#I am weak for tiptoe kisses

[roosterbox]

July 28 Random Word Almost-Drabble: Scandal

Word Count: 646

Rating: Let’s say T for the implication of sexytimes.

@boisinberryjamarama

——

It was all over the paper the next morning, as Yusuf said it would be. Eames, lounging on the beach. The more secluded side, at least. Thank goodness for small favors. The tiny speedo his friend was wearing caused some ruffled feathers; a few pearl-clutching comments on the gossip sites, which Yusuf would deny ever visiting, of course. But that wasn’t the story.

The story seemed to be Who The Hell Is The Mystery Man With His Tongue Down Eames’ Throat?

“It’ll be everywhere,” he’d told Eames. “The Mirror, The Daily Mail, the fucking Sun.”

Eames only shrugged. “I have nothing to hide.”

Judging by his swimwear, he meant that literally as well as figuratively.

“Bloody tabloids,” Yusuf grumbled.

“What about ‘em?” Ariadne shuffled into the kitchen, still toweling her wet hair. His robe hung loose around her shoulders, though she did her best to tie it tight. On him, it would have reached just past his knees. But on her shorter frame, a few inches of fabric dusted along the floor as she walked. Yusuf found his eyes were fixed to this action, for reasons he couldn’t quite place. After a moment, she cleared her throat. When he looked back at her face, she raised an eyebrow and held up the damp towel.

“Laundry?”

“Oh, let me-“ he took it from her, hoping his blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt. He unceremoniously threw the towel - the softest one he owned, he was happy to note, having set it out for her when he got up first - in the laundry room. A problem for future Yusuf, naturally. She was looking at his laptop when he came back out, and let out a wolf whistle when she saw the pics.

“Dang, spicy stuff.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t have been if he’d have just listened to me.”

“When has Eames ever listened to anyone?”

He had to concede the point. Ariadne shook her head, not even bothering to hide her small smile.

“Coffee?”

“Already going. Help yourself.”

“Thanks, babe.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before moving towards the percolator. A point of contact that was all too brief, as far as Yusuf was concerned. He found his gaze drawn to the robe trailing on the floor again. I want to kiss her, he thought. I want to hold her. I want to press her up against the counter. I want.

And, remembering the night (and early morning) before quite vividly, he realized that the only thing stopping him was himself.

She squeaked in surprise when she felt his arms wrap around her.

“Yusuf!” There might have been more, but words were suddenly harder when there were soft lips against hers. Neither was sure how much time passed - minutes? hours? years? - but they were both breathing hard when they parted.

“You look… really good in my robe, Ari.” He murmured. She giggled softly.

“And you look good in your pajama pants.” She ran a finger along the waistband of said pants, almost but not quite dipping inside. “Very sexy.”

He half suspected she was teasing. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about his flannel bed wear. She tucked her head towards his neck, kissing there before adding a touch of teeth. Enough to feel, but maybe not to mark. Yusuf groaned, and squeezed her tighter.

“How long will the coffee keep?” She asked. He felt a hand reach behind him to grab at his ass through the flannel.

“It’ll shut itself off in a couple hours.”

“Then we have a couple more hours, don’t we?” Ariadne spun around to face him and threw her arms around his neck, crushing their lips together again.

The robe ended up on the floor outside Yusuf’s bedroom, alongside his comfy flannel trousers.

Neither of them minded, but the cold coffee was harder to ignore.

[tender-rosiey]

sick — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: taking care of gojo cause he deserves it my baby :((

satoru forces his eyes open with a great struggle, but seeing your face makes it worth it. he presses a kiss to your forehead, before, reluctantly, peeling off the covers and heading to the bathroom.

his steps are heavier and his mind is a bit hazy. he figures quickly that he‘s caught a cold. but, like the idiot he is, he brushes it off cause what’s a little cold to the strongest sorcerer?

small coughs escape his lips every now then as he gets ready. he applauds himself for being able to do everything—despite the coughing fits—without waking you up.

finally, he tiptoes his way to your sleeping form to give you a kiss on the forehead once again. he takes a last look at your face and he smiles, one reserved for you only.

and so the routine is done! he is satisfied as he walks to the door, ready to act like his normal self that definitely doesn’t have a fever that is worsening by the second.

his hand reaches for the doorknob and, “satoru, where the hell do you think you’re going?”

he turns to you, a grin plastered on his face as he tries masking his coughs, “hey, hun! lovely morning, isn’t it? I was about to—“

“sit your ass back down.”

“yes ma’am,” he mumbles, looking like a kicked puppy.

you roll your eyes before pulling him back to bed. but, of course, he tries to fight it, “y/n, I am fine, really!”

“no, you’re not,” you huff as you make him lay down on the bed and cover him with the blankets, “your breath is heavier and your face is flushed.”

you press a hand to his forehead before gasping, “satoru, you’re burning up! and you wanted to work like this?”

“hey! nothing the strongest—“ he coughs in between, “—can’t handle,” he smiles, trying to assure you, but you don’t buy it.

and you are about to retort, but satoru’s phone rings, cutting your thoughts off. the caller is one of the higher ups.

before your husband gets the chance, you snatch the phone and answer the call instead, “can I help you?”

satoru has given up fighting about it anymore and simply accepts his fate. he snuggles closer to your chest while you listen to whatever the old man is yapping about.

then you respond, “satoru’s not going anywhere,” you tighten your hold on him and he feels his flutter a little at your secure hold. when was the last time he felt protected?

the old man’s yapping turns into barking and his voice is like chalk scratching the board so you sigh and reply, tone giving no room for further discussion, “he is sick. also, why don’t you up your game a bit? you’re maybe double or triple his age? shouldn’t you be able protect yourself? anyways bye! rot in hell!”

you end the call with a smile before tossing the phone to the side. satoru smiles into your shirt, “that was hot of you.”

“oh shut up,” you grumble as you pat his head, “how did you get sick anyways?”

satoru takes a deep breath, brows furrowed before he replies, “one of the curses was related to ice…or whatever,” you hum in response and he snuggles into the crook of your neck.

seeing satoru all weak, maybe even helpless breaks your heart. he is usually so loud, so bright, but now he looks so tired, frail even.

you sigh as your fingers card through his hair. you would’ve preferred if his day-off was spent with him being his usual self rather than all sick like this.

though you can’t deny that a part of you feels a little happy because he trusts you enough to be completely vulnerable with him.

so you press a kiss to the top of his head and he stirs around a bit, words a little slurry, “…what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing, but I have to go and make you some soup, satoru,” you say while trying to get up, but his hold on you tightens.

he voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, “…stay.”

your heart clenches at the soft plea, but you know that he needs to be well fed so he can recover quickly, “satoru, honey, you need to eat so you can get better,” your hear him groan before reluctantly pulling way.

still, his hand is holding onto your own, and he looks up to you, eyes barely open, oh how you missed seeing those blue gems shinning as usual, even if they scared the shit out of you at night, “just don’t take long…please.”

you nod and press a kiss to the top of his head, “look at you being so polite.”

he grumbles, making you giggle.

you finally make your way to the kitchen. you hope that satoru can sleep a bit till you’re done with the soup.

you don’t feel the time as it passes, already invested in making the best soup for your sick husband.

after a while, you’re finally done. you give yourself a pat on the back before carrying it to the bedroom. you speak, voice low, “satoru?”

he turns in his sleep and slowly opens his eyes, smiling a little, “you’re back?”

“of course, I am, silly. I would never leave you,” and both of you know that those words hold much deeper meaning than it looks like.

you set the soup on the nightstand, “come on, you need to eat, honey.”

he stretches a bit before sitting up—the movement seems to cause him pain but he hopes you don’t point it out—, a wide smile on his lips as he looks at you, “my pretty wife made soup, just for me?” he coughs a little, “I am flattered.”

he sounds better, you note. that sleep must’ve done him good so you hope the soup will make him feel even better.

you take a hold of the bowl and satoru opens his mouth, expectantly. you quirk an eyebrow at him, “what are you doing?”

he closes his mouth with a pout, “you’re not going to feed me?”

he is finally back to his antics, you think as you narrow your eyes, “and why would I do that?”

“because I am your very sick husband who only wants to be pampered by his pretty—“ he is cut off by you shoving the spoon in his mouth.

he swallows the soup, satisfied, and with a grin so wide you’re thinking of smacking him for looking so smug yet so cute at the same time, “thank you, honey!”

you roll your eyes, albeit fondly, “yeah, yeah,” you huff as you feed him another spoon and the smile never leaves his face.

you also notice the little kicking of his feet. does being spoon-fed by you really make him this giddy?

“y/n, you know how everyone boasts about my strength?” you feed him another spoon and he hums in contentment before continuing, “I think my only weakness is you.”

“doesn’t that make you scared?” you inquire as you set the empty bowl aside and satoru wastes no time as he hugs your waist as snuggles into your chest, his favorite place, “having a weakness and everything.”

he shakes your head, “nope, it just makes me want to get even stronger so I can protect you.”

he thinks for a moment, “you got me wrapped around your pretty fingers and I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he then grins, looking up at you.

it’s silent for a while before you speak up, “satoru.”

“hm?” you practically hear the smirk his voice.

you deadpan, “did you just fart?”

“honey, I could never!” and satoru thanks the heaven that he is sick cause he knows that he would’ve been hit by every single pillow on this bed otherwise.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[midnightwriter21]

demon slayer hcs: hashira men w/ a tiny SO

characters: fem!reader x tengen, sanemi, rengoku

warning: suggestive content

AN: i’m writing this from the pov of someone that’s short af. like 4’11 (cause that’s how tall i am lol) enjoy~

TENGEN

god he’s so hot

let’s get straight into the gross shit huh?

i just KNOW

that this man is NASTY

size kink size kink size kinkkkkkkk

dawg is huge

his one hand can almost wrap around ur entire waist

manhandles u all over the place

yes please

anyways now that we’re done with that-

he will make fun of u

juuuusssstttt a little bit

but its all fun and games

will never take it too far

takes things out of your hands just to hold them over his head

likes to see u jump to reach it

high five?

his hand is all the way up

arm straight

high five him in the face if u get fed up

won't hurt him anyways

he'll prob think its funny

will also do that shit where he looks right over ur head and is like "has any one seen y/n?"

carries u around

u don't remember what it feels like to have ur feet on the ground at this point

he’s doing push-ups?

sit on his back

100% will bench press you for fun

you’ll be walking past him

you blink and all of a sudden ur in the air

calls u stupid corny nicknames like “short stack”

SANEMI

now this man

his ego is through the roof

size kink?

uh yeah

will tease the hell out of u

putting stuff on the top shelves so u can't reach

and don't think he's gonna give in and help u

oh no he likes to watch u struggle

now i think sanemi LOVES a fiery woman

but give him a lil too much attitude?

he's throwing u over his shoulder and walking off

and he's gonna remedy that situation dw

remember i said size kink?

he's about to remind you just how much bigger than you he really is

will RUIN u

protective!!

doesn't matter if ur a slayer or not

still not as strong as him

and to sanemi

smaller=more breakable

now don't get it twisted

dude does NOT think ur weak

cmon you really think the mf Wind Pillar would be with someone totally weak?

absolutely not

again. u don’t have to be a slayer

there are different types of strength bae

he's just gonna keep an extra close eye on you thats all

RENGOKU

i am so soft for him

literal sweetheart

can't reach something?

kyojuro is already handing it to you

or picking u up so u can reach it

he's not gonna tease you about your height

he's the one showering you in complements

telling you how you're perfect the way you are

never wants you to feel annoyed or insecure about your size

he's a lil more protective too

don't get caught climbing the countertops to reach something

cause he's pulling u down with a

"honey that's dangerous! what if you fell and hit your head?"

like kyo

baby boy

u realize i had a life before i met you right?

ur a professional countertop climber at this point but he does not care

don't do it again

also he's teaching you to fight if u don't alrdy know how

just in case he's not there to protect you one day

best teacher 10/10

won't bend down to kiss u tho

he likes that you have to get on ur tiptoes and balance urself against him to reach his lips

thinks its cute

he's so boyfriend

[seenoversundown]

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Warnings: Smut (Oral F receiving, sex sex sex)

Word Count: 1.3k

Andrew x Reader (y/n)

The laughter of our friends echoes down the hall as he guides me further and further away from them. We’re hosting the annual holiday party this year for the first time. It was our third holiday season together but the first one in our new home. 

“They’re going to notice we’re gone, we’re going to get caught,” I say while tugging his hand. I can’t help the fit of giggles that follow. 

“Love, we’re only going to get caught if you’re loud,” Andrew replies, and the heat building in my stomach drops. We continue down the long hallway until we hit the staircase. I’m ready to start tiptoeing up them, trying to remind myself to avoid the squeaky stair halfway up, when Andrew pulls us into the small closet built under the stairs instead, causing me to gasp. 

“This is way too close to everyone else!” I hiss under my breath. 

He laughs while tugging me in further. “We have about ten minutes before Marlow comes looking for me; better make them count.” 

 My protests quickly fail as he attaches his lips to my throat, my ultimate weakness. He pulls me against him as he pushes the door shut with a soft click. I’m holding on to his arms as though they’re life preservers keeping me from drowning in all of him. I feel the low rumble of his laugh as he peppers soft kisses trailing up to my lips. 

As soon as Andrew’s lips touch mine, I feel myself drown. It’s intoxicating as I spiral from our kiss. I let my hands roam over his arms, chest, anything I can touch. It seems as though he feels the same way with the way his hands are pulling my dress up over my thighs. I can feel his fingers slip over the outside of my thong, looping into each side. With one quick movement, he pulls them down and falls to his knees simultaneously. He looks up through his lashes at me, and god, is it a beautiful sight. His pupils are so blown out that I can barely make out the green of his eyes I love so much. I’m breathless looking at how gorgeous this man is. I feel lucky. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, love. I need to taste you.” Andrew sounds desperate as he plants kisses on my thighs, almost like he’s waiting for me to permit him.

“Please,” my voice comes out breathless, almost inaudible, but it’s all he needs. He takes his fingers and separates my folds to give me one long swipe of his tongue. I forget our rules, where we are, for a moment, and moan in relief. Finally, my man is where he belongs. 

“You have to stay quiet, love, or I can’t let you finish.” 

My hands instantly go to the back of Andrew’s head. “Sorry, sorry, don’t stop.”

“My needy girl, what am I going to do with you?” He doesn’t give me time to respond as he expertly finds my clit. I’m focusing hard on not making a sound, but I can’t help the whimper that comes out of me when he inserts a single finger. The scrape of his beard on the inside of my thighs is deliciously painful. 

“More, please give me more.” I’m close, something that always happens fast with him. I feel him chuckle, which just makes my clit hum in pleasure, but he complies. I feel the second finger enter me, and I slowly become untethered. My hands are lost in his unruly curls as I hold him against me, chasing my release. His fingers curl inside of me, and I come entirely undone. It’s hard to remember to stay quiet when he makes me feel this good. When he’s sure I’ve come down, he rises from his place on his knees. 

“I need to feel you,” Andrew whispers against my ear as he turns me around. I hear the zipper of his pants before he shrugs them down his thighs. He places the crown of his cock against my entrance, and I can’t help but push up against it; the anticipation is unbearable. 

“My desperate girl can’t wait for me, can she?” My head shakes in response as I hear him tsk behind me. “You know the rules, babe. Use your words.” He slowly removes his cock so he isn’t touching me anymore. 

“Please, please. I need you. I can’t wait.” He’s right, I am desperate for him. 

I hear Andrew’s low chuckle behind me as he repositions himself at my entrance. He doesn’t give me any warning at all before he’s bottoming out inside of me. The mix of our moans fills the tiny closeted space while he brings up a hand to my neck. With his hand slightly tightening on my throat and the other gripped onto my hip, he starts to thrust. 

“You’re so wet for me. Just for me. God, I love being inside you.” Andrew murmurs in my ear. I feel myself melting for him. I press my ass back and spread my legs even more, trying to get as much of him as I can. 

“You need this too, don’t you, babe? My naughty girl, I love when she comes out to play.” I lightly moan in response to his words when his hand gives a warning squeeze around my throat. 

“My naughty girl still needs to be quiet. Wouldn’t want to be found, would we?” 

“No, sorry, please.” My breath hitches in my throat as Andrew thrusts into me at a steady pace. His hand slowly travels up my side as his languid thrusts continue until he reaches the peak of my breast. My nipple is hard, and I need more from him. I don’t have to say anything as he pinches my nipple and gives me the pressure I am desperately searching for. 

“You feel so good, pleasedon’tstop.” I barely recognize my own voice anymore. I love when sex with Andrew sends me into another dimension. 

“Let me feel you come, love, come undone for me.” My orgasm is right on the surface as I listen to his words, but once his hand deserts my breast and makes its way to my clit I am entirely done for. 

It’s hard not to whimper as I come on Andrew’s cock, and it’s hard not to moan when I feel him release inside of me. It feels as though there’s no more air in this closet, just Andrew and I. He stays behind me for a moment, maybe two, just holding me in our post-coital bliss. When he’s ready, he finally pulls out of me, and I can’t help but whimper at the empty feeling. 

Andrew moves around me and cleans me up with my discarded panties. After  he puts them on the shelf out of view, “I’ll come back for these when everyone leaves.” He says as he presses a kiss to my temple. 

“You better not forget them, I swear, Andrew.” 

“Swear what?” He presses a kiss to my lips. “I know how to get on your good side, love. I’m not worried.” He laughs that glorious laugh; it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. He unlocks the closet door and looks back at me, “ready to go back?” 

“Do I look okay?” I ask as I smooth my dress back out, trying to look as normal as possible. Andrew takes my wrists and stops my movements. 

“You, my love, are ethereal.” A single kiss to my forehead. “Let’s go.” 

As we walk back down the hallway , the voices get louder and louder, seemingly right on time; a small pair of footsteps is running towards us. 

“Uncle Annndreeeewww!!” Marlow bellows. “I’ve been looking for you! Have you been playing hide and seek?” She erupts into a fit of giggles as Andrew lifts her above his head. 

“Absolutely was, Mar. Good job! You found us.” 

I can’t help but laugh behind them as we walk into our living room to be greeted by everyone else. 

“You two were gone for quite some time.” Our friend calls from the other side of the room. 

Andrew’s quick to cover Marlow’s ears before he responds. “You know me, I would never worship and tell.”

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 3)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Just as Y/N thought she had it all figured out in LA, her world spins out of control when Evan Peters storms in like a tornado. Their electrifying hook-up leaves her reeling, but waking up alone, she fears the worst. Then, a note appears—his number and an invitation to a date teasing her with a chance. What starts as a romantic evening quickly spirals into a frenzy of hide-and-seek and sex.

Warnings ─ Swearing, semi-public, oral (both receiving), doggy, shower sex, overstimulation, fingering, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, extra smutty—you savvy pros, you know the game inside out ;)

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Word count ─ 5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You stir awake, blinking sleep away and squinting against the sunlight that streams through your curtains. A lazy smile curves your lips as you stretch, reaching out for...empty sheets. Mmhh, you just love the taste of nothing.

Evan’s not here... Emotional damage, even if what you had was an agreed one-off fling.

A soft groan escapes you as you fumble for your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 9:30. As you bury your nose into his pillowcase, you inhale deeply, catching a generous whiff of his essence’s sweet residue. You sigh deeply as your eyes land on the bedside table. His missing keys solidify the reality that he’s bounced, and you can’t help but frown.

“I feel like his side hoe when I should be the main character,” you think aloud, grumbling, and it’s giving trauma dumping and anxious attachment. What a refreshing concoction of disaster.

But what really puzzles you is the extra blanket draped over your duvet like a surprise guest. You wrack your brain, trying to recall if you snuggled up in it during the night, but it’s as hazy as trying to piece together a fuzzy Freudian dream.

With a resigned sigh, you roll out of bed, already craving his warmth. Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you distract yourself with social media updates, news snippets, and the day’s weather forecast while you shuffle to the kitchen for your morning caffeine fix. A pang of disappointment hangs around like a lost sock in the dryer, but you refuse to let it dim your day and activate your female rage.

Or so you tell yourself.

Podcast blaring in the background, you tiptoe your way to the bathroom, facing your reflection in the mirror. You impulsively retrace the invisible path of Evan’s touch on you—from lips to chin, jawline, and neck down your cleavage and stomach. Each sensation has left its mark, and you can’t get enough of the sweet echoes. You sniff through your hair and arms in a desperate attempt to capture his scent on you—a tantalising hint of cinnamon and the musk of his natural oils that never fails to make your knees go weak.

You hop into the shower, letting the scalding water wash away your frustrations. Emerging revitalised and ready to conquer the day, you hastily throw on your work clothes and toss your keys and lanyard into your bag.

And that’s when you spot it by the entrance door—the note board. That bold black marker circling today’s 9 pm to 6 am time slot on your shift calendar, an arrow pointing directly to a message, practically winking at you, “Dinner and quality time with Evan. Text this number for more details.” Your heart somersaults with joy as you read the note over and over again, a goofy grin spreading across your face like wildfire.

You press a quick kiss to the note, folding it carefully and tucking it away as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you dash out the door, already fashionably late.

On the subway, you retrieve the scrap of paper, tracing your fingers over his elegant handwriting with a soft smile. With a sarcastic tonality, you already craft your message, “I thought ghosts just floated around, they don’t ask you out.”

Within seconds, his response lights up your screen. “Morning to you too. Slept well? I’m the upgraded phantom version. Meet your Casper tonight at 9?”

You can’t help but giggle at his wit. Another text pops up, complete with coordinates to the restaurant he’s inviting you. The excitement builds inside you like a shaken soda bottle, and you’re practically fizzing with anticipation to see what the night has in store.

Time seems to trudge along at a sloth’s pace as you grind through your shift at the boutique. You flash your best retail smile as you serve customers on the cash register. Though, your mind is a million miles away, replaying the reel of moments with Evan; those moments when you convinced yourself that your insides were gonna spill out while he was going to town on you.

Half-heartedly, you tidy up the shop floor, picking up stray items and straightening displays. But let’s be real, your fingers move mechanically, and your brain is on autopilot as your thoughts wander back to the anticipation of tonight’s date. The enthusiasm is buzzing through you like a sugar rush, making it damn near impossible to focus on folding clothes or rearranging racks.

Each interaction with a customer is a blur as you absentmindedly tackle the fitting room. They might as well be talking to a mannequin for all you care. Your mind is firmly planted in Evan-land, where every moment is hot and heavy, and you’re too busy mentally undressing him for the umpteenth time.

“Girl, let me in your bubble, would you?” The voice of Trisha, your department’s jokester, slices through your daydreaming like a ninja with a chainsaw.

You blink, momentarily disoriented, before bursting into laughter at her impeccable timing. “Trish!” you exclaim, relishing in her knack to crack you up with her quirky humour. “Sorry, this bubble is strictly reserved for someone today.”

Her giggle rings out like music in the store as she playfully rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine! You do you, boo. Just make sure to save some of that magic for the rest of us in Stylista Gine, deal?”

With a saucy wink, she sashays off to attend to her own tasks, leaving you to shake off your giggles. The minutes tick by, and eventually, your shift mercifully comes to an end. With a sigh of relief and a bounce in your step, you clock out, knowing that soon you’ll be back in Evan’s arms (and on his dick).

You hastily trod along Sunset Boulevard, your sleek dark coat swinging with each step, and your little black dress add an extra sway to your stride. You’re practically power-walking in heels, like you’re in a race against time and your destination is the finish line.

Arriving at the hotel he’s staying at, you adjust the strap of your black stilettos around your ankle, ensuring no wardrobe malfunctions with your stocking will disrupt your night. With your heart thudding, you breeze through the sliding doors and past the reception. 

The tantalising scent of watermelon cocktail teases your senses as you strut in the bar restaurant, scoping out the room with mounting anticipation.

“Hi there, reservation for Peters?” you inquire, shooting a charming smile at the host, your racing emotions briefly receding.

Reciprocating with a polite grin, he quickly checks his tablet before nodding in confirmation. “Got it! Table 8. Right this way, miss,” he affirms, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture. 

Following the host, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement as you round the corner and spot Evan’s back at the table. He looks effortlessly handsome in his blazer, like he’s just stepped out of a magazine spread, making your stomach churn with blissful nerves.

“Looks like my date’s here, thanks,” you note quietly with a soft smile.

“Awesome! Enjoy,” the host replies cheerfully, heading back to his post.

As you approach Evan, you lean in and give his shoulder a cheeky squeeze—a silent yet affectionate greeting that speaks volume. His gaze lights up with recognition, and he practically jumps from his chair, his grin widening as he’s eyeing you from top to bottom.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “My eyes needed a bit of a warning for this stunner. Your fit’s so sleek, it looks tailor-made,” he adds shortly after, beaming, as you flow in a warm hug, his arms clinging around you like he never wants to let go.

With a crooked smirk, you blurt out with a touch of sarcasm, “Thanks. I picked it up with you in mind.”

His eyes widen in surprise, his grin expanding by the second. “Seriously?” he squeaks, visually delighted by the notion. 

You giggle, shaking your head. “Nah, but imagine if I did,” you fire back, your hearty laughter dancing in the air like confetti.

Before you know it, an electric tension fills the space between you as you stand mere inches apart, locked in a silent yet smouldering gaze.

“Are we on a ‘try not to kiss’ challenge?” he spills out, his voice an alluring murmur as his minty breath pleasantly prickles your skin.

A sly smile tugs at your lips. “Let’s see who caves and closes the gap first,” you hum as you flicker between his lips and his eyes. He feels the tension coil in his gut but forces it down with a hard gulp. 

Leaning in closer, his breath mingles with yours as he whispers, “You gotta give your best shot not to kiss me, then,” his tone carrying a seductive undertone that sends a delicious thrill rushing through you.

“You wish. No chance I’m smudging my tinted lip balm,” you retort and playfully pinch his nose, punctuating your mocking banter with a wink.

With a graceful flip of your hair and a coy smile, you ease into your chair, feeling the heat of his gaze on you, all self-assured about the sensual spell you’ve cast over him. 

He’s practically eye-fucking you right now, and you’re loving it.

“If that’s your idea of payback for sneaking out this morning, Y/N, I’ve been running errands and exploring new job prospects for next year,” he explains earnestly, handing you a straw for your cocktail and cutlery for your appetisers.

“And I may or may not have picked up a little something for you,” he announces next, pulling out a wrapped box from his blazer pocket, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your playful vibe evaporates, replaced by a whirlwind of shock and emotion. “Shut the…front door, no way,” you utter sheepishly as you cautiously reach for the unexpected gift.

With a throaty chuckle at your reaction, he jerks his eyebrows upwards, silently encouraging you to dive into the gift.

You eagerly rip open the packaging, gasping in disbelief. “Roland Barthes, Mythologies…Oh my days,” you cry out, unable to believe your luck. Your eyes flit to the curious glances from other patrons in the corner, and you swiftly tone your enthusiasm down a notch.

He nods in understanding, smiling fondly at you. “Yep, saw his Lover’s Discourse on your bedside table, and the bookmark was dangling on the final pages,” he justifies, a knowing twinkle in his gaze.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you slide the book in your bag and rise from your seat. “Ugh, Evan! Thanks a ton, you’re the best,” you gush, your voice thick with gratitude as you move closer to him.

He stands up too, his eyes fixed on yours, soft with affection. Stepping closer, his dark eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, as if he’s wordlessly asking for permission. Instead, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but you gently lift his chin and crane your neck, sealing his plush, pink lips in a brief yet tender peck.

As you break the kiss, Evan blinks in surprise, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. His eyes search yours, silently questioning the unspoken feelings that hover between you, his own heart pounding with anticipation.

“Why did that take so long today?” he sighs against your ear, softly touching his lips. His voice, like honey dripping from velvet, resounds in your ears like a melody as he delicately brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes—the colour of rich black chocolate—are glued on yours, and the gravitational pull of his euphoric visual abyss draws you in.

Your heart flutters at the intensity of his gaze, feeling the heat expand through you. “It took long for momentum,” you retort, your tone light with playful teasing as you flash him a coy smile and sit back down.

The buffalo cauliflower bites aren’t the only thing heating up at your table; your conversation’s spicier than a jalapeño popper and with more layers than a double-decker with extra cheese. One minute you’re debating the perfect burrito toppings, embarrassing childhood nicknames, weird dreams, European cinema and 80s bands, and the next, you’re digging into careers, beliefs, goals, and life’s deepest truths.

It’s like a game of emotional Jenga—one block, or in this case, one topic leads to another, and before you could utter ‘Evan, eat me,’ you’ve both laid your souls bare without even realising it.

Fully immersed in the flirtatious banter, Evan beckons invitingly to the seat beside him with a subtle tilt of his head. “Why don’t you slide here, so I can properly admire your outfit?” he mumbles in a husky timbre, his eyes ablaze with desire.

But just as the tension between you ignites like a volcano lava, the waiter interrupts with his timely arrival. “What can I get for you both?” he interjects, shattering the moment. 

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you gesture Evan to go first, shooting him a ‘hold up, let me cook,’ look. With a bold move, you slip off your shoe under the table and discreetly brush your foot against his pant leg.

You feel him stiffen as he places his order, his composure wearing out. Stifling a giggle, you almost sadistically enjoy his flustered state as he clumsily fumbles and drops his menu, the clatter against the plate resonating like a thunderbolt. 

He’s a ten, but he stumbles over his words and over-apologises when aroused in the most inappropriate settings. Take my money, that bumps him up to a solid thirty.  

“Would you like extra cheese with that?” the waiter chimes in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere crackling between you.

Evan nods, swallowing thickly as your foot ventures higher up his thigh, stoking the flames of his growing hardness.

“And you, miss?”

“Eh? Umm, double everything, please. I’ll have what he’s having. Thanks,” you mutter with a half smile, your leg rubbing against his throbbing erection to a fever pitch.

As the waiter marches to the kitchen, Evan clenches his jaw, frustration painted all over his stormy gaze. He bunches his cloth napkin from his lap and tosses it onto his plate, blowing out a sharp, exasperated breath.

“Evan,” you call out with an apologetic expression, watching him push his chair with the backs of his knees and storm off to the bathroom.

You shoulder the heavy door and step into the empty men’s bathroom, your insides wounding themselves in knots. You scan the room, hunting for any trace of Evan, until your gaze lands on the locked door at the end. Curiosity gnaws at you, nudging you to investigate.

With a hesitant knock, you signal your presence. Before you can react, the door swings open, and Evan’s dark eyes greet you from the other side as he pulls you into the room.

The door clicks shut behind you as you quickly take in the gold-hued surroundings: a lavish toilet, a gleaming sink, and a long bench strewn with plush towels and designer toiletries. The place gives you a babushka-esque feel—a mini, fully-equipped restroom within the main one, and it’s like stepping into a VIP sanctuary.

Though, as you register Evan’s proximity, his body pressed flush against yours, your thoughts scatter like marbles on a polished floor, and pleasure sparks sizzle through your veins like a live wire.

“Hey,” you bleat, feeling the tension twist in your gut as you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. 

His strong arms cradle your waist. He draws you into a tight embrace until you’re cocooned on his lap, the heat of his body searing into your skin.

You cross your legs as he closes the distance between you, his veiny hands fondling and squeezing your thighs greedily and possessively. 

“Evan,” you croak out, clearing your throat to ground yourself as he strokes your cheek with his knuckle. “I realise that might have been a bit much for public display…and I’m sorry,” you mumble, flashing him an apologetic look before averting your gaze.

But his expression remains stern, a furrow creasing his brow as he lets out an exaggerated huff—eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line. “That won’t fix it, I’m afraid. I’m still hurt and embarrassed.” 

You quirk a brow at him, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you meet his unwavering stare. “And what do you suggest now?” you challenge with a sly smirk, a daring spark igniting in your face.

His lips curl into a sinister smile as he leans in, his scorching breath against your ear sending a tremor down your backbone. “Get on your knees, and use this beautiful mouth of yours to show me just how sorry you are,” he whispers as he’s massaging your tits, his words like an electric current buzzing through you at a high voltage.

You snort, your hand weaving through his silky hair as you draw him closer. “Oh, you think you’ve won? I’d be more than happy to suck you up—day and night, overtime included,” you purr, your voice husky with longing as you sink to your knees.

Positioned between his legs, you look up at him with a mischievous smile. “Someone’s suffering in there,” you coo and outline his stiff shaft with your tongue, feeling him twitch beneath the smooth fabric, aching for freedom.

Pinned against the wall, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, his hips buckling forward in desperate response.

The button of his slacks loosely holds on, barely containing his throbbing beast from bursting it open. Gripping the cold metal of his zipper between your teeth, you drag it down slowly, your pussy dripping as his low growl rumbles from his chest like distant thunder when he finally finds release.

You reach up, flipping down the elastic waistband of his boxers so you can slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along his pulsing crimson tip.

“Suck it, don’t tease,” he commands, his tone rigid and thick with desire. You comply without hesitation, eagerly licking off the subtle traces of his seed off the tip, twirling your tongue around it.

Your mouth is immediately slick with his precum, the thick fluid coating the corners of your lips. The heady scent drives you wild as you savour every drop of his essence. You keep using your tongue to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges and pressing into the squishy flesh of his head.

He bites down on his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he battles to muffle his grunts, his body quivering with need.  

When you finally close your lips around his painfully hard cock, he reacts with a sharp intake of breath. His fingers thread through your hair as he breathlessly whines your name like a fervent prayer. From that angle, his dimples appear as dark slits along his cheeks, adding to his rugged allure.

You meet his gaze with a sultry mewl of pleasure, giving your throat more room to take him in harder and deeper into your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you glide lower on him as you hold onto his pelvis until his head crushes the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex.

Challenge accepted; you handle him like a pro.

“Y/N, you’re… oh, fuck… No,” he sputters out with an intense shudder, rubbing his eyes as he fights the overwhelming tide of his impending orgasm.

“Load me,” you exhale teasingly as you pull him out of your mouth only to pump him back down with renewed hunger. He intertwines his fingers with yours, guiding your movements as you kick off a slow, torturous rhythmic ordeal just to gauge his reaction.

With a choked moan, he tightens his grip, sticking his convulsing cock all the way down with urgency, thrusting in your mouth with a ruthless pace.

His move and the resonance of his deep voice send a surge of heat to your core that consumes you, tripling the moisture in your panties.

You want him in ways that will add new sins to the bible.

Each time you rise, you suck his tip with fervour before slamming back down on his throbbing length. The symphony of moans he’s emitting are almost sinful—you’ve never gotten soaking wet just from hearing a man groan. He’s gonna be the death of your ovaries.

As you steal a gaze upwards, his abs glistening with a sheen of sweat, you watch his head fall back. “No,” he breathes out repetitively, his chest heaving and his Adam’s apple bobbing—a tell-tale sign that he’s on the brink of letting his load spray onto anything in the room.

His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy and messy. Blinded by pleasure, his mind goes blank as he teeters on the edge.

Still panting, he hauls you off him more forcefully, his fingers hooking onto the hem of your stockings. You notice his nose scrunch up in clear disapproval as he glares at your lips—swollen and shining with wetness—immediately stripping you off your undergarments with raw intensity.

Flipping you over so your upper body’s bent over the wooden bench, he gropes your ass cheek before slapping it harshly, making you squeal with excitement. “Why do I have to say no twice?” he growls, his voice ringing with dominance as he claims you as his own.

You’re ovulating, so your audacity and inhibitions are thrown to the wind, acting like you’ve been dick-deprived your entire life. “I wanna tick you off so much you show no mercy. Just take me already,” you demand, your voice heavy with despair.

With a guttural groan, he obliges, rutting his hips as he lines up his leaking tip with your entrance. The moment he meets your wet folds, you both gasp in unison as he plunges in you. The sensation of him filling you up sparks fireworks as he humps you in long, steady thrusts, his velvet plush head bumping against your swollen clit with a delicious friction.

Your cries threaten to spill out, but his hand clamps gently over your mouth to shush you, his dark eyes flashing with warning. “We have to be quiet, baby,” he rasps, his voice tinged with lust. You turn over your shoulder and nod underneath his grasp, your half-lidded eyes glazing with pleasure.

A muffled yelp roars against his palm as he drills his aching cock deeper inside of you. You grip the edge of the bench tightly, and the sound of it banging against the wall echoes through the room, adding a primal rhythm to your ecstasy. The sensation of your slithery walls stretching to accommodate his thick dick is nothing short of mind-blowing for both of you.

Using the bench for leverage, he thrusts harder, his hand trailing up to caress the curve of your ribs as you writhe beneath him. “Fuck, I love your wet little pussy,” he hisses with primitive desire. “Cum for me, Y/N, all over my dick.”

“I’m getting there, baby. I wanna drown in your juices,” you moan, feeling his jaw slacken against your back as your walls pulse around his throbbing cock.

Just as the bench keeps bashing against the concrete wall in sync with your rising orgasms, a sudden crash breaks the intensity of the moment. The yellow paint plastic box from above the shelf tumbles down—its contents splattering over both of you and the wall, creating an impromptu abstract masterpiece in the spur of the moment.

You both freeze, paint trickling down your bodies, adding vibrant hues to your flushed skin. Evan blinks in surprise, his hands still gripping your hips as he takes in the colourful chaos engulfing you.

“Well, we certainly went hard on the paint,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood despite the unexpected interruption.

You chuckle nervously as you survey the lively mess. “Looks like we got more than we bargained for tonight,” you shoot back, your voice filled with playful mischief.

With a wicked smirk, Evan swipes paint off your cheek, leaving a colourful streak between you two as you embrace. “We’ve got a cleanup on our hands before we can get back to what we—” His words are abruptly cut off by approaching footsteps.

Though the intoxicating passion still clouds your mind, one detail arises with sobering clarity: You’re screwed (literally). 

“You hit it off with the first three cubicles, I’ll handle the ones from the end, and we’ll meet in the middle,” a deep man��s voice echoes from outside, sending a jolt of panic through both of you. 

Evan winces and involuntarily grabs your hand. Your body stiffens as you lace your clammy fingers with his, the paint already forming a small puddle at your feet.

Acting on pure instinct, he ushers you deeper into the toilet, using his foot to discreetly slide the torn condom wrapper closer to your hiding spot.

“What’s the plan now?” you mouth. Your palms are raised in a questioning gesture, fingers wiggling subtly, as your breath comes in shallow, shaky huffs.

Evan shrugs. “That was a plot twist, didn’t see it coming,” he replies, barely audible in his hushed response.

You hang onto his shirt for dear life, your face taking a ghost-like pale complexion as you weigh the consequences of the trouble you’re about to get in. “The door’s locked, but there’s a little slot under it. Shall I wait up here until they’re gone?” you pantomime your words, attempting to convey your plan to Evan with the finesse of a silent movie star. But as you try to hoist yourself up and chamber onto the toilet seat, you slip, almost tumbling backward.

Evan swoops in to catch you like a superhero, his forehead wrinkled by worry lines, eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” he whispers urgently, pressing a finger to his lips in a frantic plea for silence.

You nod vigorously, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated motions, communicating your escape plan like you’re on the charades: “Let’s go check if we’re clear, then sneak out.”

Nodding in silent agreement, he unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist. Poking his head out, he peers cautiously into the corridor. You stretch up on your tiptoes, craning your neck to peek out over his shoulder, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.

Finding no one in sight, you both spring into action with the speed and stealth of seasoned spies. You snatch up as much toilet roll as you can, using it to hastily wipe away the evidence of your paint mishap. The paper becomes saturated with soap and water as you scrub your life away, determined to leave no trace behind.

Before you know it, Evan seizes your hand, purse and shoes, and you skitter out of the bathroom like you’re escaping a high-security prison. You zip past the slightly open doors of the other stalls, and as you weave the maze of hallways, you catch a glimpse of the two cleaning men hard at work—one wielding a toilet spray like a weapon on the lead, while the other, two doors ahead, diligently mops the floor.

 

You burst out of the bathroom, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping, feeling like you just pulled off the heist of the century. In the dimly lit corridor between the toilets and the restaurant, you exchange triumphant grins, basking in the rush of your daring gateway. With a quick, victorious high five, you’re both ready for the next phase of your adventure.

But before you can catch your breath, Evan pulls you close, his lips crashing against yours in a fiery kiss that sets you on fire. His tongue dances with yours, igniting a fierce passion between you. As his hands start to wander along your ass and clit, you can’t resist and melt into his touch, a soft moan slipping off you.

Reality hits you like a freight train, and you protest against his lips, reluctantly swatting his hands away and pushing him back gently. “You can’t waltz back to your table looking like nuggets dipped in mayo, and I don’t have a spare wardrobe stashed in my purse,” you whine. With a determined swipe, you rub off a scuff mark from his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his face as he nods in understanding.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, and without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you in the direction of the toilet. But as you reach the door, he steers you towards the emergency door instead. Throwing yourselves outside, you’re met with the frigid night air, an uninviting shock after the warmth of the restaurant.

The cold bites at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. But Evan is quick to replace your coat, which still hangs off your table chair, and envelops you in an embrace, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

You cling to him, his body heat a comforting embrace as he cups your hands in his, blowing warm breath into them. The moon casts a soft glow over a secluded pond before you, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel.

“I’ve got good and bad news,” Evan chirps, his voice tinged with a mischievous undertone. You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as you lean closer to him, flakes of paint dropping off your arms as he intensifies his rubbing.

“Spill the good news first. Enough shocks for today, I wanna buy myself some time.” 

“The good news is,” he begins, a grin spreading across his face, “my rented place is over there,” he reveals and points behind you. You follow his gaze to the tall complex of flats that extend from the main hotel.

You hum in acknowledgment, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Alright… and what’s the bad news?” you inquire, already bracing yourself for whatever curveball he’s about to throw your way.

“The bad news is that if we wanna keep the prying eyes at bay,” he continues, his eyes fixed on you in mounting suspense, “we’ve got some climbing to do.”

The grass crunches under your feet as you wade through the greenery, your heels sinking into the mud with each step. You duck under the low archway in the middle and reach the towering fence.

“Damn, that’s taller than I thought,” he mutters, eyeing the fence with a furrowed brow.

“Piece of cake,” you counter with a coy smile, tossing your heels on the other end. You make the first move by planting your toes on a cracked piece in the wall, gripping the hurdle tightly to propel yourself upwards.

As he gives you an extra push, his hands boldly grazing your ass, a mischievous sparkle gleams in his eyes. “Speaking of cakes,” he cheers, squeezing your curves as his eyes linger on the enticing view of your cunt beneath your dress, his grin broad and cocky.

“Stay focused, dude,” you hiss, playfully waving him away as you divert your attention back to the task at hand.

With a hint of concern in his voice, Evan watches you climb, ready to catch you if you falter. “Take it slow, Y/N. With this velocity, you gotta use one leg at a time...” he advises, his arms poised to assist you.

Rolling your eyes, you brush off his instruction. “The mansplaining’s redundant, Peters. I’ve got this,” you scold jokingly, confidently manoeuvring over the obstacles.

“It’s hard... oh, mind your head on the branches…” he mumbles, absentmindedly repeating “it’s hard” as he observes your every move with a mix of awe and disbelief.

When you safely tumble over to the other side, he can’t help but chuckle nervously, astonished by your agility. “Oh, that was easy…it was really easy, actually” he mumbles with a shake of his head, mouth agape, still processing your swift ascent.

“Come on, slowpoke,” you taunt, your voice laced with playful challenge. You dust off your hands, the thrill of the escape still coursing through your veins.

“I’m just taking my time,” he defends as he carefully navigates his way over the fence. 

“Says the guy who played Quicksilver,” you mock, giggling, and run your tongue along your teeth with a cheeky smile.

As Evan finally makes it over the fence, he stumbles on a loose stone, his footing giving way beneath him. You gasp, lunging forward to catch him as he starts to fall backward, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to regain his balance.

“Watch out!” you cry out, and you manage to pull him back from the brink of spraining his ankle on the way down. 

He winces in pain, clutching his leg as he tries to stand. “Ouch, that was close,” he groans, his breath hitched. 

Concern floods through you as you help him to his feet, supporting him as he tests his injured ankle. “You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice.

Evan nods, his expression strained. “I think so,” he replies, clenching his jaw against the discomfort.

You sigh, realising that your adventure may have taken an unexpected turn. “Maybe we should take it easy for now, old man,” you suggest once you realise he’s fine, suppressing a laugh as you guide him back to safety.

As you playfully rib Evan with the “old man” label, he retaliates by tickling you, his fingers sending ripples of loud laughter down your spine. You squirm and wriggle, trying to escape his teasing grasp, but he’s relentless.

“Alright, alright, I give up!” you yell, breathless from both laughter and excitement. But Evan doesn’t stop there. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he picks you up into his arms, his lips hammering against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. 

“Let me show you who’s the old man,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with desire and challenge as he carries you off.

The reception area lies deserted, and the dull glow of an overhead light seeps through the crack at the bottom of the slightly ajar cleaning storage door. 

“Anyone here?” he calls out, testingly, but there’s no response. Without wasting any time, you make a beeline for the elevator. The ding of the lift makes you jump, you launch your bodies up the stairs, bounding them up like a panther on the prowl, your feet padding down on the carpeted floor.

You creep into his room, edging the door shut until the latch clicks into place, and you pause to laugh at the yellow patches on your body. “I feel like I’ve just wrestled a pig in a mud pit.” 

“I’ve got the best way to clean it all up?” he mumbles sloppily into your lips, his arms folded around your waist, massaging your ass.

Hot water spurts out of the shower faucet, raining down marvellously on the tiled floor. You smile, holding your hand up to it and watching the paint, mostly dried now, run off your legs before landing on the ground and swirling around the drain. The temperature is heavenly, able to ease even the deepest aching of your shoulders, and your smile widens.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, planting a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You bite down your lip at the sensation. “Finger-fuck while you kiss me, first. I need it,” you huff in despair, eyes imploring.

“You wish, I deliver, baby,” he breathes out, suckling on your pulse as you lightly pump his erect shaft in your hand in your fluid motion. He seems way too horny and too into you to say no.

He grunts and grounds his hips against your inner thigh. Against the wall, his fingers dip in, gathering some of your warm, slithery wetness and splotching it over your shiny folds. His free hand claws on your face, dragging you for a breathless kiss.

“Gosh,” you moan chokingly, an exhilarating lilt in your words. Your back arches as you feel that knot in your stomach beginning to snap. The pad of his middle finger keeps tapping and circling your clit, and you feel the escalating climb of your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch, and once he realises this, his fingers slowly drift away from your weeping cunt, his slick fingers gripping your thigh.

“Wh-why?” you protest in frustration.

Without uttering a single syllable, he snatches the detachable shower head, a smirk playing on his lips as he winds the cable around his wrist. He cranks the setting to its highest level and kneels down, parting your slopping folds with a confident touch. His lips curve in a devilish smile as he takes sight of your pulsating pussy clenching around nothing, giggling as he realises he’s edged you so badly.

As he positions the shower head near your throbbing clit, you instinctively clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the shrill whimper that threatens to escape. The sensation of the water hitting your sensitive bud forces your breath out in punchy, laboured gasps as you feel the vibrations bringing your high closer.

He laps at your cunt like it’s a melting ice cream cone, and it doesn’t take long for your sweet cream to leak out along his mouth. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyelids fluttering as you’re consumed by the tsunami of your looming orgasm. Each flick of his tongue sends tremors through your thighs, the wet, slick sounds filling the room.

His tongue flattens out against your clit and you let out a needy whine, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. He presses his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue jerking at the underside of your clit. As he licks at your entrance, he sinks his tongue into your soaking hole, you cum on his tongue, grinding his face, moaning his name in heavy, ragged pants.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you, he stands up straight, his hands gently caressing your waistband in a soothing gesture. But you’re not done yet. With a hungry urgency, you pull him into a kiss, your lips melding together.

He backs you against the wall, hiking up your thighs and wrapping them tightly around his waist. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your dripping entrance. As he slams into you, the world around you fades away, and your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts as he pounds harsher and faster in you, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Your slick is trickling down his cock, creating a slippery mess on his thighs as he drives into you relentlessly. His breathing picks up pace, the air thick with the heady scent of sex and steam. You almost had him, until his hands forces your hips down onto his cock as far as they would go, his tip nudging against your cervix.

A scream tears from your lips as you squirm against his ruthless assault and bruising force. The tip of his cock brushes against that spongy spot inside you time and time again, the lewd squelching sounds of your poor, swollen cunt only a faint indicator that you were close.

In the misty haze of the shower, you catch him smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual above him. Your tits bounce tantalisingly in front of him, a tempting feast he can’t resist as he reaches out to grab them in his mouth, eager to taste every inch of your trembling body.

As the unbearably tight, hot coil in your abdomen snaps, you’re unable to contain the set of moans that spill from your lips. A tingling heat spreads across your body, your muscles contracting and burning with the intensity of your release.

His face contorts in pleasure, his brows knitting together as his jaw drops in awe. His breaths come out in hurried, choppy huffs as he pumps inside you, warm, white strings of cum painting your walls as if he marks his territory and you as his own.

“Ugh, I’m dizzy...and l look like shit,” you huff out, your voice laced with giggles. Evan stays still for a moment, burying his face into the crook of you neck.

“You’re dizzy but beautiful,” he rasps, chuckling breathlessly, and you feel your cheeks flushing. He strokes your face, his touch tender and loving as he presses soft kisses against your lips. Your tongues dance together in a sweet and intimate exchange as soft moans escape both of you.

Slowly, he pulls out. A mix of your juices coats his tip as it drips from your hole in a seductive display of your shared ecstasy.

“I want cuddles on the bed now,” he says, his voice soft and pleading, a hint of a pout playing on his lips as he gazes at you with adoration.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[gtgbabie0]

hi! you’re one of my favorites writers i was wondering if you could write reader and Leon going furniture shopping for their first house they bought together thank you and have a great day! 😁

- Leon Kennedy x reader

This is so cute!! Thank you for requesting me love!! 💕💕💕

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You knew Leon could be so insanely stubborn at times, but you would’ve never expected him to go this far, every time you even begin to suggest decorating the house Leon only ever responds with, ‘Decorate however you want angel’ and you’re starting to doubt wether or not he even wants to move into a house together.

So you decide to wait until tonight, just as Leon climbed into bed with you to bring up the situation. He could tell something was bothering you by the way you pick at your nails, and the almost nervous look that settles in your eyes, his hand reaches for yours with reassurance.

“You alright sweetness?” He asks, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles as you give him a weak smile.

You nod as you start to play with his slightly gun-calloused fingers, and you take a mental note to pick up more of that hand cream he uses.

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright- I just- can I ask you something?” You tiptoe, really not wanting to jump to any insane conclusions that might hurt him, but you knew from past experience that it’s best to air out your feelings instead of bottling them up.

“Of course, you can,” he tells you shifting to sit closer to you.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself, “Do you even want to move in together? I mean I just- I don’t know- it feels like you don’t really want this” You sigh, not looking at him scared of the pain that might stain his features.

He frowns a little, “What? Of course I want to move in together, I’ve wanted this for so long” he tells you with a promising tone, “Why did you ask?” It comes out much quieter than he wanted, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

“Whenever I bring up decorating you always seem to just brush it off,” you tell him playing with his fingers.

He goes quiet for a moment, trying to find the right way to say this, “I’m sorry angel— it’s just I want you to decorate it however you like, I mean you’re going to be here more than I am, you know with my job and everything” he confesses, guilt pinching at his heart.

His worries are soon gone as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Oh Leon, but this is still your house, our house” you remind him as you pull away slightly pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I want you to help me decorate our house” you smile, watching the way his eyes glisten with excitement.

“Okay, I think we can do something about that tomorrow,” he says, relishing the way you let out a string of excited squeals.

You press another kiss to his cheek, “Well then, It’s a date Kennedy” you giggle snuggling down next to him, your head resting on his chest as he traces small patterns against your back.

Leon would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t having a good time looking through all the fake furniture displays, the way you ‘Ooh’ and ‘Aww’ at all the different shapes and colours similar to a child in a sweet shop.

You both agreed to take it one room at a time, it would be much easier that way and you both settled on deciding the living room first.

“Ooo, We should get that one” you laugh pointing to the sofa that was an awful shade of green that was displayed.

He looks at you with unpleased eyes, “Absolutely not” he deadpans pulling you away from the ugly velvet cushioned sofa, as you ramble on about how a green sofa would be ‘cool’ but he has none of it.

Leon can hardly believe it, he’s always wanted to move in with you ever since you started to stay over at his apartment, he loves coming home to you, waking up and falling asleep together, and now he gets to do it every day, he couldn't be happier.

“How about this one?” He says, it was a beautiful cream colour with the softest fabric he’s ever felt, and he imagines being curled up on it together watching trash tv, “All snuggled up together, what do you think?” He asks, his hand soothes your hip.

“Mhm, does it come in a darker colour? You spill almost everything” you tease and he scoffs at you playfully.

“When have I ever spelt anything?” He asks with a slight frown.

“Hmm let me see, the one time you spelt my wine and left a stain, then the pasta incident when you were drunk, the pizza you dropped- oh! And-“ he doesn’t let you finish the rest of your rambling, his finger pushes against your lips.

“Okay okay yeah, so we’ll get it in dark grey” he chuckles, accepting defeat as he presses a kiss to your temple, you continue to walk through the aisle and he watches as you jog over to something that clearly has caught your attention and Leon knows that this might be a long day but there’s no one else he’d rather spend it with.

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[gadriezmannsgirl]

The White Jersey -P.G

I know I'm not feeling well but Gavi in the white Barça jersey is my weakness 😍😍

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Summary: You just love how good your boyfriend, Gavi looks in the white Barça jersey

"¡PABLO MARTÍN PÁEZ GAVIRA!" You yelled as soon as you saw him enter the hotel room "¿TE PARECE MUY BONITO ANDAR POR AHÍ DÁNDOME PAROS CARDÍACOS A CADA CINCO MINUTOS?" (Do you think it's very nice to walk around giving me cardiac arrests every five minutes?)

"What did I do now?" He asks with a light smile on his face

"Don't you dare. For starters, you are going to end up decapacitated one of these days and no one will be surprised..."You looked at him in the eye

"Like, I get football is also a brain game, you need to make up estrategies and stuffs... BUT THERE'S NO NEED TO LITERALLY USE YOUR HEAD WHEN SOMEONE'S BOOTS IS ALMOST IN THE WAY!" You yelled desperate grabbing his pillow and hugging yourself to it

"You can just use your foot, amor, ¿Sí?" You asked with a light smile "You're basically sending me to an early dead, like I shat my pants when I saw that. I didn't faint because God was having mercy on me, pero... HERMANOO" (BRO) You opened your arms wide open in disbelief watching a small smile come into his face

"Also" You continued "YOU DO WANT TO KILL ME BECAUSE I'M FREAKING IN LOVE WITH THE WHITE KIT AND OH MY GOSH!" You screamed into his pillow before letting it go "You looked absolutely ravishing like I wanted to jump on your bones everytime I saw you, which was basically everytime" You opened your eyes a little as if you were caught "You just seem like a wine, the older you get, the more sexier and handsome you are and I just can't take it!" You exclaimed looking at him

"And congratulations on the match today, you did so well, except the head onto the boot moment, I'm really happy you guys won, you deserve it" You went over to him and kissed his lips.

Even tho, Pablo was surprised with your outburst, he followed the kiss back passing his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, your lips molding into his and moving in sync.

"Did you just called me 'hermano'?" He asked in the moment you separated from him

"Is that all you got from my speech?"

"No" He smirked "I also got that you think I'm sexy and handsome each day passing and that you want to jump on my bones everytime you watch me" He wriggled his eyebrows a bit making you laugh "I want you to do that" He opened his arms dramatically "Anytime you want to" You laughed hitting his chest lightly

"Eres tonto" (You're silly) You said in between laughs making him smile

"I'm far from being your brother" He insisted, you laughed reaching up to kiss him again

"Estás dale que te pego, it was just the sprout of the moment! You know what I meant when I called you that way"

"No, I don't! Because you say hermano to your friends or to your brother and I'm not either of those!"

"You're right, you're my boyfriend" You say standing on your tiptoes and kissed him slowly hearing him hum a bit against your lips

"I am" He said proudly after you both separated from each other "And I'm so tired" He sighed moving the two of you to lay on the bed, you on top of him

"I can imagine, you were running around one place to the other and doing everything, Pablito. I really can't understand how you do it"

Pablo hummed leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as you smiled lightly "Weren't you just so tired a few seconds ago?"

"No with you by my side" You laughed "Can you tell me more of how good you think I look in the white jersey?"

"You egocentric ass" He laughs widely "You very well know how I feel about you in the White Jersey" He hums tongue sticking out to wet his lips

"It looks good on you too, mi vida. Mostly with my name on your back" You hum leaning up to kiss him

"That can be my name as well, one day; I've to wear it proudly" Gavi smiled widely nodding

"One day, it'll be"

"You're not getting away from the way you pushed your head into the other players boot, okay?"

"You looked absolutely beautiful tonight" He said inmediately hoping to get away from the long chat you'd have with him

"I know that. But don't try to sweet me up, Gavira" You said sternly but with a smile on your face "It won't work this time"

"I love you" He kissed your face "And I love how much you take care of me"

"I love you too" You kissed his lips "But, Pablo, you just can't believe yourself Superman!" He sighed

He knew what was coming and he only had to accept it and hear the lecture of needing him to be more careful, secretly loving it.

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@gaviypedrisbride

[criminalamnesia]

I really like your Don't Be A Stranger story........ So I was hoping if you could do something similar with Daemon x Targaryen reader.

If that's ok with you.

And please do a Harwin POV.

I Want You

warnings: targaryen!f!reader, daemon is probably ooc sorry, chronically ill reader, reader is rhaenyra’s sister, not proofread, no use of Y/N

summary: Daemon is the only one who treats you normally.

author’s note: sooo first time writing for daemon! I hope it’s ok, he’s probably ooc so I’m sorry about that. but I hope you enjoy!

Ever since you were a child, you had been told that Targaryens were closer to Gods than to men. You did not believe that.

You didn’t feel like a God. You felt frail and small and weak. Too fragile to leave bed most days. Illness had taken you as a babe and stayed with you ever since. It was an old, unwelcome friend. One that you couldn’t quite shake, no matter how hard you tried.

Everyone crept on eggshells around you. Afraid to break you, to hurt you. You wanted to scream. To grab them and shake them. To make them understand that you hated being treated this way.

But they all seemed to know better than you. The Maesters checked on you daily and reported back to the King. Your sister, Rhaenyra, came by with small trinkets and stories of her days about the Keep. Your father, the King, would visit when he could and place a gentle kiss to your forehead before he left.

You enjoyed their company, no matter how frustrated they left you. But you especially enjoyed Daemon’s company.

He didn’t visit often, as he tended to be quite busy with the Gold Cloaks or the brothels or being exiled. It was hard to keep track of his doings, and although Rhaenyra updated you time to time, the best information came directly from the source.

Daemon would show up unannounced. Sometimes you wondered if he snuck into the Keep just to see you. He would always bring a gift, something from his travels or just something that made him think of you.

It wasn’t the gifts that made you love his appearances, however. It was the fact that he treated you normally. He didn’t tiptoe around you. He didn’t try to console you about your health or pray that you would get better. He didn’t lie.

He was the only one who treated you just like anybody else. He would grab your arms and pull you up. He would walk around with you, through the halls of the Keep. He had even snuck you into King’s Landing once.

So, Daemon was your favorite. What you didn’t know was that you were his favorite, too. He would keep tabs on you through your servants. He would ask Rhaenyra about you. He would meticulously pick out the gifts he brought you. He would worry that you wouldn’t be happy to see him.

That’s how he felt today as he climbed the steps towards the royal apartments, making his way to your chambers. Anxious. Anxious that you would send him away after news of his latest scandal hit your ears.

He clutched the gift he had chosen for you gently in one hand. He was sure you would adore it.

“Prince Daemon,” a guard nodded to him as he approached your door. “The Princess isn’t feeling well today. She’s to take no guests.”

“Nonsense,” Daemon moved to brush past the guards, but they shifted to block the door. Daemon scoffed, narrowing his eyes at the men.

“Move aside, or I will cut your tongues from your mouths.” Daemon spoke, his tone had an edge to it. The guards did not budge.

Daemon’s free hand fell to the pommel of his sword, gripping it and preparing to make his threat a promise. Before he could, the door to your chambers crept open a few inches, leaving a big enough gap for your head to pop through.

“Let him in, please,” your voice was soft, and the guards turned in surprise at your presence.

“Princess, the King said–” one of them began, but you shook your head.

“I do not care what the King said. I am your Princess, and I am telling you to let my uncle in.”

The men looked at each other for a moment in silent contemplation before they acquiesced, clearing the way for Daemon. The Rogue Prince strode forward as you opened the door for him, stepping aside so he could enter.

You closed the door behind him, and he turned to look at you. His expression softened at your appearance. You seemed paler than usual, dark circles under your eyes and your hands shaking slightly. He reached for you, his free hand gently grasping your forearm and helping you back to your bed.

“Where were you this time, uncle? Exiled again?” You teased as he helped you lay down, earning a scoff from him.

“Have you no faith in me, Princess?”

You laughed, watching as he took a seat on the bed by your legs. You shuffled to sit up against the pillows, your eyes taking him in. His hair had grown since the last time you saw him.

“If you must know, I was in Pentos.”

You waited for him to explain why, but he didn’t. You didn’t pry. That was the thing about Daemon: if he wanted you to know something, he would tell you. He was straightforward and blunt. So, it was no use trying to pull it from him.

“Is it beautiful there?” You asked, clasping your hands together in your lap.

“You would think anything other than these four walls as beautiful,” he said, to which you rolled your eyes.

Before you could speak again, he held out his gift to you. It was wrapped in a dark cloth, and you gingerly took it from his palm, placing it in your lap before pulling the cloth away.

You gasped, raising the figure to your eyes to examine it closely. It was a dragon with an unusually long neck sculpted from what looked like rubies. It glistened in the light from your window, and you grinned as you turned it this way and that.

“It’s Caraxes,” Daemon told you, his eyes trained on your face. “I had some men in Pentos make it. Costed a small fortune,” he commented as you traced a finger along the dragon’s neck. “But it was worth it.”

“Thank you, Daemon. I love it,” you were smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. Daemon nodded, masking his gratefulness that you had enjoyed the gift behind a small smile.

“Of course. Perhaps one day you’ll be able to see him in person,” he told you. Oh, how you wished for that.

Being bedridden for most of your life had kept you from seeing what made your family so great. You had never been too close to any of the dragons your family owned. You’d seen a few of them, of course– from a distance.

But you longed to be up close, to run a hand over one’s scales and ride into the sky. You longed to feel the freedom that came with flying. The power that came with having a dragon.

The egg that had been placed in your crib when you were born had never hatched. Perhaps it had been a sign of your impending illness. Maybe it was for the best. If the egg had hatched, you wouldn’t have gotten to bond with the dragon anyway. That would have been much harder to cope with.

“I would love that, uncle.” Your voice was soft as you placed the sculpted Caraxes on your beside table. “Maybe I could even ride him?” You phrased the sentence as a question, looking at Daemon hopefully.

He nodded. “I would love to have you join me one day,” he said, beginning to stand. “But not today. I must go see your father, and then I’m due to leave.”

“So soon?” You asked, but you knew the answer. Daemon never stayed long.

He nodded once more, looking down at you with a smile. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Princess. But when I return, I’ll get you that dragon ride.”

—

He did not return for many months, but you had never forgotten his promise. You held hope as every new day began that he would return and take you to the dragon pit– but he didn’t come. You stopped hoping after a while, but you didn’t forget that promise.

One night while you were sleeping, a knock on your door awoke you. Startled, you sat up in bed before reaching for a candle. The barely burning flame did little to guide you as you shuffled to the door, pulling it open wide enough to see who it was.

Daemon stood on the other side with a mischievous grin. You pushed the door open wider to reveal the forms of your guards slumped against the wall, knocked out cold.

“They’ll wake up,” he told you, and you rolled your eyes.

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” You voice was a whisper, afraid that someone passing by might overhear. It may have been the middle of the night, but the Keep never truly slept.

“I came to fetch you for that dragon ride I promised. Unless, of course, you don’t wish to?”

“Of course I wish to,” you huffed, turning to walk back into your chambers. He followed behind you, shutting the door quietly. “Just not in my nightgown.”

“Perfect riding attire,” he jested, and you scoffed as you moved to set the candle back on a table.

“If you’ll wait outside, I’ll be done dressing in a moment.” You told him, but he made no move to leave. He stood by the closed door, eyes trained on yours.

“Don’t you need help?” His voice held a hint of amusement. You brushed it off.

“I am quite capable of dressing myself, thank you.”

“Then what are all those servants for?” He questioned, moving to stand in front of you. You stood frozen, looking up at him in confusion. What was he doing?

“Are you feeling well enough to ride tonight?” His voice was softer now, heartfelt as he reached a hand up to brush strands of silver hair behind your ear.

“Would it matter?” You asked foolishly. Of course it would.

“Yes,” he said, his hand falling to cup your cheek. “Your death at my hands would certainly have me exiled for the rest of my life.”

You snorted, pulling your head away from his touch. “Yes, that would certainly be awful, wouldn’t it?”

You turned away from him, making your way to your wardrobe to grab a change of clothes. You could feel his gaze on your back.

“Daemon,” you said. “If you’re not going to leave the room, at least turn around.”

“As my Princess commands,” he said. You glanced over your shoulder to look at him, and sure enough, he had turned to face the door. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t known you were holding before pulling at your nightgown.

Daemon itched to turn around, but he didn’t. He would never, not unless you asked him to.

After a moment, you cleared your throat. He turned to face you, finding you fully clothed. “Will you help me?” You asked, your voice small as you turned your back to him to show him the laces you had failed to tie.

He nodded, moving to stand behind you. You reached a hand back to gather your hair to one side. Deft fingers made quick work of the laces, tying them into neat little knots. Once he was finished, his hands fell to your waist, slowly turning you in his grasp.

You looked up at him, your faces dangerously close. His eyes met yours, and you wondered if he was going to kiss you.

Instead, he removed his hands from your body and stepped back. “We don’t have all night,” he said, seemingly more to himself than to you. “Let’s go.”

—

He had bundled you up in a dark cloak before the two of you approached the dragon pit. You made sure to pull the cloth over the majority of your face to hide your features. Even if the dragon keepers hadn’t seen you in years, it would be hard not to recognize a Princess of the Realm.

Daemon kept you close, an arm slung over your shoulders as he guided you to the pit’s entrance. Caraxes sat outside of it, perking up at his rider’s approach.

Your eyes widened at his sheer size. You almost stopped in your tracks, but Daemon kept you moving.

“You’ll have time to gawk when we’ve left,” he whispered into your ear, causing you to nod.

“Prince Daemon.”

The two of you froze as a dragon keeper rounded Caraxes. The man looked at the pair of you, his eyes narrowed in distrust.

“Who is this?” The man asked, pointing a finger towards you.

Daemon pulled you closer into his side protectively before clearing his throat. “No one special. A whore who showed me a good time. I figured I’d show her one in return.”

“A whore, hm?” The keeper hummed disbelievingly, taking a step towards you. You pulled at the cloak, wrapping it tighter around your face.

“Well, it’s been a while since you’ve liked one enough to bring her to Caraxes.” The man commented, causing Daemon to give a forced chuckle.

“Yes, well, this one deserved it. Feisty thing,” he grinned, his hand around your shoulders dropping to grab at your waist. Your eyes widened slightly before you composed yourself, attempting to play along.

“Very well. Have a good ride, my Prince.” The keeper nodded to the pair of you before he walked away. When he had disappeared from sight, you let out a sigh of relief.

Daemon just chuckled as he pulled you to Caraxes. The dragon lowered his body towards the ground to allow you up.

“A whore, hm?” You questioned, looking at him amusedly.

“It’s happened once or twice,” he grinned at you. You rolled your eyes.

Daemon mounted first before reaching down to help you up. Your bones creaked in protest, but you ignored the feeling in favor of savoring this moment. This may very well be the last time you would ever get this close to a dragon.

“Ready?” Daemon asked as he moved to sit behind you. His hands squeezed your waist before moving to grip the reins. You blushed, thankful he couldn’t fully see your face.

“As I’ll ever be,” you breathed.

Without another word, Caraxes was lifting off into the air, large wings beating to gain altitude. You gripped the front of the saddle, suddenly terrified you would fall. Daemon chuckled behind you as you tensed.

“Relax. You won’t fall,” his lips brushed your ear as he spoke. “I won’t let you.”

You nodded, assuring yourself that he wouldn’t. Daemon would never willingly let you fall. You knew that to be true.

Caraxes rose into the night sky, parting clouds and bringing you closer to the bright moon. You stared in awe as King’s Landing grew smaller and smaller under you.

“Everything you’ve dreamed of, Princess?” Daemon asked, one hand releasing the reins to rest on your waist.

“And more,” you exhaled. You felt as if you’d never experience something this great ever again. If you died now, you would die happy.

“One day, you’ll have a dragon,” Daemon was speaking into your ear to be heard over the roaring wind as Caraxes flew. “And we’ll be able to fly together, side by side. Wherever you want. Pentos, Naath, Dorne, Highgarden. I’ll take you wherever.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, at the promise behind them. You doubted it would ever happen, but it was nice to dream. Nice to have hope.

“I don’t think my father would like that very much. His fragile daughter frolicking around with the Rogue Prince.” You spoke over your shoulder, catching a glance of Daemon’s expression.

He was watching you intently, eyes dark as he met your gaze.

“Fuck what my brother wants,” Daemon told you. “What do you want?”

“That,” you breathed, leaning back into him. “I want everything you said.”

“Then you shall have it.” Daemon leaned forward, his lips ghosting against your neck. You shivered at his touch.

“You shall have anything and everything you want.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you breathed, attempting to call his bluff.

“I never do, Princess,” he replied.

He fell silent, and you took the chance to focus on your surroundings. You reached a shaking hand forward, moving it toward’s Caraxes’ scales. The dragon’s high-pitched whistle pierced the air as your hand smoothed along the red scales.

“He likes you,” Daemon said. You gave a shaky laugh in relief.

“How do you know?” You questioned.

Dameon chuckled. “He hasn’t thrown you off.”

“I guess that is a good sign,” you smiled, turning to look at Daemon. His face held an expression you couldn’t place.

The Prince cleared his throat, gripping the dragon’s reigns tighter to steer Caraxes back towards the Keep. Your brows furrowed in confusion. You hadn’t been gone long– had you said or done something to upset Daemon?

Moments later, Caraxes was landing next to the dragon pit. The dragon gave a satisfied whistle as Daemon slid from the saddle, holding his arms out to you in assistance. You took it, allowing him to set you gently on the ground.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, watching you with affection as you ran a hand along Caraxes’ long neck.

“Much,” you replied, a hint of awe in your voice as the dragon turned its head to face you. You slowly reached a hand towards Caraxes’ snout, unsure if the dragon liked you that much.

The creature nudged your hand and you sighed in relief, petting his snout with a wide grin.

“I told you he liked you,” Daemon spoke as he moved to stand beside you.

You didn’t reply, continuing to stroke Caraxes’ scales. The dragon snorted before deciding he had had enough, turning his head away from you. You dropped your hand back to your side before turning to Daemon.

“Thank you, uncle.”

Daemon gave a small nod but didn’t speak.

“I assume it’s time to take me back?” You questioned, unsure of Daemon’s intentions.

The Prince nodded, seemingly breaking himself from his thoughts. “Yes, of course. It’s quite late.”

You nodded, turning and beginning the journey back to the Keep. He walked beside you without a word. The silence between the two of you was loaded with tension, and you couldn’t quite figure out why.

When Daemon had finally snuck you back into your quarters (the guards were still knocked out), you expected him to leave right away. He didn’t.

He stood at the door, eyes watching you as you moved towards your bed.

“Everything alright?” You asked, confusion on your face. He was never this quiet.

“Are you alright?” He replied.

“I’m fine,” you said, but he shook his head and crossed the room to you. His hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him.

“Do you really believe that? You’ve been stuck here for your entire life. Tonight is the first night I’ve ever seen you truly look alive,” he told you.

“There is a reason, Daemon. I do not always like them, but–” you began, but he swiftly interrupted.

“A shit reason,” he huffed, causing your eyes to widen at his outburst. “You could come with me. We could make your dreams reality. Go wherever you want.”

“Where is this coming from?” Your voice was soft. Your hands reached up to cover his. “You’ve never acted like this towards me.”

“Come with me,” he ignored your words. “We can leave now.”

“Daemon,” you breathed, pulling your face from his grasp. “You do not want me, not truly. Today was a good day– all my days are not good days.”

“You’ll be taken care of,” he told you, but you shook your head.

You loved him, perhaps more than you should. He had treated you normally. He had gifted you things. He had taken your side.

But he was still Daemon. The Rogue Prince. He was spiteful and unpredictable. He had rarely seen you on your worst days. Would he stick around for that? Would he care for you?

You didn’t know. You wanted to think he would, but you were not so naive as to blindly hope. You shook your head again, dropping your hands to your sides.

“If you truly care for me, then you may have me. But I do not think you fully understand what you’re asking.”

He did not speak. His fists clenched at his sides. You thought he would try to convince you further, but he didn’t. Instead he turned and stalked towards the door, opening it and stepping out. It clunked shut behind him.

—

You did not see Daemon for a while after that night. You had assumed he was done with you. You had denied him, and his pride was wounded. You tried not to think about it too much, but all you had was time to think.

Then, one day a year later, there was knock at the door. A servant entered with a wrapped box. She handed it to you before leaving. You looked at it skeptically, but opened it anyways.

Inside was a deep green dragon egg. Your eyes widened as you touched the egg, breath catching in your throat. You spotted a scroll in the bottom of the box, grabbing it eagerly and all but tearing it open.

Princess,

My offer still stands.

Daemon

This time, you took him up on it.

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 7 - A Thousand Flowers Could Bloom

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: It was inevitably going to happen...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, mild dom/sub undertones, frottage, dirty talk, light hair pulling and biting, vaginal sex.

Word Count: 4.3k (longest chapter to date, haha, is anyone surprised..)

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, passions between Benedict and reader finally boil over. Yup, yup, the movie fades to black on the sex scene... I am not lolol. Please skip this chapter if you want to keep your reading PG-13/12A rated. There is no real plot here. Sorry it has taken me so long to write this; I got so nervous. Still not sure I like this very much. Thanks to ColetteBronte for the read through. Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

It's a blur as the kiss deepens; Benedict’s tongue glances yours, a tentative swipe before entwining. Something sweeps through your being, throwing you overboard, tossing you into a tsunami wave, your mind reeling as your hands stay limp by your side, still taken by surprise this is happening.

“Ben,” you stutter breathlessly when he withdraws fractionally.

“Don’t,” he growls, “don't you dare use that big brain of yours; just shut up.” His thumb is heavy on your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Just shut the fuck up for once in your bloody life.”

So, for once, you do just that. Letting your hands do the talking, looping around his neck to pull him back to you. That is the permission he needs, and suddenly, you are being spun around and pressed into your own hallway wall, him bearing the whole length of his being into you. You feel like you are drowning in him. He is all you can see, smell, and breathe. 

Then, he obliterates every thought you have. Hunching down mid-kiss, he insinuates a warm thigh between your knees. Then he stands up straight, the meat of his substantial quad muscle snagging the seam of your sleep shorts, your clit mashed into your public bone, throbbing.

You mumble a curse into his mouth as his fingers locate the tab on your hoodie. The only sound is the slow release of the zip as he tugs it down and your own shallow panting over his lips as he does so. He smiles dangerously as the material parts, dropping it off your shoulders to the floor so you stand in tiny shorts and a white vest. 

There is a noise in the back of his throat as his eyes sweep down briefly, lingering on your peaked nipples, then slender fingers wrap around the crest of your hipbones and flex, indicating he wants you to move. To ride the thigh that he has you dangling upon, up on your tiptoes.

“Use me,” he mutters like velvet. “Go ahead.”

“I….” You seem almost incapable of speech, too strung out on the tidal wave of chemicals racing around your body. “…need sex, please,” aware it sounds reedy.

He unwinds your hands from around his neck and pins them to the wall at shoulder height.

“Ride my leg, and then we will have sex,” he orders slowly, a knowing smirk on your cheekbone. “Come on; you don't think I can tell how much you need it?” He places a hot kiss on your skin. “You've been aching to come since you straddled me hours ago; don’t deny it.”

Fuckkkk…. 

This is what his ex, Gen, meant all those years ago. ‘Knees weak, pussy strong’ is how she paraphrased what he could do to her. You thought it was her exaggerating; now you realise it wasn’t. It’s like he’s a different person to the Ben that you know, but fuck if it isn't blisteringly hot.

So when he relinquishes your wrists, you wrap around him again, undulating on his leg, pressing your cheek into his, the friction of the layers of fabric adding to your arousal. It feels so good you speed up, grasping his neck.

“Yes, that’s it,” he pants approvingly in your ear, gripping your hips again in encouragement. With every stroke, you bump against a solid mass in his jeans, which makes you feel frantic and impatient for more. To come, to fuck, to do everything he will let you.

“Ben…” his name like honey, tumbling from your lips in your heightened state. You are too cowardly to lean back and look at him, see yourself reflected in his eyes; it feels too much like admitting this is real. Or perhaps you’re simply worried it will break this fevered spell, that he will put a stop to it, leaving you throbbing and bereft.

“Stop thinking,” he drawls, his breath hot on your temple, intuiting you are disappearing too much into your thoughts again, your pace slowing as you slide on him. He squeezes your hips roughly to the point you squeak. “Do you want me to order you to do it?” the voice lethally low. “Is that what you want?”

“I… I…” words fail. You have no idea. 

He pulls back to cradle your jaw again, tilting your face to look at him. His hazy blue eyes are dilated to inky black, and his lips are flushed dark pink. “Y/n,” slow, sensual, rumbling from his ribcage, his fingertips warm on your cheeks. “When I tell you to do something, I mean it. Do it.” His thumb swipes your bottom lip. “Right now.”

“Help me,” it’s a desperate uncensored whisper.

“What do you need?” He smiles predatorily, his eyes sparkling in the low light.

“Hold me down; be firm,” confessing your desires. “Control me a bit.” You’ve never divulged that proclivity to any past lover, the craving for something with a hint of roughness, a light tussle. And yet, with your best friend, you can’t help but let it tumble out of you.

And perfect, perfect Ben, god, he obliges. 

The hand on your hip digs in as the other slides around the globe of your bottom cheek, and you squeal as he spanks there with a harsh flick.

“I told you to ride my leg,” his directive clipped but somehow still laced with a laid-back bemusement, “so do it.”

It's so perfect you feel an urge to shake him and yell ‘yes’ and ‘this’. But instead, you bite your lip and do as bidden, riding the rough creases in his jeans, letting the texture catch your swollen clit in your thin cotton shorts. It feels so good you shudder, but still, you crave more.

“I want to ride your jeans naked.” Again, you cannot suppress your runaway tongue.

He makes a noise that is almost feral; a sizeable, warm hand slides up your spine underneath your vest, ruching the fabric until it snags on your breasts at the front. Without prompting, you release briefly to strip off the top, then immediately wind around him again like a vine. The soft cotton of his shirt snags delightfully on your nipples, and you can feel his body heat seeping through the thin material. Moaning your approval as his fingers splay wide, touching the sensitive skin of your lower back, right above your shorts.

“Take these off,” he runs a feathery touch above the waistband, the tone gruff and challenging.

He dips slightly and backs away a half pace, just enough to give you room to strip off the last of your clothing. He has not so much as undone a button, but the bulge in his jeans makes you swallow hard as you shimmy off your shorts. He probably wasn't expecting you to be without underwear, based on the noise he makes. You are grateful you have recently trimmed (for a failed date, as it turns out). 

As your shorts hit the floor, he dives in for another mindblowing kiss. And before you know it, you are hauled back onto his thigh, completely naked, the denim feeling so perfect against your aching clit.

“You are so close, aren’t you?” he groans as your heat and wetness seep through his jeans, engulfing his quad. 

All you can do in response is nod, mildly embarrassed, bury your face in his neck and move again in earnest, making faint noises into his skin. The drag of fabric on your engorged clit is so intoxicating you couldn't stop if you wanted to. He murmurs encouragements, touch searing your skin, just this side of painful; you will likely carry his fingermarks tomorrow.

“Come on, that's it,” he encourages, shifting his leg to increase your range of motion, pressing his erection into your hipbone as you crash into him.

Over and over, you ride, getting faster and faster, chasing the high that feels so tantalisingly close, your skin turning dewy with exertion, his body heat enveloping you. You need something to make you break, and he intuits it. One hand slides up your back to grasp the hair at the base of your skull.

“Give it to me,” he orders duskily, an untamed look in his eye, twisting his grip until your hair is taut against your scalp.

Then, the other hand leaves your hip and insinuates between your bodies, grabbing your breast and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The rush of sensation, a little rough, just as you requested, hurls you past the edge you were skating. Convulsing on his leg, he keeps his hold on your hair and nipple as you snap. Eyes rolling closed as you cry his name and curse, coming so hard the world goes fuzzy. Shuddering and shaking, him moving to brace your body upright with him as you writhe.

“That's it, yesssss,” his victorious hiss in your ear is breathy and impressed. 

There are a few moments of silence as you return to the room, so marvellously sated but somewhat mortified about what has just transpired.

“I…. I can't believe I did that,” you mutter into his skin, almost ashamed, even as your body still quivers from the best orgasm you can remember in many months.

“You were amazing,” he reassures into your ear.

“Don't ask me to look you in the eye,” you jest lightly, lips skimming his throat, unwilling indeed to meet his eye.

He chuckles, loosening his hold as he drops a kiss on your forehead.

“Are you honestly asking me to fuck you without looking at you?” he checks light-heartedly.

“I have an eye mask you can borrow,” you offer, giggling.

His responding laugh jiggles your whole body as he shifts to allow you back to your flat feet. Your leg muscles still twitching, still leaning into him for support.

“If you want to play with blindfolds, I am more than game,” he murmurs, cradling your face so you daren’t look away. This closeup and aroused he is a devastating sight, all cheekbones and blown pupils. And partnered with those words, in that hedonic tone, your insides are molten all over again. 

“Me too,” you whisper back.

Before you know it, he picks you up effortlessly and strides across the hallway toward your bedroom door. This is a seismic shift in your friendship, but as he lowers you gently onto your bed, all you feel is elation. Butterflies in your gut as he climbs on top of you, still fully clothed.

“Ben, what do I have to pay to get you naked?” you grumble good-naturedly, tugging at the shirt around his shoulders, your usual banter flaring despite this surprising development.

He laughs as his lips land on your neck, warm and plush, kissing a line down to your collarbone that is all at once too much and not enough. 

“I will get naked if you wear that blindfold you promised,” he jokes, your breath catching as you feel his chin stubble catch on the swell of your breast.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, smiling as he pouts up at you, eyes sparkling. 

The fact that the playfulness is still there makes you feel light as air, floating on feathers, him holding your gaze and slipping lower so the tip of his nose brushes your nipple.

“I was right all those years ago,” he inhales almost lewdly. “You really do have a fantastic pair of tits.” He looks up at you from your chest through heavy lashes with that same deadly lopsided smile from years ago, the one he gave you on the train, and once again, it makes you flush from head to toe.

“Naked Bridgerton, now,” you riposte with faux scolding, raising an eyebrow. 

This would have been a very effective response had he not chosen that precise moment to envelope your nipple into his mouth and suck hard, instead making you call out, eyes fluttering closed as your spine curls up off the bed, the heat and suction perfect. Swirling his tongue around and using an edge of teeth, swapping to the other side to do the same before you open your eyes. Then he kisses his way back up, claiming another fiery kiss. As you go to weakly protest again about him being too clothed, he sits up and whips the shirt off over his head instead of undoing it, throwing it aside as your eyes fall open.

“What the fuck?!” It's an unbidden but honest response to the sight before you. 

In the low light cast by your bedside lamp, he is all defined, sculpted lines—a shape you didn't think real humans came in. He laughs slightly abashed as you keep staring, raising up onto your elbows to drink in the view. You know he is in shape from the feel of his body when you hug him, but just how buff momentarily stuns you. 

“You look like a bloody Michelangelo sculpture,” you declare, compounding his coyness.

“If you keep this up, I'm not taking off my jeans,” he warns demurely, in a voice that is both amused and humble.

You mime zipping your mouth shut and throwing away a key as he leans in laughing and busses a brief kiss on your lips. Your hands map his tapered torso, revelling in the supple, warm skin and contoured, lithe muscles and the catch in his throat as you do so. You pull him down on top of you; the weight and warmth of his naked chest meeting yours makes you hungry in a way you haven't felt for years. Eventually, you reach the waistband of his jeans, circling to the front and rapidly flicking open the button of his fly. He squeaks quietly into your passionate kiss, taken aback by your boldness.

“No going back now,” you warn as you carefully lower the zip of his fly over his straining cock.

“I think that ship sailed when I felt your orgasm on my thigh,” he replies drolly, as your eyes briefly fall to the damp patch you left there, cheeks flushing. 

His bravado falters when you push his jeans down his slim hips, delving inside the back of his underwear to grab the peachy solid mass of his bottom. He groans into your cheek, and his mouth finds yours again. There is a wave of body heat as you shimmy his underwear and jeans down his leg, unseen as you kiss almost artlessly. He takes over, squirming his way out of them until they are also flung off the bed. You don't see his cock, but he presses down onto you as soon as he is naked, and you feel it brand your thigh, sizeable and hot.

“Let me see,” you almost whine, petulant.

He huffs a laugh, grabs your wrist, and guides your hand between your bodies. There, nestled within a patch of lightly trimmed hair, you feel the steely warmth of his cock. 

“Ben,” you stumble out as you encircle the heated mass, feeling a trickle escape your body as you begin to pump him lightly, a thumb swiping the sticky precum at his head, loving the way it makes him stutter and moan into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he sounds winded, pulsing under your fingers.

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, it's been… uhh… ages since someone else touched my cock,” he rushes out, sheepish.

The honesty makes something melt behind your ribs; this wonderful, handsome man, still recovering from heartbreak, has not had sex in so long that you want to give him - your best friend - everything, a need to please him burning bright. Not wishing to dwell on consequences, what any of this might mean after tonight.

“What do you want, Ben?” you query softly as you pump his cock in your fist.

“You,” he answers sweetly, plainly, breathily, “just you.” He tilts his head and sighs into your neck. “It's been so long since I had sex that I'm not certain I can satisfy you. It’s why I made you to come before; I couldn't bear to leave you in need.”

The vulnerable admission, a true friend confiding in another, makes you crave him, this, even more. The glibness of your recent casual hookups thrown into stark relief in this singular moment of intimate honesty. It's what has been missing from sex since your breakup with Tom. The shorthand that comes from knowing someone so well artifice crumbles; them able to see through all the layers you can hide behind with strangers.

“I bet you are better than you think,” the need to reassure seizing you. “The way you took control earlier was exactly what I needed. Then there is this…,” you squeeze his cock a little, “...now I understand why Gen said she would miss you so much,” you add unabashed, enjoying the feel of his unseen demure smile against your jaw. 

“So you liked when I took control?” he queries, shifting the subject.

“Oh god, yes,” you avow, a little frisson racing down your spine at the memory from moments earlier, your grip flexing around his cock as you do so.

“Do you want me to do it again?” his cadence lowers to something more decadent as he removes your hand and traps it on the pillow next to your head.

“Yes, please,” it’s almost too keen.

Again, the noise he makes is an elixir, elation coursing in your veins. His long fingers lacing with yours, holding you down firmly, his mass weightier as he bears you down onto the mattress. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he rumbles, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. Your reply in the affirmative is a shaky exhale, a skitter of excitement across your skin at the very idea. “What was that?” his tone suddenly brusque, pushing up to look down upon you, his eyes boring into yours as he surges his cock, branding your inner thigh.

“Yes,” you enunciate crisply, struggling against his control, even though it’s precisely where you want to be, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as his fingers sink further between yours, stretching your knuckles wide apart. He claims you in a vehement kiss, leaving you whimpering around his invading tongue, the tip of his cock rocking against your clit.

“Tell me you want me,” he orders, breath hot on your face, his hands still pinning you under him.

“I want you,” you answer reflexively, as simple and true as breathing. 

He nuzzles your face, his cock sliding temptingly through your slick folds as you shudder, your pebbled nipples catching on the slab of his pectoral muscles, sighing shakily as he gently bites the shell of your ear. He surges his cock again, this time slipping lower, teasing your entrance, parting you with his tip. You inhale sharply at the warm mass, pressing insistently, not quite at the right angle to slip fully inside yet. 

“Do you still have your IUD?” he asks quietly, the domineering mask slipping momentarily, releasing your wrists. 

“Yes, just get inside me, please,” you respond, soft but fervent, raking fingertips down his back, loving the heated contours that flex as he moves to angle better.

Then, eleven years after you first idly thought of it on that drive down to London from Scotland, Benedict Bridgerton finally slides inside your body. 

A blunt warmth spearing you open in a way that feels so good it makes your throat catch, and your eyes roll back in your head. A curse falls from you as he keeps going, finding your hilt as he bottoms out. The perfect fit, just the right side of an ache as you stretch around him. He exhales raggedly into your cheek and stills.

“Move please,” you implore, greedy for more, grabbing his bottom impatiently.

“Give me a moment,” he appeals, breaking persona again, the heat of his body cloaking yours.

“Please,” you coax gently, “Benedict.” You add, almost as an afterthought, using his formal name as if to underline the seriousness of your request.

He makes a noise and lifts to look down at you. “Call me that again,” he commands gravelly, overwrought.

“Benedict,” you repeat as if a tasty morsel you can’t resist.

He makes a hungry noise and withdraws slightly, surging back into you in a way that has your whole body rolling under him with the force of it. You groan, hands flexing on his body, your tongue pressing into the back of your front teeth, quelling the urge to call out how good it already feels.

Your walls cling to him as he sets a languid but perfect rhythm. Breathing each other's air, exploring damp skin, lips meeting repeatedly in loose, open-mouthed kisses. Once again, he grabs your hands and manoeuvres them above your head, holding you down, stretching your arms so your body cants up, your nipples grazing his chest.

“You have no idea how many times I've fantasised of this moment for so many years,” he rasps, making your breath hitch with his words and a change of angle that catches a new spot inside. “And yet, this is better,” he continues, dropping a kiss in your hair.

“Same,” you confess succinctly.

A triumphant crooked smile claims his face, and then he thrusts forcefully, wringing a loud moan from your lungs, your head smashing into the pillow as your hips tilt up in a silent request for more. Yearning for him to fuck you so hard that you feel a physical reminder; for your body to carry a tangible memory of it. 

“You want more, don't you?” he intuits, pride colouring his tone.

“Yes,” you hiss, conscious he can read you effortlessly. 

He snaps his hips in response, and you feel a tug deep inside where he nudges your hilt. It feels so good you gasp and fight to release your hands from above your head, desperate to grab his bum cheeks again and haul him deeper into you.

“Nuh-uh,” he chides bemused, shooting you a pointed look, “you do as I say, remember?” 

You struggle underneath him, eyes blazing as you stare into his glassy pupils, telegraphing silently this is precisely what you want, making a show until you finally settle and curl your bottom lip under your teeth, nodding meekly as he restarts at a leisurely pace.

“Good girl.” He even winks.

Oh fucking hell.

Your pussy pulses around him, betraying how much you like that line. 

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he smirks, the smug, cocky persona he can slip into so easily fitting him like a glove. The ghost of Benedict-past rearing - that troublesome young playboy you recall from years ago. 

He chuckles richly when you don’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal response, somehow the spectre of your younger, indignant self joining the party, too.

“Don’t forget: I can tell when you’re lying,” he murmurs into your jaw, still fucking you slow and thoroughly, sliding his lips down your neck, your collarbone, down to your nipple that he bites, making you cry out. “I know you of old…” he adds, pausing for you to catch the reference.

“Shakespeare…,” you stumble incredulously.

“Mmm hmm,” he confirms, tracing a teasing circle around your areola with the tip of his tongue.

“You quote Shakespeare while you fuck?!” your tone incredulous. “You don’t fight fair,”

He laughs again before silencing any retort you may have with another heated kiss, entwining your limbs, wrapping like a protective vine around you as he begins thrusting keenly. You move with him, uncaring how vocal you are, the need for more inexorable. You stare into each other's eyes as you move in perfect synchronism, faster and harder, grabbing flesh, whispered words and endless kisses. It’s never been quite like this before.

“Come for me again,” he pleads hotly, and you can see he is teetering close to the edge now, a little vein pulsing in his temple, his neck corded, a sheen over his body where his pace never wavers.

“So close,” you vow, needing just a little more friction to fall into that abyss again.

You groan as he grabs your hand and sucks your fingers into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around them, then releases them with an obscene pop, guiding your wettened fingers between your bodies to the apex of your thighs, silently instructing you to touch yourself. Gasping and canting up into his body, your own slippery touch like a lightning rod on your clit.  He growls as your pussy tightens around him responsively, feeling so huge as he ploughs into you.

Only a few flicks of your fingers and you are hurtling towards mindless bliss, eyes closing and body going taut, then snapping like a string as you peak, every fibre of your body fracturing as you call his name and constrict tight around his cock, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his back as you float somewhere outside your body, mind blanking out in sheer pleasure.

Distantly, you hear him following you over, his grip almost punishing as he takes a few last frantic pumps, then stills, emptying deep inside, chanting your name into your neck as his whole body shudders and collapses on top of you.

As you flop back onto the mattress, your body sated, your thoughts race. Probably the best sex of your damn life. Even as he slides next to you, pulling you into his arms, your mind whirls until your scattered thoughts coalesce into one singular truth that makes you chew on your lip and frettingly stare at the ceiling - it was too good, too tender, too raw and honest for a first time. But all you want to do is repeat it. Over and over and over. Just never let him out of your bedroom. Except this is your best friend, and you have no bloody idea where you stand now.

Well… fuckity fuck.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhelll @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheepp @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

[alcoholfreenayeon]

Don’t Call Me Again

Chaeyoung x Reader

CW: very light fluff, angst

Word count: 900

Synopsis: I regret from the very core of my heart for hurting you this bad, I am sorry.  

AN: Yes I know this is the wrong day for it😭but I feel it’s relevant right now and also because I need a bit more for the other one. I’ll post it tomorrow instead.

You watched as the car door opened and Chaeyoung got out, you couldn’t help but smile, her cute little jump to avoid the puddle, the way she smiled uncontrollably when she spotted you, everything about her was so cute, so perfect. She walked up to you still smiling sheepishly, looking at you for a moment before quickly grabbing you and embracing you in a tight hug. At this point, admittedly you were beginning to feel a bit emotional, but you managed to fight those emotions off, for now at least.

Still holding on to you, she pulled her head back and looked at you, still smiling happily, “It’s been so long”, she said before slumping her head against your shoulder, her tone changing to a more serious one. That stung a little, you knew it had been, usually her tours make you miss her a lot, but you never really considered that she might miss you just as much if not more. After all, she does become quite loving and needy when she’s stressed. Nevertheless, you both finally pull back and Chaeyoung slips her hands into yours and that’s something you can never get tired of.

The two of you walked a little, going towards the spot where you both kissed for the first time. As you both approached it, you began to brace yourself to tell Chaeyoung but before you could, she suddenly let go of your hand and turned. She was walking backwards, unable to stop smiling at you, her cheeks rosy. You were about to tell it her when she suddenly spoke, “Oh! Pretty!”, she exclaimed, plucking a flower off the ground, smelling it, and smiling at you. She then takes a step closer and tiptoes, tucking it behind your ear and kissing your cheek and smiling lovingly at you, her hand lingering on the spot she kissed. She is making this so much more difficult than it needs to be. Is this a mistake? How were you going to tell her that you wanted to break up…

“Chaeyoung…”, you said quietly, beginning to feel tears build up in your eyes, “This is-this isn’t going to work.”

“Huh”, She said, confused by your suddenness, “What are you talking about?”

Why, why is she making you repeat, you already felt like a monster for doing this to her. She didn’t deserve it, she doesn’t deserve this. But you just can’t keep going on like this, having her go off to the other side of the world for months. You know it’s selfish, you know it’s stupid, but you just can’t keep doing this. You want her all the time and it’s clear you won’t get that from her anytime soon. So its best that you end it now before you lose your nerve, before she makes you change your mind, before she makes promises you she wont be able to keep.

“I think we should break up.”, you said in a shaky voice as you felt tears beginning to fall. You didn’t deserve to shed tears, not after what you are doing. “We-we don’t spend enough time together, we can’t go out half the time or places, it’s just too much. I can’t handle it all. I’m done”, you say the last part more harshly than you intended. “I-I am sorry, but I can’t, I love you, I really do but I think it’s better for us”, you blurt out, regretting each word but you had come too far to back out now.

Chaeyoung looked back at you confused, panicked, hurt, betrayed, she tried to reach out for your hand, but you step back, hating yourself more than ever. She didn’t say anything, but you could hear her breath heavily in panic, she looked like she wanted to say so many things to you right now but couldn’t find the words. You see tears building up in her eyes and it’s too much for you. You turn around and speed off, not looking back once because you are a monster, because you are cowardly, because you are weak. You know if you look back, you’ll cry, you’ll beg her to forgive you, to take you back. And Chaeyoung will. She will take you back without any hesitation, she will cry her heart out, she will ask you what she did wrong, what she can do to change, what she can do to stop you from feeling this way. And the truth is nothing. Because she doesn’t need to change. She was, is perfect. It’s you who’s full of fault, full of insecurities, full of weakness. As you sit in your car, you begin to sob, looking at your phone, at your and Chaeyoung’s messages, knowing you need to block her before she texts you. But it’s too late, before you can gather her strength to do that, you receive a text from her, ‘Please don’t go.’. And you close your eyes in pain, what have you done, you hate yourself, you look at the block button and feel your heart pound knowing its now or never, you take a deep breath and make your choice…  

[m-ayo-o]

emoji event: 🎀😖💚 sub!kisuke + pervy f!reader 18+ toy use, SUB M! degradation, oh my lord - wc ~1k

"Kisuke!!" Your voice chimes with the bell as you enter his shop again, waltzing round to the back when you don't see him behind the register.

You open the door to the back room of his shop finding him splayed out on the tatami floor with an arm over his face, the other...

Your eyes trail down his body slowly... To find his hand gripping at his cock.

His clothing is all loose, falling off his shoulders, his pants below his hips.

And, as you study his figure in more detail, you notice some kind of clear, rubbery thing wrapped around his dick.

"Kisuke...?"

Can he even hear you?

"Hnn..."

"What're you doing on the floor, babe?"

You're used to his horny antics, but not quite like this. He must've shooed everyone off to have the place to himself. And you, of course. He knew you'd be coming home at some point.

"New toy... Had to try... It's good..."

He reviews the grippy plastic ring in a few words.

You approach him now, tiptoeing closer to see that he's still rock hard, and there's lube right beside his slumped body.

You kneel beside him and pump some more onto his messy cock, making him shiver and tremble.

"O-o-oh that's cold!!"

Then you reach a hand over to feel his new little toy.

It covers his cock nicely, and clear so he can see the smear of lube rubbing all over him, and it opens up at the end- his tip bulges through with each pump.

"Oh," you smirk, the perverted part of you is glad to see his hips moving.

"This thing's pretty nice, huh?"

"Y-yeah, yeah it's good," he replies, still covering his face.

"C'mere" you lean down and nudge his arm away, pressing a kiss to his lips while you pleasure him.

His face is all hot and pink.

"Adorable," you mutter, admiring this innocent look on your man.

"You looking for trouble, sweetie?"

You know you shouldn't push your luck. But you want to.

"Hmm... How many times did you cum already?"

His body arches up now as he starts to moan softly.

"Don't know..." He replies with a sigh.

Your eyes drink up his body- the way he's letting you do this is getting you so horny. He looks different today. He looks weak. And it's doing something to you.

You watch him struggle to fight back his loud gasps when you add more lube, pumping him steadily with the slick toy. One arm still rests over his forehead, where you see his hand start to open from the fist he held clenched tight.

He loses control of his body, moaning your name and grabbing at your thigh with his other hand.

You see his fingers uncurl to reveal something nestled in his palm.

Something... Familiar.

Pink material... Lacy, with bows.

"Kisuke, honey, what are you doing with those?"

You slow your pumping down, right as he was about to tip over and spill his load.

"Nnggh, no no no don't don't fucking stop-!!"

"Hmm," you get slower still, "tell me what you were doing with my panties and maybe I'll let you cum."

Fuck. You've got him. He bites back a grin, enjoying every second of your confident tone. You learn from the best, after all.

"Was jacking off... Thinking about you," he glances up at you, as if to seek approval. "Had to get your panties, my favourites, from the dirty laundry... To wrap around my cock." He winces when you give him a harder pump, starting to speed up again as you enjoy his little story, your arousal pooling with each dirty admission.

"Started fucking myself with this," he glances down to the toy in your palm, "'n had your panties..." He pulls up the pink lace, reenacting the scene by placing them over his face.

His body jolts, smelling the material, feeling the wet pleasure of the fleshlight over his shaft.

You smile, enjoying this situation way too much.

"You're so filthy, Kisuke."

"I, I am?" He asks with fake surprise, still managing to crack a little smile despite his position.

"Yeah," you look him up and down, "you're a fucking filthy pervert."

Oh my fuck he wants you to talk to him like this more often.

"Uhh, hhuh, I am, yeah," he admits, bobbing his head up and down.

You keep stroking him, the squelching of the toy and his panting making such a nice harmony.

"You're always a perv, staring at me, grabbing my ass, using me like a little fucktoy."

You emphasise each point with a hard pump.

"You're so obsessed with me," you look him up and down, settling on his half lidded grey eyes.

You watch him break, his head nodding in agreement as he starts to shove your panties right over his nose. He inhales deeply, groaning and fucking into the toy without inhibition.

"Fucking shameless, aren't you?"

"Uhh huh, baby," his voice trembles.

"Bet you wish this thing was my pussy instead- which one feels better, hmm?"

"Your pussy your pussy feels better, oh, oh my god-"

"So loud, baby, the whole fucking neighbourhood's gonna hear," you chastise, really picking up your pace now with another squirt of lube.

"Does my icky little boy wanna cum now?"

He nods and makes a sound you've only ever heard from your own lips.

"Nnggh, hhnn-" he whimpers and nods.

"You're so gross"

He nods again.

"Pervert, aren't you?"

"Nyhhh-"

You need to hear him.

"Say it. Tell me how filthy you are."

"'m a fucking pervert for you, you, you drive me crazy- get me so hard makes me s-so fucking horny when I think about you, have to touch you, feel you, need you- fuck, needed your smell, the smell of your pussy, oh god, makes- makes me fucking... Nhgg, cum, so hard-"

"My pervy boy, hmm," you muse and stroke him to delusion, watching his dick pump out his white mess all over his abs.

He hums your name over and over, his head thrown back on the floor with his legs spread, hips slowing with the flow of his hot ropes.

And, slowly but surely, he comes down, that familiar smirk replaced on his lips in seconds.

"D'you enjoy that?"

You giggle, a little nervously, watching him sit up, assuming his position above you once again.

"Mhm..." you nod, noticing the intimidating glint in his eyes. There's no way he's going to let you get away with this unscathed.

"Think you're more of a pervert than me."

"Sure!" You scoff.

"Mm, and I think it's your turn now."

He finally pulls the sticky toy off his spent cock, tugging up his pants and starting to stand.

"Come on, up you get."

And he takes you to the bedroom, explaining that he needs to remind you who's in control here.

The softness of his voice does nothing to quell your nerves, seeing him pick up benihime from the cane stand in the hallway.

You know it's sick, but you can't help but feel excited. Perhaps you really are more of a perv than Kisuke.

bleach | m.list

do not ask where this came from... ty

[avanatural]

Mini Date

Summary: Based on 12x22 “Who We Are.” Y/N vowed to herself that she’s done with meaningless hookups. And Dean vowed to himself that, when the time is right, he is going to give her more than that. But what happens when their time is running out?

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Angst, fluff

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Impending death, injuries, cursing

A/N: I’ve been planning to write about the trapped-inside-the-bunker scenario from season 12 for a long time. Here it is! I hope you like this story. If you wanna be added to my Dean Winchester tag list, send me an ask 💗

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

His smooth voiced stroked her eardrums with a gentle feather’s touch. The gravely tones filled her chest with confetti. Lifted her up into the sky. Everything was so damn easy with him. Too easy.

“Dean…,” she scolded, briefly throwing her head back. Her nostrils were high on his scent. He was so close to her that she was about to choke on his welcoming, rugged essence.

“What?”, he chuckled, his denim-wrapped knee cheekily bumping into hers.

They were having a little post-hunt celebration at a local bar. As soon as the monsters had left the picture, sparks had begun to fly left and right. Just as usual.

Dean and Y/N had tiptoed around each other for years. Going on the occasional hunt together, celebrating their victories, cracking jokes, getting somewhat handsy. But their risky antics had never been taken to the next level. So far, at least. As soon as their little seduction dance came to an end, they would go separate ways and try to forget the other. Until their reckless paths crossed again.  

Now, pleasantly tipsy, the two of them were sitting on a cushioned booth in the back of the bar.

When Y/N’s head came back down, there were only a few torturous inches separating their faces. “Don’t do this to me,” she whispered, gaze drawn to his juicy lips. How could she not imagine kissing them? There was no way to ignore the carnal urge to join their mouths, not when he was this close.

“What?”, he inquired, casually draping his arm over the backrest behind her torso. The rough pads of his fingers grazed her upper arm. He was playing dumb. It was written all over his chiseled face.

The tingly sensations on her upper arm gave Y/N goosebumps. His touch was subtle and tender, but definitely no accident. “You’re charming me,” she said. Her accusation was weak. The voice in her throat didn’t stand a chance against the force that was Dean Winchester’s appeal.

“Oh, am I?” His grin widened, lips parting to reveal his white teeth.

“Mh-hm.” Her fingers disappeared between the short hair at the side of his head while her thumb caressed his cheekbone. He was strikingly gorgeous, even when his body was adorned with mud and bruises from their latest hunt. “Big time.”

Her touch sucked some of Dean’s confidence out of his spirit. The tenderness of her thumb made their connection feel surreal. Almost like a warning. Like she was threatening to make him fall for her for more than one night. The grin that dimpled his reddening cheeks turned into a boyish smile. “You want me to stop?”, he questioned.

“I don’t know,” Y/N sighed, sobering up slightly. She withdrew her hand and lost the warmth he radiated. “Listen, I… I promised myself I wouldn’t do this anymore.”

Dean pulled away a bit, creating some distance between them to study her expression as a whole. “Do what?”, he asked, irises moving from side to side as he observed her.

“You know what I’m saying.”

The deep green jewels on his face stumbled along her features. In slow motion, he captured his bottom lip between his teeth and dragged it through. “You’re talkin’ about hookups.”

“Yeah.”

“What changed?”, he wondered, his hand seeking out her thigh. His caress wasn’t a means to persuade her. No, it was a means to provide her with comfort.

“I’m just…” She shrugged her shoulders, searching for the right words to reflect what she was feeling. Her palm found the back of his hand on top of her thigh. “Tired of getting hurt, I guess. I want… More. I wanna be special.”

“You are special,” he declared without hesitation.

A sad smile rushed across Y/N’s heated face. She shook it off with another shrug, suppressing the bewitched giggle that was about to flee her mouth. “That’s what they all say.”

“You know I can’t-“ He paused and huffed, heart quivering against his ribcage. “I can’t give you-“

“I know.” She applied reassuring pressure to his hand. “You gotta protect yourself, too.”  

Dean delivered a sheepish tilt of his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “So, uh… I guess this is where I back off.”  

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he mumbled softly. He averted his gaze for a second, slowly nodding to himself as he processed the fact that their little game of flirts had come to an end. Once he looked back up at her, the sorrow in his expression was replaced by understanding. “You deserve better.”

The muscular organ in Y/N’s chest clenched and groaned against her rib cage. Dean was such a good guy. But he’d told her a long time ago he didn’t feel comfortable doing the whole dating thing. “You think we can start this conversation over?”, she hoped out loud.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he claimed, feigning confusion, “I should probably take it down a notch and switch to beer. Already can’t remember what we just discussed.”

Y/N smiled, grateful for his laid-back reaction. She slid across the booth and stood up. “Next round’s on me.”

As soon as she turned her back, about to approach the bar, a force unknown to Dean made him speak up again. “Hey, Y/N.”

She spun on her feet, brows moving up towards her hairline. Some of the tension returned to her body, making her straighten her back.

He ignored the violent racing of his pulse as he vowed, “One of these days, I’m gonna man up. Take you on a date.” The corners of Dean’s mouth briefly curled downward. He looked at the small, empty shot glass in front of him. What the hell was he doing? Rejecting Y/N and making a pass at her at the same time? Postponing a mistake? Postponing something great? “Even if it’s the last thing I do,” he added, looking up at her with sincerity in his gaze, wishing that they would stand a chance one day.

Y/N froze and stared back at him, stunned by what he’d just said. Dean had always been honest and straightforward with her. His promise made her think that, perhaps, they could actually try one day. After a few seconds of silence, she nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”

They shared another lasting glance. A glance so intense that it felt like it was just the two of them in the entire bar. Just two hunters and the invisible barrier between them that was built up from longing and fear.

Exhaustion. Fear. Sweat. Pain.

Impending suffocation.

“Fuck,” Y/N croaked a broken curse through her dry throat and lowered her pickaxe to the floor. She couldn’t muster any more strength.

“Ugh,” Dean grunted, delivering one last blow to the concrete wall before, too, giving up. In a sudden rush of blood, his heavy arms tossed his pickaxe to the floor with loud clattering thuds.

Their efforts seemed useless. They pulled the safety goggles from their heads, leaving their hair just as disheveled as their minds.

“Shit,” Y/N mumbled, turning around and dropping to the floor, back resting against the wall.

“Yeah.” He slid to the ground beside her, breathing labored.

The British Men of Letters had cooked up a devious plan to get rid of the Winchesters once and for all. They had trapped Sam, Dean, Toni and Y/N in the bunker, completely cut off from the outside world. The oxygen pumps had been reversed. Slowly but surely, the air was getting thin.

“I can’t believe this,” Y/N whispered to herself. The back of her t-shirt was drenched with sweat. Her arms felt like jelly. And every single breath took her one step closer to suffocation.

“Son of a bitch…” Dean’s hands pulled on his short hair. He was trained to function in high-stress situations, sure, but this? He hadn’t felt this powerless in a long time. He was a fighter. But how could you fight a lack of air? When he peeked to the side, he could see that Y/N had shut her eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The sound of Dean’s guilty voice coaxed her into opening her eyes back up. “You didn’t know this was gonna happen,” she stated. And she meant it. He couldn’t have known. But her compassion for his bad conscience didn’t stop the trembling in her voice. It didn’t stop the immense mortal fear of death that was shaking her to the core.

“You know… It’s kinda ironic.” Dean frowned a bitter scowl and licked his drying lips. “This… is my worst damn nightmare.” He rubbed his scratchy palms against each other, brows crooked. He avoided glancing at her by staring down at his dirty hands. “Gettin’ you killed.”

At his confession, burning tears sprung to Y/N’s eyes. So far, neither of them had spoken about their awaiting deaths out loud. To hear him mention it just made it all the more real. “Dean…”  

Holding his breath for a second, Dean attempted to keep himself from crying. But holding back his distress only made his chest tighten even harder. “It’s what I’ve been tryin’ to avoid by not dating you,” he went on, his voice quiet and incredibly soft to her ears, “And it’s exactly where we ended up. God, I’m such an idiot.” Finally, after speaking his mind, he managed to shift his gaze and look right at Y/N. “I hate myself for that,” he whispered, too defeated to speak any louder.

“I don’t,” she replied. The tears were still stinging in her eyes. She tried not to let them fall. She couldn’t do that to Dean. “I could never hate you. It’s just…” A coughing sound forced its way through her throat. “There’s no monster to fight. There’s nothing we can do except trying to break these walls. I didn’t… I didn’t expect it to end this way.”

“Me neither.”

She extended her hand to him, and he wound his fingers around hers without missing a beat.

“Where will we go?”, she thought out loud, “Heaven or hell?”

His head met the wall behind him, and he shook it, letting the back roll against the concrete. “If you get sent to hell, I’m personally bustin’ your ass outta there. No matter where I’m at.”

A chuckle took over Y/N’s face, making her eyes narrow, causing a few tears to escape her hold. The salty drops left cracks in the dirt stains on her cheeks. “If there’s anyone I can imagine doing that, it’s you, Winchester.”

Dean found himself grinning along. He examined her face, taking in every single second of her little smirk. If he was going back to hell, he was going to need this memory.

“So… This is a dead end,” Y/N sighed and reluctantly retreated her hand.

“Well…” He frowned, already missing her warmth. Dean wished he’d offered all of his broken self to her whilst he’d still had the chance. “Let’s see if Sammy came up with a magical escape route.”

“One can only hope, right?”

“Yeah.”

They shared another lasting glance. A glance so deep that they could see the light in each other’s souls. Despite knowing each other for years, they hadn’t gotten to share much of their lives with each other. Spending a few days at a time together, hunting, flirting, then going separate ways and wondering if anything was ever going to happen between them.

If they weren’t granted a life together, at least they got to die together.

“Y/N?”

At the familiar sound of Dean calling her name, she looked up from the book she was hunched over in the scarcely lit library. The spiky-haired hunter was standing on the small set of stairs that led into the hallway, wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

“Can you come ‘ere for a sec?”, Dean asked, scanning the library for Sam and Toni, who were stealing glances from their respective research corners.

Y/N’s head tilted with curiosity. Dean had disappeared for about fifteen minutes. She wondered if he’d found anything useful. Anything life-saving. Was that even likely at this point? Was she hallucinating? “Yeah. Of course.” As she got up from her chair, he slowly reached for her, extending his bulky arm like a safety net. Shit, what if she was really hallucinating? As soon as she was within reach, Dean placed his hand on the middle of her back, making her release a breath of relief. Thank God – this was real. He wasn’t some ghost-like reaper who was coming to take her away.

Dean proceeded to guide Y/N to the dimly lit kitchen. He could tell she was getting weaker. Slower. So was he. Their lives were fading, ripped from their grasp by an invisible danger. Dean had already spoken to Sam. About the possibility of dying. In a strange way, the older Winchester brother was glad that two of the people he cared for the most were going to be with him during his final moments. He knew that was selfish. But he found a sense of comfort in the idea.

“What’s going on?”, Y/N questioned, feeling antsy.

In response, he rubbed affectionate circles into her back. “You’ll see.” What Dean wanted the most right now was to give her a few more smiles. And to keep his promise. He was a man of his word, after all.

Their two sets of boots crossed the threshold into the bunker’s kitchen together.

“What is this?”, Y/N asked with crumpled brows, studying the room.

There was a red-and-white checkered blanket draped over the small kitchen table. On top, there were two bottles of beer and a few bowls filled with leftover snacks. Skittles, potato chips, gummy bears. There was also a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, served on a plate, cut in half.

“This is…,” Dean trailed off and scratched the back of his neck. “A mini date, I guess.”

“A mini date?”, she echoed, turning to look at him.

“I told you I was gonna take you on a date,” he repeated his bar promise and stepped in front of Y/N. “Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Pang. A heavy stone of grief and gratitude dropped down to Y/N’s stomach, aggressively squeezing its way through her body. She half-expected the bittersweet emotions to drag her down through the floor and into another dimension. “Dean…,” she said with fresh drops of tears in her eyes.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago.” His facial muscles twitched as he willed himself to remain calm and collected. “I know it’s- it’s probably dumb, but-“

“I love it.”

“You do?”

“Honestly?” No one had ever done anything as romantic for her. For the first time in a long time, she felt special. It was exactly what she’d been craving. And Dean was giving it to her one final time. Her heart bloomed and shattered at the same time, the pointy shards carving his name into her very soul. “I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

The corners of his mouth crawled upwards. His smile was sad, but his eyes were brimming with utter adoration. “What’s stoppin’ you?”

She reciprocated his smile and lifted her head farther up to kiss him. Their lips met with gentle impact, and everything else around them turned into dust. Chills spread along their arms and necks, and a pleasant heat seeped into their bones. Their world finally fell into place.

Despite the excitement that was overthrowing Dean’s desperation, a pained expression took over his face. His forehead furrowed and he pushed his eyelids together as he attempted to hold on to their moment. His aching hands found Y/N’s lower back and pressed her more tightly against him. Just then, he could feel the wetness on his cheeks. He couldn’t tell whom the falling tears belonged to. And it didn’t matter. At last, they were one.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed when they pulled away. They stayed in place, unwilling to let go of each other.

Even with sweaty clothes, ruffled hair and dirt on her cheeks, Y/N was the most beautiful woman Dean had ever laid eyes on. A treasure that he wished he’d openly appreciated the way she deserved. “Holy crap, Y/N…” His trembling mouth grinned at her. His green orbs were filled with liquid regret as he delivered his million-dollar smirk. “You’re a fucking bombshell.”

She chuckle-sniffled against him, accidentally squeezing out more tears. When Dean moved in for another kiss, his words sank into her fried brain, giving her an idea. Before his lips could claim hers, she put her hands on his shoulders and abruptly stopped him. “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“The bunker…” Inquisitive lines appeared on her wrinkling forehead. “Does it have an armory?”

Dean’s emerald orbs narrowed as he tried joining her train of thought. “Yeah.”    

“Do you have grenades?”, she blurted.

His body froze. Her question rang through his mind for a few seconds. “Actually…” His facial expression suddenly changed from bewildered to optimistic. His hope was shining so bright that Y/N saw an imaginary floating light bulb switch on above his head. “We have somethin’ better.” He grasped the back of her neck and joined their lips for a firm, lasting peck. “You’re a genuis, sweetheart.”

“Dean? Dean!”, she called out as loudly as she could. Holding on to the railing, she hobbled down the metal stairs to the concrete wall that Dean had just blown up with his grenade launcher.

Sam was hot on her heels, eager to check on his older brother.

Their heavy, lumbering steps led them towards the wrecked remains of the wall, through the clouds of dust that were sitting in the air.

Dean was nowhere in sight.

Initially, Y/N’s spirits dropped when she couldn’t see him anywhere. Whenever they were in danger, she needed him close. There was no rest until she made sure that he was okay.

Then, suddenly, the lights on the high ceiling were switched back on. Both Sam and Y/N stopped in their tracks and squinted at the dusty hole in the wall.

Shortly after, the air vents started to whir again. The hunters smiled in unison as they realized that they could finally breathe properly. Breath after breath of life was inhaled into their deprived lungs.

The bunker was safe again, and Dean had to be the reason. Meaning that he was going to be fine. Y/N could sense it. She slumped forward as if the heaviest of weights were being lifted from her shoulders.

Calling out for Dean, Y/N and Sam stumbled back up the stairs, right past Toni, who rolled her eyes at their impatient demeanor. As soon as they entered the war room, they exhaled happily, chests heaving with relief.

There, propped against the railing at the top of the stairs, stood Dean. He wore a tired grin on his grimy face.

Y/N exchanged a look with Sam, who gave her a nod and gestured for her to go up first.

As she trudged up the metal stairs to her long-time crush, she stared at him in awe. He’d actually made it. He’d saved them all. With a fucking grenade launcher. That man was truly a force to be reckoned with. She opened her arms, intending to hug him, but paused when she spotted the messy blood-patterns on his leg. His jeans were ripped, and a fleshy wound was spread across his knee and shin.

“You’re hurt,” she said with a scowl, slowing down her movements.

“I’ve had worse.” Dean gritted his teeth through the pain and reached for her. “Come on.” He didn’t have to wait another second before Y/N melted into his arms. He held on as firmly as he possibly could. For years, he’d flirted with her, but he’d kept her at arm’s length emotion-wise. And it took almost getting her killed for him to step out of his comfort zone.

Their embrace was tight and, ironically, it was on the verge of suffocating. It was a promise to start over. Another chance. A new beginning.

Unrestrained laughter began to pour from Y/N’s mouth. Her torso vibrated against Dean’s sweaty t-shirt. She felt like she was high on life. Or maybe on love. She didn’t quite know. And frankly, she didn’t care.

Dean pulled back slightly, wondering why she was laughing. “What?” The sounds erupting from his sore throat carried a grain of amusement. She was radiating comfort and composure, passing her calmness on to Dean, who knew they still had a tough fight to fight. But she was infecting him with a sweet disease. A disease that made him believe they actually stood a chance.

“If that was a mini date, I wonder what a full date would look like for us,” she snorted.

The wrinkles around Dean’s eyes deepened as he laughed along. “Tell you what. Once we dealt with those sons of bitches, I’mma take you on a full date. No tears, and sure as hell no death. Just the two of us, lots of fresh air, and some greasy dinner.” His brows arched slightly as he anticipated her response.

Y/N bit her lip. Her eyes were starting to water again. She felt like an emotional mess, but that was okay. She had no idea how they were going to deal with the British Men of Letters, but she was willing to remain optimistic. She was willing to wait. And one thing was clear as day to her – she was not going to leave Dean’s side. No more tiptoeing around each other.

Her palm grazed his forearm and slid down his skin until her fingers were intertwined with his. “I guess you’re stuck with me, Winchester.”

“Right back at’cha, Y/L/N.”

Tag list: @eevvvaa​ @waynes-multiverse​ @myloversgone​ @deandreamernp​ @akshi8278​  @lyarr24​ @flamencodiva​ @alagalaska​ @libre1rose8​ @katbratsupernaturalwhore​ @woodworthti666​ @deanwanddamons​ @awkward-and-indecisive​ @snowlovespie​ @desimarie12​ @golden-hoax​ @leigh70​ @mimzy1994​ @impalaslytherin​ @globetrotter28​ @spnwoman​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @may85​ @100percentserenity​ @tmb510​ @roseblue373​ @iamsapphine​ 

[jaelaxies]

𝟕:𝟎𝟕 𝐚𝐦

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

fluff; wc.: 476.

Kim Jiwoong x fem reader!; fluff fluff; established relationship and skinship; tw: none.

Song recommendation: You’re Beautiful — The Rose (Dual)

Nobody expected this. It was, indeed, a sight to see.

Kim Jiwoong, the tall gorgeous “mysterious” man who every girl in this faculty would drop everything for, was standing like a giant puppy with an enormous lovesick grin while you buttoned his coat, which he had unbuttoned on purpose on the way here, just to see your focused expression: the way you pursued your lips together and bit your tongue a little bit, the soft lines on your forehead and the lovely smile you gifted him when you were done. Your height difference made everything just so much funnier and cuter at the same time, because to thank you with a soft kiss on the forehead, he had to lean down a bit but that gave him the perfect excuse to whisper something only the two of you could hear; making your cheeks go dusty rose and his eyes crinkle with pure joy, his ears matching your colored cheeks.

—I really won the lottery in my past life, babe — As you recovered yourself from the cheesy remark, your hand immediately pinched his cheek, even though softly, he laughed at your weak attempt to get revenge.

—You did, indeed. — Carefully you draped your own scarf around his neck, finishing it in a bow. Red really suited Jiwoong but it was your soft strawberry scent emanating from the fabric and the sweet but firm tone of your words what made his heart race a mile per minute. — But I must admit I am a pretty lucky girl too… I have the cutest boyfriend ever. 

You tiptoed and pecked him on the lips, rushing him to enter the classroom for his final; but Jiwoong stood there smiling like an idiot and wondering what on earth did he do to deserve your pure and honest love; to him, you were too much of a woman and sometimes he just seemed like an idiot beside you; but it was never the case for you, who carefully grabbed his hand, brought it to your lips and kissed it softly; proudly showing him his new “good luck charm” the stain from your lipstick, which was one of his favorites. — Whatever the result is, I’m already proud of you, ok? No worries, you’ll do great. I believe in you!

When he was finally about to enter, he rushed to your position and softly cupped your cheeks pecking your lips so quickly, you barely felt the contact; before disappearing again through the door with a wide grin showing his pearly white teeth. You reached for your lips and smiled too, some way and somehow, he always needed to kiss you last, but it didn’t matter too much, because right now, the lavender haze that was your head was filled with thoughts of your boyfriend and how happy you were to have him by your side.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა finally i can write about my bias!! The way i blush everytime i think about this man... take me to delulu station right now.

tmi: If you're a fellow zerose, who is your bias? im very curious, also i like to know more friends in this fandom because it's a blast ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Because it's also my first time writing for him i thought something sweet and fluffy was perfect for the ocassion i think i managed to do it, but still feedback is always appreciated ♡

Btw, I'm currently working on a project involving fantasy... it's for a member of enhypen... can you guess who?

Anyways, thank you all so much for all the love and support!

I promise to put even more effort in creating joyful projects for you guys to read, love yall ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

With all the love in the world,

ੈ✩‧˚✧˖°࿐Stella!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

[luv4fandoms]

D'you ever just like.... Binge read an entire blog and start uglysobbing. Because that's me with your works.

The fact that you write for Dwayne (Lost Boys) legit had me weak. I have been in love with this mofo since I was like 14 (and I'm 27 now, so if that's not dedication idek what is) and you... FED ME. And your take on Dwayne is legit how I imagined him, like isn't it just fantastic when you read a fanfic that just makes your brain go "DING DING DING DING JACKPOT" that's me with your Dwayne content, I wanna cry.

If I may, but like please ignore this suggestion if it doesn't inspire you ... I am short af, like 4'11"(1.50m) kinda short, and I am kinda curious... How would Dwayne feel about that? Like how would he act around a very short partner? Is he the teasing type, the protective type, the "ur adorable" type... Does he have a size kink? Would he develop one? ;v;

Again, please just ignore this part of my message if you don't feel inspired by this little suggestion/idea/thing!

And plz keep posting your stuff because your blog legit helped me get out of a very nasty depressive episode and I cannot thank you enough for this!

First off let me just say that I am so freaking honored! Like holy crap! Dwayne the one boy I struggled to write when I first started writing about them, and to hear someone say that I nailed him perfectly to how they imagined him is just 🥹🥹. I'm also so glad that my stories helped you out of your depressive episode. As someone who has them herself I always wanna be able to help others through theres.❤️

Now on to the ask! (Never written a short reader before because I myself am 5'7-5'8 but I'mma try lol)

Warning: HINTS AT SMUT AT THE END

Dwayne is all three types when it comes to his shorter s/o. He's protective upon meeting you because in his mind, your height makes you more vulnerable to things, even if you are a little spitfire (like Marko) in his mind he still needs to use his own height to protect you. He will be your sword AND shield so you don't need to worry.

He also finds you absolutely adorable, especially when you have to ask him for help to reach stuff, it's no secret amongst the boys that Dwayne loves to be needed, it's like a drug to him, so that being said, he will be a cheeky shit at times and put stuff he knows you'll want, higher up so you have to come to him, with that adorable pout and ask in the sweetest voice.

"Dwayne can you help me?"

Cause you don't even know that you already have him wrapped around your finger.

He won't start teasing until you're a little ways into the relationship. It starts with little things, asking in a teasing voice "need something baby?" Other times it's "it's so cute when you stand on your tiptoes to kiss me. On more than one occasion he has easily lifted you up so you are at eye level with him, smiling that teasing smile and saying "there, isn't this easier baby? No need to strain your neck".

He loves how when you're out on the boardwalk he can wrap you in his arms, chin resting atop your head and feel like he is totally shielding you. How your body fitting so snuggly in his arms.

He never thought he had a size kink until he met you, but he soon realized he was wrong. The way his hand will totally eclipse yours when he holds them, how he can easily cup your cheeks and pull you close, his lips bruising your smaller ones. How easily you fit into his lap, either just relaxing so he can read to you, or during...other times.

That was another area his newly found kink came in. Seeing you taking him every time has his head reeling because he honestly is shocked when you take him. It always leaves him gasping and groaning, eyes locked on where you're joined, unable to look away.

Overall Dwayne will absolutely cherish you! Because you are his Princess/Prince and he would do absolutely anything for you ❤️

[headfullofpresley]

Try it out

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 2,5K

Warning(s): SMUT!!!, pure filth I tell you, very detailed oral (m. receiving), kissing after oral, smoking, cursing, (attempt to) swallow, my bad sense of humor, reader is not shy, 1950s Elvis (yes, this is a warning bc he makes me sin), handjob (f. receiving).

Author’s note: Lord have mercy on my soul - I wrote this literally an hour ago. It’s 4 am now, rip. So keep that in mind when you read this, because it’s shit, but it definitely had me hot and bothered thinking ‘bout it. Didn’t really know how to end this, so the ending is a little... meh. n e ways, hope you’ll enjoy this piece of filth nonetheless!

You sat patiently on the edge of your bed, eyes glued on the clock that hung above your dresser ─ even in the weak dim of your bedside lamp, you were still able to make out the movement of the hour hand on the clock.

One minute before it would strike 1 o’clock and one minute before you’d see the headlights of your boyfriends’ car flashing through your bedroom window.

Excitement grew inside of you more and more and you were literally counting down the seconds. Even though you had only been dating Elvis for a few weeks, this had become one of your usual routines. Your parents weren’t very fond of their only daughter dating some greaser with his head up in the clouds, meanwhile your older brother was allowed to go out whenever he wanted and date who ever he wanted. Granted, he was the straight A student and you’d rather spend your time skipping classes to go shopping with your girlfriends or do things to your boyfriend that would simply be considered nothing but a sin by your parents.

Like clock work, lights from across the street started flashing on and off.

Four times.

You knew it was him right away and jumped up from your bed, tiptoeing around to make sure the pillows underneath your blankets were situated in the right way. You even bought a wig at the mall for this little routine you and your boyfriend had grown accustomed to. It matched your hair color perfectly and if your parents suspected anything, they had never confronted you with it.

You turned off your light, letting Elvis know you were still awake and on your way. Luckily, the house you lived in was only one story, but you still hated having to make the small climb out of the window. Your brothers’ room was right next to yours and it wouldn’t be the first time he caught you ─ he wasn’t a deep sleeper like your parents were. He always kept his mouth shut though, because you had enough dirt on him to spill, things that he did not want your parents knowing.

Your let yourself land on the grass as quietly as possible, leaving your window slightly cracked open so you wouldn’t lock yourself out in the middle of the night like an idiot. Skilfully, you manoeuvred your way through the front yard, avoiding the flowers your mother had worked so hard on to let grow.

‘‘You wanna eat somethin’ first?’’ he asked, nodding to the diner up the road that you two would pass every time you’d sneak off to your own special spot. You hummed softly in thought, but shook your head, pulling your legs up the seat. ‘‘No, I’m fine. Maybe after,’’ you told him and as you looked at each other, you shared a knowing grin.  

‘‘There she is,’’ your boyfriend grinned, equally as excited as you, as you opened the door of the passengers’ side of his pink Cadillac.

You shushed him with a laugh, climbing in the car and very softly closing the door once you were seated, making sure you wouldn’t wake any of your nosy neighbors up. Once the door was closed and the world was shut out, you turned to your boyfriend and smiled brightly.

‘‘Hi handsome,’’ you greeted him, leaning over to him to plant a kiss on his soft plumb lips. You pulled back quicker than he liked, laughing softly at him as he wanted to chase your lips for some more sugar.

‘‘E, not here! Drive,’’ you told him with a giggle and he slipped his hand between your thighs, his fingertips burning on your bare legs.

‘‘Why not, baby? Could be hot,’’ he said jokingly, wiggling his eyebrows a little as he leaned in to you. Before his hand could reach the bottom of the shorts you were wearing and his lips could reach yours, you swatted his hand away with a laugh and pushed him back in his seat.

He rolled his eyes playfully, laughing as he put his left hand back on the wheel, shifting gears as he drove away from your house. Once the car had left your street, he pushed his foot down on the gas pedal and you reached your hand out to his head, fingers running through his freshly dyed locks.

He looked at you for a second, lips rising into a loving smile as he leaned into your touch a little bit.

Your heart swelled at the sight, breathing out a soft content sigh. Though his eyes were back on the road, the smile never left his face and he took your hand out of his hair, bringing it to his lips instead. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach when he placed soft kisses on your knuckles, keeping your hand against his lips as he drove. You wished you could take a picture of him in this moment and carry it with you everywhere you’d go.

Elvis pulled up to the small parking lot at Martyrs Park, a waterfront park with a great view of the Mississippi River and the Harahan bridge. It was beautiful and the place held great memories for you, but right now, your mind was focused on one thing and one thing only.

Once Elvis killed the engine of the Cadillac, you were all over each other. You had seen him two days ago and talked to him for over thirty minutes on the phone this morning, but to you it felt like it had been days.

Weeks even.

You spend all your free time thinking about him when he wasn’t in your presence, and he wasn’t any better. He could barely focus on work anymore or talk about anything other than you.

Whenever he sang, he sang about you. It was driving everyone around him crazy, but he just couldn’t get himself to give a damn.

His hands were all over you and yours were all over him, tugging at his hair and sliding down his neck and chest. The kiss you shared was heated and a bit sloppy, feeding each other small moans and grunts. You arched further into him as you felt his hands squeeze your breasts eagerly, though you could tell he was impatient as they didn’t stay there very long, moving to your shorts instead.

His fingertips were quick to flick open the few buttons, but before he could slip his hand in between your skin and the fabric, you grabbed his wrist. Breaking the kiss, you looked at him and smiled sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

‘‘I wanna go first,’’ you told him, pushing him back in his seat before your hands were already undoing his pants.

He looked at you with wide eyes and you just smiled, admiring how kissed his lips looked, slightly stained with your soft pink lipstick.

‘‘Baby, you don’t have to.. Let me go fir-’’ his words were cut off as you slipped your hand in his underwear, not wasting any time as you wrapped your small hand around his cock. He gasped softly and lifted his hips off of the seat a little, sliding his pants and underwear further down.

You looked down at his cock in your hand, biting your lip at the sight of some pre cum dripping down shaft. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the way your manicured nails looked so pretty in their current position.

Moving your hand up, you caressed your thumb over the tip to spread some of that pre cum around and Elvis moaned softly, his eyes watching you the entire time.

You remembered how shy you had been doing this the first time with him, but he was always so sweet and good to you, that you were used to his curious eyes by now. You liked when he was watching you and making those pretty little sounds, letting you know you were making him feel good.

You leaned in closer to his face and captured his lips with your own, deepening the kiss as soon as you felt his tongue hot against yours. Your hand picked up speed a little, your nails softly caressing his balls every time your hand came down. His moans were growing steadily and you were swallowing every single one of them, moving to sit on your knees in the seat to make for a better position for what you were planning to do.

Pulling back from the kiss once more, he sunk his teeth into his lowerlip and looked at you with droopy eyes, making your walls tighten around nothing pathetically.

God, he was so gorgeous.

You flashed him a sweet smile before you leaned down, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his cock. You ignored the slightly salty taste of his pre cum on your lips and looked up at him, wanting to see his reaction when your wrapped your lips around the tip and sucked on it softly. He moved his hands to your hair to create a makeshift ponytail to keep your hair out of your face, before he leaned his other arm on the side of the door again. You sank down further, taking him in even deeper.

When he let out a deep mixture of a moan and grunt and threw his head back, it only motivated you to continue.

You closed your eyes, concetrating as you took him in completely, your throat clenching a little as you could feel his tip against the back of your throat. You tried not to gag, even though you doubted he’d mind. Your movements were slow as you deep throated him a few seconds and even though you were proud of yourself for making him feel good doing so, it wasn’t something you could keep up with for long.

Bringing your head back up, you flattened your tongue against the shaft before swirling it around the tip. You wrapped your hand around him again and took him back in your mouth, speeding up your actions a bit more as you now had your hand to help you with the deed.

‘‘Yes, yes.. fuck, Y/N,’’ he looked down at you again, his fingers coming to a halt as his cock twitched in your hand and he didn’t have to say anything  for you to know what was about to come. Your hand picked up speed a little and you enjoyed the sight of the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening, making you move back up and take him back in your mouth. ‘‘Baby, n-no, I’m.. I’m gonna-’’

‘‘Jesus.. C-Christ,’’ he breathed out as he looked back down at you again, letting go of your hair to move his hand down your shoulder blades and back and into your shorts. He raised a surprised eyebrow as he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear and you looked up at him, smiling around him in response.

‘‘Naughty girl,’’ he grinned playfully, shooting you a quick wink before his hand dipped down further in between your legs.

When he felt how wet you already were for him, he slipped in a finger and you moaned around his cock. The vibrations of your moan made him gasp and he looked down at you, bucking his hips up a little. ‘‘Do that again, baby, please,’’ he nearly begged, his finger sinking into you deeper and it automatically caused you to let out another moan around him.

He cursed loudly and it didn’t take you two long to match each others’ rhythm. He had added another finger and despite not having much room to move in the tightness of your shorts, he wasn’t going easy on you. His fingers moved fast and skilled and you had to take him out of your mouth sometimes to breathe, all your senses going in over drive. You jerked him off as you dipped your head lower, sucking on his balls the way you knew he liked. The groan that left his mouth was almost animalistic and you ignored the way his thumb was absentmindedly pressing against your other hole as his fingers were buried inside of you, knowing it wasn’t intentional. Neither was it uncomfortable.

Cum. Right into your mouth.

It was the first time ─ usually when you’d give him head, he would cum in either your or his own hand. The taste was completely foreign to you and honestly, you were afraid to swallow it.

As you looked up at him, he noticed you still had it in your mouth and laughed loudly as he opened the door on his side. You stuck your head out of the car, spitting out his cum.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you crawled back into your seat once his hand was removed out of your shorts and looked at him. The two of you bursted out laughing and you hid your mouth behind your hand.

‘‘It was still hot, baby,’’ he assured you with a chuckle, leaning toward you to kiss your cheek. ‘‘But you didn’t have to do that. I don’t want you doin’ anything that makes you uncomfortable,’’ he said as he quickly closed the car door again, smiling at you.

You ran a hand through your hair and shrugged a little, laughing. ‘‘It wasn’t uncomfortable, just wanted to try it out,’’ you told him honestly and he pulled up his underwear and pants, making himself somewhat decent again.

‘‘Let me try something,’’ he said with a grin on his face, leaning over to your side to kiss you. You were hesitant for a second, not knowing whether he would be comfortable with kissing you after what you had just done, but it was him who was parting his lips first, letting his tongue dip in. You happily granted him access and deepened the kiss, giggling softly against his lips.

You gasped as you looked at him with wide eyes and he laughed at your reaction, blowing out the smoke of the cigarette he just took a puff from. ‘‘I hate you,’’ you laughed and he held out the cigarette in front of your lips, letting you take a drag. ‘‘Hate you more,’’ he grinned, kissing your cheek playfully a few times.

‘‘Not bad,’’ he mumbled, licking his lips as if he was doing a goddamn a wine tasting. You slapped his chest, scrunching up your nose in feigned disgust. ‘‘Don’t be gross,’’ you laughed, shaking your head a little at his tantics. He laughed along and you pulled back from him, opening the glove compartment to take out the pack of Marlboros you knew he hid in there.

‘‘Smoking is bad for you, ya know,’’ you commented, putting a cigarette between your lips. He took his lighter out of his back pocket and lit your cigarette, stealing it from between your lips. ‘‘So is trying to swallow my future children and then spitting them out in Martyr Park,’’

You were praying that it would rain tonight ─ washing away the sin you spat out on the parking lot.

[strayfics]

[NCT] SUNGCHAN - ATTENTION

☆ Sungchan x short, female reader ☆ mature - soft love-making, very fluffy, lots of kissing, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex ☆ 2.7k words ☆ Sungchan needing your full, undivided attention after not seeing each other for a long time.

Your eyes traveled up his body until your gaze locked with his, a confused expression meeting a mischievous one as an arm pressed against the wall, caging you. You leaned back against the wall and tried not to focus on the way your very tall boyfriend leaning and towering over you immediately made your heart race.

“What’s up?”

You could see from your peripheral vision as his arm flexed when he leaned closer to you, his breath fanning your lips. You forced yourself to keep your head straight on his face instead of looking down along the line of his neck and collarbones, or turn right to his arm and hand. 

“I feel like you haven’t been paying much attention to me,” he stated, like it definitely explained why he decided to trap you against the wall out of nowhere.

“I just spent this whole day with you…?” You pointed out, conveniently ignoring the bigger issue for now. That is, the question of how long had it been since you could spend time together – just the two of you, in private. 

Apparently you couldn’t get away with it because you could feel his breath tickling your neck with his next words, “Not enough.”

His voice sounded like he was pouting and when his lips pressed against your skin, his kisses felt almost angry. You ignored the tingles running through your body to prod a bit more at his mood.

“I thought you had fun too?”

His next breath was an exasperated sigh, then he bit down on your neck. You gasped, then giggled when you caught his glare. “I had fun…”

“But?”

“You barely paid attention to me.”

“That’s not true!” It’s not even simply not true, it’s the most ridiculous accusation he could have ever come up with, because you were fairly sure that it’s impossible for you to take your eyes off of him. You couldn’t do it even if you wanted to.

“You kept getting distracted by the food at the restaurant, your mom had to call you right now, and did you really have to talk so much to those guys?”

“You mean your friends?” You inserted when you caught him saying absolute nonsense.

But of course, that didn’t mean he would admit defeat. “Whatever, I just want my girlfriend’s full attention on me, is that too much to ask?”

“Do you?” You raised a brow at him. “And which one of us was too busy to meet up even for a sleepover?” There it was, the heart of the matter. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so annoyed about every minor disturbance if it hadn’t been so long since the two of you had spent time together. You understood his frustration completely but that didn’t mean you would let him be unreasonable and make this out to be your fault instead. 

Sungchan looked like he just remembered this fact and suddenly understood where his feelings came from. Then he gave you a quick kiss that was half an apology, half because he just really wanted to kiss you. “...That’s different.”

“You’re such a baby,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at him fondly.

“I’m not a baby, what else am I supposed to do? I missed you so much I thought I would go crazy…”

“Baby,” you repeated the word, just to see him pout, “Do you think I didn’t miss you just as much?” You grabbed the front of his sleeveless shirt and used it to pull him closer and keep yourself steady as you stood on tiptoes. “I promise all my attention is on you now, so why don’t you enjoy it instead of complaining?”

With that, you connected your lips with his yourself. Sungchan’s hands immediately came up to your waist so he could support you, and your back pressed flush against the wall when he kissed you back. He slowly took over the control and set his own pace, turning the kiss more and more heated. You parted your lips readily when you felt his tongue asking for entrance, and clung to his shirt with a bit more force when you felt your knees go weak from his kiss.

He whined when you had to pull away for air and if you had any energy, you would have probably rolled your eyes at his neediness too. 

“Carry me to bed if you want my attention so bad,” you suggested when you regained your ability to think straight and speak words.

Sungchan didn’t hesitate to reach under your thighs and pick you up after you wrapped your arms around his neck. However, when he pressed you against the wall again so he could adjust you in his arms, he seemed to hesitate for a moment. His lips once again found yours, less intensely but with more longing.

“Bed, please,” you reminded him when he parted for a second, using the position to kiss the tip of his nose and snap him out of his thoughts.

He hummed and crossed the distance between the wall and the bed while you filed away his obviously lingering wish for wall sex for the next time. For tonight, he asked for your attention, so that’s what he would receive.

“Better?” He asked when he sat down on the edge of the bed with you sitting in his lap, straddling him. This was probably the position that the both of you liked the most, and you couldn’t even count the amount of times the two of you made out like this. Sungchan loved the way you fit on his lap and in his arms perfectly, and you loved being in a position where you had perfect reach of your boyfriend to do anything you wanted.

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered against the skin right below his ear, and wasted no time to press a line of kisses down his jawline and neck. Your hands hung off of his shoulder and traced lazy patterns on his back while listening to Sungchan sigh and moan when you sucked on his skin at the right spots. His posture gradually relaxed, and you could feel that he was a lot less tense and frustrated now. You moved to kiss the other side of his neck too, pulling your hands back to run your fingers down his toned arms. Sungchan shuddered at the sudden touch and gripped your waist a little tighter before relaxing again into your soft caresses.

You only pulled back when you made sure that there was no exposed part of him unkissed and gave him a smile, “Better?”

“More,” he replied something between a hum and a whine, vaguely meaning that he liked your attention and needed more of it.

You complied without a problem, finding the hem of his shirt and sneaking your hands to touch him under it while leaning in to kiss him. You were in no hurry to undress him. You made sure to leave as many light, teasing touches as you could before he got fed up and felt like he would rather give up on kissing in favor of pulling the shirt over his head.

He smirked at you when you dropped his shirt to the floor, and because he usually failed to filter his thoughts, he asked, “Like what you see?”

You suppressed both the exasperated sigh and the eyeroll as best as you could, not because you didn’t like what you were seeing, of course, but because why would he ask this (again). Instead, you opted for a slight shake of your head and while he was distracted, pushed him down on the bed by his shoulders.

“I like it better from this angle,” you said, hands on either side of his head, and feeling very satisfied with the shocked expression he was wearing. It only lasted for a moment, though, before he wrapped one arm completely around your waist and used the other to press your back down, so you were lying on top of him.

“That’s fair.” You felt his lips curl against the skin of your neck, and felt the hand on your waist grab at the hem of your top then pull it up until he successfully peeled it off of you. He brushed your hair out of the way first to try and fail to unclasp your bra with one hand.

“Do you need help?” you giggled at his frown but maybe this just motivated him because the next moment, you felt the undergarment loosen on your chest and slip off your shoulders.

“I can manage,” he replied in a light, teasing voice while pulling the bra completely off of you, throwing it aside and using his left hand to cup your breast. A moan escaped you at the feeling, your body losing a bit of its strength as you rested on top of him. Sungchan’s free hand followed the line on your back all the way down to the waistband of your pants, and went around to find the button and the zipper on your jeans. He undid them with considerably more ease than your bra, and he made sure to squeeze your ass in the process of pulling the pants down to your thighs.

Most unfortunately, these jeans were kind of tight so it wasn’t that easy to get them off.

“You’re not very good at this today, huh?” you teased, just to pour salt to the wound.

The result was a very sudden shift in position. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself pressed to the bed, tight jeans off of your legs and a pair of lips pressing against yours, demanding you to shut up. You moaned into the kiss and raked your fingers through his hair to soothe him a bit but it was little to no use. Even though the kiss turned less spiteful and more gentle, Sungchan was already planning his next move.

He pulled away exactly at that moment when his hand touched your soaked panties, rubbing your core through the fabric. Seeing you squeeze your eyes shut and gasp in pleasure at his touch was exactly the reaction he wanted to see, and the proud smile was evident on his face. His fingers circled around your hole, magnifying just how annoying that piece of underwear was at the moment, when all you wanted was to feel his touch directly.

“So, do you think I can take these off or today is really just not my day?”

Panic flashed in your eyes for only a moment before you realized that he wouldn’t be able to contain himself anyway, so you didn’t need to worry too much. Still, to get what you wanted faster, you decided to take on a better attitude and put in a few nice words for him. “Of course, you can do it,” you smiled up at him innocently, “you’re my talented boyfriend who’s good at everything, especially at treating me well in bed.”

“Can’t you sound a bit more sincere?” he sighed, looking somewhat disappointed and leaning down for another kiss. It felt like he wanted to get the words out of your mouth directly this way, his lips moving slowly but passionately against yours.

Your heart immediately softened at this, and the often difficult sincerity trickled out like water. “Sorry,” you said quietly, “please take off my panties, I want to feel you.”

Another kiss fell onto your lips while Sungchan finally tugged down the panties and let his fingers rub between your folds without obstruction. You moaned into the kiss, your hips instinctively twitching to feel him closer. Sungchan didn’t tease you long before he slipped two long fingers inside you. You gasped at the sensation, breaking the kiss for a moment but there wasn’t much time to catch your breath before you got pulled into another kiss. 

Your lips and your tongues moved in a slow, sensual rhythm while Sungchan moved his fingers and rubbed your clit with his thumb in a similar tempo. Your eyes were completely shut, you trusted yourself entirely to your boyfriend. Your only thought was to enjoy every single touch he gave you.

However, when those touches started to slow down and came to a stop, you had to open your eyes to give him a questioning look. One glance at his dark eyes and you already realized what the problem was, and you mentally scolded yourself for letting him distract you when tonight was supposed to be all about you giving him more attention.

“Come here, baby.” You held out your hands toward him, voice sounding a bit lower than usual due to the pleasure. He hovered closer, just enough for you to reach his pants and start undoing the button. You failed to bite back a smile when you pulled his pants off with much more ease than him, but you already promised not to tease him anymore. 

You were very careful when you got to his boxers, pulling them down slowly. You intended to be gentle at first but it was probably more torturous for him instead – nonetheless, you always undressed him this way when he let you.

Sungchan liked when you touched his cock, he liked watching you being so focused on him, especially a part of him that was only for you to see and touch. He enjoyed the way your hand wrapped around his length, stroking it with attention to every single groan and sigh he let out, and pleasing him according to it.

It didn’t take long before he moved to position himself in front of your entrance and glance at you for permission. You replied with a soft smile and he pushed inside you slowly. You moaned at the sensation of being filled up and took a second to just breathe when he fit himself into you fully.

Sungchan groaned when he felt your walls clench around him, and he shot you a slightly urgent look.

“You can start moving,” you told him, and his expression changed to completely focused as he started rolling his hips against yours.

He started with slow movements – he always did – and you could feel that he wanted to be gentle with you too, especially since it’s been a while since the two of you had a chance to be intimate and share your love like this. But exactly because it’s been so long and he missed you so much, it didn’t take long before he lost control over himself. His pace turned rough and fast, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck to press a kiss there and mutter apologies whenever your voice sounded with more pain than pleasure. 

You didn’t really mind it, though. You clung to his back and encouraged him until you felt yourself getting closer to your high.

“Sungchan… I’m close,” you informed him in a breathless voice but you knew he heard you. He made more effort to repeatedly hit you on your most sensitive spot and raised his head in anticipation to watch the exact moment when your face contorted with pleasure.

He buried his head back into your neck afterwards, pushing inside you a few more times until he also came with a groan. His whole body lost strength afterwards, squishing you a bit under his weight and you knew that neither of you would get up for a while.

You craned your neck as best as you could to see his expression; closed eyes and rosy cheeks resting on your shoulder as if he could fall asleep any second. You chuckled at the sight, combing your fingers through his hair and calling out to him, “Baby… Bambi… Sungchan…”

Your only response was a whine that could be translated to “please, just let me stay like this for a moment.” So you let him, making sure that he wouldn’t fall asleep before cleaning up and changing into comfortable clothes. You were sure that after this, he would not let you out of his arms for at least a day.