#a 300 pressing run

[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After one unforgettable shoot with Bakugo, you’re left unable to finish with anyone else—on or off camera. He’s the only one who’s ever made it real. When you run into him at a party, the sexual tension explodes, leading to a filthy, passionate reconnection that neither of you can shake.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MATURE CONTENT 18+ Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, public sex, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, degradation + praise, light dom/sub dynamics, breeding kink references, creampie, soft aftercare, strong language, alcohol mention, sex industry themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 8.2k (omg)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

You haven’t cum in weeks.

Not on set. Not in the shower. Not with the $300 vibrator your manager sent as a “self-care” gift. Not even with that one video you shot with Keigo—the one that used to always do the trick.

Nothing works anymore.

Every orgasm you fake now feels like a cheap knockoff. Just muscle memory. Fake moans, fake trembling, fake gasps as the camera zooms in on your face like it’s catching something real. You used to be good at this—great, actually. Made your name off it. You could sell pleasure better than anyone. But now?

Now it’s all broken.

Because Katsuki Bakugo had the audacity to actually make you finish. Not once. Not twice. But over and over until your voice was hoarse and your legs wouldn’t stop shaking. And the worst part wasn’t even how good it felt—it was how real it was. He didn’t just make you come, he pulled it out of you. Like he knew exactly what buttons to press, what noises made you unravel, what rhythm would keep you teetering right on that edge. And then he’d tip you over it like it was nothing.

And ever since then?

Every other guy has felt like cardboard. Even the good ones. Even the pros. You tried not to be obvious about it on set, but your heart’s not in it. Your body’s not either. You’re back to acting, and that just makes it worse. Because now you know what it’s like to actually feel it. To lose control. To not have to fake it.

He ruined you.

And you hate him for it.

Kind of.

Maybe.

You dream about him. That same low, hungry growl in his voice. The weight of his hands on your thighs. The way he looked at you after the cameras cut, like he knew. Like he’d figured you out and wasn’t gonna let you forget it.

And you haven’t.

You still haven’t.

Which is why this fucking party is the last place you want to be.

You stand outside the mansion in heels that and a dress that hugs you like sin, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Your manager’s text is still glowing on your lock screen:

Be nice. Good networking. Smile.

Yeah, whatever.

Keigo’s place is massive. Of course it is. He’s been in the industry since forever, and he’s got that kind of charm that makes people want to party with him. His invite list is basically the who’s who of adult film, plus a few influencers trying to act like they belong. You hate these things. Too loud. Too fake. Everyone pretending to be friends, pretending they don’t judge each other for who they’ve worked with or how many followers they have. It’s all for show.

Still, you walk in. You know how to play the game.

The place is packed. Low red lighting makes everything look softer, sexier. Music pulses through the floor, the bass low and smooth. You’re barely through the front door before someone offers you a glass of champagne. You take it and downs half in one go.

A few people wave at you. A few others eye you up and down, probably checking who you came with. You fake a smile, offer a nod, and keep moving. You’re not here to socialize. You’re not here to flirt or network or play nice.

You’re here because your manager told you to be.

You end up leaning against the edge of a fancy-ass velvet couch, letting the music drown out your thoughts. The champagne doesn’t help much. Neither does the way some guy you vaguely recognise is trying to start a conversation with you, talking about some upcoming project and how “you should totally collab.” You tune him out.

And that’s when it happens.

You feel it before you sees it. Like something in the air shifts. Like static on your skin.

Your spine straightens. Your fingers tighten around the glass.

And then—there he is.

Across the room. Leaning against the wall like he owns the place. Dressed in black, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rings glinting on his fingers. Blonde hair messy in that perfect, careless way. His eyes scan the crowd, bored and sharp all at once.

And then they land on you.

The breath catches in your throat. For a second, the music fades. The party disappears. It’s just him.

Bakugo.

His eyes narrow just slightly. Like he’s surprised to see you here. Like he’s not surprised that you look this good.

He pushes off the wall.

Starts walking.

Right toward you.

Your heart is beating way too fast. You hate that it is. You want to look away. Pretend you don’t care. But you can’t.

Because even now—especially now—your body remembers exactly what he did to you. The way he touched you. The way he looked at you. Like he wasn’t playing a part. Like it was real.

And worse—you know he remembers, too.

He stops in front of you. Doesn’t say anything at first. Just look’s at you.

Up close, he looks even better than you remembers. Like he’s been working out more. Like he hasn’t lost a second of sleep over you even though you haven’t stopped losing it over him.

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” he says finally, voice low and scratchy.

“Didn’t think you’d be,” you shoot back, arms still crossed. Your tone is cool, but your pulse is sprinting.

He smirks. That same damn smirk that used to drive you crazy. Still does.

“Keigo dragged me,” he says. “Said it’d be good to ‘be seen.’ Whatever the fuck that means.”

“Sounds familiar.”

You stand there in silence for a second. The air between you is thick. Heavy. Loaded.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes drifting down to the drink in your hand. “You good?”

“Peachy.”

“Mm.”

Another pause.

Then he leans in—just a little.

“You fake it again today?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitches. You hate that he knows. Hate that he’s right.

You don’t answer.

He chuckles under his breath. Not mean. Just… smug. Like he knew it. Like he never had a doubt.

“I did,” you admit finally, voice tight.

He steps in just a little closer. Not touching you. Not yet. But you can feel the heat coming off him. The way his presence wraps around you like a damn trap.

“You try with someone else yet?”

You swallow hard. Your eyes flick away.

He already knows the answer.

“No one’s been good enough, huh?” he murmurs.

You wants to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Instead, you down the rest of her champagne in one go.

He watches you the whole time.

Still smirking.

Still standing way too close.

“Why are you here, Bakugo?” You asks, voice low.

His eyes drop to your lips. Then back up.

“Maybe I missed you.”

He says it so casually.

Maybe I missed you.

Like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t completely wrecked your life and walked away with a goddamn smirk.

You set your empty glass down, not caring where it lands. Your heart’s still hammering in your chest, but it’s not nerves—it’s need. Hot and bitter and building in your gut like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.

You don’t look away. Don’t soften. You just say it—because fuck it. What’s the point in pretending anymore?

“I haven’t cum since you.”

His smirk falters. Just a little. But enough.

“I’m serious,” you add, stepping closer, voice low. “Nothing works. Not my hands. Not toys. Not other guys. I film a scene and fake it like always, but it’s worse now. So much worse. Because now I know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Bakugo’s jaw tenses. His hands curl slightly at his sides, like he’s holding himself back.

You lean in, close enough that your words are only for him.

“You ruined me.”

His breath comes out sharp. Controlled—but barely.

“You think I don’t know that?” he mutters. “You think I haven’t been fuckin’ losing it, thinking about that day?”

He looks down at you, eyes dark and burning.

“You were the best thing I ever had in front of a camera. Fuck—probably the best I’ve ever had, period.”

Your stomach flips. Heat flashes under your skin.

“Every time I close my eyes,” he goes on, voice getting rougher, “I see you. Bent over, whimpering, beggin’ for it. You remember that? The way you sounded?”

You swallow, throat tight.

He leans down, lips brushing just behind your ear.

“Do you remember how wet you were when I spread you open?” he whispers. “How your thighs were shaking so bad I had to hold you down?”

Your knees nearly buckle. You grip the edge of the couch behind you, the only thing keeping you upright.

“I remember,” you breathe. “I can’t stop remembering.”

His nose grazes your jaw, not quite touching your mouth, but close enough that the air feels electric between you.

“I jerked off to that shoot so many times I lost count,” he says. “Watched it back with the volume turned all the way up. Had to bite my fuckin’ fist just to keep quiet.”

Your thighs press together. Everything in you is throbbing.

“I tried,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried to fuck it out. Tried to touch myself. Tried to forget it.”

Bakugo pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy, lips parted.

“And?”

You shake your head slowly. “Didn’t work.”

His chest rises and falls a little faster now. You can see it. Feel it.

“I need you,” you say, honest and raw and a little unhinged. “Not even just your cock—you. The way you touched me. The way you talked to me. My body remembers you like muscle memory.”

He groans, low and quiet, like it slips out without his permission.

“You know what that does to me?” he mutters. “Hearin’ you say that? Standin’ here in that tight little dress, legs pressed together like you’re already aching for it?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

“You want me to remind you what it feels like?” he asks, stepping in close again. His hand hovers near your hip, not touching, but so close. “Want me to bend you over that couch right now and make you scream my name again?”

Your breath shudders out of you.

“You want me to tell you all the things I’d do to you if we weren’t in the middle of this fuckin’ party?”

You nod. Slow. Deliberate.

“Say it.”

You look up at him, eyes sharp. “I want you to ruin me again.”

His control shatters for half a second. His tongue runs across his teeth. His hands twitch at his sides like they’re desperate to grab you.

“You want my fingers down your panties, feelin’ how wet you are just from talking to me?”

“Yes.”

“You want my mouth on your neck while I tell you how I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget every other name you’ve ever moaned?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice wrecked.

“You wanna know what I’d do to you if I dragged you into one of those empty rooms upstairs?”

“Tell me.”

He leans in again, mouth right at your ear, his breath hot and filthy.

“I’d eat your pussy until your legs give out. I’d make you ride my face until you’re crying. And then I’d bend you over the bed and ruin that tight little cunt all over again. No cameras. No crew. Just you, screamin’ my name into the pillow like you need me.”

You whimper. Actually fucking whimper. Your knees almost give out.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes again, and his voice drops to a growl.

“Tell me to stop, or I’m taking you upstairs right now.”

Your eyes burn into his.

“I’m not telling you shit.”

He grabs your wrist—gently, but with purpose—and starts walking.

The music fades behind you as you two leave the main room, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and rough and so sure. It’s not forceful—never forceful—but it’s firm. Intentional. Like he knows exactly where he’s taking you, and you’re not even thinking about stopping him.

You follow.

Of course you follow.

The air in the hallway is cooler, quieter. Dim lights line the walls, casting long shadows, the bass of the party now just a distant thump behind closed doors. Every step echoes in your ears. Your heels click against the tile, but you barely hear them. All you can feel is his hand. His grip. The burn of his touch where your skin meets.

He’s walking fast. Focused. Like he’s barely holding himself together.

But then—he pauses.

Right in the middle of the hallway, without a word, he stops. Still holding your wrist, but frozen in place.

And then he looks back at you.

And fuck.

Your cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and glassy with heat. Your lips are parted, and you’re biting the bottom one like you don’t even realize it. Your breath is shallow. Your chest rises and falls way too fast. And you look—

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

It just hits him all at once.

The image of you like that—flushed, dazed, following him willingly down some dim hallway in a dress that barely covers your ass. Your mouth red from chewing on your lip, eyes shining like you want to be devoured.

It’s too much.

It’s way too much.

Bakugo turns around in one sharp move and pushes your back against the wall.

You gasp, more out of surprise than anything, and your back hits the cool plaster with a soft thud.

He doesn’t give you time to speak.

His mouth is on yours before you can breathe.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s a claim.

His lips crash into yours like he’s starved. Like he’s been dying for this. His other hand finds your waist, squeezing tight, pulling you flush against him until there’s not an inch of space left between your bodies.

And fuck, you melt.

You kiss him back with just as much heat, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer like you want to climb inside him. His mouth moves against yours with wild precision—like he knows exactly what you need and he’s giving it. All tongue and teeth and soft, filthy groans that vibrate against your lips.

His hand slips down to your hip, gripping tight. Your back arches. You moan into his mouth when his tongue brushes yours, and he growls—a low, guttural sound that sends heat straight between your thighs.

He pulls back for just a second, breathing hard.

“Been wantin’ to do that since the fuckin’ shoot,” he mutters, voice rough and wrecked.

You grab his shirt tighter, dragging him back in.

“Then shut up and do it again.”

And he does.

He kisses you like he needs it to survive. Like your mouth is the only thing that’s going to keep him sane. His hand slides up, fingers brushing under the edge of your dress, just a taste of skin, and you gasp into his mouth. He swallows the sound greedily.

Right now, it’s just him and you and all that fucking need you’ve both been drowning in for weeks.

Your hands are in his hair now, tugging, and he groans like you’re driving him insane. His lips trail down to your jaw, your neck, kissing and biting and licking like he wants to leave a mark—something real. Something that says mine.

“You feel that?” he growls against your skin, grinding his hips against yours. “That’s what you fuckin’ do to me.”

You whimper.

“You think I haven’t been aching for this? You think I don’t wake up hard, pissed off, because it’s not you under me?”

“Bakugo—”

“Say it,” he growls. “Say you missed me.”

“I missed you,” you breathe. “So fucking much.”

He grabs your face, tilts it up, and kisses you again. Harder. Deeper.

He’s losing it. Right here, in the middle of some stupid hallway, with your hands on his chest and your mouth so fucking soft and perfect under his.

Fuck he was gonna wait. He really was.

One more hallway, maybe two. Find a room, lock the door, throw you on the bed and wreck you the way you’ve been dreaming about. But then his hand drifts lower, just a little. Just enough to feel the hem of your dress under his fingers. His palm slides up, slow and sure, bunching the fabric higher and higher until—

He groans. Loud. Filthy. Like it physically hits him.

“No fuckin’ panties?”

You flinch, just a little. Lips parted, eyes dark.

“Were you expecting something to happen tonight, baby?” he breathes, voice thick with heat. “You showin’ up like this just for me?”

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Bakugo presses his forehead to yours for a second, breathing hard.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice low and ragged. “You’re my dirty little whore, aren’t you?”

You whimper.

“You come to this party all dressed up, no fuckin’ panties, already wet for me…”

His hands are on your thighs now, spreading them just a bit. Your backs against the wall, breathing like you just ran a mile.

“You wanted this,” he growls. “You needed this.”

And then—he drops to his knees.

Just like that.

Right there in the middle of the hallway.

The air leaves your lungs in a gasp. Your back hits the wall harder this time, legs shaking, heart pounding in your throat.

“Bakugo—” you hiss, panic in your voice. “Someone could see—!”

He looks up at you, eyes dark and fucking wild.

“Baby,” he says, voice calm and sinful. “You’re a pornstar.”

He licks his lips.

“Let them see.”

And then he’s between your thighs.

One of your legs stays planted on the ground, barely holding you up. The other—he lifts and hooks it over his shoulder, gripping tight behind your knee with one hand, keeping you open for him. Exposed. Spread. His other hand pins your hip to the wall like he’s afraid you’ll float away.

Then—

Then his mouth is on you.

He groans the second he tastes you, like he’s been dreaming of this moment. Like the taste of you is everything he’s been starving for. His tongue is hot and greedy, licking through your folds, lips sealing around your clit as he sucks, hard, and you cry out, hand flying to his hair for balance.

“F-fuck—Bakugo—”

He growls against your pussy, the vibration shooting up your spine like lightning.

“Been thinkin’ about this pussy every fuckin’ day,” he mutters between licks. “You taste even better than I remembered.”

Your head falls back against the wall with a soft thud, mouth open, chest heaving. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you know is his mouth—his tongue flicking and licking and circling your clit just right, dragging slow, wet moans from your throat that you couldn’t fake if you tried.

His fingers dig into the back of your thigh, holding you still. Your other leg trembles, barely keeping you upright. Your dress is bunched around your waist, forgotten, as he devours you like a man possessed.

“You hear yourself?” he growls, voice muffled against your soaked cunt. “You hear how fuckin’ wet you are?”

“Y-yes—fuck—”

He flattens his tongue against your clit and drags it, slow and firm, and you nearly collapse.

“You gonna cum for me like this, baby?” he asks, licking up your slit, tongue dipping in like he wants to taste every part of you. “Gonna make a fuckin’ mess on my face?”

You’re nodding, eyes wide, lips parted in silent gasps. Your hand’s gripping his hair so tight it must hurt, but he doesn’t care. He loves it.

“Thought about this every night,” he mutters. “Me on my knees. You fallin’ apart. No cameras. No crew. Just me eatin’ you out like it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

And it is.

God, it fucking is.

Your thighs are shaking. Your stomach’s tight. You’re right there, and he knows it.

So he goes harder.

Sucks on your clit like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, tongue flicking fast and filthy, relentless. Your legs nearly give out.

You scream his name.

And then you’re gone.

Your orgasm hits like a truck, ripping through your body as you cry out, nails digging into his scalp. Your leg twitches in his grip, your body writhing against the wall as you cum for the first time in weeks—for real.

Bakugo doesn’t stop. Not until he’s sure you’re done. Not until he’s sucked you through every last wave, tongue gentle now, soft little licks that make you squirm from the sensitivity.

He pulls back, panting.

His chin’s shiny. His lips are swollen.

And he looks fucking proud.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

You can’t speak. Can barely breathe. Your legs are jelly, your face flushed, your dress still hiked around your hips.

And he’s still on his knees.

Looking up at you like he owns you.

Like he always has.

You’re still trembling.

One leg weak, back still pressed to the wall, dress bunched around your hips and mouth parted in a breathless, wrecked little gasp. Your head’s spinning, body soaked in sweat and pleasure, but it’s not enough. Not for him.

Bakugo stays on his knees for a second longer, just staring up at you like he’s watching the aftermath of his own destruction—and loving every second of it. His jaw’s tight, eyes wild, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

Then he moves.

He rises slowly, all smooth, deliberate heat, and crowds you against the wall again, towering over you. His hand slips behind your neck and pulls you in, and his mouth crashes into yours—hot and messy, all tongue and teeth and need.

You moan into it. Loud. Desperate.

He doesn’t give a shit if anyone hears.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, making you taste herself. He kisses you like a man obsessed, like he needs you in his lungs to fucking breathe. His hands are everywhere—sliding over your hips, your ass, up your back, gripping tight like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you all over again.

“You feel what you do to me?” he growls against your lips.

You whimper when his hips roll into yours, and fuck—he’s hard. So fucking hard it feels like it’s about to tear through his pants. Thick and heavy and ready, pressed right up against your soaked heat.

Your whole body jolts at the contact, and suddenly something shifts in you.

You’re not just trembling anymore—you’re burning. You grabs him by the front of his shirt and pushes off the wall, stumbling forward on shaky legs.

“Where’s the room?” You pant.

He grins, drunk on the sound of you.

“End of the hall. Second door.”

You don’t even wait.

Bakugo catches your wrist again as you try to walk, sees your knees still unsteady, and without saying a word—he scoops you up. Hands under your thighs, body flush to his, carrying you like you’re light as air.

You gasp. “I can walk—!”

He growls, “Don’t care.”

He carries you like you weigh nothing, like you belongs in his arms. Your legs are still trembling from the orgasm he just pulled out of you in the hallway, but your hands never stop moving—gripping his shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw just to feel him shiver.

He kicks open the door, steps inside, and shoves it shut with his foot. The lock clicks.

He sets you down—not on the bed. He pins you against the wall again, just for a second, breathing hard, eyes locked on yours. His hands are all over you, sliding down your body, squeezing your hips like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real.

And you’re looking up at him with that same fucked-out, fire-in-your-veins look that’s been haunting his dreams since your shoot.

And then—slowly—you start to sink to your knees.

His breath catches.

“Wait,” he mutters, chest heaving, “you—fuck—what’re you—”

You’re already looking up at him through your lashes, fingers tugging his belt loose with quick, desperate movements.

“You ruined me,” you say, voice low and dangerously sweet. “Let me return the favor.”

Bakugo swears under his breath as you pull his cock free—hard and leaking, twitching in your grip. Your fingers wrap around him, slow and teasing, and he shudders.

And then your mouth is on him.

“Fucking hell,” he chokes out, his hand flying to your hair, not pushing, just holding, gripping tight like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

Your lips wrap around the head, tongue swirling in slow, wet circles, tasting him like you’ve been waiting for this moment since the second the cameras cut. You slide down his length, inch by inch, until your lips are stretched around him and your throat is already working to take more.

“Jesus fuck, baby—”

His voice is raw. Wrecked. You moan around him and his hips jerk.

“Just like that,” he groans, jaw tight. “That’s it. My perfect fuckin’ mouth.”

You hum, sending vibrations through him that almost make his knees buckle. Your hand strokes what you can’t fit, your spit coating him, dripping down your wrist. You’re relentless—pulling off to lick the tip, spit pooling on your tongue before you sink back down again.

Bakugo’s head hits the wall behind him with a soft thud. His eyes flutter shut, mouth open, breathing hard.

“You know what you fuckin’ do to me?” he growls, voice shaking. “You know how many nights I’ve jerked off thinking about you like this?”

You pull off, slowly, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock as you go.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

He grabs your jaw, tilts your face up toward him, cock resting against your cheek.

“I’d picture this mouth every fuckin’ time,” he breathes. “Your lips all shiny, tongue out, eyes begging. Just like this.”

You moan and take him back into your mouth deep, throat fluttering around him, and he loses it. His hand tightens in your hair as his hips stutter forward, fucking into your mouth once, twice—then forcing himself to stop.

“Fuck—stop,” he groans, pulling you off with a shaky hand, even though it kills him. “Gonna blow if you keep that shit up.”

Your lips are swollen, spit dripping down your chin, eyes glazed and smug.

“Good,” you purr.

He yanks you up off the floor and spins you, pushing your back toward the bed.

“You wanna ruin me?” he growls, voice low and filthy. “Let’s see if that pretty little cunt can finish the job.”

He manhandles you onto the bed like he owns it.

Like he owns you.

You land on your back, dress still hiked up around your waist, thighs spread open without shame. Your chest is heaving, lips wet, eyes locked on him like he’s the only thing you see.

And fuck—he might as well be.

Bakugo shrugs off his shirt in one smooth pull, muscles flexing, abs on full display, veins in his arms popping from how hard he’s holding himself back. His cock’s still out, thick and leaking, twitching with every step closer.

“You sit there lookin’ like that,” he growls, crawling up onto the bed, “and expect me to take it slow?”

You grin. Daring. “I don’t expect you to do anything except ruin me.”

He laughs—dark and mean—and grabs your ankles, dragging you down the bed until your ass is right at the edge, legs hanging off, wide open for him.

“You’re fuckin’ insane,” he mutters.

And then he’s on you.

One hand hooked under your knee, pushing it back toward your chest, the other lining himself up. His eyes are locked on your soaked cunt like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. The tip of his cock brushes your entrance, and you both moan.

“You feel that?” he mutters, dragging it through your folds, teasing your clit. “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

“Need you,” you gasp, already trembling again. “Bakugo, please—”

“Please what?” he growls, leaning over you, tip just barely nudging inside. “Say it.”

“Please fuck me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He slams into you in one deep, smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you—thick and deep and perfect.

Bakugo groans, eyes rolling back. “Fuck—this pussy missed me, huh?”

“Yes—fuck yes—”

He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, making the bed creak under you.

“I can feel it,” he pants. “The way you’re squeezing me. Your cunt’s starving for it.”

His pace builds—relentless, deep, every thrust angled just right to hit that spot that makes you sob. One of his hands grabs your throat, not squeezing, just holding, thumb brushing over your jaw like he owns you.

“You like that, baby?” he growls. “You like bein’ fucked stupid?”

You nod, gasping, eyes rolling back. “Yes—yes, fuck, harder—”

He gives it to you.

Hips snapping into yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls, your moans getting louder, messier, realer. Your nails drag down his back, your thighs locked around his hips as you cling to him like you’re about to fall apart.

“Gonna cum for me again?” he mutters, leaning down, forehead pressed to yours. “Gonna cream on my cock like a good fuckin’ girl?”

“I—I can’t—” you whimper.

“You can. You will.”

He reaches between them and rubs your clit—fast, tight circles—and you scream.

Your entire body locks up, and then you break.

You cum hard, legs shaking, mouth open, nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, eyes locked on your wrecked, blissed-out face.

“Goddamn,” he grits out. “You’re fuckin’ unreal.”

His thrusts get rougher, deeper, like he’s chasing the edge—but then, suddenly, he pulls out.

You let out a broken whine, head thrown back against the mattress, body still twitching from your orgasm. Your pussy clenches around nothing, fluttering in the absence of him, wet and ruined and aching for more.

“N-no,” you gasp. “Why’d you—why’d you stop—”

Bakugo’s hovering over you, chest heaving, every muscle in his body tight like a live wire. His cock is soaked, twitching as it rests against your thigh, flushed and throbbing with the need to be buried again.

“Could’ve fucked blown in that pretty pussy just now,” he growls, voice wrecked. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He leans down, kisses you hard—filthy and deep, tongue licking into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls back, his voice is rough, laced with heat and control.

“Don’t wanna cum yet,” he pants. “Wanna watch you fall apart again.”

His fingers trail between your thighs, sliding through the slick mess he left behind. You gasp, hips twitching, eyes rolling when he pushes two fingers into you without warning—slow and deep.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, voice low as he watches your face twist in pleasure. “So wet for me. You like bein’ stuffed full, huh?”

You nod frantically, legs spreading wider, hips grinding down into his hand like you’re starved for it.

“Good,” he says, curling his fingers just right, pressing into that soft spot that makes your legs jump. “You’re gonna cum on my fingers now.”

“*Fuck—Katsuki—”

“Yeah?” he smirks, eyes locked on where his fingers disappear inside you. “You close again, baby? Didn’t even give you a break.”

He keeps rubbing your clit with his thumb, fingers stroking in and out slow and deep, dragging slick sounds from between your thighs that make him groan under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy already,” he says, voice tight. “Look at you. All wrecked for me.”

You sob, head tossing back, hand fisting the sheets.

“Cum again,” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear. “Wanna feel you squeeze my fingers. Wanna make a mess before I fuck you proper.”

And you do.

Your body jerks, thighs clenching around his wrist, another orgasm ripping through you so fast and hard you nearly scream. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, clenching down with each wave, slick gushing down to his palm as you trembles through it.

Bakugo watches you lose it, feels your walls fluttering around his fingers, and his cock twitches, aching with the need to be back inside you.

But not yet.

He pulls his hand out slow, dragging it over your swollen, soaked folds, and brings his fingers to his mouth.

Sucks them clean.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted,” he mutters, eyes never leaving yours.

You look wrecked—eyes glassy, chest heaving, lips parted like you’re still trying to breathe.

He leans in, kisses you slow, and lines himself up again.

“You ready for more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod, barely able to speak.

He smirks, voice dark and low.

“Good.”

He slides back into you slow. Painfully slow.

His cock pushes in deep, stretching your ruined cunt all over again, and he groans at how wet, warm, perfect you still are—even after two orgasms and his fingers inside you. You’re flushed and boneless beneath him, lips parted, hair stuck to your face, eyes barely open.

Cockdrunk.

And he knows it.

He watches your face twist as he sinks in fully, his hips flush against yours, but doesn’t move.

Just stays there. Buried to the hilt.

You whine.

He pulls back, just a little.

Thrusts again—slow, deep, teasing. Like he’s savoring every inch. Your walls flutter around him, still clenching like you can’t let go, and he groans through gritted teeth.

“You feel that?” he pants. “How tight you still are?”

You nod, whining, legs twitching.

He does it again.

Slow.

Deep.

Unbearable.

You cry out, hips jerking up toward him, trying to chase more—anything—but he holds your hips still, smirking down at your wrecked face.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, breathless. “Not enough for you?”

You whimper. “Suki—”

He grins. “Tryin’ to fuck yourself on my cock now?”

And you are—rocking your hips up in tiny, desperate motions, your hands gripping the sheets, voice a string of needy little noises that go straight to his dick.

“You’re such a desperate little whore,” he groans. “Can’t even wait for me to fuck you proper, huh?”

“Suki—please—please—”

Your voice is high, slurred, half-sobs and gasp, like you’re not even forming real words anymore. Your cunt squeezes him so tight he nearly loses it.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, shaking his head like he’s in pain. “You sound so fuckin’ wrecked—‘please, Suki’—you know what that does to me?”

You nod, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Need it—need you—need more—please—”

And then he snaps.

His grip on your hips tightens, and he slams into you.

No mercy. No hesitation.

Just filthy, hard, deep thrusts that rock the bed against the wall.

You scream, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing—just his body, his cock, him, pounding into you like he’s trying to bury himself in your soul.

“You want more?” he growls, voice wrecked. “Take it. Take every fuckin’ inch.”

You’re so loud now—moaning with every thrust, your back arching, body jerking with the force of it.

“I—I’m cumming—” you cry, body locking up again, cunt fluttering like you’re gonna break.

But he doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop.

“Yeah, baby? Already? Barely even started.”

Your third orgasm crashes through you like a wave, soaking him all over again. Your body trembles under his, and still—still—he doesn’t let up.

He grabs your legs, throws them over his shoulders, and folds you in half.

Then leans forward.

His body presses into yours, hands braced on either side of your head, his cock now driving in deeper than ever before, dragging against your walls in a way that makes you sob.

The angle is brutal. Relentless.

You gasp—eyes wide, mouth falling open. Your whole body freezes.

“Suki—!” You squeal. “Wait—wait—I think—I think I’m gonna pee—!”

He knows.

He fucking knows.

And the second you say it?

Bakugo groans. Loud. Wrecked. Ferally turned on.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he pants. “You’re gonna squirt for me?”

You’re panicking now, overwhelmed, the pleasure too much, too fast, building into something different.

“I—I can’t—Suki—Suki—!”

“Yes you can,” he growls. “Let it go. It’s okay. Fuckin’ do it.”

And you do.

Your body jerks once—twice—and then you scream, back arching off the bed as a gush of slick explodes from between your thighs, soaking both of them, soaking the sheets. Your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenches and flutters and gushes, and he pulls out just in time to watch it all.

“Holy fuck—” he groans.

He’s panting, cock dripping, and you’re still shaking, still coming, body twitching like you’ve been electrocuted.

He doesn’t even give you a second.

His hand dives down, fingers rubbing your clit fast—tight circles, no mercy.

“Gonna make a mess all over me, huh?” he pants. “Gonna soak my fuckin’ cock next?”

You’re sobbing, overwhelmed, body still spasming as more slick gushes out of you, squirting again, harder, soaking his hand and the sheets and your thighs.

“You’re such a dirty fuckin’ slut,” he groans, mouth open, watching you fall apart. “Look at you—fuckin’ look at you—”

When you finally start to come down, body trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks, Bakugo grabs your hips and slams back inside.

No pause.

No recovery.

Just more.

More of him.

He fucks you through the overstimulation, pounding into your soaked, sensitive pussy, growling every time your cunt clenches around him.

You’re babbling again, sobbing out moans and whines, brainless.

He’s close now. So close. His thrusts get sloppier, deeper, hips stuttering.

And then—

You grab his face, eyes barely open, voice slurred and high and ruined.

“Cum inside me,” you beg. “Please, Suki—want it inside—need you to fill me up—please—please—”

His whole body locks up.

His eyes roll back.

And he blows.

“Oh fuck baby, yes yes yes, FUCK—!”

His cock pulses inside you as he empties out, the hardest orgasm of his life, ropes of cum shooting deep into your twitching cunt. He groans through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, body shaking as he keeps thrusting, slow now, drawing out every pulse, every drop.

You moan at the feeling—full, warm, messy.

“You take it so fuckin’ well,” he pants, kissing you hard. “Made for me, baby. Fuckin’ made for this.”

His cock finally softens inside you, and he collapses onto your chest, both of you panting, soaked in sweat, slick, and cum.

You’re trembling. He’s still groaning.

And neither of you can speak.

Bakugo’s chest is still heaving as he lowers himself onto his elbows, careful not to crush you. His cock slips free, spent and messy, and you wince from the overstimulation. He’s already watching you—eyes dark, but softer now. More present.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut, voice hoarse. “Yeah… just—holy shit.”

He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah. No kidding.”

You’re still trembling beneath him, body twitching with aftershocks. Your skin’s flushed and glowing, your chest rising and falling fast, and for a moment he just stares. Watches you breathe. Watches you try to come back to yourself.

He reaches for the edge of the bed, grabs the nearest towel—probably Keigo’s fancy ass silk robe or something, who cares—and gently wipes between your thighs. You twitch, gasps softly, but doesn’t stop him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice low. “I know you’re sensitive. Just wanna clean you up a bit.”

His touch is careful. Gentle. Like you’re made of glass now, even though he just had you screaming his name with your legs over his shoulders.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes. “Didn’t think you’d be the sweet type after railing me like that.”

He smirks, eyes flicking up to yours. “Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t pass out.”

He finishes wiping you down, tosses the towel to the floor, and climbs back onto the bed beside you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You hum and bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in.

It’s quiet now.

Just the sound of your breathing. The faint music still thumping somewhere in the house. His heartbeat under your cheek.

Bakugo presses his lips to the top of your head and holds you close.

“You really didn’t wear any panties tonight?”

You giggle sleepily. “Hoped you’d be here.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh, but there’s something else in it too—something warm. Dangerous.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing your temple, “just tell me what you want.”

You shift, just slightly, enough to look up at him.

Your voice is quiet.

Real.

“You,” you whisper. “I want you.”

He stares at you.

Heart pounding.

And says nothing.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

A few months later you’re standing outside.

The air is warm. Quiet.

No cameras. No script. No fake moans echoing off studio walls. Just the sound of a car pulling away from the curb, leaving behind nothing but soft tire tracks on the gravel and a sudden, still silence.

You exhale.

It’s done.

Your manager waved goodbye with glossy eyes and a box of farewell cupcakes like it was some emotional graduation ceremony. And maybe it was. A part of your life—the biggest part—is officially over. No more lights. No more contracts. No more “one last scene” promises.

You’re out.

Retired.

And free.

Your fans had been devastated, of course. The internet flooded with edits, fanpages posting heartfelt tributes, DM requests piling up asking if you were okay, if you’ll ever return. But you were calm about it. Because you had made your money. More than enough. Enough to buy three lives if you wanted. Yours, your future kids’, and their kids.

And for the first time… you didn’t feel like you owed anyone anything.

The gravel crunches under your feet as you walks up the driveway of your new house. It’s not huge. Not flashy. Just a little white-brick home with a cracked front step and windows that let the morning sun spill inside. There’s barely any furniture yet. The walls are still too clean. But you open the front door and walk in anyway, because it’s yours.

You walk through the living room. Kicks off your shoes. Run your fingers along the kitchen counter. There’s a faint smell of fresh paint and wood polish and something warm. Like home.

And then—warm arms wrap around your waist.

You’re startled for a second.

Until he nuzzles into the side of your neck, all soft breath and scratchy stubble, and you relax instantly.

“Hey,” Bakugo murmurs against your skin.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You scared me.”

He hums. “You’re the one who snuck in without saying hi.”

“I live here,” you tease.

“Hey,” he says. “We live here.”

His arms tighten around your middle. His hands are calloused and warm, and he smells like clean linen and cedarwood shampoo. He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder and then another behind your ear.

“You know,” he says, voice low and teasing, “we gotta christen all the rooms.”

You snort. “You’re horrible.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

You turn in his arms, facing him now—barefoot and smiling, cheeks warm, heart full.

Because this is the part no one saw coming.

After that night at Keigo’s house—after the hallway, after the bedroom, after you whispered “I want you” like it was the most honest thing you’d ever said—Bakugo was done.

He left the industry the next day.

Didn’t tell anyone at first. Just walked off set, deleted the shoot schedule, and never looked back. He didn’t need the job. Didn’t want it. Not if it meant being surrounded by people who weren’t you.

He pursued you properly after that. Not with half-assed flirty texts or casual hookups. He showed up for you. Asked you out. Cooked for you. Slept next to you, not just with you. You thought it would feel weird—awkward, even. But it didn’t.

It felt easy. Natural. Real.

You left the industry a week later. For yourself. For him. For whatever this life was becoming.

Now?

Now you’re here.

In a half-empty house with your names on the mortgage and a stupid list of furniture you still need to buy, and for the first time in forever, you feel like you can just breathe.

Bakugo kisses you softly. Just once.

Then he smirks.

“Bedroom’s still got space on the headboard for scratches.”

“Bakugo.”

“What?” he shrugs, already lifting you up by the thighs. “I’m sentimental.”

You laugh, cling to him, and let him carry you down the hallway, your new life unfolding behind every door.

Your bedroom’s bathed in soft afternoon light when he pushes open the door with his foot.

It’s nothing fancy—white walls, wooden floors, a tall dresser with half the drawers still empty. The bed’s made, kind of, one corner of the blanket folded back like it’s been waiting for them. A single mug sits on the nightstand. Your side.

He lays you down gently, like you’re something delicate. Like he hasn’t already had you screaming into his pillow a dozen times since you moved in.

You pull him down with you, fingers hooked in the collar of his shirt.

Your mouths meet in a slow, lazy kiss. It’s not heated or rushed—it’s warm. Familiar. The kind of kiss you only give to someone when there’s no performance behind it. No pretending.

Just love.

He crawls over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other on your hip, thumb brushing circles into the soft skin there. You exhale against his lips, smiling.

“You gonna make good on your promise?” You tease, eyes fluttering open.

“Which one?”

“‘Christen all the rooms.’”

He grins, teeth and cocky heat.

“Yeah,” he says. “Thought I’d start with this one. Seems the most important.”

Your heart thuds. You try to act unbothered, but his weight on top of you, the way his hand slips under your shirt, palm warm on your stomach—it makes your stomach flutter.

“But we’ve already-,” you laugh, running your fingers through his hair.

“Shut up,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing there slowly. “I know.”

You laugh.

“You make me crazy,” you whisper.

His mouth stills.

He pulls back, looking down at you.

And there’s something in his face that wasn’t there before.

Something quiet. Serious.

“I think about it,” he says softly. “The future.”

You stare up at him, breath caught.

“You ever do that?”

You nod, slow. “All the time.”

He leans down, presses his forehead to yours.

“I want it all,” he murmurs. “With you.”

Your hands slide up his back, feeling every tense line of muscle under your palms. You pull him closer. Your noses bump. Your lips brush.

“Me too.”

He kisses you then—not playful, not teasing. Just real. Long and deep. Like he’s telling you something in a language only your mouths understand.

When he pulls back, he whispers against your lips, “I love you.”

You exhale and smile. “I love you too.”

His hand slips between you, fingertips ghosting down your stomach, between your thighs. He touches you like he’s got all night. Like there’s nowhere else you need to be. Like loving you isn’t something he wants—it’s something he needs.

You gasp softly, hips shifting under his touch.

“You always get like this when you talk about the future?” You whisper.

He laughs quietly. “Only with you.”

Your thighs part for him. You’re already wet. Already aching.

“Then don’t stop,” You breathe.

He doesn’t.

He makes love to you slow. Hands in your hair, forehead pressed to yours. No loud moans. No biting. No rush. Just the steady rhythm of your bodies moving like they were made to fit.

After, you lay tangled together, half under the blankets, half on top of each other. Skin warm. Hearts steady.

He runs his hand down your spine. You hum.

“Hey,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“Mm?”

“If we ever have a kid,” he says casually, “we’re not naming them after Keigo. I don’t care how much that bastard tries to bribe us.”

You bark out a laugh, pressing your face into his chest. “I wasn’t going to!”

“He’s already been hinting. You know he has.”

“I’m naming our first kid after someone normal, like—Ida or something.”

Bakugo looks physically pained. “Absolutely not.”

You laugh until your stomachs hurt, until your eyes sting with leftover tears, and then he kisses you again—slow and sweet.

“You really want all that?” You ask later, voice small.

He nods.

“You and me,” he says. “Little monsters running around. A house full of loud shit and chaos and love.”

You bite your lip. “And a couch that doesn’t suck.”

He smirks. “Yeah. That too.”

You fall asleep like that. Wrapped up in each other. Wrapped up in something soft and real and permanent.

Something that, for the first time in both your lives, has nothing to do with being watched.

And everything to do with being seen.

-

TAGS <3

@2elusional @cosmicaoii @kizsuki @kodzubaby

[lheesluv]

Grind on it (s.jy)

The house is empty and Jake is over. You couldn’t help but just… grind on it. He’s too hot.

PAIRINGS - boyfriend!jake x fem!reader

GENRE - smut

WARNINGS - smut (mdni), dry humping, alcohol, some fluff, Imk if i missed anything!

WC - 0.8k

A/N — hi guys it’s been a minute. first jake post! and… WOO 300 followers YAYY. thank u guys :DD also pls send requests guys 😣

© All rights reserved Iheesluv do not copy, repost, or translate.

"Little sips only," he tells you before handing the alcohol back to you. You two passed the bottle back and forth until both of your cheeks were slightly red now.

You invited Jake to come over since your parents were out together. They weren’t strict, no. They had no issue with Jake coming over, except… the door had to be open.

Obviously, you two weren’t going to “bang” with your parents' home regardless, but you didn’t like the thought of having one of them walk into you and Jake kissing.

"Your ears are red," you giggled after pointing it out. "And so are yours," Jake also points out. You both giggled, letting your feet dangle off the bed. You turned your head and took the time to admire his facial features.

Handsome.

Jake's eyes shifted and locked eyes with you as I looked away shyly. "I caught youuu," he teased, pointing the finger at you. "Nuh-uh," you say, looking away. Thank god your cheeks were red already.

"Mmm, I'm sure I caught you just now..." "Nope." Jake chuckles at your words. "It's okay to stare, I stare at you all the time." You snapped your head towards him. "Creep." Jake scoots closer and leans in. "Your creep," he smiles, acting innocent.

You playfully shoved his chest, only for him to lean back in. "Are you asking to get caught?" You scolded him. "Mmm... your parents aren’t here yet..." Jake says, leaning in closer until you feel his breath fanning against your face.

"And if they do?" You ask quietly, your eyes unable to look away from his lips. "Then we pretend," he answers in a low voice then guides you on his lap.

You sat in his lap comfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leaned down a bit and pressed your lips on his. You felt him smile through your kiss as he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

Your fingers run through his hair, pulling him closer to you. His thumb traces small circles on your hips that bring some sort of comfort.

Naturally, your hips slowly started moving. Jake suddenly felt tense below you but gradually relaxed his muscles and let you do as you pleased.

At this point, you felt his growing bulge pressed against you. Jake pulled away from the kiss and said breathily, "Horny?" You slowly grinded on him and looked at him with red cheeks, "Maybe."

"Hurry then."

That's all it took for you to continue. Even though you were both clothed, you felt his bulge so prominently through his sweats and your shorts.

Soft stuttered moans fell from your lips as you felt the friction rub against your clit every now and then.

"Aren't you making a mess, pretty girl, hm?" Jake mumbles against your collarbone, leaving small kisses. You only whined as your hips kept moving.

His grip on your hips tightened as he pants against your neck. "You're so fucking lucky I can't pin you down and fuck you right now," Jake mumbles. He knew your parents would be home soon, he couldn’t risk anything.

His lips were parted as he let out low-deep moans, his eyelids halfway closed like he was in a daze. You bit down on your lip, not wanting to make a noise from how hot he looked and sounded. It only brought you closer to your climax.

“Yeah, y-yeah, grind on it, baby.” "C-Close," you softly cried out, gripping his shoulders as you felt the pleasure rise. "I got you, baby," Jake says with a heavy breath, helping you move your hips.

"Fuck, I'm almost there, baby. Hold on." Jake thrusts up against your core even if you were both clothed, trying to create more friction.

"Jake..." you whined his name, brows furrowed as you felt your climax approach closer. "S-Shit, baby. I got you, I got you. Cum for me, baby."

A silent moan left your lips as the right band in you snapped. Your head dropped on his shoulder. You tried to grind on his hard bulge to bring him to his climax with the power you had left.

His hands squeezes your ass as he thrusts up one more time before pressing your hips down on him. "Oh, fuck, baby," he breaths out, making a mess in his boxers.

Your muscles relaxed themselves as your limbs dropped after you both released. The sticky feeling between your legs made you feel uncomfortable, but you couldn't care at that moment.

Jake leans back with an airy chuckle, "What a mess." You tiredly nodded, your head resting in the crook of his neck. "You okay?" "Mhm, just tired," you chuckled with some energy you had.

"Let's go clean up real quick, okay?" Jake suggested. You hummed, feeling yourself being lift up in his arms.

[hhoneylemon]

squeamish neck kisses

mark grayson x gn!reader

content: this is for my 300 followers event! this is the ask submitted for it by @lhester <3

a tapping at the window.

you glance up from your phone at the sound, pausing the video you were watching. a quiet sigh escapes you as you stand. bare feet pad across the room as you approach the window, fingers easily working at the lock.

mark smiles sweetly at you from behind the glass, fingers spread on the windowsill. when you’ve got it open, he floats through and lands behind you.

“a text that you were coming would’ve been nice.”

he sheds his sneakers beside your closet door before turning back to face you. his hair is mussed from the flight to your home, complimenting the way he squints. the wind most likely dried his eyes.

“sorry, sorry. thought i’d surprise you.”

he slinks closer, arms wrapping around your waist. his eyes are soft, even as they blink a few times more than necessary. in the dark of your room, they look more gray than blue.

“mission accomplished.”

he huffs as the words roll from your tongue, leaning in to carefully press his lips to yours. his teeth graze your top lip as he tilts his head, hands toying with the hem of your shirt. you part, giving him an unimpressed look.

“give me a moment to close the window, vincible.”

mark lightly protests, though he backs off so you can turn your back to him. as you shut the window and turn the lock, he saunters to your bed. discarding his zip up jacket, his eyes land on you again. you close the curtains.

you spin and begin treading to your bed. he stops you midway, arms finding their way back around your waist. his nose prods at your neck, running along the soft skin. bumps rise along your skin at the chill of the tip of his nose.

“missed you,” he murmurs. his words dance across your skin like little huffs of breath.

“missed you too.” your whispered response earns a gentle squeeze in hid arms. his hands slowly slide under the hem of your shirt and rest on your lower back.

it’s silent for a moment as he hugs you. it doesn’t last long before his head tilts and his lips are pressed to your flesh. he places open mouthed kisses that leave a suction sound when he parts to land his next.

a breathy sound escapes from your lips as he brushes a certain sweet spot. having heard you, he brushes over it again experimentally. a little laugh escapes you.

now, mark is more precise. he takes note in his mind in which areas of your neck earn what kinds of reactions. after a giggle from the spot connecting your jaw to your neck, his arms tighten around you and he starts his assault.

his lips brush against every spot he can remember, giggles and laughter escaping you. you squirm in his arms, though his grip on you leaves no room for getaway. as an open mouthed kiss is pressed to the spot on the side of your neck, you let out another wave of laughter and your knees buckle.

rather than keep you upright, mark goes down with you. his mind doesn’t move quick enough to think to grab you, though he stops himself from falling on top of you. the groan you let out is enough for him to smile sheepishly.

“sorry.” he’s moving again, rising to his feet and helping you to yours. as you plop onto the bed, he climbs on after you and drapes himself atop of you.

his cheek presses to your collarbone and his arm wraps around your middle. you shake your head, your own arm wrapping around his waist.

“you’re a mess.”

his mouth opens to protest, though it closes as he thinks. you’re right, aren’t you?

“yeah, i guess i am.”

A/N: i’ll admit, not my best work, though i hope you enjoyed anyways. i feel i haven’t written for mark in a while and i would like to get back into it :(

masterlist

[chris-slut]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐌𝐄 ! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

paring. bf!matt x fem!reader

summary. matt’s favorite hobby is cock-warming!

warnings. pet names (baby), cock-warming.

a/n. i haven’t posted anything in forever. hi. word count : 300?.

you felt the spot next to you move slightly as you get woken up from slumber. matt’s shivering as snow smacks against the open windows. “matt? what’s wrong..” you ask matt, looking over at him. matt has a pout on his face, looking at you— need written all over his face.

even with the heat on and being under several blankets, the tips of matt’s ears are pink and he is attempting to hold onto you. “so- so cold baby.. j’wanna be warm..” matt moves closer to you, if that’s even possible, and he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

a shiver comes from matt as his cold, bare chest presses against your covered back. “matt-“ you feel something hard against your back as matt grinds his hips against you. a soft whimper escapes his lips as you feel the bed shift slightly. “just …let me put it in. please baby?” his eyes meet yours, a soft expression on matt’s face.

you give in, laying on your side as you feel matt’s cold hand run down your side and too your lacy underwear. he pulls it to the side, groaning slightly at the sight of you. the bed makes a creak as matt lifts his hips up and slides both his blue pajama pants and white underwear down.

his hands stay put on your hips as he pumps himself before sliding his tip into your entrance. matt lets out a breath before sliding his whole length into you. his arm wraps around your waist. “thank you ma, your the best.” matt whispers as you both fall back into slumber.

[mercurial-chuckles]

Giddy Affairs

Pairing: Congressman!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader WC: ~300 Warnings: Fluff | Established relationship | Bucky getting nasty with you in his office | Bucky being insatiable | Bucky being a simp for his wife | Bucky being hot and incorrigible | Allusions to spicy times | Some wrist-tying | Some language | Very much unbeta’d | Lemme know if I missed anything! A/N: Sorry, I haven't been in a great headspace and I've been running my blog on queue. I promise I'll get back to all your wonderful messages/asks/reblogs ASAP. Put this together super quickly for Hot Bucky Summer 2025 | Week 03 Prompt: "Not now" | @buckybarnesevents Thank you for hosting. 😊✨🥹💞 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. Banner & Divider made by me. Picture credits to Pinterest. Check out my other works: Masterlist Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Indulge Away!

"Where d'you think you're going?" Bucky drawled, fisting your dress at the small of your back and yanking you against him.

"OW! BUCKY."

You chuckled, trying to squirm away from his grip, but he didn't let you up, instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you firmly to him as he dragged you toward his office.

"Congressman Barnes, Mr. Elliot wants to meet you," Grayson, Bucky's assistant, stopped you just before you both entered Bucky's office. He was clearly flustered to have walked in on yet another intimate moment.

"Not now. Reschedule it for tomorrow," Bucky murmured tersely.

You blushed, offering Grayson an awkward smile before Bucky shut the door.

"Bucky," you admonished, giggling as he lifted you with one arm and carried you to the couch.

He tossed aside his suit jacket, muttering about, "Stupid entrapments."

"What did you think, Mrs. Barnes? You'd show up looking like that and torture me?"

"I love that tie. Don't ruin it, Mr. Barnes," you warned, biting back your grin when you saw him loosen his tie in a hurry to unbutton the top two buttons of his white shirt.

You toed off your heels as he backed you toward the plush couch.

"That tie," he said, already yanking it loose, "is now your problem."

Before you could quip back, he pounced, pinning your wrists to the cushions and expertly looping the silk around. "You're too smug for a woman about to be ruined by her husband."

You laughed, breathless and bound, "Congressman Barnes, you're abusing your power."

He leaned in, nipping at your jaw, "I'm exercising my rights."

"How very patriotic."

"Mmm. Civic duty, doll," His smug reply went muffled as he licked a trail down your chest and took one of your tits into his mouth.

A sudden thought occurred to you, "Buck. The cameras."

He paused, chuckling, eyes glinting at you, "I disabled 'em the time we broke the desk."

"Good times," you said, your laugh turning into a lewd moan as he dragged your panties down.

"Let's see if we can top those times, sweetheart," he said, unzipping his pants.

Well?!

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

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[goldfades]

Please please please protective Joe over postpartum wifey 👏🏻

ofcc!! here it is, my love <3

There was a time when life felt like a perfectly thrown spiral — smooth, certain, easy to catch. Joe made everything look like that, honestly. Sundays on the field, Saturdays back home, even the lazy Tuesday nights when he’d crawl into bed still smelling faintly like grass and laundry detergent and something that just was him.

You built a whole life on those little certainties. A white house with black shutters. A golden retriever named Beau who never quite grew into his paws. And now, tucked into the curve of Joe’s arm, a baby girl with his sleepy blue eyes blinking up at the world like it was brand new and way too bright.

It was supposed to feel perfect — or at least that’s what all the books and well-meaning advice said. But nobody really warned you about this part. About how raw it would feel, the way your body and mind would shift like continents no one could map. About how tired your bones could get, or how sometimes you looked in the mirror and hardly recognized the girl staring back.

Joe saw it, though. He always did.

He moved through the house like a man on a mission lately, whisper-quiet but everywhere all at once — refilling your water bottle before you realized it was empty, pulling you in tighter at night like he could keep the world out with just his arms. He was careful with you in a way that wasn’t suffocating, but fierce, like he was guarding something sacred and breakable.

And maybe you were, in a way.

Joe was a patient man. He had to be — quarterback wasn’t a job for the impulsive, the hot-headed. It was a role built on timing, on seeing a flash of movement and trusting it, threading the ball through chaos with an almost stubborn kind of calm.

But nothing had ever tested his patience like today.

Because today, for the first time, the guys were coming over to meet her. His daughter.

You were curled up on the couch, fresh out of the shower with your hair damp and your skin soft and flushed. The baby was snuggled against your chest, making those small, content newborn sighs that Joe swore he could listen to for the rest of his life and never get tired.

And he was on edge. Not because he didn’t trust his teammates — they were his brothers, in every way that mattered. But because this — this little piece of the life you built together — wasn’t game film or post-win beers or locker room jokes.

This was you. This was her.

And Joe Burrow, the man who could stand in the pocket while a 300-pound linebacker bore down on him without flinching, suddenly found himself running scenarios in his mind like some half-crazed security guard.

He adjusted the throw blanket over your lap. Checked the thermostat again. Made sure the baby’s little hat was pulled low enough over her ears, even though you were sitting inside with the heater humming low. He hovered, adjusting pillows, bringing you your water bottle with a bendy straw tucked in so you wouldn’t have to move too much.

“You’re fussing,” you murmured, voice lazy and warm with affection.

Joe just shrugged, standing above you with his hands on his hips, chewing the inside of his cheek like he was gearing up for a press conference.

“They’re not gonna hold her unless you say it’s okay,” he said, dead serious. “They’ll wash their hands first.”

He ticked it off like a checklist. “No strong cologne. No loud voices. And if she gets fussy—”

“She won’t,” you interrupted, smiling because you could tell he needed it.

But Joe wasn’t so sure. Babies were unpredictable. Teammates even more so. And Joe? Joe didn’t like unpredictable when it came to the two people he loved most in the whole damn world.

The doorbell rang.

Beau barked from his spot by the window, tail wagging excitedly. Joe shot you a quick look — a silent, are you good with this? — and only when you nodded did he open the door.

Ja'Marr was first in, grinning from ear to ear, a pack of diapers slung under one arm like a football. A few others trickled in behind him — Sam, Tee, a couple of the offensive linemen — all of them with that same reverent, wide-eyed look guys got when they saw a newborn up close.

Joe moved fast, intercepting the herd before they could even make it two steps inside. “Shoes off,” he said briskly, nodding toward the mat. “Wash your hands.”

He pointed toward the powder room like a dad corralling a team of unruly Boy Scouts. There was a second of stunned silence — and then laughter, low and easy, but respectful.

They knew better than to mess around with Joe right now.

One by one, they complied, teasing each other about it but following orders all the same. Joe hovered by the couch while you adjusted the baby's position, brushing a kiss against the top of her head before you offered a soft, “You wanna come say hi?”

Even then, Joe stayed close — a silent wall between you and the door, the human equivalent of a velvet rope.

The guys took turns, keeping a cautious distance, most of them too nervous to even ask to hold her. Ja'Marr cracked a few jokes under his breath about Joe looking ready to deck anyone who breathed wrong.

He wasn’t wrong. Joe’s eyes stayed sharp, tracking every movement, every laugh, every time someone leaned in a little too close. His hand hovered near your shoulder the whole time — not touching, but there, a steady reminder that you weren’t doing this alone.

When the baby whimpered once, just a little squeak of protest at all the unfamiliar voices, Joe reacted before you even had the chance — plucking her gently from your arms with that easy, practiced motion he had already mastered.

“She’s good,” he said, voice a shade softer now, one hand cradling her tiny head as he pressed her to his chest.

The room went still.

It was one thing to see Joe Burrow command a huddle. It was another to see him sway, slow and absent-minded, in the middle of his living room with a baby tucked against his heart like she was the whole playbook and the end zone all wrapped up in one.

You leaned back, your heart stretching wide and aching with it — the fierce, stubborn tenderness of this man you married.

The visit didn’t last long. Joe made sure of that. An hour, tops. No overstaying. No “let’s hang out awhile.” When the goodbyes started, Joe stood by the door again, thanking each of them with a handshake.

After the last car pulled away, he locked the door, turned, and exhaled like he hadn’t breathed properly all afternoon.

You were still on the couch, baby sleeping against your chest again, your head tipping back into the pillows. Joe crossed the room in three strides, crouching in front of you like he needed to be eye level, like he needed you to feel it when he said: “You did so good, baby.”

It wasn’t just about today. It was about all of it.

The way your body had carried her. The way you endured the long nights, the painful moments nobody talked about. The way you fought to smile when your heart felt shaky and raw.

He reached out, cupping the side of your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek with infinite gentleness.

“We’re good now,” he whispered, like a promise. “We’re good.”

You closed your eyes, sinking into the safety of it — the safety of him. Of knowing that no matter what storms came, no matter how unpredictable the world could be, Joe would be right here.

Arms up. Heart open.

Always, always guarding the things he loved most.

[enimsiyobeht]

better than me? drabble despite the wc being 1.8k.

mdni 🦭 !! boypussy jay x amab reader. could be seen as a continuation/part two of encore (side intercourse of bp sunghoon x reader before jay swings by & steals the show) + similar elements of belly bulge, cum inflation, & cervix fucking. implied ot7 harem. implied 8th member reader. exhibitionism & voyeurism, heavy overstimulation, subtle dumbification if you squint, minor use of he/him pronouns used for reader (when being addressed), minor fingering (s. fingers himself & j. receives fingering), jay is cocky asf, hair pulling (j. receiving), rough sex, subtle brat taming if you squint, implied breeding kink, heavy dirty talk, unprotected sex (on both ends, pls wrap your willy). tysm for 300+ blog followers!!

Sunghoon was already a mess—splayed out across the hotel mattress with his thighs spread wide, his cunt swallowing your cock with greedy, fluttering pulls. His fingers clawed at the sheets, eyes rolled back, lips parted in soft, ruined moans that barely made it past his throat. Every thrust pushed him higher—overstimulated and soaked, slick dripping down his ass and staining the sheets beneath him.

Your hands were firm on his hips, keeping him steady as you drove in deep again, slow but brutal. Each time your cock bottomed out, it pressed directly into Sunghoon’s tender cervix, and he would keen, back arching like he’d been shocked. “F-Fuck—g-gonna break me,” he whimpered, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Your cock’s too much—‘s too deep—”

“You’re taking it, though,” you murmured against his throat, biting softly. “Taking it so damn well.”

Sunghoon sobbed, nails scraping helplessly down his own thighs. “Y-You’re gonna make me come again—c-can’t—”

A voice cut through the wet sounds of skin and moaning.

“Seriously?”

Jay stood near the window, arms crossed and one brow arched, clearly unimpressed—or maybe just impatient. His shirt was long gone, sweatpants riding low on his hips, revealing the defined V-line and flat stomach that twitched every time Sunghoon moaned again. “You’re still at it?”

You looked over your shoulder briefly, lips curved in a smirk. “Problem?”

Jay scoffed. “No. Just didn’t think Sunghoon would be greedy enough to hog your cock for twenty minutes.”

Sunghoon didn’t have the energy to glare. He whimpered instead, hips jerking as your cock slid deep again. “I-I’m not hogging—he’s not done—!”

Jay rolled his eyes. “He’ll be done when I say so.”

He moved closer to the bed, eyes locked on the mess between Sunghoon’s thighs—the sticky trail of cum leaking from his stretched pussy, the soft flutter of his walls every time you pulled back. Jay tilted his head, lips curling. “You’re really gonna let him melt like that while I sit here untouched?”

You stilled for a moment, your cock still buried in Sunghoon’s cunt. Then you glanced at Jay, amused. “You jealous?”

Jay stepped up to the edge of the bed, hands on his hips. “I’m saying I can take it better.”

That got Sunghoon’s attention. He blinked up at Jay, still trembling. “A-Are you serious?”

Jay just smirked, already tugging his sweats down and stepping out of them. “Dead serious.”

You finally pulled out of Sunghoon, leaving his pussy clenching around emptiness, leaking cum down onto the sheets. Sunghoon whined, hips twitching as his hands shot between his legs to touch himself, unwilling to feel empty.

Jay climbed up beside him, reaching over to run a hand along his thigh. “You look fucked-out already,” he teased, fingertips brushing lightly against the soaked folds. “You really think he’s done with me?”

You settled back on the bed, cock glistening with slick and still hard. Your gaze raked over Jay’s body—from the flush in his cheeks to the tight, wet folds between his thighs, already swollen with heat.

Jay met your gaze, bold as ever. “Use my pussy next. I’m not gonna cry or beg like him.”

Sunghoon moaned softly at the insult but couldn’t argue—not when your cum was still dripping out of him, not when his pussy twitched at just the thought of watching Jay get split open next.

You leaned forward, gripping Jay’s jaw with one hand. “That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

Jay smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

Jay didn’t flinch when you shoved him onto his back, legs spread open over the same spot Sunghoon had just been ruined in. His hands went to his thighs, holding himself open with practiced ease—his folds were flushed and glistening, already wet from anticipation, slick stringing softly between them. The pink of his clit peeked out, twitching from the cool air brushing over it.

You didn’t move right away. You knelt between Jay’s legs and just stared, taking in the way his cunt clenched around nothing, fluttering with every breath. Jay’s belly tensed under the attention, but he didn’t look away.

“Don’t look at it like that,” he muttered, tone defensive, cocky. “You gonna fuck it or just admire it all night?”

You leaned down and licked a slow stripe up the inside of Jay’s thigh, stopping just shy of his pussy. “Pretty for someone so damn loud.”

Jay huffed, clearly holding back a twitch when your thumbs spread him open, exposing the slick folds in full—glossy, puffy, soaked. His hole clenched again at the air, hungry. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but the second your fingers dipped in to tease at the entrance, his body betrayed him: back arching, hips grinding subtly into the touch, clit twitching as it brushed against his palm.

“Fuck,” you murmured, thumb brushing over the clit deliberately now, watching the way Jay jerked in response. “You’re dripping and I haven’t even touched your pussy properly yet.”

Jay scoffed. “Not my fault you’re taking forever.”

But he was breathless now. His chest rose and fell quicker than before, eyes flicking briefly to Sunghoon still laid out beside him, dazed and watching through a haze of overstimulation.

Your fingers pressed deeper. Two at once, slow but firm, fucking into Jay’s tight pussy while your thumb circled that swollen clit in tight, maddening patterns. Jay’s thighs trembled, but he bit down on the inside of his cheek, refusing to moan first.

“You’re holding out,” you muttered, voice low. “Let’s fix that.”

You replaced fingers with cock. No warning. Just the thick, lubed head nudging at Jay’s entrance and pushing in—slow, mercilessly slow—until the tight ring gave way and swallowed you up. Jay gasped, spine curving, his cunt slick and tight around the intrusion.

It was different than Sunghoon—Jay wasn’t shy, wasn’t whimpering and overwhelmed. He took it like a challenge, kept his legs wide open and his teeth clenched through the stretch, even when the pressure forced a soft bulge into his lower belly.

“Still think you can take it?” you asked, as if confirming when you went halfway in.

Jay exhaled roughly. “Hah—yeah. Don’t stop now.”

You slammed the rest in. Jay choked, finally letting out a broken sound as his cunt squeezed tight around the cock buried to the hilt. His clit rubbed against your base with every grind, sending sparks of sharp pleasure up his spine.

Sunghoon whimpered at the sound, shifting weakly beside them. His fingers toyed lazily with his spent cunt, eyes fixed on the way your cock made Jay’s stomach bulge with every deep thrust.

Jay’s breath came faster now. “F-Fuck—fuck, okay—shit—” His hands scrambled for your shoulders, gripping tight as the rhythm picked up. “So fucking deep—”

You grabbed his hair and pulled, arching Jay’s throat up to expose the flushed skin. “Not crying yet?”

Jay moaned through clenched teeth, his pussy spasming from the pressure. “N-Not yet—hah—nngh—fuck, keep going—”

“Yeah?” you growled, hips slamming forward, cock punching into his cunt with a wet slap. “Take it, then. Gonna fuck that smug attitude right out of you.”

Jay’s eyes rolled back, the smack of skin and the obscene squelch of his soaking hole filling the room. Every time you bottomed out, his cunt squeezed like it was trying to trap you there, greedy and twitching around the intrusion.

“I-I can feel it—” Jay gasped, eyes wide, hand dragging down to press on his own bulge. “Feel your cock inside—fuck—”

Your thumb found his clit again, rubbing fast and hard as you pounded into him. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Show me and Sung how cock-drunk that tight pussy can get.”

Jay came with a strangled sob, cunt convulsing around your cock like a vice, body arching as slick squirted out around the intrusion. “F-Fucking—fuck—!”

He was trembling now, legs shaking, face flushed and open with wrecked pleasure.

You didn’t stop.

Jay couldn’t speak.

His mouth hung open, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan as his cunt spasmed around the cock still buried inside him. The first orgasm had hit so hard it left his body twitching, walls milking your length in desperate, greedy pulses like he couldn’t bear the idea of being empty again.

You didn’t give him space to recover. Your pace was relentless—hips snapping forward, balls slapping against Jay’s ass, slick leaking out in messy gushes from how wet and overworked his pussy had become.

Jay’s fingers clawed purposefully crescent marks at your shoulders, digging in deep like he needed to anchor himself to something real. “C-Can’t—fuck—s-sensitive—!” he gasped, voice cracking beautifully. “You’re gonna—gonna make me—”

“You already came,” you growled against his throat, one hand holding Jay’s thigh up as you thrust in even deeper, angling perfectly into his sore cervix. “You think I’m stopping now?”

Jay cried out. He was trembling from head to toe, clit flushed and swollen from the way your body pressed against it with every rough thrust. His belly bulged visibly, obscene and perfect, his pussy so stretched around the thick length stuffing him full that the shape of it could be seen every time you pushed in hard.

“Look at you,” you muttered, licking into the corner of Jay’s mouth. “Cock-drunk already. All that attitude for what?”

Jay whimpered helplessly, his hands sliding down to push against his own belly, feeling the way the thick head of your cock bulged up inside him. “Wanna—wanna feel it,” he slurred. “Want it deep—inside—fill me up, please—please—fuck, don’t pull out—”

You didn’t answer with words. You shoved Jay down harder into the mattress, hips grinding deep as your cock throbbed inside the soaked heat. The moment the tight ring of Jay’s cervix gave just a little more, letting the tip kiss past it—

Jay screamed.

His legs wrapped tight around your waist, nails raking down your back. His second orgasm slammed into him like a wave—sudden, hot, overwhelming—cunt spasming uncontrollably as another gush of slick squirted out around the still-pounding cock inside him.

And you fucked him through it. Deep, rough, desperate thrusts, chasing the edge with the sound of Jay’s wrecked moans echoing in your ears.

When you finally came, it was with a deep growl and a sharp snap of your hips. You buried yourself to the hilt and stayed there, your cock twitching hard as thick, hot cum spilled into Jay’s cunt—pump after pump, painting his insides full, the pressure so deep and tight that more leaked out around the seal of their bodies.

Jay moaned through it, too fucked-out to form words, just clinging to you and trembling as his pussy was bred full. His belly tensed again, warm and full and messy inside, and he didn’t stop clenching around it.

When you finally pulled back slightly, Jay whimpered at the shift, his pussy pulsing around the movement. He wasn’t empty, not really—not with how full he was, your cum seeping from him in slow, heavy drips.

Sunghoon, still dazed and quiet beside them, reached out with shaking fingers to touch where it leaked out. His voice was hoarse.

“I want it again,” he whispered. “I want that next.”

Jay just laughed breathlessly, dragging a hand down his slick-coated stomach. “Get in line.”

here you go horny anons (/nsrs, tysm for 400+ notes on encore, & ty to oomf for giving me motivation to write this)

[writtenbythemoonandstars]

Bedazzled

**This story contains discussions of injury, medical trauma, sexual harassment, and emotional distress. Please read with care!

Dr. Robby's carefully private life is exposed when his girlfriend arrives at the ER after a violent attack. Dana and Collins piece things together when he rushes to her side, revealing a side of himself they’ve never seen.

1.1k words

He never explicitly said he was seeing anyone but everyone in the Pitt knew Robby was at least getting laid.

Over the last few weeks he'd been less high strung. Not snapping at the residents or med students. "Whoever it is I just want to say thank you." Dr. Mohan, Samira, mumbles to Dana.

Heather, Dr. Collins, leans in. "We're talking about Robby's new girlfriend?" She asks. They both nod. "I think she-" Heather is cut off as a young woman, dressed in a tight short red bedazzled dress, limps towards them. A despondent look in her eyes. A hand pressed against her shoulder that oozes blood beneath it, matching the blood running from her nose down her chin. Her long pin straight dark hair messy like it had been pulled on.

Heather immediately jumps into action. "Are you alright?" She asks looking over the woman's body.

"I- I was stabbed." Is all she says. Dana helps guide her to a gurney nearby and she slowly sits down. Dr. Collins walks up to her, gloved up, and gently removes her hand from her shoulder. She winces but stays still. "We are going to take good care of you, okay? Can you tell me your name?" Collins cuts the strap of her dress to get better access to the wound though there wasn’t much of a strap to begin with. Dana supplies her with a blanket.

"Michael… uhm Dr. Robinavitch works here right?" She asks.

Dana and Heather share a look. "Yes he does. He goes by Dr. Robby here."

"Oh.. Uhm.. Okay. Dr. Robby. He-" She jumps when the antiseptic is wiped over her cut.

"Sorry." Heather frowns, continuing her work.

"Honey, can we get your name?" Dana asks, "for your charts. We wanna run some labs."

She gives them her name. "I'm 26." She adds. "And I wasn't raped." Her voice soft. Scratchy. She knew that was the "labs" they wanted to run, at least one of them.

"Have you had an STI check recently?" Dana asks, no judgement in her tone.

"Last week." She nods, "Can I… could I see Dr.. Robina- Robby?"

Dana looks up from the tablet. "I'm not sure he's here yet. Robby works at 7." It was barely 6:30am. "Do you know him?"

No response.

"When he gets here can I see him?" She asks. Biting her lip as tears fill her eyes while Collins stitches her arm.

"When I see him I'll let him know you're looking." Dana offers a kind smile and a gentle hand on her wrist. Then she quietly exits the room.

"What happened?" Dr. Collin's asks, cutting the string, turning to find a large enough patch bandage.

"Was walking home." She begins.

"Alone?" Heather knows all too well what it's like for women walking in the dark. Alone. Late at night.

"My boyfriend usually picks me up from work but he was busy… He didn't answer his phone." She looks down at her hands twisting together in her lap. "I don't live that far. There was this client of mine… I don't do private dances. Not anymore-" She explains. "He was upset that 300 dollars wasn't enough to bribe me after I said no-" There's no need for her to continue, even if the tears or choked sob hadn't cut her off.

"You're safe now honey." Heather reassures her. "You sure you don’t need the-"

"He didn't rape me." She replies sharply, "sorry I-"

"Don't be sorry." A shake of the doctors head. "You need a phone? Call your boyfriend again?"

A nod.

Heather hands her the landline. Then gives her some privacy.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes. Stop harassing me-" Robby's voice half teasing half annoyed when he answers the phone.

"Michael?" Her voice soft. She can practically hear his heart stop beating. "It's uhm-"

"What the hell are you doing in the ER?" He cuts her off.

"Well I- you didn’t answer your phone earlier when I got off- which is fine-" She's quick to excuse, "so I was going to walk-"

"Baby you know how I feel about you walking home alone." His voice sharp. Dominant. But not angry with her. Never angry with her.

"S-Sorry-"

"Fuck honey don't be sorry." He sighs. Guilt filling his body. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"Dr. Collins already stitched me up." She tells him.

"Stitched you up?" his voice tense.

"I- I was stabbed." She hears the mumbled curse words.

No one has ever seen Robby move so fast. Dana points to the closed curtain in the corner of the room. Just having intuition. So much for keeping his relationship, not necessarily a secret but, private. They don't need to know everything about him.

His hands are on her face before she even realizes anyone had entered the room. Her body immediately relaxing. His hands pushing her hair back in that way she knows he does to calm himself more than it calms her down. "Did you hit your head?" He asks.

"No." Her voice soft.

"No fractures?" Robby prods at her nose until she winces and he stops. Sending her an apologetic look.

"I'm not a doctor but no one has mentioned fractured nose to me." She replies.

"You tell the police who did it? It was the fuckin' guy whose been harassing you?"

"I haven't talked to the police yet. But yes it was. She nods.

He holds her hair gently, running his hands through it again. "I'm real sorry I didn’t answer the phone baby." He sounds truly guilty. You'd think he was the one that hit her.

"Not your fault. I know you worked a long shift.." Over time is what he worked. The emotional trauma yesterday caused on top of physical labor.

He sighs. "Can I take you home?" He asks.

Her discharge papers are held up to his face. "Don't you have to work?"

"Haven't clocked in yet. I can be a little late." A kiss is pressed to her head. She leans in to his touch.

"I've also got some clothes for ya." He looks down at her attire. The blanket Dana had given her covering the cut up dress.

"Okay." She nods. He grabs the things she came with before carefully helping her stand. The mild pain killers making her a bit wobbly but she can walk on her own. Except… the shoes she came in with her those God awful high heels.

Robby loves them, don't get him wrong, but not when she's walking around in them.

He throws a scrub top over her head. Letting it fall past her knees and making sure not to irritate her stitches. Then he throws her dress away. "I really loved that outfit." She pouts.

"I'll buy you a new one." He mumbles, helping her into some temporary shoes, carrying the heels along with her other things.

Dana bites her lip, as if she's trying not to say anything when they walk by. He shoots her and Heather a look. That he'll explain later.

He was not looking forward to it.

---

This is my first work on Tumblr (and Dr. Robby) so I hope you enjoy! This is not edited..

[1999hiru]

relating to your recent posts, you should do jock!abby…… whos maybe a little bit of a perv 👀

- 🍒 anon

wow ... you get me so bad cherry anon . genuinely drooling at the thought of this … thank u so much for this prompt and i hope you guys enjoy !!!!!!!!! (ღˇ◡ˇ*)♡ jock! abby can ruin my life <3

also omg ... you guys really came through with the requests and i will get through them all i promise !!! i am so thankful thank u thank u thank u , i am having so much fun ♡♡♡

cw. perv! abby, thoughts of sex mentioned, oral sex

⋆˙⟡ jock! abby who can’t stop thinking about you

─────────────────────────

jock! abby who devotes a little too much time to weightlifting instead of prioritizing her piles of lectures to catch up on, packing her bottle of protein shake and her gym bag. she's doing her usual routine when you walk by, a sweet smelling perfume accompanied by the cutest outfit she's ever seen. your hair is pinned up and there's a small towel slung over your shoulder, abby's eyes following your figure as you approach the treadmill.

jock! abby who spends the rest of her time watching you work out. while she should have been doing the rest of her scheduled lifting, she spent it pretending to be busy — observing the way your body moved as you stretched and bent over. she particularly focuses on the plumpness of your ass, staring intently. she thinks about coming up behind you and pressing her crotch against it, grinding and humping like a starved animal, her much larger hand around your throat.

jock! abby who finds herself sweating and incredibly flushed. not because of the physical activity she's doing, but because seeing you is making her unbelievably horny. she wonders how you'd look with your face covered in her spit, or your pretty legs bruised and covered in bite marks. she leaves the gym before she does something stupid, trying to move on with her day.

jock! abby who lies to her friends, saying she prepared well for their upcoming game. she boasts about how she's reached a new benching press achievement of 300, her friends in awe of her progression. they had no idea she spent the weekend rubbing herself until she was sore, thinking about the nicely dressed girl she saw at her local gym. she thought about how good you'd take her strap, her fingers.

jock! abby who wins her game against a nearby university, the entire school cheering her on from the stands as she walks through the field with a smug smile on her lips. she pulls up her jersey to wipe the sweat off her forehead before seeing you, dressed in her school's cheerleader uniform and dancing with the other girls lined up beside you. she stops in her tracks when she realizes. you're the girl. the girl she's been fucking herself non-stop to.

jock! abby who finds you in the girl's change room after the event is over. you're pulling up your jean skirt and brushing your hair when you see her leaning against one of the lockers, a little confused at first, but you figure she's waiting for someone else. why would abby anderson be there for you?

jock! abby who clears up your confusion immediately. "hey, you doin' anything later? i think we should celebrate my game." you stare at her until it clicks. she's asking you out. you give her a sugary smile, grabbing your bag and leaving with her. the walk to her car is quiet, but abby's head is anything but. she thinks about forcing you into the backseat and pulling off your clothes, running her tongue over your nipples while she's three fingers deep into your cunt.

jock! abby who brings you to a drive-in theater. she parks right at the back, inconspicuous, hidden. she listens to you talk about your cheerleading team and when you first started, how you got into it, what you're studying. your voice is as sweet as honey, and abby imagines how much sweeter it'd be if you were moaning it into her neck as she fucked you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

jock! abby who is obviously... very bothered. she's staring at you like you'll disappear if she blinks, and her cheeks are red. you can see freckles sprinkled from one side of her face to the other. she's gripping the cup of soda she had bought, knuckles turning white. "abby, are you okay? you look a little sick. can i get you something?" you frown. she shakes her head, placing the soda into one of her cup holders. "i'm okay sweetheart, but there is something you can give me."

jock! abby who sees your confused face, and suddenly your mouth is spilling a stream of moans and whimpers. you're biting your bottom lip trying to be quiet, your hands buried in abby's hair. your seat is pushed all the way back, abby squishing herself in between your legs and her mouth attached to your swollen clit. she's licking and biting gently, moaning around your cunt when you tug at her hair. she has two fingers thrusting into your tight wet heat, looking up at you to watch you fall apart. "abby, ah, please... fuck, it's too.." your stomach pools with anxiety, someone could hear you, but abby didn't care. not when she finally had a taste of you. she spits on your cunt before moving to your inner thigh, biting the flesh and licking at it like a dog. she pulls away and presses a wet kiss to your clit, "we're not done yet, baby, so be quiet for me. please?"

[leidensygdom]

Commission scams: A guide on how to avoid them and find legit artists

Hello! I am writing this guide in order to hopefully help people spot scammers and art thieves, to teach people how to deal with them and to give people ways to actually get real artists for commission work.

For those who do not know, there is a recurring, extremely widespread type of scam where someone will advertise their commissions using stolen artwork, or (sometimes) traced or AI-generated pictures. This started (as far as I know) on Twitter, but it is currently in all sorts of social media (I have found them in Twitter, Instagram, Bluesky and Tumblr) and also on Discord servers, often large Discord servers requiring no invites or that are easy to find through Discord advertisement places.

These do obviously hurt both, the people seeking to buy a commission (who will either get their money stolen, or given a product that is not of the quality that was advertised), and the artists whose work is being stolen, who are not getting the work themselves. It is important for people to learn how to identify these people, and to quickly take action when possible. This post is kind of lengthy, so please press the Keep reading button below for the full guide! (And please do share this post around if possible- This is a very common scam and I have met far too many people who have fallen to it or have got their art stolen due to it, including friends and myself.)

So, how do they work? (in Social media)

In my experience, a lot of these scammers either run multiple accounts or are part of a larger scheme, operating in organized groups that follow similar tactics. They will very often use automated means to advertise en masse. Those in social media will make accounts that post some example artwork, often with a myriad of tags, in styles that do not match (see first example, featuring my stolen art :'')). They very rarely post anything that isn't stolen artwork, or have any actual real following they interact with properly. They will then very often spam heavily through replies (such as it happens in Twitter), posting hundreds of really similar messages in a short period of time. In the second example, you can see an account from one of these scammers that is using automated posts to garner attention, which are shared by similar accounts (notice the same exact wording between the first and third post). The third example (in the Replies tab) shows how one of this accounts replies "Hi" to every single message they get.

They will often seek posts from people who are searching for commissions, answering them (often with a "I do commissions, DM me") or other variants of that. (They often only share their "art" on DMs to not be caught stealing by the original authors.) You can see an example of that on the first screenshot below. On Twitter, Instagram and pretty much any place where you can DM people, they may also come to your DMs, often starting with a "Hello" or something so you answer to them, and then they will suddenly share their commission information (as seen in the second picture).

In any case, they rarely have publicly available commission sheets, and will only disclose their prices on DMs. They may share more stolen artwork in there. From there on, they will often speak in fairly broken English, and try to lead you to commission them. They will haggle the prices if they can- But they tend to be fairly steep, with them going up to $300 a fullbody, which tends to be unusual in people without a fairly established following or popularity.

They will often give you a payment method that does not allow for refunds- Such as sending the money to "Friends and Family" in Paypal. This is actually illegal for commercial work, so if you get an artist telling you to pay them through such a method, please do be incredibly wary: Professionals will use methods that do have an option for refunds.

2. How do they work? (on Discord)

On Discord, they will often enter in servers where there may be a place for them to advertise, or servers available through Disboard and other Discord-community searchable sites. Then, they will often not interact at all with the community itself, but they will jump to advertising channels and post about "seeking for work". I have found out that scammers operating on Discord do only very rarely also have socials, so look out for that. Do reverse searches if you can. Legit artists don't tend to join Discords solely to advertise, so look up "from: [name]" on Discord and check how they have interacted in the server, if they have done that in any way. See the first and second example for an example on how they behave. First example has art from @ydteus (in the second message, the dragonborn's source is unknown.) Second example is from one of these accounts who entered on a Streamers' Discord. Streamers and VTubers are very popular targets for these scammers. Third example (with art from absent_lambeth on instagram, and unknown for the second picture) shows another important point, which I'll explain below.

Many of these scammers do not have solid commission sheets showing examples and prices for them. The third one even mentions "it is under construction", fully knowing a commission sheet is expected. Not every professional artist has them, but most do. It is often expected that people who do commissions will have some sort of Terms of Service at the very least, even if they do not have a commission sheet.

3. What do they do?

They scam you. You may never get any art from them. You may get traced art, or art that is not of the quality they advertised, because the art they used for promotion wasn't theirs on the first place. Or you may get an AI-generated picture, too. In either way: You will find yourself with +$200 less in your pocket and no way to seek a refund. So, it's very important you know how to spot them BEFORE they scam you. I have known people who have lost their money

4. How do I actually spot them?

Simply put, they do not act like normal artists would. Let's make a handy list of suspicious behaviours to look for, though.

Most people who draw commissions won't directly DM you unprompted to ask you to pay them for work. If you get such a DM- Report as spam and block.

Most of them don't act like bots, either. If you're on Twitter or similar pages, seek for extremely repetitive posts, hundreds of Replies in their Replies tab that are copypasted or very similar. If you see that, report as spam and block.

Reverse search is sadly very unreliable nowadays, but it does not hurt to try. A lot of them will modify the picture so it doesn't show in reverse search, but try it- And seek if it links to a different account with a different name.

As an ESL, I hate to say this, but the grand majority of them have really broken English, so look out for that. Not every person with broken English is a scammer, but it is something common amidst them. You will notice they fail to communicate general information. Try to ask them for Terms of Service, for example: They will probably be unable to provide you anything (if they do even understand you.)

You will rarely find them on your own unless you frequent specific tags, such as "commission" or "openforcommission". Or even using completely unrelated tags in their posts. I found one of them using a tag about someone's death to cop violence on their anime art. These people mostly only interact with their fellow scammers, but not with artists you'd find through other means.

As mentioned above, they won't provide you a payment method that allows for refunds the grand majority of the time. If someone tells you to send them money "as friends and family" in Paypal, or through something life Ko-fi's donations (although this one is rare), do not pay them. This is a general advice: Do not use payment methods that do not allow refunds for people you don't know.

Ask them for a commission sheet, a webpage, their Terms of Service and other things. Professionals should be able to provide at least one of these, usually.

5. What do I do if I find out they have stolen art/if my art has been stolen?

If you have found stolen art, let the original artist known ASAP if you can find them. Ask for help from friends if you cannot find them.

If you're the artist, DMCA claim. Every page has it, it is required for them to have it. If you search "dmca form (and the website's name)", it should show up. Bsky only has it in mail form right now, but it's there. A DMCA claim is a Copyright claim, and as long as you can show that you posted your picture somewhere before they did, you can do it. The form may seem scary, but it is not all that much. They will ask for your legal full name, address, a mail + a telephone, the url of the post stealing your art, an url to where you posted it first, and to sign/agree to some terms. DMCA claims tend to be processed swiftly (in about a day) because websites can get in trouble if they allow for copyrighted content to be stolen. And you actually do have rights to any picture you have created without needing to trademark it or anything.

You may also want to ask your friends to help you report the account and/or posts. Often, reporting it for spam will give you the best results. DMCA claims will take down the offending posts, but sadly, reports in most major places are rarely taken seriously, but they may limit an accounts' reach or auto-flag it as spam in DMs, so it is still a fairly effortless option to follow. DO still DMCA claim them though.

6. Where do I actually find real people to commission?

Your best bet is through other real people. Let me explain some good methods for this.

Do you have friends who are artists? Ask them if they have commissions open, or if they know other people who take them. Artists almost always know other artists, and they can quickly find you someone you can trust.

Did a friend of yours get a commission? Ask them who was it from if you like the style, and they may be able to get you a link to their social media!

Do you follow artists for any sort of content you're interested in? (General art, fanart/fandom stuff, people you look up to, etc). You can check their work first and see if they have commissions, or if they share art from other people, and then check those.

Scammers really don't partake in fandoms or have art-related posts go viral (some get some follower-begging bait going viral, but that's it). Chances are that, if you found a cool art in your dashboard or timeline, it is from a real artist.

I think places such as VGen need verification for artists and have ratings. I am not personally experienced with it, but you may want to check that out.

You can always ask people to double check with you if you found someone but are doubtful about them being legit. If you are part of any community, do ask there! If you have artist friends, tell them! A lot of artists are acquittanced with the scam issue.

I have seen people do lists of artists available for commissions in places such as bsky, too. These can be an option, but always do verify that the people doing the list in the first place do seem like an actual person.

Ending notes

This is a very long post, but I really wanted it to be very thorough. I would greatly appreciate if you could share it around, as it is a very widespread issue that not many know how to identify. If you do find out scammers in Discords, please DM the servers' admins and link them to this post so they can get banned, in order to prevent scamming and art theft.

If you have any question or you need someone to help you verify an artist being legit or a scammer, my DMs are open for that too. I have talked about this a bunch in other places and I am fairly experienced with these cases, and I would be very happy to be able to lend a hand and find you an artist, if you do need the help. Thank you for reading!

[hopesangelsprite]

The Summoning

Pairing: Vampire!Illumi x Reader

Summary: Being immortal can grow very old, very quickly and Illumi's found that out the hard way. The only reasonable solution would be to find a suitable playmate, right?

Warnings: mentions of blood/death/murder, biting, size/strength difference, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, dacryphilia, breeding kink, degradation, female ejaculation, manipulation (vampire compulsion)

MINORS/AGELESS ACCS DNI

Viewer discretion is advised.

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

Or are you really here to cast me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

Illumi watched with half-lidded eyes as his servants removed a corpse from his feet, nothing left of the younger male but an empty, soulless husk. How many had he gone through now? 30? 300? Whatever the death toll was, it didn't matter. Illumi no longer cared for numbers, the sheer quantity of his years on earth drawing him to the conclusion that they were overrated.

"Bring me the next one.", he ordered while leaning further into the large throne chair he'd taken residence in, "If this one doesn't satisfy me, I'll be draining one of you in their place.". Illumi let threat roll off his blood-stained lips easily, keen on fulfilling it should he be presented another weakling.

There was a brief silence before the doors to his quarters opened, your figure edging closer uncertainly. The closer you got, the better he was able to analyze you. Unlike his previous victims, there were no tears in your eyes or trembling in your limbs. Though you eyed him warily, he sensed you were more curious than afraid. You were quite attractive, as well; with smooth curves just barely concealed by what was left of a skirt and halter top. As you finally got within arm's reach of him, you sank to your knees with fluttering lashes.

Illumi's cock twitched at the sight, the position giving him a perfect view of your tits and exposed thighs. "Do you know why you're here, pretty thing?", he inquired whilst making a mental note of just how fragile you were in comparison to him. To any mortal man, you'd be considered healthy, maybe even too much so for those on the weaker end of the male spectrum. To Illumi, however, you were nothing but a doll, a plaything he could bend and contort to his undead heart's content.

"I was running from my old life... I was promised shelter.", you answered after a moment and Illumi chuckled. He leaned forward, crimson tongue flicking over glinting fangs, and grasped your face with a large, ring-laden hand. "There's no safety for you here, little doll, only death or imprisonment.", he drawled out, keen eyes catching the way your thighs pressed together at his touch. With one hand, you removed his hand from your face, head turning to place a kiss on his palm. The other you placed on his dark denim-clad thigh, fingers tracing patterns into the coarse material. "Then I should aim to please, no?", you inquired as your hand crept closer to his belt.

'Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that

I didn't wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good girl bad

A smirk graced Illumi's lips at your insinuation, lust deepening within him as you carefully undid his belt's clasp. So, he leaned back, dark eyes watching you like a predator behind inky tresses. He pushed his hips forward to allow you better access to him, reveling in the tiny gasp you let out upon freeing his cock. His skin was milky, fading into a pretty pink closer to his weeping tip; a few veins adorned his shaft, a little longer than he was thick. Your mouth watered at the sight, core moistening as you took him into your hands.

Illumi groaned at the softness of your skin against his, catching his bottom lip between a fang as you gave him a few experimental strokes. You shuffled closer, knees no doubt bruising from the floor's harsh surface. You placed your chin on his knees, inquiring eyes boring into his as you swiped a thumb over his leaky slit; you were seeking permission, how wonderfully submissive of you. "Go on then, have a taste.", he permitted with a lazy nod.

His breath caught in his throat as your warm, plush lips enveloped his cockhead, your tongue following shortly afterward. You kissed him wetly, the taste of precum unfamiliar yet welcomed. You took him into your mouth once more, this time sucking him as far back into your throat as you could. A deep, satisfied hum rumbled through Illumi's chest as he watched you begin to come up for air, a blood-stained hand tangling itself into your hair to stop your rising and push you down further. "Now, now. Don't underestimate yourself, darling, you can take a little bit more.", he mewled over the sound of your gagging, "Can't you?".

Illumi finally let you up after a few moments, cooing at the sight of tear-streaked mascara kissing your cheeks. Still, your eyes only held a strange look of awe and adoration; one that Illumi found himself mirroring as you continued to suck him off ever so sweetly. Illumi hissed as he pulled you off his cock, leaning down to catch your lips with his. He deepened the kiss as he guided you from the floor onto his lap, the taste of his arousal on your tongue only making him harder.

As Illumi broke the kiss, lips dipping to nip at your neck while his hands slipped underneath your skirt, a low curse escaped him as his fingers met your bare, soaked core. He found his sanity waning. "Nothing underneath?", he hummed as he brought your face close to his, "What a pretty little slut you are.". He locked eyes with you, eye contact unwavering as he pushed two long fingers past your entrance and began searching for that soft, spongy spot he knew would have you singing praises.

You whimpered upon the intrusion, thighs quaking as he began scissoring you open. Illumi took your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, enjoying your breathy moans and the noises coming from your sopping cunt. "Feels good, doesn't it.", he chuckled as your hips began rutting against his palm, "I think we both know what'll feel much better, though.".

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

The taste of the divine

Before you could reach your high, Illumi pulled his fingers from your cunt. Without a second of hesitation, he shoved those same fingers into your throat as he pulled you down onto his cock, allowing very little protest as your pelvises met abruptly. More tears welled behind your lash line as you adjusted to the stretch of him overfilling your pussy, tip nuzzled snuggly against your cervix and g-spot. "Filthy fucking whore.", he spat as he pulled his fingers from your mouth and began manhandling you up the expanse of his shaft, "My filthy fucking whore.".

You cried out in pleasure as he pulled you back down, setting a quick and unforgiving rhythm. Illumi watched your tits bounce beneath the fabric of your top ruefully as he continued to use you like a doll. He growled as he tugged at its neckline, hips bucking up into you as it freed your breasts with a loud rip. You shivered as Illumi leaned forward to take one of your nipples between his teeth, gently tugging at it before swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh. He continued his ministrations, switching between left and right, with a single hand keeping a bruising grip on your hip while the other busied itself by rolling your clit between its thumb and index finger.

Illumi felt your soft walls flutter around him and he groaned into your skin, pulling your body impossibly closer to his. He released your tit with a loud pop, hips pistoning his cock into you faster as he licked a stripe up your chest and neck. It didn't take him long to find your pulse, suckling over the skin while imagining just how sweet you'd taste. Soon, his cock was throbbing in perfect time with your moans, his high growing closer and closer the more you called out his name and begged him to slow down. Instead, he removed himself from your neck, pulling your forehead against his to lock eyes with you.

The air between and around you quickly grew tense, a steady thrum of energy bringing you closer to your high as Illumi's dark eyes melted into a bloody, crimson shade. "Cum for me.", he moaned into your mouth, head dipping to pierce your skin with his fangs. Without warning, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, curses and pleas tumbling from your lips as the stinging pain of being bitten melded into overwhelming pleasure. Your mind grew numb as you came, your arousal spraying over Illumi's lap as he drank you in. And you let him, body trembling and unable to come down from the violent high he'd brought upon you.

You've got my body, flesh, and bone

The sky above, the earth below

Nothing to say and nowhere to go

A taste of the divine

Illumi released your neck after a long moment, tongue lapping up a few stray beads of blood as he pulled your hips flush against his and filled you with his seed. Another tremor crept down your spine at the sudden hot, sticky substance filling your womb, Illumi whispering sweet nothings and pretty vows into your ear to coax you out of the trance he'd locked you in. You blinked once, then twice, to clear the white spots and tears from your vision.

"There you are, little one.~", he purred before placing a kiss on the now bruising bite mark he'd given you, "Was afraid I lost you for a second.". All you could do was whimper, slumping forward to rest your head in the crook of his shoulder. Your scent faintly mingled with sex and iron filled his nostrils, tempting him to finish draining and breeding you. He let you rest, though, leaning back into the chair with his cock still plugging you full as he, too, drifted into sleep for the first time in centuries.

Besides, the venom and cum in your system would need time to take effectively.

[love-quinn]

— DON’T SAY THAT

summary — you and remus find each other doing what you both do best: hiding from the rest of the school.

warning — none

pairing — remus lupin x fem!reader

pronouns — none but reader is explicitly mentioned to be a girl

word count — 1.9k

note — this is another super old draft i’ve been sitting on, i hope u like it :3 thank u for 300 followers <3

The wooden panelling of the window was sticking into your back but you weren’t planning on moving. The sun was hitting your back in a way that filled you up completely. You had your current read in your lap, curling your neck into a crevice. The East hallway on the fifth floor was pretty much deserted most afternoons, most of the classrooms up there were for classes that no longer ran anymore.

Summer was quickly approaching, and with summer came the end to your time at Hogwarts. You weren’t a hundred percent sure you knew what you were doing after you finished school, you knew the general field, but you didn’t have a dream job or anything.

The pages of your book were browned by the sunshine, and it was hot to the touch as you flipped the page.

There was the distant sound of footsteps, and you shrunk further into your alcove, a little sunset set right into a window that overlooked the Quidditch pitch. The Hufflepuffs were training down there, and you watched them zoom around between pages.

You had nowhere you were meant to be, it was hours until curfew and the wing wasn’t off limits. No danger of getting in trouble.

The footsteps slowed to a stop around the corner, you couldn’t see them with your back pressed into the panelling. Eventually, you heard a breath, and swivelled your neck to see who was there. You recognised him from a few of your classes, and just from around. He was tall, taller than the rest of his friends, with messy hair and a heaving chest.

You weren’t staring at him, but you were definitely looking. He locked eyes with you and gave a sheepish smile. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re alright,” you said gently. “What were you running from?”

He looked embarrassed to have been caught. “Oh, just… you know.”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Right.”

He looked back in the direction he had come. “Don’t think anyone will come up here looking for me. I don’t suppose you mind sharing your hiding spot with me?” He asked softly.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, giving him enough room on the seat to sit. There was already room, it was deep enough for you both to sit side by side, but you figured he’d want the space. “I’ve seen you around loads,” he said, tucking himself away. His eyes were the colour of honey in the sunlight. He sat cross-legged, sleeves of his jumper pulled over his slender fingers. “Are we in the same muggle studies class?”

You nodded, pleased with the recognition. “I don’t know why you take that class, you already know everything.”

“My mum’s a muggle,” he laughed, ducking his head. “But she was never able to share that stuff with me as much as she wants to, not with… all this,” he gestured around and your eyes fell to the quidditch team on the ground. They were packing up, dusk was coming soon.

“That’s really sweet,” you said honestly, smiling behind where you held your book against your chin.

He gave you a mirrored grin, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to remind me of your name. I’m normally not this rude, I promise.”

You told him and he snapped his fingers like you’d just given him some sort of breakthrough. “Right, I am awfully sorry.”

You shook your head, leaning against the glass of the window. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

He studied your face for a second, a frown working its way into his eyebrows. “You already know my name,” he guessed.

You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. “I get you guys confused,” you said airily. “You’re either Remus or Sirius.”

He groaned, forehead landing on your knee. “Don’t say that to me, I thought we were becoming friends.” He wiped his hand over his face. “Do I look like much of a Sirius?”

“About as much as you look like a Remus,” you reasoned. That wasn’t entirely true. Remus was soft, it was a cosy name that had some sort of academic background you couldn’t recall. Sirius was a star, you’d learned in mandatory first-year astronomy. You’d never spoken to any of Remus’s friends, but if you had to guess any of them to be named after a star, you’d pick Sirius, charming smiles and chipped nails.

“Godric, just say you hate me.” He said dramatically. “I can never tell him that, he’ll be over the moon.”

You smiled at that, and he brightened. He’d been trying to pull a real, proper, one out of you since he’d arrived. He gave them a lot more liberally than you did apparently. Remus couldn’t really imagine looking at your face and not smiling.

There were more footsteps and Remus sighed. “I’d better head off. You only need one idiot interrupting you.”

You didn’t correct him, though you wanted to. He walked off with the air of someone who wasn’t actively being chased. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you said agreeably, not really believing him. He’d been a lot nicer than you’d expected. All three of them, Remus, Sirius and their friend James, were fairly intimidating. Taller than most of the other seventh-years, James was the captain of the Quidditch team and Head Boy, and Sirius had his own reputation. It was easy to see them as scary. They’d never done anything to you to cement the idea, but they’d also never done anything to disprove it. Not until then, anyway.

Dinner arrived and you took your book back to the Great Hall to eat. You sat with your friends and had almost forgotten about your encounter with the boy until the next afternoon. There was a summer storm coming, heralding in the season, with thick grey clouds off in the distance. For the moment, though, it was as warm as ever, and you were looking forward to being stretched out on the seat and continuing your book. You had friends, roommates, classmates, plenty of people who would be more than happy to let you keep them company after classes ended. But you liked coming up here. Hogwarts was often busy, especially outside, especially in the warmer months. You got to people watch in the quiet, and you didn’t mind it. The large windows gave you a view of the changing weeks without needing to ever alter your routine to suit the weather.

When you reached the seat, though, it wasn’t empty. Remus Lupin was sitting there with his History of Magic textbook open on his lap. You stood there for a moment, right in the spot he had been when you had seen him the afternoon earlier.

“You can sit,” Remus teased, “I don’t mind sharing.”

You sat, flattening your skirt and mirroring his crossed legs. His were a lot longer than yours, but there was more than enough space for you to give him extra legroom. “Oh, how generous.”

“I brought a book as well,” he held it up. “Mine’s nonfiction, though. I get shy. Figured I didn’t want to put you out too much. Not that I have to stay, of course.”

You shook your head. “Like I said, you’re alright. I can’t really picture you being shy about anything.”

He beamed. “Oh, you should see some of my books.” He let out a puff of air like he hadn’t used enough of his breath by talking. “It’s appalling, honestly. You’d lose all respect for me.”

“I don’t care what you read,” you assured him.

He shook his head. “No, it’s the state of them. You seem like one of those people who think books are this sacred thing - which, don’t get me wrong, I agree. But the state of them, I think I’ve written more in margins than I ever have for school.”

You let out a laugh, not too loud for how close you two were sitting, but loud enough that he could make out each individual layer of your voice. You flipped over your book and showed him your annotations that you had made months ago. This was your favourite, and you’d reread it dozens of times. “Ah, one of us I see,” Remus said happily. His whole face lifted when he smiled, like a spring that had finally let go and been snapped back to its original position.

“This one’s blank, I donate my books back to the school at the end of the year,” he explained. You didn’t even realise the school did that, you’d always gotten your books from Diagon Alley at the beginning of each year. You did vaguely remember seeing old potions textbooks in the bottom of the ingredients cupboard.

“Of course you do,” you shook your head, looking down at your lap and stifling a giggle. “Pack of saints, you lot are.”

Remus looked offended. “I resent your insinuation, evil girl.”

You raised your eyebrows innocently. “I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure I saw one of you throw a dungbomb across the hall during breakfast yesterday morning. I find it rather difficult to connect that person to this one.”

“I am multifaceted,” Remus said matter-of-factly. “Besides, that was James. I had no part in it.”

You gave him an appraising look, but he didn’t waver. “Of course. Where do your friends think you are, anyway?”

That surprised him well and truly. You’d been a bit of a surprise as a whole, really. You usually kept to yourself as far as Remus had seen. Even when you were with your friends, Remus had never heard you talk as comfortably as you seemed to be doing with him. He didn’t understand why you’d ask him that. “Here,” he said like it was obvious. It should have been. “With you.”

“Oh,” your eyebrows furrowed and then your face cleared with much deliberation. “Of course, right.”

“Why would I lie about coming to see you?” He asked, looking right at your face. Your eyeline was still in your lap. “I think you’re great. I want to get to know you better.”

You finally looked up at him and he felt the sun hit his face again, despite the fact that it was now hidden behind the impending clouds. “I want to get to know you better, too, Remus.”

He flashed you a wide grin. “I’ll have to ask their permission, of course.” He was teasing you again. You rolled your eyes and uncrossed your legs, stretching them so you could kick him as gently as possible.

“I hope they’ll like me,” you didn’t realise you did until you said it out loud.

“James’ll love you,” Remus said casually, like you were actually planning on meeting him. Neither of you had any intentions on breaking from your new tradition, especially not so early on. “It’s Sirius you’ll have to win over.”

You bit your lip. “I have to like, prove my intentions with you, or something?”

Remus laughed, and the sound echoed around the corridor. “No, no, you could fuck me over royally and he wouldn’t care.” Your laugh joined his and Remus scooched as close as he could in such a confined space. You didn’t mind, your thigh pressed against his. He finally spoke up again after a minute, voice filled with honey. “No, you’re just much prettier than he is.”

[yup-thats-me]

—addicted •J. Choi

summary; jongho can't control himself in front of his perfect girlfriend. He just has to fuck her! warnings; smut, 18+, pussy eating, overstimulation, exhibitionism, virtual masturbation, sex maniac Jongho 💀 a/n; just something about Jongho being so obsessed and perverted makes my stomach flips.

Choi Jongho absolutely has to eat out his girl before a show or performance. That is an unavoidable ritual he has to follow. It gives him motivation to tear it up on the stage.

"Jongie, I can't anymore, please," Y/n would plead, her boyfriend dead set on making her come for the nth time that evening.

Jongho would peek out from between her legs, her juices shining on his chin. "I know you can, baby," He'd coo. "C'mon, baby, please?"

He had such a way with words that had the girl wrapped around the palm of his hand. Even if she was absolutely spent, her body shaking in overstimulation, his words alone has her coming non-stop on his face, drenching him completely.

"Atta girl."

It didn't matter if the performance was just for a promotional interview for their newest comeback, he'd still eat out Y/n like it was his last day on earth.

He'd have the girl splayed on the vanity table, her head resting on the mirror behind her.

"God, you taste so sweet," He'd remark as if he hadn't just make her cum with his fingers just thirty minutes back. As if he hadn't just sucked on his fingers right after she climaxed. "My dessert," he had said.

Coachella too.

He didn't have the opportunity to physically pleasure his girl, but he could still do it through Facetime. And he did.

"Yeah just like that, baby," He'd groan, palming himself as Y/n on ther end played with herself, her fingers running up and down her folds, slick in arousal. "Fuck."

"Jongho, we gotta get going," His hyungs would call out to the singer.

The others knew what he was doing. He was doing his ritual, of course.

It wasn't anything new for the members to stumble into Jongho's room or trailer to see a sweat-drenched Y/n, her eyes drooping with exhaustion.

"What do you want, San-hyung," Jongho would peek his head out to see at the older man just leaning against the doorway, a smirk on his lips.

"Nothing, just wanted to see what the maknae is up to," He'd say as he made his way towards the couple, his pants growing tighter with each step.

Y/n, at this point has given up any sense of shame she had. Her lover being as obsessed as he was, it was bound that other members accidentally walk in on them during these moments.

"You should do it like this," San remarked as if teaching his younger brother how to fix a tire as he plunged one of his finger in Y/n's pussy, almost touching her cervix.

Y/n would gasp, hugging Jongho even closer. WIth a smirk, Jongho would nod. "Thanks, hyung." And San would nod, walking out of the room with the finger in his mouth.

Living in the dorm as Jongho's girlfriend for the last four years, she knew nothing could stop her Jongie from stopping his administrations on her swollen pussy.

There was even an instance where Jongho was actually talking about the melody he had created with Hongjoong for a track, while he had Y/n bouncing on his cock.

Hongjoong had just smirked at the sight. His youngest has grown so much, it warmed his heart. He did however, had to leave for a bathroom break for fifteen minutes though.

The others quite enjoyed having these private shows for them. It'd become a betting game between the members too.

"I'm telling you, San," Wooyoung would argue. "Jongie is fucking her reverse cowgirl."

And San would shake his head. "Nope. She's riding him this time. 100?"

Wooyoung would cock a brow. "Alright. 100 it is."

"Wait," Seonghwa would join in. "Make it 300. He has her in a mating press."

And the they would go upto Jongho's room, crack open the dorr slightly, but honestly they would just open the door and stand there on the doorway as if they were watching the tv from another room.

Seonghwa would smirk. "See? I told you!"

Jongho would not even look up to acknowledge them, neither would Y/n try to cover herself.

"Keep it up, Jongho!" And they'd leave bickering.

[sereia4skz]

hi can you please write an imagine where you and chan spend a cute cuddly day, just soft romance

drabble | you're home

pairing: chan x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

word count: ~300

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

The front door clicks softly shut, and before you can even turn around, two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. Chan buries his face into your shoulder with a quiet, exhausted sigh.

“Missed you,” he mumbles, voice a little hoarse from too many nights on stage.

You lean back into him instinctively, your hands resting over his. “You smell like airport and sweat.”

He laughs, nose brushing your neck. “Thanks, babe. Missed your honesty too.”

You gently wiggle out of his arms and turn to face him, cupping his cheeks. He looks tired—his curls are flattened from the flight, his under-eye circles a little darker, his lips chapped. But he’s smiling at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the whole world.

“Welcome home,” you whisper, eyes misting a little despite yourself.

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’m not moving for a week. You’ll have to drag me to the shower.”

“Actually,” you say, tugging him toward the bedroom, “I was going to make you unpack first.”

He groans dramatically but follows. “Torture.”

You both end up sitting on the floor, suitcases open, clothes half-folded into the laundry basket. Chan starts telling you stories, some chaotic, some sweet, about the tour as he hands you crumpled shirts and mismatched socks. You listen, hanging on every word, stealing soft glances at him each time he yawns or runs a hand through his messy hair.

Eventually, the basket’s full, the suitcase empty, and Chan’s head is in your lap while the washing machine hums in the background. His eyes are closed, lips parted, fingers loosely wrapped around yours.

“You okay?” you ask softly, brushing his fringe from his forehead.

“Mhm,” he murmurs. “Just… I’m so glad I’m home. With you.”

Your heart does a little somersault. You bend down and kiss the top of his head.

“Me too, Channie.”

The apartment smells faintly of detergent and summer rain, and you don’t even care that you’re both on the floor. He’s here. You’re together. And for now, that’s all you need

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

[lightsoutnaway]

Be Patient

PAIRING: Lando Norris x reader

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, blowjob, masturbation, dom/sub dynamics, orgasm denial

SUMMARY: Lando told you to be patient when you wanted to leave the party. On the drive home he’s going to have to be patient. Road head.

WORD COUNT: 1,036

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am currently accepting requests! send them in (I’ll write for more than who I have so far, you can ask for other drivers)

“Be patient.”

That’s what Lando had said an hour into the party you were at when you told him you wanted to go home. You had whispered it to him, your lips just brushing his ear. You had run your fingers up his abs over his shirt. You knew he knew what you wanted. But it had been several more hours between then and now.

You were in the passenger seat of Lando’s car now. Unfortunately, the drive back to his place was longer than you were willing to tolerate. You knew you weren’t going to make it. You pulled your dress up so that your panties were on display. Lando glanced over at you.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m horny,” you whined. “You made us stay so long.” You started running your fingers over the lace of your panties. Lando’s eyes flashed between you and the road.

“You can’t wait another twenty minutes?” He asked. It was a question, but in his mind there was only one acceptable answer.

“No,” you drawled. That was not what Lando wanted to hear. “I need something.”

“You’re gonna be in big trouble when we get home if you don’t put your dress back down now,” Lando told you firmly. You were rubbing your fingers up and down the thin lace of your panties, legs stretched as wide as they could be in Lando’s passenger seat. You wanted to be in trouble.

You looked over at Lando. He looked gorgeous. He had a tight black button up on. He had rolled the sleeves up halfway through the night giving you a better view of his arms. His necklace was dangling against his chest, visible where Lando hadn’t buttoned up his shirt. His tight black slacks made his ass look amazing all night. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his scruff was just the length you liked to feel rubbing against your thighs.

You had an idea. You pulled your hand away from yourself and leaned over the console towards Lando. He looked down at you as you reached towards his crotch.

“What are you doing?” Lando asked. You were already pulling at his belt.

“What does it seem like I’m doing?” You teased him.

“I’m driving,” Lando said.

“On the roads. You’re a Formula 1 driver. I imagine that’s more stressful,” you said as you pulled down Lando’s zipper.

“This isn’t safe,” Lando told you. You turned your head up and met his eyes. You placed your hand over his boxers and started to slowly stroke him.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked. Lando looked at the road. He sighed and looked back at you.

“No,” he admitted. He wasn’t going to let you have all the control though. “If you can make me come by the time we get home I won’t make you wait to come.” You hummed happily and rubbed against him more firmly. Lando moved his arm to let you lean down over him. You started pressing kisses over his boxers. You could feel him getting hard as you began licking where you could feel his tip pressing into his underwear. Lando gasped and you smiled. You leaned back just enough to pull Lando’s boxers down, freeing his now hard cock from his pants.

“You ready, baby?” You called up.

“Don’t tease. You’ll be in trouble,” he said. You giggled before leaning towards him. His hard length slid into your velvety soft mouth and Lando moaned loudly. The car swerved just a bit. You pulled back off him, though you were sure to keep your lips tightened around his length as you did.

“Are you sure you can drive like this?” You asked. Lando reached down and put a hand on the back of your head, pushing you back towards his cock.

“I’m usually going 300 kilometers an hour. I think I can drive with your lips around my cock on an empty road,” Lando said. You smiled as you let him push his cock back into your mouth. You quickly began bobbing your head up and down, careful not to bump the steering wheel. You pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” Lando whined when you swallowed around his cock. You pushed yourself down further and swallowed again and Lando whined loudly. He jerked his hips upwards involuntarily and you gagged on him. You pulled back slightly, catching your breath.

“Sorry,” Lando murmured. He ran his fingers through your hair softly, pushing it back away from your face. He glanced down to see your lips around his cock and groaned in pleasure. He looked back up at the road, knowing if he watched too long he’d be sure to crash. You pulled up slightly and focused your attention on his tip, running your tongue all over him as you sucked.

“You’re so good for me, fuck,” Lando groaned. You could tell he was getting close. You started bobbing up and down again making deep strokes each time. Lando twitched in your mouth. You started moving faster. Lando moaned in pleasure when you let him hit the back of your throat. You reached down with your free hand and took his balls in your hands.

“Oh shit,” Lando moaned. “I’m gonna come,” he warned. You bobbed your head two more times and then pulled off him and sat back in your seat. Lando swerved the car into the opposite lane. He looked over at you and then down at his throbbing cock. You smiled at him smugly.

“What are you doing?” Lando nearly shouted. It seemed to be his favorite thing to ask you.

“I thought you needed to be patient too,” you told him. Lando’s eyes went dark. He turned towards the road, tightened his hold on the steering wheel and slammed on the gas. You felt a shiver run over your body at the change in his attitude. He didn’t look at you again, but when he spoke his voice alone had you buzzing with anticipation.

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He was right about that, and you were desperate to find out.

[florihaei]

sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ .ᐟ ✦ ──── ꒰ 엔하이픈 ꒱

𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑷𝑻 ✶ ─── you ignore him at a party, and now he’s done waiting. wc .ᐟ : 230-300 each member ₊ ˖ ་.

❤︎ ໋𓈒 𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 — enhypen x fem!reader ׂ ִ

͏꒰ 𝑩𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑼𝑻𝒊𝑶𝑼𝑺❕ — jealousy, tension, suggestive, mild angst, makeups, kissing, pet names : baby, doll, pretty girl, sweetheart, angel. ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏꒰ ᴠᴀᴜʟᴛ ꒱ ✿.͏͏ ͏ ͏

꒰ AUTUM TALKS ꒱ - ͏back with another enhypen post after so long, hopefully you guys enjoy!!

• 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝒊𝑺𝑻 ˖ ་ — • 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 .ᐟ (fill out the form, or send a ask!)

• ✉️ ~ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪs ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ !

͏꒰ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴇᴇsᴇᴜɴɢ ꒱ ✿.͏͏ ͏ ͏

heeseung watches you from across the room, tongue pressing into his cheek when you laugh at something another guy says. his drinks warm in his hand, untouched, forgotten. he hasn’t approached you, not because he doesn’t want to, but because you haven’t even looked his way all night. and you always look at him first. that’s how he knows something is wrong. when you brush past him toward the hallway, he follows quietly. “you done pretending you don’t know me baby?” he mumbles when you stop outside the bathroom, and you flinch not expecting him there. heeseung steps into your space, his palm brushing your waist. “don’t act like i don’t see you looking when you think i’m not.” he voice is soft but low. “you may at me princess? hm?” his fingers ghost over your hip. “you want me to beg for your attention?” and maybe he would, if you kept ignoring him any longer.

—

͏꒰ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊᴏɴɢsᴇᴏɴɢ ꒱ ✿.͏͏ ͏ ͏

jay doesn’t chase people, he never does, but you’re not people, your his. and yet tonight you’ve been acting like a stranger. the way you avoided him when he walked in, the way you smiled for everyone else but kept your back turned when he hovered nearby. he can feel the irritation burn behind his calm expression. he waits until you’re alone in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone with one hand wrapped around a plastic cup. “funny how you’ve got time for everyone but me” he says, leaning beside you, his voice is low, but he’s visibly annoyed. “wanna tell me what i did doll?, or do i have to guess?”you roll your eyes, but he’s already moving closer, backing you up against the counter. “you ignoring me all night got my head spinning sweetheart, you think im gonna just let they slide?”!his lips hover over your cheek but don’t touch. “next time you wanna punish me, make sure your ready for how i’ll make it up to you after.”

—

͏꒰ sɪᴍ ᴊᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ ꒱ ✿.͏͏ ͏ ͏

jake had been looking at you the entire party. every room, every laugh that sounded like yours, every song you liked that played. and then he found you - talking to a guy he had never seen before. smiling like everything was fine. he doesn’t interpret, just stares for a second too long before turning on his heel. you find him outside later, pacing by the porch steps with a red solo cup clenched too tightly. when he sees you, he doesn’t smile. “so.. we’re doing that now?” his voice is hurt more than anger. “you can’t even say hi? couldn’t even look at me once?”. you start to speak, but he’s already pulling you into a hug, burying his face in your neck. “i didn’t like it” he mutters. “watching you pretend i wasn’t there.” he breaths you in like he’s scared you’ll slip away again. “you’re mine, right? just tell me i didn’t mess it up baby.”

—

͏꒰ ᴘᴀʀᴋ sᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ ꒱ ✿.͏͏ ͏ ͏

sunghoon’s patience runs thin when you act like this. cold, distant, laughing too hard at someone jokes that isn’t his. he stays composed, he always does, but it gnaws at him. especially when you walk past him without even glancing. he corners you in the hallway upstairs, far from the music and noise. “you’re really not gonna talk to me tonight?” his voice is dry, sarcastic actually. “or is it jsut more fun pretending i don’t exist?” you raised a brow, crossing your arms, but before you can respond, he moves closer. not touching you, just hovering. “if you wanted my attention that bad, baby all you had to do was asked.” his smirk is faint, but when he sees the flicker of hurt in your eyes, it all changes, he softens. “hey.. baby.. just don’t shut me out like that, you know i hate it.”

—

͏꒰ ᴋɪᴍ sᴜɴᴏᴏ ꒱ ✿.͏͏ ͏ ͏

you’ve been surrounded by people all night, but none of them are him. and that’s what kills sunoo. he’s used to your energy, your smile when you spot him, the way you pull him into the crowd like he’s your favorite person in the world. but not tonight. tonight, you don’t even look his way. and when you do, it’s empty. he finds you by the balcony, finally alone, and slips beside you. “did i do something wrong?” he ask quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the bass of the music inside. “or do you just not care anymore?” you turn to him, startled by his tone. there’s no drama in his face, just soft and hurt. “you don’t have to ignore me to prove a point” he says. “it works.. i miss you sunshine, it sucks.” he leans in, brushing your arm with his fingertips. “come home with me sunshine, let’s stop pretending we’re strangers.”

—

͏꒰ ʏᴀɴɢ ᴊᴜɴɢᴡᴏɴ ꒱ ✿.͏͏ ͏ ͏

jungwon is calm, always, but when you ignore him like this, laughing with people who don’t know you like he does, it sets something sharp off in his chest. he doesn’t show it, not right away. but he watches, and listens. and when he sees someone lean to close , hears your laugh that used to be his, he finally pull you aside.“is that what we’re doing now pretty girl?” he asks, his voice low and steady. “you’re upset , that’s fine but ignoring me like i’m nothing?” his hand clenches then unclenches at his sides. “that’s cold, even for you.” your silence only fuels him. “i would’ve fixed it pretty girl..” he whispered. “whatever i did, i would’ve fixed it the second i knew something was wrong.” he looks you dead in the eye. “but you don’t even give me a chance.”

—

͏꒰ ɴɪsʜɪᴍᴜʀᴀ ʀɪᴋɪ ꒱ ✿.͏͏ ͏ ͏

niki is young, but not dumb. he knows what it means when you go quiet on him. he knows what it means when you keep laughing like he’s not three feet away, watching every move you make. he doesn’t do jealousy, not really, but this feels like a punishment. so he waits. then he grabs your wrist as you head to the bathroom. “you ignoring me for fun or for real?” he ask. his voice is flat, but his eyes are burning. “you think that shit’s cute?”. you stare at him, your eyes wide. and that’s when his expression softens. “i don’t like feeling replaceable..” he mumbles. “not when you’re all i ever look at.” he leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “next time you wanna make me jealous baby don’t forget who gets to take you home.”