your lips against the side of his mask. “And thank you again. I’m glad you’re coming.”

He doesn’t want to leave; he’ll see you soon, he reasons, stroking his index finger down your warm brow. But he wishes this moment would last a little longer.

notes: sorry to leave you on a bit of a cliff hanger! section. ii should be spiffed up soon!

[kxmssblog]

7.

Il consulente

Featuring: Minseok x Reader

EXO Ensemble

Your family has worked as the mafia group go-to financial advisors and consultants. When a hit is sent out, by a rogue mafia group, your entire family s wiped out. You are left with only your brother. The EXO take you under their protection, regardless of your protests to want to leave the mafia world behind, along with your troubled memories.

Warning: Blood and Injury

________________________________________

You smell lavenders, and you know there's a bunch of those fresh flowers, somewhere in the room. Kai and Kyungsoo.

During your sleep, you were abruptly drifted back  to consciousness when your hooded eyes made sight of the two brothers at the foot of your bed. Both huddled into each other's shoulders. One of them softly sobs while the other murmurs some inaudible words to the other.

"Not again... not so soon."

"She's strong... she'll fight her way back to us-"

But both looked and sounded rather upset with you. The ventilation pipe's discomfort pulls you back into unconsciousness.

When you drift awake again, it's to the familiar face of your doctor, back when you were Europe.

"D- Doc... Zh- Zhang?" You try to say through the oxygen mask, you now wore. Thank goodness, the horrible pipe down your throat is gone. Although the feeding tube was the lesser of the evils.

The dimpled, soft face looks up from flushing your drip and changing out the empty blood bag for a full one.

'Blood... no... too much of it... on that night... on my dress... arm and leg... the side of my face.'  Your mind races.

"Easy, sweetheart. You need to slow down your thoughts and calm your racing heart." The doctor coos. His hands flying over the beeping machines, while monitoring your radial pulse on your trembling arm.

'My hair slick with blood splatters... Appa!... more blood splatters... more brain matter this time... Mama!...'

"Myeon hyung, get the boys in here to suppress or haul out Minseok hyung. I can't get her to calm down if she sees him in that state."

I'm sorry I got hurt on your watch, Minseok. You hope to convey to your bodyguard, as soon as you can speak your lengthy apology.

The doctor leans in, to have his entire frame within all my view of the room. A calm stare down.

So does your heart rate, feels the effects of the gaze, apparently. Despite the scuffle in background.

Your head finally seems to clear and pinned firm on your neck. Not just your head, but your body, was not as weighted as it felt, the other few times you had jostled awake.

*

You can't however fight the urge, when you bolt upright and shoot out of your bed, to the nearest door you find. Not without causing a commotion and mess around your bed.

"YN... YN! GET UP AND RUN!"

Your brother's voice screams at your muddled brain.

A phantom ache at the back of your head, makes you wince, while crawling and stumbling to your feet.

Your legs nearly fail you, but your will to set off and run is spurred on. Three or four paces on, you are jerked back, with a clatter behind you. You ignore the noise that sets off a colourful series of curses, from a figure you did not see.

You yank your arm, hard, to your chest and tubes rip out of your arm to saline and blood splatters on the sheets, machines and floor.

'Blood on the floor again...' your chest constrict in sheer horror.

"Fuck... damnit... what the fuck-" A man runs across the room. First you panic, not recognising him through your blind panic and dark spots clouding your vision.

"YN, you'll further injure yourself..." The bright voice cut through the fog of anxiety. He leaps over the bed, and he too slips over the mess you had just made.

Your bodyguard.

Minseok!

Your heart leaps and its rate beats faster, if that could be possible without encouraging an arrhythmia.

"YN, you lost a lot of blood. You're probably lighthead-" he all but collides with you, turning you away from the bloody mess.

Your legs gave way from under you, triggering your own collapse to the whirlwind of emotions going through a series of rollercoasters in your head.

"Fuck..." Minseok's vocabulary continues to be just as colourful as you remember when you were on the floor, in the stairwell, begging your eyes not to close and the your bodyguard made it beyond the muscled goons of Taemin and Key.

"I'm o-okay." You mumble.

"Like fuck you are!" He whisper-shouts, his eye roaming over your body, doing his check, while you pant in his arms trying to catch your breath.

You sit there in silence, off to his side, while he cradles your shoulders and head to his chest. Your arm, where the IV lines ripped from, trickled blood that soaked your top. It stung too, but your hands also clung to Minseok's shirt, memories rushing through you.

All that you know, and had come to know moments before that bullets ripped through your stomach. Then Taemin reminding you to choose wisely like how you had not, in the past.

Now your family is gone, because of your choice then.

Yunho, was threatened because of your choice now.

The man holding you, startles when you suddenly kick and thrash, shouting incoherently, in tears that had been running down your face the moment you woke up.

"I refused their proposal to their nephew, then they killed my family!" To thrash and claw at the front of Minseok's jacket, "I remember that much!"

The shirt stains with blotches of your blood as you weakly try to wrestle the arms surrounding you. Refusing to let you go.

"I came back... refused their accounts and they may have hurt Yunho hyung, too." Your wails climb higher and more raw, the longer you kick and thrash on the floor.

You vaguely realise that the substance that you're slipping and sliding on is your own blood.

All Minseok does is cling onto you, and that makes you want to cry harder, and fight harder away from him. Against him. Although your hands dig into his soaked shirt and scrape at the flesh under the material.

"What will happen next, Minseok hyung? What will happen next, when I say 'No' to the men in this world?"

"Some.... something tells me, YN you will know. You will remember what to do." The man's voice rasps out.

Drained of your cries, what was left were the small wounded whimpers.

A door opens, above your head, and you're too weak to give it physical attention, but Minseok does. He lets go of your head he cradled and your head surprises both him, and the upside down figures you make out standing by the door, when it falls back.

Suho and Chanyeol look horrified? Worried? Disturbed? Your blurry eyes can't make out properly, when Minseok gently but firmly shoos them out, to come back later.

Clearly the doctor had disappeared again. Or was a figment of your delirious state of wellbeing before. Just like old times in hospital.

"You will know just what you need to do next, so you can get ahead," he murmurs very low over your head, "and when that time comes, EXO and I will be there, ready to help you with whatever you need."

Then his eyes finally leave your face, to nuzzle the top, he does not react to what you can both feel and now smell, pungent in the room.

You were bleeding out, profusely and cannot be ignored.

"Aish... YN.  You ripped your stitching and made worse your injury site." You are gently shifted away from the warm chest, in your full daze.

He mutters about how the doctor has already left, and this happens.

Blurrily you make out the large red stain on his denim pants and the pajamas you were wearing.

Not a care of what happened next.

"Mmm..." You hum noncommittally, and pass, out?

_______________

@suhappysuho

[muffindaddystyles]

Vamp!harry x readers first time being fully intimate! He’s scared of hurting her so he’s really hesitant to do it. it’s also her first time in general so maybe you can make it really fluffy please??

Sorry for being supppppeeerrr late but promise it's gonna be worth it. All my lovin!!

Vampire!harry at valentines day.

It's valentine's day. For Harry everyday is a day for lovin' but in vampire culture valentines is the key to the lock of ever love and showing your passion towards your better half. He showered Y/N in abundant of affection; was waiting for her to wake up on his bedside like an impatient puppy and the moment she blinked open her eyes he was all over her. Almost swallowing her whole. His plush lips kissed every inch of his lovie and muffled all her giggles with his heavy smoochs.

"Will you be my valentine?" He murmures against her mouth and she squeaks still sleepy, "ofcourse yes!" He was joyous and kissed her as many times as he could.

She was all smushy squeals and jumpy on her bum while ripping her gifts down, "Slow down poppet 's all yours." He laughed resting his chin atop her head. She got all blushy and shy in his arms when on her rummage a furry brallete top and shorts dangled with her fingers, "'s sooo cute Harry. Thank you!" She tries to kiss him but it lands against his chin. Pastel heart boxes full of rich chocolates and strawberries made her sky rocket over the moon dribbling him with her kisses and sweet whispers.

After exchange of gifts, chocolates and kisses they went to diner near her flat hands in hands for some tummy filling brekkie. They were inseparable, with heart twinkling eyes, tender gushes and sighs full of love for eachother. Anyone could spot them the couple from far like a bat under the moonlight.

It's cloudy and thick so she hauled him with herself flopping into poof of lavender fields the scent cocoons them as they stared into eachother's eyes with love and happiness till she lifted her fingertips to lightly brush it over his silken dollop of cheeks with a quirk of lips; it burns. To touch him. Lit her core on fire with desire and yearn to be his's fully.

He takes her cheeks and gently, gently, ever so gently smudges his candy lips against hers to taste her mouth. Sliding his palms down her spine under her bottom to pull her ontop of him without un-sealing his lips from over her's. Her hands meanders under his hickory curls that made him grunt and raise his hips to push against her womanhood.

"Want you, please." She whimpers putting the pressure down on his bulge jolting with the wave of pleasure with each swivel, "shh. shh 's okay gonna take care of ye' . . . Let's go home first." He pets her hair murmuring against her chin and plucks her pout when she shakes her head with eagerness.

"What lovie', didn't know ye' were thatttt kinky!?" He tickles her dimples at the sides and she scooches down into his chest with spurts of laughs, "Aish. 'M not . . just want you to take me."

"You'll 'ave me – darlin' in the best way possible." He sighs kissing her sweetly with tongue to explore her tangeriness and his nostrils flares when she whines with the flutter of her eyelashes.

//

"Come fo' me again baby." He says while licking up her folds with hunger pinning down her shivering thighs as his sleek fingers pumped her own cum back inside her. They came back home, undressed in haste and Harry wrapped her around him like a soft bear laying her down promising her that he'll fill her with his cock. Gave his tongue and fingers to her, playing filthy between her sticky thighs with three digits of his's buried deep inside her weepy pussy.

It's her second orgasm and still the knot in her stomach didn't unwind. It'll only after being stuffed full with his thick fat prick deep inside her wet cunt. When she whines trying to latch to his shoulders murmuring, "what if it'll not fit?" He giggles popping out her nipple from between his lips with a dirty noise.

"Now, I'll take it as a compliment but 'ave been warmin' ye up fo' a mo' haven't I?" He palms her breasts and runs his thumbs over her nipples while circling her clit; watching as she squirmed and whimpered under him. "You're wet fo' a proper nice fuck baby — bet gonna take my dick so well fo' me." He spreads her gooness down her slit dangerously close to her other hole. She gasps and he swallows it with a kiss pressing his thumb against her puckering pink hole while slithering his ring finger inside her dripping pussy.

"'S all fo' me?" He prods inside her making her moan breathily and she bobs her head desirous to have him all for herself. He tucks his trousers down while sucking her bottom lip tenderly, his erection slapping his lower tummy and her shivering hands brushes the aching tip of his cock making him rut in her grip.

"Oh me sweet bundle of blood." He whispers gazing into her earthy eyes with passion and love bitting his pale jutted lips when she stroked him spreading his pre-come down his thick shaft. He glides his palm under her back other cupping her jaw, "stay still fo' me moppet." He says in a low hum working his oozing prick between her folds making squelching noises. Sliding it down and inside her slowly almost loosing his balance knocking his forehead against her.

"S' tight." Her wetness allowing him to extend deeper till he pulled out making both of them whine, "shh. I gotcha lovie' . . ." He huffs bottoming out snug and warm inside her fluttering walls milking the tip of his cock, it pimples goosebumps at their skins.

He frees her wrists touching her sides, "you can move now." She quickly winds her forearms around his shoulders loving the way their bare skin feels together while they're intervined in such an intimate way. A shiver runs down his bone marrow when her lips skims over his throat and teeth grazes to find the perfect spot to mark him just the way he does to her, "tell me if it hurts yeah? don't wanna harm ye' in any way." He's grinding his hips at very gentle pace just to test waters. His hand groping and teasing her pebbled nipples sometimes sneaking down to flicker her clit.

"You'll not, please please . ." She tries to thrust into him but he pins them down glaring her sternly. He's awed how hooded with lust her eyes are, darker than his demonic ones and it's so sexy his hips quacks pummeling inside her unintentionally but it made her go feral, "'m serious baby." He nudges her thighs wider holding it down watching himself push inside her yearningly.

"Can you please fuck me now?" She breathes annoyed at him and he grins giving her chaste kiss on lips, "y'want that? dirty babe." Her eyes rolls back when he thrusts inside her continuously without a waver roughly while kissing her collar bones controlling himself to take a bite from her. He could listen how erratically her heart's been beating squirming his lips upwards as she arched and thrashed under him.

He sucks her nipple inside his mouth pulling at it with a hum and crimson rimmed irirses fucking her brutally to make her see stars and saturn.

"Wanna cum?" He presses his palm with force against her belly to feel himslef bumping through stroking his ego. Her eyes teary and button nose red as she nods, "then beg." He smirks and it made her tug at his roots from the pleasure of sight when his fangs poked out ever so slightly within his gums.

"Please harry. Can I come?" Her upper body shaking from avoiding to gush all over his cock and he twitches against her spongy walls with a whimper while playing with her clit, "yes cum right now." Her moans were the most erotic thing Harry has ever heard as she let herself limp in his arms feeling safe and happy coating his dick with her cum. Babbling incoherence under him and his face falls into her neck fucking her, overstimulating her with each stroke and she holds him tight cooing in his ear as he came hissing when her glistening soaked pussy tried to push him out.

After some minutes he recouped, kissing the side of her head trailing little pecks at her sweaty line bringing her up closer to his chest.

"Was I good?" His gaze soft and genuine. "The best." She hiccups tiredly. Cheeks blushed and eyes glassy, "How was I?" Her shyness clear. "I love how your pussy feels around me. Swallows me perfectly." He smiles whispering the end part and she whispers it back, "made for eachother."

He cleans her with baby wipes rubbing them between his hands before using them to swipe away his cum from her inner thighs. Hushing her softly when she whimpers as he nudges at a particular sore bite or her sensitive folds. Threw sheets into hamper and brought her favourite patched quilt to cuddle under it not letting her untangle her calves from his's at all.

Then in evening they baked together more like her checking out her love marks on her body in the glassiness of refrigerator while he squats beside the oven like an over excited puppy. She gasps dramatically wiggling her bum to have a better look then almost shoving it against his face making him tumble.

"Harry! you left a horrendous bite under my bum!!" He gives out a belly ache laugh slapping her arse playfully, "What can I say, moppet. Ye' got a cute lil bum. Couldn't resist biting ye'r peach" She huffs trying to grab him but in an instant he's turning into the weeny black creature flapping his wings down at her small lips smirking down at her in victory.

"Oi. You can't just turn a bat everytime you do somethin' naughty, it's unfair!" She puts her hands on her hips glaring up at him and he flies to the other direction but unfortunately knocks himself into the book shelf. Her laugh echoes into whole house as he transforms back into his humanly figure rubbing his head smiling up at her full of giddiness and she flops down beside him kissing his dimples with a grin that doesn't seem to disappear.

"Happy valentines day you fool."

[poutyhannie]

prompt: “If you can’t sleep, can we have sex?”

warnings: smut, fluff,  unprotected sex, boyfriend!bangchan, student fem!reader

word count: +1.5k

The harsh blue light of your computer screen bores into the back of your skull.  You’ve been staring at it for what?  Five hours?  The dark sky and kink in your neck indicate that this assignment has you stressing out for longer than that.  Letting out a loud groan, you stretch, returning from the zoned-out trance of school work to life.  Chan had come home a little bit ago, you realize, though in your focused space, you think you only gave him a glance and maybe a nod.  It dragged you both down—being busy—but it’s not like you could control it.  It was both of your faults for doing too much and biting off more than you could chew and something had to be sacrificed for your ambitions.  

Chan is laying on his stomach when you enter your shared room, fiddling on his phone.  A black beanie is tugged down to his eyes and his arms are bare in his sleeveless top.  Maybe it’s because of the absolute absence of him that you’ve been enduring or the lack of sleep but an excited wave of electricity washes over you when you see him.  He cranes his neck up at you, eyes wide and lips smiling, giving you a small wave.  He always does that.  When he’s waving, he spreads his fingers apart and gives a short, quick shake.  It’s adorable.   

When you walk over and collapse on Chan’s back he giggles, maneuvering onto his back while still keeping you on top of him.  Burying your face in his black shirt you let out a muffled, frustrated scream to which he laughs at.  “Not funny,” you mumble, finding it hard to breathe when your nose is stuffed in his shirt.  His hours of work in the gym is clear as you press your cheek to his abdomen, trying to not be too obvious.  Though you’re sure he knows what you’re doing, Chan just pats your head, running his long, pretty fingers through your hair.  “How are you doing, Y/n?”

After a pause to gather your thoughts an asses how you have been, you answer, “My classes have been so chaotic, I can’t understand anything, the schedule is so confusing because its online, and even though I’m always tired, I can’t sleep at nights.”

At your words, concern furrow’s Channie’s eyebrows and he plops his head down onto the sheets, still stroking your head.  “Yeah, that’s understandable.  I mean, of course getting used to this whole online education will be super confusing at first.  It’s like that for everyone so you’re not alone in that,” he tells you, his voice soft, “but I know how diligent you are and I know you’ll figure it out.”

You let out another groan before crawling up to nuzzle his neck, “Why do you always know exactly what to say?”  His scent fills your nose.  It’s warmth.  It’s comfort.  It’s home.  It’s Chan.

Another giggle and he shrugs, eyebrows raised as he smiles, his dimples shining, “I don’t knowww; I think I could honestly say anything and you’d like it.”

This makes you laugh and you pull him close, running your fingers over his chest, “Yeah, probably,” your fingers skim lower and lower, slipping under his shirt to graze his bare stomach.  You both ignore his shiver.

“You said you can’t sleep, though?”

Nodding, you respond, absentmindedly caressing his tummy, “I just can never fall asleep lately.  I’m thinking about too much and I feel like I’m wasting time by sleeping and then I get guilty for sleeping but I’m so tired still so I can’t sleep but I can’t do anything else.”

“Hmm,” Chan hums and you can feel the rumbling in your finger tips.  “I’m like that too.  When we have a schedule or something, I can never sleep because I’m so nervous.  I’ve never really been able to sleep; it’s just part of me.”

“Well if you can’t sleep can we have sex?”

Chan’s laugh is shocked, choking and makes you smile as you gaze down at him.  Red blush spreads from the tips of his ears to his neck and over his cheeks.  Instigating sex always has Chan flustered and your forwardness heightens his slight embarrassment.   But when you wiggle your eyebrows at him, holding his gaze, he gently grabs your face, guiding it down to meet his.  He nuzzles his nose with yours and when you lay your hands on his cheeks, they’re hot with blush.  Endeared, you squeeze his jaw to kiss his open mouth.  Chan moans into your mouth, his former embarrassment lost to desire as his tongue lavishes against yours.  Its surprisingly hot, for how gently his hand strokes your hair.  

You swing your leg over him to straddle his hips, pulling his shirt over his head and removing his beanie.  Chan’s hair bursts into a blonde mess of curls and he lets out a “gyaa!!”, covering his hair with his hands.  “It’s so messy!  I just got back from the gym so it’s really not okay right now.”

“What are you talking about?”  You coo, reaching to run your fingers through his soft fluffy hair, “Its adorable.”

Chan complains, but removes his hands, letting you weave your fingers through his pretty locks.  His toned stomach and defined muscles have you drooling but his deep dimples and burning cheeks have you cooing.  The rest of your clothes are pulled off in a flash, both of you eager to bask in each other after the long drought.  He’s on top of you, giggling and smiling as he presses hot, wet kisses to your neck, trailing down to lick your nipples.  While his tongue works wonders on your chest, his hands travel lower to gather your wetness on his finger to rub your clit.  The double stimulation has your back arching off the mattress but Chan doesn’t let you enjoy it for long.  He pumps himself to full hardness, precum glistening over his veiny dick in a way. that makes your mouth water.  Situating himself on top of you, Chan cocks his eyebrows at you, smirking playfully.  “You ready, baby?”

“Yeah are you ready for this WAP?”  You retort, pulling a face at him.

Channie bursts into laughter, falling over on the bed, his eyes squished shut on account of his wide smile as he clutches his stomach.  “Don’t ever say that again when we’re doing this!”  He exclaims, eyes wide and serious, even as he laughs.

“Okay, okay,” you agree quickly, tugging him on top of you again, “I’m ready, Channie.”

His eyes are still smiling as he eases into you.  The stretch is unfamiliar and burns for a minute but Chan stays still, kissing your neck and face as you adjust.  “Are you okay?”

You moan out a yes as the pain fizzles to pleasure.  Slowly, Chan begins to roll his hips against yours, his abs clenching and flexing with every roll.  He looks down to gaze at the place you both are connected and lets out a deep moan that has you tightening around him.  “I’ve missed this so much, babygirl.”  

“M-me too, Channie,” you whimper, your hands clenching his arms.  Chan’s movements against you are slow and languid; it lets you feel every vein and curve of his length and how it drags against you walls.  “F-faster please.”

Chan smiles down at you, eyes shining.  He listens to you, quickening his pace so that he’s no longer rolling against you, but thrusting into you.  Under your hands, his arms flex as he props himself up above you.  Chan’s length reaches deep into you, stretching you out perfectly and hitting the right places.  Sweat gathers at Chan’s hairline and you meet his thrusts half way, moaning when his pelvic bone hits your clit.  “You sound so pretty, princess,” Chan moans, “Did I tell you how much I love your voice?”

“Mmm, you’re so pretty, Channie,” you moan, gazing up at him with hooded eyes.  Even as his dick is buried deep in you, Chan still blushes at the compliment, smiling at you.  Chan’s hands grip your hips, stilling them and tilting so that he’s hitting your sweet spot with almost every thrust.  “I’m cl-close, Channie,” you whisper, head rolling back on the sheets.

“Me too, I’m so close, b-baby.”

You try to hold out, savoring the feeling of your lover being the closest to you but damn Chan moves his hips too well and he beckons you closer to your beautiful undoing.  Crying out his name, you cum around Chan, feeling him shoot hot and deep into you.  He rides your highs out, slowing down as his blissed-out face smiles like he’s the luckiest guy in the world.  

Chan cleans the both of you up before snuggling close to you.  “I love you so much, babygirl,” he whispers into your neck, “Whatever you’re going through, you’re gonna do well in the end, baby.  I believe in you.”

Fuck this man almost has you crying with his sweet, heartfelt words.  “I love you too, Channie.  Even when I don’t believe in myself, it seems you do.”

“Of course,” he mumbles, sleep already luring him, “I’ll always believe in you.”

[jaehyunfirstlove]

POV: you don’t make it to the bedroom (a follow-up to this and this)

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: rough sex, unprotected sex, swearing, dom/sub, dirty talk

Word count: 813

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77​ (send me a message if you want to be tagged)

A/N: this took a turn at the end lol (I can’t seem to let go of this scenario so there might be more)

You exit the elevator and he’s all hands

He barely lets you walk, he’s got your back pressed against his chest, hands roaming over your breasts and up your thighs

You stumble into his apartment like this, his lips, tongue, and teeth making a trail along your neck

He pulls away from your neck to say “Lights, low” and the darkness in the apartment is illuminated by soft, blue lighting

You don’t have time to be impressed because he’s guiding you towards the couch, which you notice takes up half the space of the room

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says against the back of your neck, and the timbre of his voice and the heat of his breath make you shiver, “I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom”

Sure enough he’s hard again, pressing his arousal against you to prove his point

You gasp when he suddenly cups your pussy over your soaked panties

“Oh shit, baby, you’re so wet,” he groans, rubbing a finger along your slit through the damp fabric

You bite back a moan, slightly embarrassed at how wet he’s gotten you, but you regain your confidence at how urgent his actions have become

“Can I fuck you right here,” he asks, pushing you against the back of the couch

“Yes, fuck, yes!” you almost scream, you’re practically delirious with arousal, with the way he’s touching you and pressing his impressive bulge against you

You wonder how he’ll feel stretching you and your mouth waters at the thought

Before you know it he’s pulling off your ruined panties, putting a hand on the small of your back and making you bend over the couch

You want to watch him as he enters you so you turn your head to see his face

His eyes are dark and hooded, lips set into a fierce line, bangs falling onto his forehead as he grips your hips, teasing your entrance with just the tip of his cock

You’re forced to grab a throw pillow and stuff it against your face because he slams into you with such force the couch actually moves forward

“Baby, you’re so tight,” he groans against your back, stilling for a moment to collect himself, his fingers squeezing your hips

You only clench around him in response and he groans even louder, the reverberations against your back going straight to your core

“I don’t think I can hold back,” he says in a low voice

“Fuck me,” you’re so turned on, you know you’re probably dripping all over his cock and down your thighs, “I can take it”

He swears under his breath, pulling back slightly, leaving only the tip inside, before he slams hard into you

You scream into the pillow, your entire body on fire as he pounds into you, the couch scraping against the floor as it gets pushed by the force of his thrusts

“I want to hear you,” he says, pulling the throw pillow out of your hands, “say my name”

“Jaehyun!” you scream, digging your fingers into the plush cushions of the couch

With the way he has you bent over the couch his cock is hitting you repeatedly in that spot that makes you see stars

You can feel the knot building in the pit of your stomach, when he suddenly grabs a hold of your hair and pulls you back flush against him

His other hand comes up and goes to your neck, applying just enough pressure that you’re gasping

His lips are at your ear, breath hot against you as he whispers all the filthy things he wants to do to you

You come hard, vision blurring, toes curling, body shuddering, screaming his name

He pulls out, and you turn around so he can come on your stomach

He grips his cock in his hand and pumps once, twice, the sexiest look on his face as he comes all over your stomach

He takes a moment before he leans down and kisses you, surprisingly gentle after what he just did

He leaves you and comes back after a few minutes with a damp towel to help clean you off

“The bathroom’s over there if you want to get cleaned up,” he points towards a door down the hall

You nod and make your way towards it, suddenly feeling embarrassed again since he’s practically a stranger and you know very little about him

You lock the bathroom door behind you, taking stock of yourself when you notice on the counter there’s a folded set of pajamas and a small bag of toiletries

You open the door and call out to him, holding up the pajamas, “What are these for?”

He just smiles, with those beautiful dimples, “Just in case you wanted to sleep over”

You close the door again, smiling to yourself, before putting the pajamas on