#absolutely perfect on his expression here

[monstersholygrail]

Dove Hybrid bf primps and preens his feathers almost obsessively. Always needing to look his best for you. He wants you to only see the side of him that is pure and perfect. As he hides away the dark part of him that yearns to take you far from here and keep you all to himself.

He’d rather you know him as the boyfriend who eats you out for hours on end, devouring your sweet pussy like he hasn’t eaten for days but now that he’s between your thick thighs he’s enjoying a feast fit for a king.

And not as the boyfriend who jerks off into your panties every morning and coats them in his cum so that his scent is on you for the entire day. Letting any possible threat know that you’re good and taken.

He figures it’s better that you’re only aware of the side of him that asks you how many times he made you cum last time with the clear intent to beat his record. Then he proceeds to make you count every orgasm he fucks out of your cunt till you’re left brainless and unable to utter a single word.

Instead of the side of him that’s memorized your scent so he can know where you are at all times. And even track you down if he senses another male getting too close to you.

He takes pride in the fact that you view him as the sort of boyfriend who can let go of the controls and let you take over when you ask. Allowing you to ride his cock till you physically can’t hold yourself up any longer and only coming when you allow it.

While he also tries to hide the pride in his expression every time he cums deep inside your tight dripping pussy, shooting jets of his release right into your eager womb. Despite telling him over and over again that he needs to wear a condom every time. That you don’t wanna risk getting pregnant. He can’t help himself, you just feel too good bare. Fucking you raw is the best feeling in the world and besides, by time he finally cums you’re always too fucked out to notice. So even then he never fails to look like absolute prefection in your eyes.

In all honesty he doesn’t even have to take so much time prepping himself to look more mesmerizingly beautiful. He just has to keep you drooling and panting for his cock and it’d be enough.

But he actually wants to put in the work for you. He craves your attention and praise. The way your eyes struggle to stop checking him out and you can’t help but shower him with lustful compliments whenever he shows off how gorgeous his feathers look. It all fuels his obsession, making him need more and more of you.

You’re the only one who appreciates him for who he really is. You’re the only one who’s stayed. And he can’t lose you, he won’t. Even if he has to hide part of who he is so that you never stop and never leave. Forever appearing completely flawless in your eyes.

The white purity of his enchanting wings luring you into a trap of which there is no escape.

[mattsstarlet]

pornstar!matt hates sharing what is his.

PLEASE READ: i wasn’t going to make a part two but here we are, if you haven’t read the first part please check it out here, as this blurb picks up right where it left off. reminder that pearl aka camgirl!friend has no romantic feelings for candy. enjoy!

your tongue lapped at pearl’s aching cunt like a desperate, thirsty, little puppy. you were absolutely fucked out, with matt’s cum oozing out of your abused hole, overstimulated and full but seeing you this submissive made him want to keep fucking you until you passed out.

the red-head ran her fingers through your hair, her stiletto shaped nails dug deep into your scalp. her hips bucked wildly against your flushed face, practically using you to get herself off.

“just like that, puppy, fuck.” she moans, grinning at matt’s reaction when he felt you clench around him. she knew you liked the little pet name, knew you liked being used like this. “she’s such a perfect little sub, isn’t she?”

matt won’t admit it, but he feels slightly jealous having to share you with anyone else, even if it was sexual. he plows into you deeply and rough, an exhausted smirk appearing on his face as your tongue loses it’s rhythm on her pussy. “good girl,” he drags out, he didn’t care about the stream anymore, he was treating it as a competition against pearl— that only he could make you feel good. no one else.

pearl let out a chuckle at his possessive behavior, only fueling her more. her hazy eyes find his, all while she shifts onto her knees, cupping your chin upwards. she traces your features, mouth shaped into an ‘o’, your makeup worn off and tears flowing down your pink stained cheeks. her dripping hole clenched at the sight of your lips, wet with her arousal.

her red stained lips grin, offering a last challenging look to matt before she finally pressed her lips onto yours. she moans, tasting herself on your tongue, swirling the muscle with her own. “you’re such a good girl kisser, pup.” she praises, rubbing her thumb on your bottom, swollen lip. “you should it more often.”

matt can’t stand her pitchy giggles— sure, watching you kiss another woman was attractive but he hated it more than he liked it. he reaches forward, wrapping a handful of your hair around his wrist and tugging you upwards, his chest pressed against your back.

you whine loudly, feeling his cock plunge deeper inside your sloppy hole. his palm leaves your hair, finding home around your neck. pearl shakes her head in amusement, reading the chat box of your stream before her fingers reached out to rub your sensitive bud, her eyes fixated on the way your tits bounced with each thrust.

“you’re takin’ it so well, baby.” she whispers, kissing your perky nipples. she can’t help but smirk at matt’s facial expressions, lost in paradise and not caring about her anymore— she knew he was close. “you gonna cum, matt? all deep in our girl? hm?” she knew she was taking a risk, but she didn’t care, not when she heard you whimper at her sudden behavior towards him.

“fuck,” he curses underneath his breath, his grip on both your hip and your neck tightening. his eyebrows furrowed, sweating dripping down his temple as he tries to brush off her tempting words. “shut up.”

“i know you wanna cum,” she taunts with a hint of sultry in her voice. she wasn’t even attracted to men, but she found it fun to play with. matt’s thrusts become sloppy, your moans turning into desperate sobs by the overstimulation and the way your head felt empty. “doesn’t she feel so good? so warm and tight? just begging for you to fill her up.”

he grunts, eyes squeezed shut as he feels your tight walls pulse around him, milking his cock into spurting his cum inside your walls. pearl smiles devilishly, giggling while your body twitches as she continues to play with your messy folds.

“gooood boy, matty.” she praises, humming to herself while your body falls limp into her arms. she pets your hair, her free arm wrapping around your waist for support. “look at how tired she is.”

his chest heaves as he comes down his high, his gaze narrowing at her. he quickly shuts down your laptop, the webcam’s flashlight shutting off. “don’t ever do that shit again.”

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

note ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ since pride month is basically over. i wrote this in 20 minutes meow. live laugh love men and women. also feel free to send in some asks! i want to bring them back.

[lunarcrown]

Odd request here...

Jimpulse art

Plz

Yknow what? Hell yeah!!! Summer cuddle nap time plus BONUS: impulse pulls his claws out to give some truly stellar wing scratches, knocks Jimmy clean out 💤💤💤

Plus bonus mini drabble by @opalwhisker under the cut bc she was inspired by the sprit of jimpulse HAHA

It was a gloriously perfect day outside. Sunny and warm, but not too hot thanks to a nice cool breeze in the air... the perfect day for a nap in the shade, which exactly what Impulse and Jimmy were doing.

Impulse, Tango and Skizz had all planned a fun day filled with activities for when Jimmy was going to visit the Hermitcraft server, but things rarely ever go to plan and Tango and Skizz had to dip away for a moment to take care of a few things, leaving just Impulse to entertain Jimmy.

Impulse obviously knew Jimmy fairly well after all the life series they'd played in together, but he'd still never had much one-on-one interaction with him before, so his initial attempts at conversation were a little stilted and awkward. He liked Jimmy and thought he was pretty cool and fun to be around... and if he was being honest, Impulse might admit he had a bit of a man crush on the handsome blonde man.

Fortunately, despite Impulse's awkward attempts at conversation, they found themselves slipping into comfortable conversation fairly quickly. Jimmy's smiles and giggles directed right at him had Impulse feeling a little funny, almost as if he were a schoolgirl talking to her crush. But how could he not feel like that when someone as handsome as Jimmy was paying attention to him and no one else in that moment? It felt like they were the only two players on the server when Jimmy spoke to him like that.

"Say, Impulse...?" Jimmy started hesitantly, "I know you 'n Skizz 'n Tango planned out this whole day for when I visited but, uh, since we have a moment, d'y'think we could maybe just... lay on a blanket in some shade and take a nap? That last round of Hungry Hermits really wore me out." Jimmy smiled apologetically and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking expectantly at Impulse with those beautiful brown eyes.

"Oh, sure! Yeah, of course, Jimmy! That sounds like a great idea! Here, lemme grab a blanket for us..." Impulse reflexively took Jimmy's hand and led him over to the shade of the nearest tree, rummaging through his ender chest before pulling out a large blanket and laying it on the grass. He put away the ender chest and knelt on the blanket, patting the ground next to him to invite Jimmy to lay down, which the avian happily did, flopping back onto the blanket with a relieved sigh.

"Ohhhh yeah, that's the stuff...." Jimmy heaved a big sigh and closed his eyes, leaving Impulse to fidget a bit by himself, unsure if he should lay down next to Jimmy or just stay as he was.

"...Well? Are you gonna lay down or what?" Jimmy cracked one eye open to look at Impulse, "You were gonna take a nap with me, right?"

"Oh!" Impulse felt his face flush at Jimmy's words, "I uh, wasn't sure if that's what you meant, or--"

"'Course its what I meant! Now get your butt over here, its absolutely perfect nap weather." Jimmy smiled so warmly at him, Impulse couldn't refuse his request, sliding down to lay next to Jimmy on the blanket, close but still a respectful distance between them. Jimmy seemed unhappy about this.

"Do I stink or something? I thought we were going to take a nap _together._" Jimmy pouted, "What's a nap without a bit of cuddling?"

"Well, I guess you're right... naps are better when youre cuddling!" Impulse giggled, trying to mask how flustered he felt that Jimmy expressed a desire to cuddle with _him._

"Of course they are, now get over 'ere!" Jimmy motioned Impulse closer, and the demon hybrid scooted closer until Jimmy could nestle into Impulse's side, resting his head on Impulse's shoulder while Impulse wrapped his arm around Jimmy's body, his hand resting in the bright yellow feathers of Jimmy's wings.

Impulse hoped Jimmy wouldn't be able to hear how hard his heart was beating in his chest at their proximity. Jimmy was so close Impulse could smell the scent of his shampoo in his hair and feel Jimmy's breath tickle his collarbone.

"Ohhh yes this is nice~" Jimmy sighed, practically melting in Impulse's arms, "I always wondered if cuddling with you felt as good as it looks and now I can say that it's even better~"

Impulse was too stunned at the compliment to respond, his cheeks flushing even hotter at the compliment. He was sure Jimmy had to be hearing his heart pounding against his ribcage at this point and must just be teasing him to hear it flutter some more.

"The only thing that could make this better is... y'know, if you wanted to, maybe run your fingers through my feathers? It always feels so nice and relaxing when someone does that...." Jimmy peeked up at Impulse with those cute brown eyes and there was no way Impulse could resist.

"If--" Impulse cleared his throat when the first word came out more high pitched with nerves than he'd wanted it to, "If you want, yeah I-- I can do that..."

The effect was almost instant as soon as Impulse began to card his fingers through Jimmy's soft, golden feathers. The avian hybrid shivered and sighed, melting against Impulse even more, closing his eyes and seeming lost in the calming sensation. His breathing slowed and for a moment Impulse thought he'd fallen asleep and stopped running his fingers through Jimmy's feathers, eliciting a breathless, pleading whine from Jimmy that gave Impulse pleasant goosebumps.

"Noooo please don't stop.... it felt so nice...." Jimmy pouted. "I haven't had someone run their fingers through my feathers like this since the last time Tango did it... oh his claws felt so nice running through them..." Jimmy sighed, lost in his reminiscing for a moment before remembering who he was cuddling with, "Oh! I mean. You're doing a great job too, Impulse! Tango's just got those claws that run through my feathers differently..."

"I mean... if you like it, I could use my claw for you, too." Impulse offered shyly, trying not to blush. What was he doing? He liked Jimmy, but he wasn't close enough with him to know how he might feel about Impulse relaxing more of his glamor around him. Normally Impulse wouldn't even consider something like that until he was more confident that whoever it was wouldn't get scared of him afterwards. There was just something about Jimmy... Impulse wanted to do everything he could to make him happy.

"You... have claws?" Jimmy glanced between Impulse's face and free hand with a bit of confusion, "I didnt know you had claws, Impulse."

"O-oh, um, yeah... usually i keep them hidden with magic, I've found that people are less scared when I hide them.... _Anyways-_" Impulse cut Jimmy off just as he was opening his mouth to respond to Impulse's comment, "I can undo the magic that keeps them hidden if you want..." Jimmy frowned for a moment, noticing Impulse's evasion of the topic, but choosing not to press further.

"If that's okay with you.... yes, please that sounds so nice!" Jimmy smiled so cutely at him Impulse felt his heart jump into his throat for a moment.

"Okay then, then, just close your eyes and I'll-"

"Actually... could I... see? Your claws I mean. If its okay with you!" Jimmy nibbled his lower lip a bit anxiously, "I promise I won't be scared or anything!" He hastily reassured Impulse.

"Well..." Impulse hesitated for a moment. He wasn't sure if he should let Jimmy see, but the avian puppy dog eyes won him over in the end. "Sure, if you want to see, that's fine."

Impulse smiled and Jimmy beamed back at him, his face alight with excitement as he cuddled even closer, resting his head against Impulse's chest and twining their legs together.

Impulse lifted his hand up for Jimmy to see as he slowly undid the glamor that hid his claws, the illusion melting away to reveal his claws and scaled hand, the tough, scaly skin running up his entire forearm.

_"Oh. My. Gosh!!"_ Jimmy squealed, "That is so cool!! Impulse, your claws are so pretty!"

Impulse could feel himself blushing ten times hotter at Jimmy's compliments, his heart racing again at the genuine expression of appreciation and Jimmy's proximity. Evn Impulse couldn't keep his tail from instinctively curling around their legs possessively, his tail tip flicking back and forth in a pleased motion as Jimmy grabbed Impulse's hand to examine his claws and scales up close.

With this perfect weather, cuddled up to someone who makes his heart flutter and is actually admiring a part of himself Impulse usually hid from the world... it was completely perfect. Impulse wished they could stay like that forever in the comfort of each other, but knowing that it wouldn't be forever only made that intimate moment something he savored even more in the moment.

[vernonverse]

forever and ever and ever

— the morning after bsf!soonyoung drunkenly confesses to you.

ⓘ paring. soonyoung x f!reader. genre | tags: friends to lovers, drabble, fake texts, fluff, mini-series. warnings. alcohol consumption, lots of crying, kissing. word count. 2.6k+. → read part one here.

━ This is part of my series 500 follower special. Technically not mandatory reading but for it to fully make sense, I’d recommend checking out part one first.

ʚ A/N: This one doesn't have texts, it's just written parts.

The bar is loud, dimly lit, and sticky with the kind of Friday night energy that promises bad decisions and regretful stories.  

You know there’s a baseball game going on because Soonyoung told you earlier, long before he poured his heart out to you, practically buzzing with excitement through the phone as he explained that everyone was heading to this bar to watch it together. He even invited you, but since you were supposed to work late, you declined, not expecting your evening to shift so suddenly or to find yourself walking into the exact place you said no to just hours earlier, just to pick your best friend up.

You push the door open, not sure exactly what you’re walking into, and you spot Mingyu immediately—all 187 centimeters of him waving frantically at you from across the room. Next to him, Joshua sips from his glass, entirely unbothered, offering you a lazy wave and smile.

The place is absolutely packed. Bodies squeezed shoulder to shoulder, voices raised over the blaring commentary from the TVs, the clatter of glasses behind the bar barely audible beneath it all. The air is clouded with the scent of fried food, beer, and something vaguely woody from someone’s cologne nearby.

You spot Seokmin and Seungkwan sandwiched between a couple of dudes close to the biggest TV in the bar, both of them in matching jerseys, looking like they’ve been there for hours, cheeks flushed from a combination of beer and yelling, arms flailing as they half-celebrate, half-coach the team from afar like the players on the screen can hear them.

The rest of the boys are scattered around the bar. Some near the pool table, others by the bar counter, a few more huddled around the TV. You spot each one easily, laughing, drinking, caught up in the noise of the place.

All of them… except the one you were actually looking for.

“Y/N!” you hear someone call out over the noise, your name slicing through the low hum of conversation and music. 

You turn your head to the left corner, finding Joshua pointing at the lump of sparkly tiger print collapsed on the table right between Jeonghan and Chan. 

Kwon Soonyoung.

“Ain’t no fucking way,” you murmur to yourself, eyes wide in disbelief.

You weave your way through the crowded bar, brushing past elbows and half-finished drinks, offering Seungcheol and Wonwoo a small, polite smile as you pass by them. Seungcheol nods in greeting, and Wonwoo flashes you a knowing smirk, but you don't slow down to talk to them. 

Soonyoung’s head rests on the table, arms crossed, eyes shut. He looks peaceful, though completely unbothered by the music, the TV and the loud sound of voices. Sleeping like an angel. A very intoxicated, overly dramatic angel.

Jeonghan rises from his chair without a word, his expression the perfect mix of sympathy and amusement. He gives your shoulder a firm, almost solemn pot, like a soldier sending another off to war, and leans in just enough to mutter, “Good luck,” before disappearing into the crowd with the casual ease of someone who knows exactly what kind of chaos you’re walking into. 

Chan follows right after him, and you are left alone, staring down at Soonyoung and his sparkly, tiger-print disaster of a state, wondering how your night had managed to take this turn.

“Soonie,” you say softly, nudging his shoulder as you sink into the seat beside him.

He groans, barely lifting his head from the table. “Go away, Chan, I’m in mourning,” he mumbles, voice muffled against his folded arms. 

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head before asking, “For what, honey?”

Soonyoung pops his head up so fast he almost hits your chin. 

“Y/N?!” he exclaims, eyes wide and glitter catching in the light like he’s part raccoon, part pure alcohol incarnate. 

“Hey, tiger boy,” you smile at him. “Calm down before you give yourself whiplash, will you?”

His eyes widen in horror, then immediately scrunch like he’s about to cry again. 

“Oh noooo,” he whines, dragging the last syllable as he buries his face in your arm. “I wasn’t ready. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. I had a dance planned.”

You blink, startled. “A dance?”

Soonyoung groans louder against the sleeve of your jacket. “I was gonna get backup dancers and everything. Jihoon said no but I think I could’ve convinced him…”

You try to hold back your laugh, but it escapes anyway as you brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You say that now,” he sniffs, “but just wait. The choreography was gonna slay.”

“Oh, coming from you, I believe it,” you say, running your fingers gently through his hair.

The movement seems to breathe life back into him. His shoulders relax, his grip on your arm softens, and he lets out a content little sigh that’s half dramatic, half heartfelt.

“You get me,” he mumbles, leaning fully into your side like a sleepy child. “You really get me.”

You chuckle, brushing a few stray strands of glitter-coated hair from the back of his head. “Unfortunately for both of us, I do.”

Soonyoung looks up at you again, eyes glassy and sincere. 

“I love you,” he says, suddenly quiet. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that. But I do. I love you so much it makes me stupid. Which is saying something, because I was already halfway there.”

His voice cracks at the end, trembling with everything he’s held in for far too long. And then he’s crying again. Not loud or messy, just soft tears running down his cheeks, ones that make his eyes look even smaller than they are, lips wobbling as the truth spills out of like it’s been waiting for this exact moment to break free. 

Your chest tightens. “Soonyoung…”

“I meant every word, Y/N. I wanna be yours. I want you to be mine. And not just when I’m drunk and pathetic like this. I mean always. Forever and ever and ever.”

You can only stare, heart caught somewhere between aching and soaring. His voice wavers, but his eyes don’t. They stay locked on yours, shining with tears and conviction and that unmistakable Soonyoung kind of love as a goofy smile appears on his face. 

Then he adds with a teary laugh, “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”

You hold his face between your hands, wiping away the tears streaming down his face. “I love you too, idiot,” you whisper, and lean down to kiss his cheekbone.

Soonyoung freezes, eyes wide, like he’s trying to reboot. Then slowly, a smile spread across his face, crooked and amazed. 

“Wait,” he says, blinking the tears away. “Did we just get engaged?”

You laugh. “Let’s start with sobering you up first, Romeo.”

“Okay,” he nods enthusiastically, wobbling slightly as you help him up. “But I want matching rings eventually.”

“Eventually.”

Soonyoung now leans against your car like it’s the only thing holding him up, which, to be fair, it is.

You stand in front of him, arms crossed, trying not to smile at the way his tiger-print shirt is halfway tucked in and his cheeks are flushed a warm, rosy pink from the drinks, embarrassment long gone now.

In fact, it was so far gone that during the long minutes you spent trying to convince him it was time to go home, Soonyoung had managed to climb on top of a table, declare to you, and the entire bar, that he was very much in love with you, and then proceed to propose.

Twice.

The first time was with a cocktail napkin he had folded into a ring. The second time, he forgot the words halfway through, cried a little, and then asked if anyone had a real one he could borrow. The crowd cheered, encouraging him. You wanted to disappear into the floor. 

Now standing in the parking lot, just the two of you, Soonyoung blinks up at you with wide, sincere eyes, so full of hope it makes your chest tighten. 

“Y/N,” he says solemnly, swaying just a little. His eyes are wide, glassy, and a little desperate. “Kiss me.” 

It’s not a question. It’s not even really a request. It’s a plea, whispered into the space between you like it’s the only thing holding him up, besides your car. Like kissing you might fix everything that’s ever been wrong with his world. 

That’s exactly what you feel about him. But you’re not doing that right now. 

“You’re drunk, Soonyoung.”

“I’m in love.”

“You’re also very drunk.”

He steps close, or more accurately, he stumbles forward like gravity is personally invested in his love life. You reach out and steady him, your hands curling gently around his arms to keep him upright.

Soonyoung leans into your touch instantly, like your grip is the only thing pinning him to the ground. His eyes search yours, wide and open and impossibly vulnerable.

“So what?” he says, pouting. “I know what I’m saying. I’ve never been more sure of anything. In fact…” He pauses, eyes narrowing in dramatic determination. “I might be too sober.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So now you need more alcohol to kiss me?”

“No, wait—no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Soonyoung frowns, frustrated. “I mean, I want to kiss you right now. Please? Just one? Tiny little kiss? Like—” He holds up two fingers, squinting between them. “Like this small. Honestly, you might not even notice.”

“Soonie,” you say gently, pressing a hand to his chest to steady him more, “you’re gonna want to remember it.”

“I will remember it,” he insists. “I remember everything when it comes to you. Like your birthday. Your MBTI. Your blood type. And how you take your coffee. And that time you wore those SpongeBob and Patrick socks thinking they were a pair but they weren’t.”

You blink, caught off guard by the memory. 

“You said it didn’t matter because they were best friends anyway.” He smiles faintly, a little proud, a little wrecked. “See? I remember the little things. Because you matter that much to me.”

You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart’s doing backflips in your chest. “Still no.”

He slumps dramatically against the car’s bonnet. “This is the worst night of my life.”

“You literally just confessed to your long-time crush and she came to pick you up like a cheesy hallmark rom-com. You’re doing fine.”

“But there’s no kiss.”

You laugh, shake your head, and brush his bangs away from his forehead. “You’ll get your kiss, Soonyoung. But not like this.”

He squints at you. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you nod.

He closes his eyes, content. “Okay. But when I’m sober, I’m kissing you so hard, you’re gonna think I was drunk again.”

You grin. “I look forward to it.”

You’re in Soonyoung’s kitchen and you hear a thud from the hallway that leads to his bedroom, flowed by the softest, most pitiful groan. 

You peek around the corner to find him staggering into the living room like a man at war with his own apartment walls.

His hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction gravity allows it. One sock is missing entirely, the other hanging half-off his foot like it’s given up. And, of course, he’s still wearing that ridiculous tiger-print shirt from last night, the collar stretched, glitter clinging stubbornly to the fabric and his skin. 

Soonyoung blinks at you blearily, like he can’t believe he just woke up to you in his kitchen, then breaks into a crooked grin. 

“Morning,” he croaks, voice still rough with sleep. “Am I dead? Or do you just look this good in the afterlife?”

“Oh, you’re very much alive,” you say, holding out a glass of water and some painkillers. 

He tilts his head to the side slightly and grimaces immediately like it weighs a hundred pounds. “Barely, actually.”

Soonyoung lifts the chair from the kitchen table as calmly as possible, as if the possibility of dragging it would cause a near-death experience to his brain. You set the glass on the table next to him, and he eyes you warily. 

“Did I… do anything stupid last night?”

You smirk, sitting next to him. “Define stupid.”

His entire face goes pale. “Oh no.”

“You told me you were in love with me like a hundred times. Then did once again while standing on a bar table with people cheering you on.”

He groans again, long and dramatic, before dropping his head against the table with a heavy thud, burying his face in his arms, falling right back into the exact same position you found him in last night at the bar. 

“Oh my god.”

“You also proposed.”

“I DID WHAT?!” 

“Twice,” you add, a teasing tone in your voice. “Second time was slurred and had a few tears, but still legally binding, I think.”

He peeks at you with one eye, his ears and neck bright red. “You said no to the kiss.”

You smile. Of course that is the only thing he remembers. “Because you were drunk, Soonyoung.”

“So I get another chance?”

You pause, leaning against the back of the chair. “Depends. You still feel the same way, or was it just the alcohol speaking?”

Soonyoung sits up quickly, cradling the water like a lifeline. He reaches out to grab your hand and you let him intertwine his fingers with yours.

“Y/N… I wasn’t drunk when I fell for you. That’s been happening for half my life. The drinks just… took the filter off and gave me the courage.”

You bite your lower lip, cheeks heating up. 

“I still mean everything I said,” he adds softly. “I love your laugh. Your face. Even the way you get mad at me when I’m being stupid on purpose. I love you.”

You don’t say anything at first. You just sit there, looking at him, really looking.

At the way his eyes, still puffy from crying so much last night, flick up to meet yours with a kind of quiet desperation. Hopeful but terrified. At the way he’s trying not to breathe too loud, like the sound might scare you away. At the way his hand twitches between you on the table, like it’s aching to reach out, to grab your face and kiss you breathless, but doesn’t want to push your boundaries. 

Because he’s Soonyoung. And as much as he loves loudly, this—you—he’s afraid to break.

So you make it easy for him. 

You lean in. Slowly. 

He freezes. Eyes wide, mouth parted just slightly like he’s not sure if this is really happening.

And then you kiss him. Softly. Just once, testing the water, tasting the moment, letting him feel the answer he was too scared to ask for out loud.

When you pull back, he’s staring at you like you just put the stars in the sky. And that’s when it hits you: he has always looked at you like that. You were just too caught up in your own mess, your own fears, to see it.

“Holy shit,” Soonyoung whispers, breath catching. His eyes shimmer with something that looks a lot like awe, like he still can’t believe you’re real. “You kissed me.”

“So…” you whisper. “Still want that kiss?”

He blinks. “You mean that wasn’t it???”

You laugh, grabbing the collar of his ridiculous tiger shirt and pulling him back in.

“No,” you murmur against his lips. “That was the preview.”

navigation | main masterlist | series masterlist

Every ask & comment gives me life 💗 If you’re enjoying it, don’t forget to reblog—helps so much and gets the fic out there!! Sharing is caring before you scroll!

💌 Taglist: @bmo-bri, @chromequette, @codeinebelle, @starlight-constellation, @ojuwme, @paradiseoflosers, @tinyelfperson, @dcrlingyou, @my-atiny-kookie-rkive, @theidontknowmehn, @haaruki, @bath1lda, @hoshstruck, @jihoonsbbygirl, @smiileflower, @tastyluvr, @christinewithluv, @jesauiin, @raggedypansexual, @caratcak3, @ateez-atiny380, @meowchella, @jeonsfries, @whoisbaek15, @damnedangel98, @sumzysworld, @mingyuuulover, @andreethier, @sarabencze, @brishti007, @weepingsweep, @minhui896, @blaycke, @miyx-amour, @pl4netx1a, @ohwowzersthatscool, @ahuiahoe,@bee-the-loser, @im-gemmy, @ssamarzi, @my-neurodivergent-world, @wonsrat, @starmy-143, @wonu13, @unlikelysublimekryptonite, @nonuverse, @bestestsillestgoose, @exomew.

Note: You're always free to leave the taglist any time — no hard feelings, no questions asked. Just fill out this form and I’ll take you off right away.

© VERNONVERSE. I do not condone reposting, plagiarizing or translating my work in any form.

[ruruumin]

true rivals

₊˚ ☘︎ huntr/x! mira x fem! reader.

⤷ inspired by extraL by jennie

as the saja boys made themselves comfortable in their shared table with huntrix, mira’s glare was unwavering. resisting the urge to pull herself from this misery, she sucks up her frustrations and smiles wide for the audience. while the two men beside her chatter with superficial comments about her hair and face, a third voice breaks through the noise.

“didn’t know you were something to be shared, mira.” you say, tilting your cap upwards to expose part of your face. mira’s expression changes from annoyance to shock when she recognizes your smirk beneath the black mask. “i thought we had something special.” 

standing in front of her was a very, very special guest. mira’s lips press tightly against each other, gaze hardening on your figure. had you debuted with huntrix, the world would have united in glorified cheers. instead, you parted from them during your trainee days, choosing to go solo with your agent. 

mira didn’t believe it at first until she saw you walk out of the conference room. the expression on your face was dark and your agent trailed behind you like a puppy. the ceo was hot on your feet, begging for you to reconsider your choice and join the rest of the girls. you had a lot of potential, he kept saying. losing you would mean the entire program might sink under. regardless of his words, you left to create your own small company, one where you could have absolute reign over your debut.

the pink-haired idol thought that when you left, you took her heart with her. all those gentle gestures of affection, sharing water bottles and practicing difficult choreography late at night— she spent years shaking them off. when she closes her eyes, she still imagines your hot breath brushing up against the nape of her neck. she can feel the seething heat from beneath your finger hips as you guide her hips to the beat of the song. 

back in the present, mira closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. to some extent, she hoped you could have joined her in this new group. you would have been good friends with both zoey and rumi. and maybe there could have been more between the two of you. the spark she saw in you was still there. but she has to admit, you looked better alone. at the very top of the music scene, you shined brighter when you were by yourself. being held down by other people wasn’t your cup of tea. 

you wanted all the lines, the hardest dance moves, full control over the field. mira admired that most in you. this feeling of perfect authority that you wield. as long as you put your mind to it, you could do absolutely anything. you’ve done numerous collaborations that garnered both western and eastern attention. your stage presence was absolutely breathtaking when she got the chance to see you.

yet despite being at the height of your career, you’ve never once stopped teasing her. even now, you snuck through heaps of people to be in front of her. acting like one of her other fans, you gesture back to the poster.

her fingers are nervous and the palms of her hand was starting to grow clammy. a bead of sweat threatened to break through her foundation. underneath the gaze of the saja boys was tense, however, it was nothing compared to your sharp, almost calculating stare. 

“haha. very funny,” mira replies, picking up one of her posters, “who am i making this out to then?”

you slowly tilt your head to the side. humming a familiar tune she recognizes as your latest release, mira’s body starts to shiver. “how about… your number one rival?” 

she chuckles, signing the poster. subtly drawing a heart beside your name, she playfully rolls her eyes, “you got some real nerve showing up around here.” 

mira doesn’t waste a second giving you the poster, the excitement in her veins being almost as palpable as her many fans here. the two saja boys sitting beside her don’t bother signing the poster. instead, they sit back in their seats, exchanging looks to each other. the tension as so thick, you couldn’t cut it even with the sharpest of knives.

“i couldn’t help it. i wanted to see my favorite girl.” 

this mouthy response has mira at the edge of her seat, ears burning a brighter shade of pink than her hair.

“h-huh? what are you—?”

at this moment, the rest of the table is staring at her interaction with you. bobby is inching over with curious eyes. this level of attention has mira gripping onto the pen with a force strong enough to break the heavens. instead of entertaining the others at the table, both saja and huntrix, you think its a good time to leave.

“i better get going then. it was nice seeing you again, mira.” without wasting a breath, you straighten your back and start your departure. pulling your cap down to conceal your face, you weave through the crowd without looking back. 

she doesn’t need to hear it from you. she’s sure that when you left, you promised to see her next show.

[slaybinnie]

HUMIN SMUTT PLEASE 🙏

PROBATION

ׂ╰┈➤ Humin (baku) x fem!reader

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, KINDA CRACK FIC, reader has boobs, humin has a boob obsession (lolz), dw I don't mention the size.

about: Humin usually seeks comfort in touching y/n’s chest.. privately. But when he crosses the line in public, he’s but on restriction. Oh the horror! How long can Humin last his boob probation? (lol)

note: WHO DOUBTED MEEE?? I ended up finishing this fic and it kicked my ass lolzers but it was so fun to write. thanks anon for requesting ILY. MUAH

WORD COUNT: 5k <3

Okay you admit it, this was partially your fault. The first time Humin had ever put his hands in your shirt was by your suggestion. 

It was a cold day and you were both curled up on your couch watching some random drama he had put on. You'd noticed Baku rubbing his hands together periodically with that adorable frustrated expression he got when he was annoyed. 

You reached over to touch his hands and they were freezing, “Your hands are so cold.” 

“Well yeah, the heating in my house is so bad,” he grumbled, even though you both knew he just ran cold naturally.

Without really thinking about it, you grabbed his hands and guided them under your oversized sweater, pressing his palms against your warm stomach. “Better?”

Humin grinned and nodded, “Much better!” His thumbs traced small circles on your skin, and you tried to ignore the way it made your heart skip.

That innocent moment had somehow evolved into... this. Since then Humin's hands seemed to have claimed permanent residence under your shirts, hoodies, and sweaters. What had started as a simple solution to his cold hands had become his go-to comfort method.

What had started as something innocent had slowly become something much more intimate as time went on. You weren't even sure when it had shifted but soon enough, Humin had discovered that your chest was the perfect temperature for warming up his hands. Your stomach was no longer an option for him. 

You'd be lying on the couch together, his head on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone, and his hands would automatically find their way under your shirt to cup your breasts. It wouldn’t always be in a sexual way, though you were very affected sometimes, but just for comfort. 

“Mmm, you're so warm here,” Baku would say, sleepily, his thumbs brushing over your nipples unconsciously. 

Sometimes he'd even massage them gently while you watched TV or he'd trace patterns on your skin, and also play with the lace of your bra until you were squirming beside him. He seemed to find some kind of peace in the action which was fine by you. But Humin had a big problem. The problem of not differentiating between “at home” and “literally anywhere else.”

It was fine when he did it at home. More than fine, actually. You'd grown to love the way he'd automatically slip his hands under your shirt when you cuddled on the couch, or how he'd sleepily reach for you in the morning. But gosh, Humin had absolutely zero sense of appropriate timing or location.

You'd lost count of how many times you'd had to grab his wrists and gently pull his hands away when you were out in public. At the grocery store when he got bored waiting in line. During study sessions at the library when he got restless. Even at cafes when he'd absent-mindedly reach for your chest while scrolling through his phone.

“Baku, no,” had become your most frequently used phrase and honestly, the worst part? He has no idea why you were stopping him. He’d give you these genuinely confused looks as if the middle of the campus quad was an appropriate place for his hands to be wandering under your clothes.

Today’s situation had been the most annoying though, which led to your final decision of banning his touches. 

You and Humin had decided to catch the latest action movie on a Friday night. The theater was packed, and you'd managed to snag seats in the middle of a row, surrounded by other moviegoers. The previews were still playing when you felt Humin's familiar cold fingers slip under the hem of your sweater.

You didn't think anything of it at first as you were expecting his usual gentle touch on your stomach. The theater was dark enough, and you were tucked away in the corner where no one would notice. But his hands moved higher than usual, and instead of stopping at your bra like he did in public, his fingers slipped underneath the fabric to cup your bare breast.

You jumped so hard you nearly spilled your drink and a quiet gasp escaped your lips. 

“Humin.” you whispered angrily, grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand away. “What the hell?”

He looked genuinely confused, how annoying. “What? I wasn’t-”

“You can't just…” you took a deep breath “grab my boobs in a movie theater.”

“Why? There's barely anyone here. And I always touch you?”

Your eye twitched in frustration. You wanted to raise your voice to get your point across, but since you were in a movie theater, you just rolled your eyes and ignored him for the rest of the film.

-

After the movie was over you walked out in a tense silence. Humin kept trying to hold your hand, but you pulled away each time, still irritated. 

“Baby, come on,” he whined as you both got into his car. “What's the big deal? It's not like anyone saw anything.”

You turned to face him. “That's not the point, Baku! You can't just... feel me up in public. It's cringe and inappropriate!”

“But I always touch you,” he said, that same dumb confused expression on his face that made you want to kill him. “You’ve never minded before.”

“Because we were at home, Humin. At fucking home! Not in a movie theater, not at the grocery store, and not at the library!” You replied, turning your head to look out the window.

After a few minutes of silence Humin spoke, “Y/n. I’m sorry about touching you like that in public. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable but I did. I promise I won’t do it again.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at Baku's apologetic face. His genuine remorse was clear, but you wanted to have a little fun with this. “I forgive you.”

Humin smiled and was about to say something until you said, “But I’m going to have to put you on restriction.”

“Restrict- what the fuck is that?” 

“Probation. You’re cut off. You’re not allowed to touch my boobs until you fully understand my frustration.” 

Humin's eyes widened in horror like you'd just told him the worse news of his life. Well, maybe this was the worst news of his life. “What? No! You can't do that to me!” 

“Well, I just did so…” You shrugged your shoulders, trying to ignore how his bottom lip was already starting to wobble. “Maybe this will teach you the difference between private and public spaces.”

The rest of the ride home was filled with Humin's dramatic sighs and protests.

“But what if my hands get cold?”

“Then you’ll wear gloves like a normal person.”

“What if I need comfort?”

“I don’t know, hug a pillow.”

“What if I can't sleep without touching you?”

"Then you'll be very tired."

“But I can’t survive without sucking them!” 

“Humin shut up!” 

By the time you reached his home, Humin looked like a kicked puppy. He followed you inside, hovering around you like that would change your mind. 

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he sighed, throwing himself onto the couch, “I'm going to die. Actually die. From sadness.” 

“You're so dramatic,” you said, but you couldn't help but smile a little. 

“Dramatic? Would if I withheld my penis from you? How would you like that huh?” Baku whined then buried his face in a couch cushion and let out a muffled scream.

“What the fuck is actually wrong with you.” You responded. 

“Nothing is wrong with me! I just love you is all.” Baku said, finally looking up from the couch cushion. 

You laughed then sat next to him on the couch, slowly running your hands through his hair. He immediately leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

“So I can touch you now?” he mumbled, hope lacing his voice.

“No,” you said firmly, pulling your hand away.

“Goddammit woman!” 

-

So turns out Humin was the most dramatic person on the planet when he didn't get his way. He'd taken to wearing the most pathetic, sad expressions whenever you were around. He'd sigh heavily every few minutes, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When you cuddled on the couch, he'd place his hands on your waist or shoulders, then let out pitiful sighs like he was being tortured.

Mind you, it was only Saturday. One day after his ban. 

“You're being ridiculous,” you told him when you caught him staring longingly at your chest.

“I'm not being ridiculous,” he muttered, but his pout suggested otherwise.

“You're pouting.”

“I don't pout.”

“You're literally pouting right now.”

By Tuesday his friends had started to notice his very… very unusual behavior.

“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Gotak asked during a group lunch, watching as Humin stabbed at his food with unnecessary aggression.

“Nothing's wrong with me,” Humin grumbled.

“You've been weird all day,” Juntae added. “You keep sighing and staring at Y/n like she kicked your puppy.”

“She might as well have,” Humin muttered under his breath.

You kicked him under the table. “Don't be dramatic.”

“I'm not being dramatic!”

Sieun leaned forward, “Did you two have a fight?”

“We didn't have a fight,” you said quickly, shooting Humin a warning look. “Baku is just being a baby about something completely reasonable.”

“I am not being a baby!”

“You cried yesterday because I wouldn't let you put your hands under my hoodie.”

“I didn't cry! My eyes were just... watery.”

Sieun, Juntae, and Gotak exchanged confused looks but let it go. 

By Wednesday, you were starting to feel a little bad for Humin. Not bad enough to lift his punishment, but bad enough that you were considering it..

You had just gotten back from classes and were in his bedroom changing into more comfortable clothes. Normally when you were at home you never wore a bra. It was just more comfortable that way. Humin had gotten so used to it that he barely even noticed anymore. Well, he noticed, but it was just normal for him.

But now, with him on probation, you realized this might be the perfect opportunity to mess with him just a little before ending his punishment. 

You put on a fitted shirt that showed every detail of your chest and some comfy shorts then walked into the living room where Humin was spread on the couch, still looking pitiful. Cute, but pitiful. 

“Hey,” you said casually, settling down next to him.

Humin looked over at you, and you watched in real time as his brain processed what he was seeing. His eyes went wide, then narrowed, then wide again.

“Y/n,” he said slowly.

“Hm?”

“Why did you even put on a shirt?”

You tilted your head, like you were confused, “What do you mean?” 

“I can see your tits through the shirt!” 

You looked down at your shirt innocently, as if you hadn't deliberately chosen the most fitted top you owned. “Can you? I didn't notice.”

Humin's jaw dropped. “You're doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what on purpose?” you asked, stretching your arms above your head in a stretch. The movement made your shirt ride up slightly and pull tighter across your chest.

Humin made a strangled noise. “You're evil. Actually evil.”

“I'm just wearing a shirt, baby,” you said, settling back against the couch. “It's not my fault you're... distracted.”

“Distracted?” His voice cracked slightly. “Y/n, you know exactly what you're doing to me right now.”

You turned to face him fully, watching as his eyes immediately dropped to your chest before snapping back up to your face. “What am I doing to you?”

“You're... you're…” He gestured helplessly at your shirt. 

“Use your words, baby,” you teased.

Humin let out a frustrated groan and buried his face in his hands. “You’re giving me blue balls!” 

“No I’m not!” 

“Yes, you are. You're the worst girlfriend ever.”

“Aw, that's not very nice,” you pouted, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should add another week to your punishment.”

“No!” Humin's head shot up, eyes wide with panic. “No, no, no. You're the best girlfriend ever. So beautiful  and funny. I love you so much.”

You laughed at his dramatic change in tune. “You're being very cute right now.”

For the next hour, you continued your torture. You'd lean over to grab the remote, giving him a perfect view down your shirt. You'd stretch, arch your back, and basically do everything you could to drive him crazy without actually letting him touch you. 

Thursday came and guys were having dinner with friends and they still had so many questions.

“Seriously dude, what is wrong with you? We tried to drop it last time but I can’t ignore it anymore” Gotak asked.

“Y/n's still being mean to me,” Humin mumbled.

“Stop lying to your friends.” 

“I’m not lying. You're torturing me!”

“How is she torturing you?” Gotak asked, looking between you two with confusion.

“She just…” Humin trailed off, clearly not wanting to explain the situation to his friends. “She's withholding affection.”

“Withholding affection?” Juntae pressed.

“Yeah, like... she won't let me…” Humin caught your warning glare and quickly changed course. “She won't let me hold her hand!”

His friends exchanged confused looks.

“You're being weird about hand holding?” Sieun asked slowly.

“Very weird,” Gotak agreed.

“I'm not weird! I just love holding her hand! And she's being stingy with the hand holding!”

You buried your face in your hands, torn between embarrassment and amusement at his terrible cover story.

“This is the weirdest conversation I've ever been part of,” Sieun said.

-

Later that evening, you were curled up on Humin's couch, still giggling about his ridiculous hand-holding excuse.

“Hand holding?” you said, holding in a giggle. “That's the best you could come up with?”

“I panicked!” Humin flopped down beside you dramatically. “I'm not good under pressure, okay? I just wanted them to stop asking questions.”

You laughed, and the sound made Humin's expression soften.

“I love your laugh,” he said quietly.

“Even when I'm laughing at you?”

“Especially then.”

You looked at him as the two of you cuddled on the couch. His hair was messy, his eyes were soft, and despite his dramatics, he looked genuinely happy just to be near you. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said quietly after a while.

“Sure.”

“Do you like it? When I touch you like that, I mean. Not in public obviously, but at home.”

You turned to look at him, surprised by the uncertainty in his voice. “Of course I like it. Why would you even ask that?”

“I don't know. This whole week made me think that maybe you just put up with it because you felt bad for me or because you felt like you had to or something.”

“Baku.” You shifted so you were facing him fully. “I love the way you touch me. I love that you find comfort in it. The only thing I don't love is when you try to do it in front of other people.”

Relief flooded his face. “Really?”

“Really. And you want to know a secret?” You leaned closer, dropping your voice to a whisper. “Sometimes when you're just holding me like that, playing with the lace on my bra or just touching me  gently. It drives me crazy.”

Humin's eyes darkened slightly. "Yeah?"

“Yeah. A good crazy. Like I can barely concentrate on whatever we're doing because all I can focus on is your hands.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, his grip on you tightening slightly. “You can't say things like that to me right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I've been thinking about touching you for six days straight and if you keep talking like that I'm going to lose my mind.”

You bit your lip, studying his face. His pupils were dilated and you could see the way he was holding himself back. It was actually pretty hot, seeing him like this.

“Well,” you said slowly, “I suppose you have been very good today.”

“Have I?” he asked hopefully.

“Mmhm. Very well behaved. Very respectfulish.” You traced a finger along his jawline, enjoying the way he shivered at the light touch. “I think you've learned your lesson.”

“I have. I definitely have. I'm a changed man.”

You laughed, “Okay. Your punishment is officially over.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Humin was kissing you, his hands immediately going to cup your face. It wasn't rushed or desperate like you'd expected, but slow, like he was savoring the moment.

When you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too baby.” 

Humin grinned and leaned down to kiss your neck, his hands finally sliding under your shirt to rest on your waist. His touch was gentle and his hands were cold. The two of you shuffled so that you were sitting on his lap. 

“I want to see them,” he said, looking up at you with dark eyes. “Please?”

You nodded, and he carefully pushed your shirt up, his breath catching when you were revealed to him.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “You're so beautiful.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your chest, right over your heart, and you smoothed your fingers through his hair.

“Can I suck on them?” he asked, and the question was so direct and honest that you laughed.

“Of course baby.”

He didn't need to be told twice. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and the feeling made your back arch. He sucked gently at first, then with more pressure when you made a soft sound of approval.

“Missed this,” he mumbled against your skin, switching to your other breast. “Missed this so much.”

His free hand continued to knead and caress, and you got lost in the sensation. You missed this too. The way Humin touched you like you were his treasure, like you were his whole world.

“Feels good,” you breathed, and he hummed against your skin in response.

He took his time, switching between gentle kisses and firmer sucking, using his tongue to tease and his teeth to just barely graze your nipple. Your fingers tightened in his hair, and he groaned at the sensation.

“Humin,” you gasped when he bit down a little harder.

“You like that?” he asked, looking up at you with dark eyes. “You like when I bite?”

“You know what I like.”

“I want you to say it,” he said, his thumb brushing over your other nipple. “Tell me everything you like.”

“I like when you bite,” you said breathlessly. “I like when you suck hard enough to leave marks. I like when you use your tongue to…oh!”

He'd taken your other nipple into his mouth while you were talking, sucking hard just like you'd described. Your words dissolved into soft moans as he worked you over with his mouth and hands.

“You're so sensitive,” he murmured, switching between your breasts. “So responsive. I could do this for hours.”

“Please,” you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“I want... I want you to keep going. Don't stop.”

“I won't stop,” he promised, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “I'm going to love every inch of you. I'm going to make up for every day I couldn't touch you.”

Humin flipped you on your back so that he was hovering above you. He took a moment to just look at you, “I can't believe you're mine,” he said, his voice full of awe.

“I'm yours,” you confirmed. “All yours.”

Humin smiled and took in your nipple in his mouth again, his hand trailing down to pull your pajama shorts off. 

“Baku,” you whimpered when he bit down gently on your nipple.

“Hm?”

Instead of answering with words, you took his hand and guided it down your body, past the waistband of your panties. He groaned when he felt how wet you were.

“All this for me?” he asked, his fingers starting to move in slow, teasing circles around your clit.

You nodded as you moaned loudly, sensitive from not being touched in a week. 

“So wet, Y/n.” He whispered, voice thick with desire. “So perfect like this. Falling apart for me.”

Your head tipped back against the couch cushions, a soft whimper escaping you. Humin kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then moved lower again to kiss the swell of your breast. 

His fingers slipped lower, circling your entrance but not pushing in, just teasing. You let out a sound of frustration, and he let out a low laugh. “Use your words, baby.”

“I want your fingers,” you whispered. “Inside me. Please.”

The moment you said it, he obliged, slowly sliding two fingers into your heat. You gasped and your back arched as your hands flew to grip his shoulders. “Fuck!”

Shh,” he murmured, curling his fingers just right. “Let me take care of you.”

He set a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you as his thumb found your clit again. Your body responded instantly—hips rocking, breath hitching, thighs trembling around his hand.

“That’s it,” he whispered, never taking his eyes off of you. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. You always look so good when I’m touching you.”

You felt like you were going crazy, your body wasa over-aware of everything being said and done. “I’m close,” you breathed, barely able to speak. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping,” he promised as his fingers pressed deeper into you. 

With a cry, you came hard around his fingers. Your body jerked as the wave crashed over you. Humin held you through your climax, his free hand stroking your thigh as he whispered praises into your skin.

He kissed your forehead. “You okay?”

“Yes but, It was so good.” You said as your body sunk deeper into the couch as you tried to catch your breath. 

Humin stayed close, his fingers slowly pulling out of you with gentle care. He brought his hand to his mouth, tasting you with a soft groan that made your thighs twitch.

Can’t believe I went a whole week without this,” he murmured, trailing kisses across your collarbone. “Lift your hips baby.” 

You lifted your hips and Humin tugged your now soaked panties down your legs. He ran his hands along your thighs, then leaned down to press kisses to the inside of each one then pressed a firm kiss to your clit. 

You gasped when his lips made contact with your core and a soft surprised moan caught in your throat. His tongue flicked over your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. He wasn’t rushing it. He was taking his time, savoring every reaction you gave him.

“Humin,” you breathed, voice already trembling again.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt through your whole body. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you open for him as he worked his tongue on the place you needed him the most. He’d always been good at this but now it felt like he was determined to remind you exactly how much you’d missed this week.

You reached for him, one hand fisting in his hair, and he groaned softly when you tugged. His tongue pressed harder and faster when your hips started to buck into his face, he paused and sucked your clit into his mouth.

You choked nearly jerking away, but his grip on your thighs tightened. “Stay still,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “Let me take care of you, baby. ”

Your head tipped back in pleasure. Your body burning with pleasure and your nerves buzzing. You could barely think. All you could do was feel. 

Humin kept going until your whole body was trembling and your moans were little whimpers. Your second orgasm hit stronger than the first, and you cried out in pleasure. 

After your orgasm Humin didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it, even sucking your clit. “You taste so good,” he murmured between licks. “I could do this for hours.”

Finally it was getting to be too much, you were moaning continuously and you were pushing weakly at his head, oversensitive and gasping.

“Too much,” you cried.

Humin finally let up and gave your clit one last soft kiss before lifting his head. His lips were slick, and there was a soft look in his eyes. “You’re unreal,” he whispered, brushing your hair away from your face. “So fucking pretty when you cum.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He melted into the kiss and his hands slowly found there way back to your chest, thumbing at your nipples. 

“Humin, I need a break,” you said pulling away from the kiss.

“Of course baby. We don’t have to go all the way tonight.”

“No! I want to go all the way, I just need a breather.” You responded, kissing his lips. 

“Thats fine! Want to watch a movie?” 

You shook your head no and pointed to the obvious bulge in his pants, “I can help take the edge off until I’m ready.” 

“You don’t have to do that, I can wait. Or I can take care of it in the bathroom-”

“No! I want to do it.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low, already affected.

You nodded slowly, “Let me take care of you, baby. You’ve been so patient.”

He swallowed hard, “You sure?”

“Very.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. 

He sat back as you shifted to the floor in front of him, pressing your palms to his thighs. His breathing was heavy as he watched you, and his hands rested awkwardly on his knees like he was trying not to grab you. You ran your fingers up his thighs, teasing the waistband of his sweats before tugging them down.

Humin helped you ease them off, his erection springing free. He looked painfully hard.

You leaned forward to kiss the tip, just a soft press of your lips, and he let out a shaky breath. “Fuck,” he muttered, head tipping back.

“And you call me sensitive.” 

When you finally took him in your mouth, his hips jerked up and he let out a string of curses. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good,” he groaned, his hands gripping the ends of the couch.

You hummed around him in response, taking him deeper. Every reaction made you want to give him more. 

You took your time with him, using your tongue and lips to drive him crazy. When you could tell he was getting close, you pulled back, ignoring his whimper of protest.

“You can’t come two times. You know that.” 

“But-”

“I’m ready, Humin.” You said, cutting off his protest. 

His breath hitched as you cupped him, wrapping your fingers gently around his length. You got up from your knees and placed yourself over his lap, slowly sinking down onto his length. Both of you moaned at the sensation, your eyes falling closed as you adjusted to the feeling of being filled.

“Fuck Y/n, you feel incredible,” Humin moaned, his hands going to your hips.

You started to move slowly, savoring the feeling of being connected to him like this. His hands roamed your body freely, stopping to cup your breasts as you rode him.

“So perfect,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “You're so damn perfect like this. Riding me. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, hm?” 

You leaned down, pressing your forehead to his, lips barely brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss, “Yes Humin, only you.” 

Slowly, you picked up your pace, riding him faster and clenching him in. You felt him deepen his grip and his breathing get uneven as you slid down and back up again. 

He pulled you down for another kiss, and the angle change made you both moan into each other's mouths. 

You slowed your pace, leaning forward to press your hands against his chest, grounding yourself. His lips found your neck, trailing soft, featherlight kisses.

“Touch yourself,” he requested breathlessly. “I want to watch you touch yourself while you ride me.” 

“Fuck Humin,” you said but did as he asked.  Your fingers found your clit as you continued to move on top of him and stimulation was almost too much. 

“That's it,” he encouraged, hands guiding your hips, “Keep going.” 

Your free hand tangled in his hair as you picked up momentum again. Your eyes locked and you moaned at the lustful look behind his. 

Your hands left his hair and he leaned down to take your breast into his mouth for the 100th time today. You felt yourself tipping over the edge and you couldn’t hold it anymore. 

“Humin,” you gasped

“I know, baby. I can feel you tightening around me. Let go for me.”

Humin pushed your hand away from your clit and replaced it with his hand. The stimulation from his fingers was all you needed. You came with a cry, your body clenched around him as your third orgasm hit. 

The feeling of you coming around him was enough to push Humin over the edge too, and he thrusted into you one last time before spilling his seed into you.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing heavily. His arms wrapped around you immediately, holding you close as you both came down from your high. 

For a moment, you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, heartbeats slowing to match, skin sticky and warm. You were the one to break the silence, “Are you okay?” 

“I should be asking you that, you’re the one who came three times.”

You laughed, “Light work.” 

Humin smiled and kissed you softly. “We should probably shower.”

You yawned, “Probably.” 

“You’re not going to get off of me are you?” Humin asked.

“Nope.”

-

AND SCENE. Erm... thank you queens for reading. Was very very fun to write this :D REQUEST IF U WANT

[luvrgeorge]

the thrill of the game

summary: this event was glamorous, everyone in their best clothing, sipping expensive champagne, but none of that mattered, because george was here, and you and him love to play a game at these events, who will cave first? pairing: george clarke x fem!reader warnings: mature (MDNI) WC: 4k

the room was crowded, loud, packed full of faces both familiar and unfamiliar. you loved these events, socialising with people you hadn’t seen in a while, getting a bit too tipsy with your friends, but there was one thing about these events you loved the most.

you could feel his glare every time you moved, his eyes following you through crowds of people, studying your expressions and movements. you loved the thrill of the game, seeing who can tip the other over the edge first, who can take it just a bit too far, but it always ends the same, you and george naked in a hotel room.

he looked hot—undeniably, effortlessly hot. he always did, of course, but these suit and tie events? they were something else entirely. They gave him a kind of elegance that made your pulse trip over itself.

tonight, his black suit hugged him in all the right places, the cut so precise. the fabric clinging to his shoulders, broad and powerful, tapering down to a waist that made restraint feel like a joke. the tie was the only thing that looked tight—everything else was smooth, commanding, deliberate.

he moved with that quiet confidence that always made people stop mid-sentence. even now, surrounded by people and murmuring voices, his presence pulled focus like gravity. and you stood there, trying to keep your own cool while your eyes betrayed you, tracing his every line, every movement.

you knew what was under all of it. the suit didn’t hide much, not really. it hinted, seduced. It left enough to the imagination, sure—but your imagination didn’t need to work that hard. you’d memorized the terrain, every muscle, every scar, every inch of warm, unforgiving strength that lay beneath those expensive layers. and the worst part? he knew you were watching. of course he did. that slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth wasn’t for anyone else.

you were doomed. absolutely doomed. you had no faith in yourself for winning tonight—not when he looked like that. and deep down, a part of you didn’t want to win. not really. you wanted to lose. badly. completely. willingly. but god, you were dying to win, just this once.

you tried to keep your glances to a minimum this time, only looking at him when you knew he was looking away, and this time, he was talking to a girl. you couldn’t see her face, but from behind she was slim, taller than you, and wore a gorgeous burgundy dress, falling down to her feet. it didn’t make you jealous, at least not enough to cave this early into the night, but it made you motivated, motivated to win this night, motivated to make him surrender first.

you scanned the room, eyes drifting lazily over glittering gowns and stiff tuxedos, all the polished elegance starting to blur together. you weren’t looking for charm or conversation. you were looking for a weapon. someone attractive enough to make george’s jaw tighten, to make his eye twitch the way it always did when he pretended he didn’t care.

your gaze paused at the bar.

he was tall—taller than most in the room—and built like he belonged on a rugby field, not behind a hotel bar. his black shirt strained ever so slightly across his chest as he moved, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in that perfectly careless way that made it obvious he didn’t care much for the dress code. scruffy, but clean. confident without trying. his hair was short, messy in that intentional way that walked the line between rugged and boyish.

he was exactly the kind of distraction you needed.

not too polished. not too perfect. but solid, striking. the kind of man who’d draw george’s attention the moment you leaned in just a little too close. you pictured it already—the way george’s eyes would narrow, how he’d try not to look but wouldn’t be able to help himself. how his fingers would twitch at his sides, itching to pull you away, to remind you who you belonged to.

and god, you wanted to push him just a little further. make him feel it.

so you took one last sip of your champagne, set the glass down, and started walking toward the bar—hips swaying just a bit more than usual, every step deliberate. the game had started, and tonight, you didn’t plan on playing fair.

‘what you drinking?’ the bartender said, flashing you a smile. the event was classy, an open bar with smart attire, so you doubted they served your usual rum and coke combo. you looked around the room, women all holding glasses of champagne or cocktails.

‘surprise me, what do you think i’d be drinking?’ he smiled at you, walking away and grabbing a glass, mixing up something with whiskey.

‘whiskey sour?’ you took the glass, taking a sip. the whiskey burnt your throat, but you could handle it.

‘you’re good at this y’know’

‘i do a lot of these events, and i can always spot a girl who likes whiskey’ he clearly wasn’t good enough at spotting them, you hated whiskey, and the drink was disgusting, but that was never the point.

you were leaning over the bar, maybe a bit too far, listening to him speak, giggling a little to much, over-exaggerating all your movements.

‘just to let you know, i’m not into girls’ the bartender said. you moved back slightly, unsure of what to say. ‘but i know what you’re doing, that guy over there, the tux, the hot one’ he nodded towards george, but you didn’t look. ‘you’re making him jealous, what is he, an ex? a new thing?’ you laughed.

‘george? he’s…’ you started, but the words caught somewhere between your throat and your pride. what was george, really? not a boyfriend. not just a fling, either. he was a habit. a comfort. a storm you kept walking into, knowing full well how it would end. you could lie. say george was nothing. or say he was everything. but neither felt quite right.

george was just the guy you went home with after nights like these—after the noise, the lights, the tight dresses and fake smiles. he was the one who pulled you in like gravity the second you got too close. but he didn’t text you good morning. he didn’t ask about your day. he didn’t take you to dinner, didn’t hold your hand in public.

you weren’t dating. but you weren’t just sleeping together, either.

“he’s a friend,” you said finally, the words feeling a little hollow, a little dishonest, even to yourself. your fingers tapped against the bar, casual, careless. “a good friend.”

the bartender gave a knowing smile, not pushing for more. but it hung there, unspoken—how ‘friend’ didn’t quite cover it. how there were glances and touches and late-night calls that didn’t belong to friendship.

‘so what, you guys sleeping together?’ you laughed again, shocked at his bluntness, but finding comfort in the fact he understood. you nodded in response. ‘so why are you flirting with me?’

you sighed, rolling your eyes. ‘we have this thing, an unspoken thing really, it just started happening’ the bartender laughed. ‘at every event, we see who caves first, who can make the other more jealous before we give up and leave together, it’s all a bit of fun really’

‘so, it’s a sex game? he’s gonna come over, pull you aside and you’re gonna go have sex?’ you cackled at the bar tender, admiring his blunt charm.

‘that’s what i’m hoping for, you don’t have to entertain it though, thank you for the drink’ you pick up your drink, smiling at the bar tender.

‘he’s looking at you, you know’ you stopped. ‘the girl he’s talking to is still there, but he hasn’t said a word in a while’

‘does he know you’re looking at him?’

‘no, he’s completely fixed on you’ you smirked. ‘how long before he comes over?’

‘i don’t know, i’m usually the one to find him first’ the bartender moves closer to you, placing his hand lightly on your neck, whispering in your ear.

‘tonight’s boring, i’m happy to play along with you, just smile and laugh, he’s still watching’ you did exactly that, giggling at every word he said, despite having a completely normal conversation.

you could feel george’s sharp eyes like daggers in your back, you knew he was watching you, knew he was seething with jealousy as another man placed his hands on you.

after a few more minutes, you felt a quiet shift in the air beside you—someone new, close but not intrusive. you turned slightly, and there she was.

the girl george had been talking to.

you hadn’t seen her face before, not properly. god, she was beautiful. not just pretty—striking. effortless. her features were sharp and soft all at once, the kind of face that made people stop mid-sentence. she stood confidently, alone, ordering just one drink—a cosmopolitan. something crisp, pink, elegant. something george would never touch.

your stomach twisted, just slightly.

you glanced around for him then, for the first time in a while. scanning the crowd, looking for that familiar silhouette, that black suit that always seemed to cut through a room like a blade. but nothing. no george leaning smugly at the bar, no smirk waiting to meet your eyes across the room.

you turned back toward the bartender, your expression questioning. he only shrugged, brows raised like he had no idea either. he hadn’t seen where george went, and clearly, the girl hadn’t followed.

when she left, drink in hand and heels clicking softly across the marble floor, you exhaled.

‘thank you’ you said to the bartender, sliding him a generous tip. he grinned, pocketing it with a nod.

‘this was fun, good luck with the rest of your night’ he said, a little amused, a little pitying.

you move back through the bodies of people, searching for george. there was no sign of him anywhere. not a glimpse of that sharp black suit, not the familiar shape of him leaning in a doorway or watching from across the room. it was like he’d vanished into the glittering crowd, swallowed whole by champagne and chatter. the girl had wandered off too, back to the cluster of people you assumed were her friends, already laughing at something someone else said, his brief distraction forgotten like it meant nothing at all.

you were just about to search elsewhere, the lobby, the bar, the crowd—when you felt it.

a hand on your back. firm. warm. possessive without being rough. fingers grazing the bare skin on your back, resting just enough to let you know they could move if they wanted to. and then—hot breath on your neck, too close, too intimate for the public setting, but somehow exactly what you’d been waiting for.

‘you giving up yet?’ he murmured, voice low and smug, like he already knew the answer.

you turned, slow, letting him see the full weight of your reaction. and there he was.

that damn smirk stretched across his face like it belonged there—lazy, confident, a little cruel. his eyes held that familiar spark, something between amusement and warning. he was close, closer than necessary, his suit still immaculate despite the heat of the room, his tie slightly loosened like he was getting tired of pretending to behave.

‘didn’t know we were playing,’ you said, though it came out softer than intended.

he chuckled, not moving back. ‘you always know.’

and you did.

‘who said i’ve given up?’

‘you’ve left your boyfriend at the bar,’ he said, voice thick with amusement, eyes locked on yours like he was watching you unravel in real time. ‘so i assumed you were coming to find someone better.’

you scoffed right in his face, the sound sharp and disbelieving, even as your stomach twisted at how accurately he’d read you. you tried to roll your eyes like it meant nothing, like the heat creeping up your neck was from the whiskey, not him. like your legs hadn’t started moving the second you realised he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“i’m not caving this time,” you said, lifting your chin just enough to make it sound like you meant it.

he smiled at that—slow, smug, knowing. the kind of smile that made it clear he didn’t believe you for a second. not because you were weak, but because he knew exactly how to make you forget why you ever tried to resist him in the first place.

“well,” he said, voice dropping to that low, dangerous murmur he reserved just for you, “when you’re ready, i have a room upstairs.”

your breath caught, just slightly. not enough to be obvious. but he noticed. of course he did.

“in the meantime,” he continued, leaning in close enough for your perfume to catch on his collar, “i’m going to ask your boyfriend for a drink.”

and just like that, he turned. didn’t wait for your reaction. didn’t give you the satisfaction of a final glance. his hand slid off your back as he walked away, slow and deliberate, the touch lingering. you felt the absence of it immediately, like a warmth torn away too fast.

you watched him head toward the bar, straight toward the bartender, the curve of his shoulders relaxed but purposeful. you knew him well enough to recognise what he was doing—staking territory without ever having to say a word.

he was playing dirty, and god help you, it was working.

you hated him, hated how unfazed he was by everything you did, hated how he never caved, always pushing you to your limit. as strong as you tried to be, he always won. but you were determined to for that to change.

he was leaving the bar, but just before he left, you walked up to him, leaning in close and taking the key card out of his jacket pocket. you turned to the bartender, reading the room number from the card ‘room 34, i’ll be there for when your shift is over’ the bartender smirked, knowing exactly what you were doing, but george was non the wiser.

you head towards the elevator, leaving george and the bartender behind, without sparing a single glance.

you enter the room, finding the mirror to check your hair and makeup, adjusting your dress. you loved dressing up for these events, you loved shopping for the most perfect outfit. tonight you had chosen a long black satin dress, backless with a sultry slit in the leg, paired with golden heels. you loved doing your hair and makeup too, spending so much time on the little details, ensuring your hair was curled perfect, each strand sat so beautifully down your back. it was almost a shame it would all be ruined soon.

you sit on the edge of the bed, ankles crossed, fingers twitching slightly in your lap as you wait. the room is quiet, apart from the low hum of the hallway beyond the door. then, a faint beep — the key card on the door — and the slow turn of the handle. you straighten up quickly.

he steps into the room, the dim light catching on the bubbles in the two flutes of champagne he carries. he looks at you like he’s starved — but his gaze is soft, gentle in a way that makes your stomach tighten. without saying a word, he crosses the room, hands you a glass, and takes a slow sip of his own, his free hand sliding onto your waist like it’s meant to be there.

‘took you long enough,’ you murmur, lips brushing the rim of your glass as you drink.

‘you played dirty tonight,’ he says, pulling you closer, his voice low and warm. his breath hits your collarbone, and you can already feel your skin prickling beneath it.

‘is that not how we play this game?’ you say, your voice light, teasing.

he smirks, leans in, and presses his lips to your neck — not hard, just enough to steal your breath. your body reacts before your mind does, tilting into him, heart racing under his touch.

‘you know…’ his hands are moving now, up and down your back, slow and possessive. ‘i hated seeing you with that guy.’ you felt a sense of pride, knowing that you made him jealous, knowing that he couldn’t stand seeing you with another man.

another kiss, deeper this time, and you gasp, gripping his shirt.

‘you knew what you were doing,’ he murmurs, voice rough against your skin, ‘and god, it worked, i've been waiting for this all night.’

he finishes his glass slowly, never breaking eye contact, like he’s savoring both the drink and the tension. then, without a word, he takes your half-finished glass from your hand, brushing your fingers as he does. he sets both flutes down on the table with a quiet clink that feels final, like the closing move in a long-played chess match.

he pulls off his tailored suit jacket and tie, his hands returning to you, fingers tracing up the side of your neck, brushing your jaw, then slowing over your lips. his thumb lingers there, pressing gently, parting them just slightly. he smirks, like he already knows what’s coming. he leans in — his mouth just a breath away from yours, and you can feel the warmth of it, the tension strung tight between you.

but you pull back, just enough.

‘not yet,’ you whisper, your breath catching.

he freezes, brows furrowing, lips parting as his eyes darken with need. there’s a flicker of frustration in his face, but it’s tangled with desire, with the hunger that’s been simmering between you both all night. your hands rest on his chest, grounding him, letting him feel how close he is — but denying him all the same.

‘tell me i win.’

he blinks, thrown off for a second. ‘what happened to this not being a game?’

‘just tell me,’ you say, your voice quieter now, more dangerous. ‘tell me i win, and then you can do whatever you want to me.’

his lips curl into a smirk again, but it’s different this time — there’s a flicker of surrender in it, a knowing. he moves in close, slowly, one hand sliding up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, the other resting heavy on your hip like he’s holding back from pulling you in.

his mouth brushes your ear as he whispers, low and deliberate, ‘you win.’

and that’s all it takes.

you crash into him, lips colliding in a kiss that’s messy, breathless, hungry. his hands waste no time — one slides down the curve of your bare back, the other hooks beneath your exposed thigh, pulling it up and around his waist with practiced ease. your body presses fully against his, and he holds you like it costs him nothing — like he’s wanted to do this since the second he saw you.

your fingers twist into his shirt, mouth moving against his like you’re trying to make up for every second you made him wait. he lifts you slightly, holding nearly all your weight in one arm, and the sound you make only pushes him further.

he lifts you up effortlessly, your legs tightening around his waist, arms locking around his shoulders. your fingers slide into his hair, gripping just enough to make him groan against your mouth. he walks you toward the bed, each step slow, controlled, like he’s savoring the moment. when he reaches it, he lays you down with a tenderness that contrasts the heat between you, like you’re something delicate and breakable. his lips never leave yours — not for a second — the kiss deepening as his body follows yours down.

his hands wander into your dress, fingers tracing outside your lacy, dampened thong, so close to what’s underneath. he hooked two fingers underneath, slowly inserting them into you. you let out slow, breathy moans into his mouth, untucking his perfectly uncreased shirt to grip onto his back, leaving marks in his skin. ‘god baby, so wet, just for me’.

he knew your body so well, he knew every inch, every flaw, everything you liked, everything you didn’t, and still, somehow, he could make you feel things so new, so intense, so raw. the rush was almost instant, no warning, no preparation, overcoming your entire body with an orgasm so passionate that you crumbled in his hands. you were breathless, finished, but so desperately needy for more of him.

you pull him back into your body, kissing him as you struggled to unbutton his shirt enough for him to pull it over his head. you unbutton his trousers, clawing for his hardened cock beneath. he kicked them off with his shoes and boxers as you went to unzip your dress, but he stopped you. ‘keep the dress on’ he growled, repositioning you both on the bed.

he laid down at the top of the bed, pulling you towards him. you straddled his lap, feeling his cock so close to your heat. ‘ride me baby, show me how much you need me’. you positioned yourself over him, sliding down slowly. no amount of experience with george could ever make you used to him, he was so big, stretching you out, hitting every inch of your insides.

you started slow, rocking back and forth, george gripping your hips, guiding you. ‘you’re doing so well gorgeous, fuck, you’re amazing’ he let out low, soft groans as you moved, sounding like a pure symphony humming in your ears. you let your dress straps fall down your shoulders, breasts spilling out to george’s pleasure.

your knees were buckling under the pleasure, you leaned on george for support, tired, but starving for more. george know you couldn’t handle it, not now. he pulled you off him, flipping you over and straddling the top of you, re-aligning himself. he thrusted deeper than you were willing to go when you were on top of him, going hard and fast, grabbing your hands and holding them above your head. he was insane, so gorgeous, build so perfectly, fitting in you like a jigsaw, like he was made to fuck you and only you.

he increased his pace, your moans growing louder and deeper. he moved in to kiss you, hungry and passionate, your arms still restrained, legs wrapping around his waist, your heeled shoes digging into his back.

‘you’re mine, only mine’ his words sounded so sweet, so possessive. he stopped kissing you, hand moving to your chin, tilting your head slightly to touch his and make you look him deep in his piercing blue eyes. ‘are your ready?’ you nodded, breathlessly, eyes locked together as you finished in harmony, george slowing down as he pumped inside of you, holding your hand and stroking your face. he kissed you one last time, deep, but romantic, slowly pulling out and laying beside you.

you were breathless and tired, head buried in george’s chest as it rose and fell, still warm and slick from your shared experience. the room was quiet, except for the faint hum of the city outside and the slowing rhythm of your heartbeats syncing beneath the thin sheets tangled at your waists.

‘i like winning’ you smirked, your voice a low whisper against his skin.

george let out a small, satisfied chuckle. his chest rumbled softly beneath your cheek as he dipped his head to kiss the crown of yours, lips lingering just long enough to make your pulse jump again.

‘you’re insufferable’ he murmured, but his fingers drew lazy, featherlight circles on the bare skin of your lower back, betraying the fondness in his words.

you turned your face slightly, your nose brushing his collarbone. ‘you love it.’

he didn’t argue. instead, he pulled you a little closer, as if the space between your bodies wasn’t already non-existent. The warmth of his skin, the faint scent of sweat and your perfume still clinging to the air—it wrapped around you like a cocoon.

‘you always do this,’ he said quietly, after a beat. ‘get all competitive, steal my focus, and then leave me like this—wrecked and entirely yours.’

you smiled against him, sleepy and smug. ‘that’s the intentions of the game’

his hand drifted to your thigh, squeezing gently, a silent reminder of the connection that still pulsed between you both. you felt his heartbeat under your ear, steady and real.

‘stay?’ he asked, softer now. vulnerable, even.

you didn’t answer right away. you just nuzzled into his chest and let your hand trace the faint line of hair down the center of his torso.

‘i was never planning to leave’.

[lacevenom]

chicken bone scene —

SUMMARY : rewriting twilight for the pack. characters belong to SM I do not own any characters this I just a rewritten version for the pack.

A/N : I’ve tried my best hope you guys enjoy 🐰!

before Bella and Jacob arrive

Quil sat cross-legged on the floor, gnawing on a chicken bone like some prehistoric caveman. Paul had grease smudged across his cheek and zero plans to wipe it off. Jared was trying and failing to balance a spoon on his nose, clearly bored of chewing.

And then there was Embry. absolutely slouched in a chair like he owned the place, arms behind his head, lips curled into a smug, self-satisfied grin. He looked way too pleased with himself for someone who hadn’t lifted a finger to help with cleanup.

When the boys saw Jacob and Bella arrive they jolted like overgrown golden retrievers, practically tripping over each other as they scrambled outside, leaping off the porch one by one. “Look who’s back!” Embry was the first to speak, his grin wide.

“wassup Bella?” Quil added and Bella blinked at him. “Quil? you too?”

“yup!” he nodded proudly. “finally made it in the pack.”

the boys laughed, wolfish and warm.

“I’m so glad you’re here, bella.” Embry began. His voice smooth and teasing. “Maybe now we can get a break from Jake’s possessive inner monologue.”

Paul leaned over and clapped a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I wish Bella would call.”

“I wish Bella wouldn't call,” Jared added without missing a beat, through a mouthful of chicken. Embry chuckled, eyes flickering to Jacob with dramatic mischief. “Maybe I should call bella!”

Quil added in. “Maybe I should call Bella and hang up!”

Laughter erupted from the porch. loud, messy, teasing. A signature pack moment. Jacob rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Alright, you can shut up now.”

Soon enough…Leah Clearwater stepped out behind them, arms folded, face set in stone. Her expression was pure judgment, perfected and polished. Everyone went silent.

Jacob cleared his throat, “Bella that’s Leah Clearwater. Harry’s daughter.”

then Bella’s eyes flicked to her, sympathy written across her face. “Hey. I’m really sorry about your dad.”

but Leah’s stare was ice. “If you’re here to torture Jacob some more, feel free to leave.” With those words she disappeared into the trees. Phasing mid step.

The brunette blinked, visibly rattled and Jacob gave a dry smile. “Fun, isn’t she?”

The porch fell into a brief silence. Jared kept chewing. Quil scratched his head. Then a familiar voice floated from the open doorway. “Bella.” Emily stood there. Warm and welcoming.

“hey.” Bella replied softly

“I was wondering when we would see you around her again.” Emily said, pulling the brunette into a gentle hug. Sam stood next to her. Tall and tension still simmering beneath the surface. He and Jacob locked eyes. not aggressive, but cautious.

“Sam,” Jacob said, voice low. “We good?” There’s was a small pause and then Sam gave a small nod. “We’re good.”

— after Bella and Jacob left —

The front door shut with a gentle thud, and the warm silence that followed was quickly shattered.

“Welp, back to the important things.” Paul said, stretching dramatically as he flopped down on the couch.

“Chicken.” Jared announced like it was a sacred word, beelining back to the table where the last few pierce where meanwhile Quil slid to the floor again, reaching for a bone he's hidden under a napkin. “I knew no one would’ve found my stash.”

Embry was already halfway into the kitchen, hands outstretched. “Emily, got anything sweet? I need dessert after emotional damage.”

Emily looked over her shoulder from the stove, shaking her head but smiling softly. “You mean the emotional damage you caused?”

“Exactly.” Embry grinned. “Self inflicted dessert worthy.”

“You boys are like children,” Leah muttered from the corner where she’d reappeared, now in human form with a damp towel over her shoulder and an eternal scow.

Paul pointed his fork at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” “Because it is.” She deadpanned.

Quil eventually dropped his chicken bone, and it bounced off the table with a dramatic clack on the floor. “NOOO. MY FINAL BONE!” he cried, diving after it like a precious relic.

Embry almost collapsed laughing, clutching the counter for support. “I can’t take you serious man.”

Emily brought out a tray of cookies like a true saint, the entire pack’s heads turning at once like synchronized wolves sniffing fresh prey. “Blessed be Emily,” Jared whispered, taking two and immediately shoving one into Quil’s mouth like a peace offering.

Embry, now sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, took a cookie, popped it into his mouth, and looked at Jared. “Soo….whats Jake thinking now?”

Jared pressed two fingers to his temple like a fake psychic. “Hmmm…broody. Torture. Something about ‘her scent is like home—“

“Ughh” Quil groaned, face down on the floor. “If I hear the word scent one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

The pack dissolved into crackles. Emily sighed fondly and tossed a dish towel at them. “Someone better help me clean up this table or no one’s getting seconds.”

Jared and Embry immediately jumped up. “Yes ma’am.”

Paul saluted with a fork and Leah muttered something about idiots under her breath, but even she couldn’t hide the tiny smile twitching on her lips.

[renaerys]

"And perish."

A Quiet Thunder by @renaerys

Art by @hallous

[unnamedcorvid]

Was reminded of when I first started Malevolent and couldn’t get the guys out of my head so I looked up pictures of wet cats to find the most John and Arthur ones and came up with this

they both look so stupid. i love them

[themothiestman]

I am mesmerised by this man.

[philiponmycracker]

Tom Hulce as Brillstein, in Fearless (dir. Peter Weir, 1993)

[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[sleepypanda27]

Friendly Fire

Bucky x reader

Summary: Sam exposes Bucky’s obvious crush on you.

Word: 1,3k

The compound was quiet. Too quiet. Which meant you were about to commit a crime.

Not a real crime, just a tiny one. A harmless, innocent late-night snack raid. You tiptoed into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound, reaching for the cupboard handle.

"Really?"

You turned around, startled, finding Bucky leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, looking very unimpressed.

"You scared the hell out of me!" You hissed, pressing a hand to your chest.

He smirked. "You’re terrible at sneaking."

"I wasn’t sneaking."

"You absolutely were." He smiled, walking closer to you.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the cupboard. "What are you doing up, anyway?"

"Same thing as you," He admitted, stepping closer. "Figured I’d grab something before Wilson wakes up and lectures me about eating properly."

You chuckled. "Well, now that you're here, you might as well make yourself useful."

He arched a brow. "Useful how?"

You gestured at the top shelf. "Grab that."

He sighed but reached up effortlessly, grabbing cookies you couldn’t get to.

You narrowed your eyes. "Showoff."

Bucky smirked, opening the cookie package, taking one out, and he exaggeratedly slowly took a bite.

"You are the worst," You muttered, grabbing a cookie from the package.

"You love it," He teased.

You snorted, but didn’t deny it. For a moment, comfortable silence settled.

Then Bucky glanced at you with a smirk. "We’re gonna get caught, you know."

You shrugged, taking a bite. "Worth it."

"Wow. Look at this."

Both of you froze.

Slowly, you turned, finding Sam standing in the doorway, arms crossed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"Two grown adults, sneaking snacks like criminals," He said, sighing. "Barnes, you should be ashamed."

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temple. "Sam-"

"No, no, don’t ‘Sam’ me." He pointed at both of you. "This is pathetic. You could’ve just eaten like normal people, but no midnight heist. What are you, spies?"

"Well...yeah," Bucky muttered.

Sam ignored that. "And you?" He turned to you, smirking. "Corrupted by Barnes already, huh?"

You sighed, pretending to be apologetic. "Guess I’ve been a bad influence on him."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "No, no, you got it backwards, sweetheart."

Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing cookies. "We’re leaving."

"Running from justice, huh?" Sam teased.

Bucky grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the exit. "We don’t have to listen to him."

"Wait," Sam checked the shelf from which you got cookies. "Are those my cookies?" He called after you. "Thieves!"

You just laughed, following Bucky down the hallway.

---

"You’re terrible at this," Bucky muttered, watching you struggle with the dough. This time, the two of you decided to make cinnamon rolls.

You scoffed, tossing him a glare. "Excuse me?"

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You’re kneading like you’re trying to fight it. It’s dough, not an enemy."

You huffed, turning back to the sticky mess in front of you. "You said I had to be firm!"

"Not aggressive," He corrected. "You look like you’re trying to kill it."

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Maybe if you actually helped-"

Bucky smirked. "And ruin the entertainment?"

You narrowed your eyes. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

"I absolutely am." He chuckled, stepping closer to you.

Slowly, casually, you scooped up a bit of flour. "You know, for someone who’s supposedly a trained fighter, you’re way too close right now."

Bucky’s brow furrowed. "What?"

And before he could react, you flicked the flour straight at him. It was beautiful. A perfect explosion of white powder across his dark shirt and face. For one glorious moment, he just stood there, processing. Then his expression darkened.

"You," he muttered, wiping flour from his jaw. "Are in so much trouble."

You shrieked, immediately trying to back away, but he moved faster. In an instant, he grabbed a handful of flour and smeared it against your cheek, grinning at your stunned reaction.

"You did not just,"

"Oh, I did."

You lunged for another handful, and just like that, chaos erupted.

Flour flew everywhere onto counters, into hair, across shirts. You were laughing, dodging him, while Bucky, the incredibly skilled fighter, was apparently terrible at avoiding kitchen warfare.

By the time Sam walked in, he stared at the disaster in complete horror. "What the hell happened here?"

You and Bucky were breathless, covered in flour, smirking at each other like two kids who had just gotten caught.

Sam sighed. "I don’t even wanna know. But Barnes," He shook his head, walking out. "Just tell her, man."

"Ignore him." Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his flour-covered face.

You just laughed, but you wanted to know what he meant.

---

The compound's kitchen was quiet until Sam decided to stir up trouble.

You were sitting across from Bucky at the table, quietly sipping coffee, when Sam decided today was the day to ruin Bucky Barnes' life.

"You know, man," Sam said, leaning against the counter, smirking at Bucky, "you’re not exactly subtle."

Bucky, sitting across from you, froze mid-sip.

You raised an eyebrow. "Subtle about what?"

Sam grinned like a man who lived for chaos. "You."

Bucky’s jaw clenched warningly. "Sam."

You blinked, confused. "Me?"

Sam turned back to Bucky, absolutely enjoying himself. "Look at you, all stiff and silent, pretending you don’t have a full-blown crush sitting right there."

Bucky exhaled sharply, gripping his coffee mug so tightly that you were sure it was seconds away from cracking.

"I do not-" He muttered.

"Oh, buddy," Sam interrupted, shaking his head. "You do. The way you watch her when she walks into the room? The way you get all weirdly protective? And let’s not forget the time you lost your mind when she got hit during training."

Bucky shot up from his chair. "I was concerned!"

"You were dramatic," Sam corrected.

You stared between the two men, heat rising to your cheeks. Bucky Barnes, former assassin, impossible grump, had a crush on you?

Bucky dragged a hand down his face. "Sam, I swear, I will-"

"What?" Sam taunted. "Kill me? Finally admit you like her?"

Bucky looked half ready to commit a crime. But before he could, Sam pushed off the counter, laughing. "Relax, man. I'm just saying that maybe you should stop glaring at me and do something about it."

Then, with an obnoxious wink at you, he walked out. You sat there, awkwardly clutching your coffee cup, very aware that Bucky was still standing.

"...So," you said, glancing at him. "You have a crush on me?"

Bucky groaned. "Ignore Sam. He likes ruining my life."

You smiled. "But…was he wrong?"

Silence.

Bucky rubbed his temple, sighed, and finally looked at you. "I hate him," he muttered. "But no. He wasn’t wrong."

Your heart stuttered.

Slowly, you set your coffee down. "So… what do we do about that?"

Bucky was silent for one long second. He hesitated, but only for a second. Then, he moved.

His hand reached up, fingers grazing your cheek like he was memorizing the feel of your skin. His touch was careful, uncertain, but when his thumb traced the edge of your jaw, you leaned into it. That was all he needed.

He slightly tilted his head, closed the distance, and kissed you. It started soft, hesitant, like he was afraid to break you, but the moment you melted into him, everything changed.

The tension, the months of stolen moments and unsaid words, came crashing down all at once. His lips pressed firmer against yours, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you closer like he’d been waiting, aching, for this.

And you kissed him back with everything you had, gripping his jacket, letting him swallow the breathless sound you made when he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. The world blurred.

It was just heat, hands, Bucky, the quiet realization that this was exactly where you wanted to be.

"FINALLY!"

You jerked away, breathless, turning toward the hallway where Sam stood, grinning like a damn idiot.

Bucky groaned, burying his face against your shoulder. "I am going to kill him."

You laughed, still catching your breath, still feeling the phantom imprint of Bucky’s lips.

"Took you long enough, Barnes." Sam just shook his head, victorious.

[freaktoru]

DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH ME BABY!

✰ pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader ✰ summary: after several sexless months of a very vanilla marriage, nanami kento learns how his slutty wife actually likes to be fucked. wc; 4.1k ✰ warnings: food play, a tiny bit of ass play, dirty talk, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, pet names, very light bondage, hair pulling, some very sweet after care, nanami is soo addicted to his wife, honestly just pure filth. 18+ MDNI

your sex life with your husband was basically dead—buried so deep, it felt like it might never come back.

i mean, you shouldn't be surprised right? when you got married, everyone warned you it would be this way. “just wait until the honeymoon phase is over”, “wait until work gets in the way”, “wait until you start sleeping in separate beds” they told you. although you thankfully hadn’t made it to the third phase yet, you didn't believe them—at least not at first.

the first few months of your marriage felt purely euphoric—like a drug you just couldn't get enough of. you were bathing in the seemingly never ending marital bliss, convinced that nothing could have come between you and your husband— at least not when the two of you were fucking like animals in heat, absolutely devouring each other no matter where the pair of you were. well, it seems life has a way of being deceiving, doesn't it?

so here you were, only one year into your marriage and somehow, sex had completely fallen off your marriage itinerary. you don’t even know how it happened. your work lives took over, and the honeymoon rush had slowly but surely died out. your daily orgasms slowly turned into weekly orgasms which eventually turned into none. the number of times you and your husband have had sex in the last few months has been a big, fat, zero. your revised daily routine now looked a little like this: wake up, breakfast, work, dinner, sleep. exciting right?

kento was a very busy man—you couldn't blame him. he was always working overtime, always being pushed past his limits by his boss and always coming home completely and utterly exhausted. but that didn't change the stark reality—your marriage had become painfully sexless, and severely depressing. and you’d endured months of this silent, dry torture before you finally stepped up and decided you had had enough.

you and nanami were a picture perfect couple—that much was obvious from just looking at the two of you. you had the perfect wedding, the perfect house and perfect vanilla sex. though, despite its initial merits, clearly it hadn't gotten you very far—not if you found yourself so sexless this early into your marriage.

you couldn't let your marriage go down like this, you simply wouldn't. something had to change; you both knew that. the only question was, who would be the one to fix it first? so, you finally mustered up the courage to tell your husband you were sick and tired of the drought, and you were more than ready to break this invisible wall which had stood between you two for months.

when you told nanami that you wanted him to fuck you nasty, whenever and however he pleased without so much as a warning— naturally, his cock hardened, and nanami had displayed the rarest of his facial expressions: shock. though, despite his obvious shock, he was just as desperate to bridge the painful distance between the two of you.

so, of course he agreed— because nanami kento was not one to deny his beautiful wife.

and then it began—the waiting game. a semblance of hope finally returned as a light in your plain, boring days and the thrill of the unknown had you going absolutely feral. not knowing when and if he was going to fuck you had you living through your day to day life in a constant state of need and arousal. you finally felt yourself getting closer and closer to the light at the end of the tunnel where a long, loving marriage awaited you.

it had only been two days since your conversation when he walked into your shared apartment after work, and saw you standing behind the kitchen island in the tiniest, sluttiest white dress, preparing his favorite after dinner dessert—apple pie. what a perfect, thoughtful wife you were.

you looked up from the recipe book to see him standing in the doorway, looking exhausted and overworked as usual but, also looking remarkably handsome in his clean suit. gosh. he had just walked through the door and already your warm and wet arousal was settling comfortably in your panties.

“hi kento, how was work?” you asked softly, your lips pulled into a light smile.

“tiring” he replied, his voice an octave deeper than normal. he must have worked very hard if he sounded this exhausted, you thought. his bag dropped to the ground with a thud and he took his shoes off followed by his blazer, leaving just his dress shirt and pants on. you watched him intently as he walked over to where you stood behind the kitchen island, rolling up his sleeves and throwing his tie on the marble surface.

you flinched as he wrapped his big arms around your waist, welcoming the warm yet unexpected touch. he nuzzled his stubbly face in the crook of your neck, placing feather light kisses along its delicate skin. you let out small, pathetic whimpers, feeling another rush of heat settle in your core. your slick would start dripping through your panties and onto the floor if you didn't fix this soon.

“my dear wife, i didn’t know you were so dirty” he mumbled into the sensitive flesh of your neck, lightly nibbling at it, and leaving a trail of wet kisses down it’s stretch. fuck. why had the two of you ever stopped doing this in the first place?

“w-what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly, already feeling worked up from his minor act of intimacy. he inhaled your sweet vanilla scent—relishing in it, before he spoke up.

“yes kento, i want to be fucked” he started, while slowly snaking his fingers down the side of your dress. “whenever you want, however you want” he finished, mocking you sweetly with your own filthy words from just days ago. he was playing with you, baiting you—and you were falling right into his waiting hands.

his fingers met with your soaked panties as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, feeling him rub slow, lazy, teasing circles on your clothed clit, leaving you wishing you skipped the panties entirely when you got dressed this morning.

“is that not what you told me just a few days ago, my dear?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, watching you in amusement as you squirmed under his light touch. he’d barely given you anything yet your head was already clouded with arousal, making you literally tremble with need. dirty, dirty girl. “mhmmm” you hummed in response, not bothering to utter any words. not when you were so busy relishing in your husbands sweet proximity—a proximity you hadn’t felt for months.

“if i had known my wife was such a slut—” he said, slowly moving your wet panties aside with two long fingers “maybe we would’ve never had this issue in the first place” he finished, his deep, velvety voice sending little shivers racing across your skin. you closed your eyes, letting out sweet little mewls and whimpers while he toyed with your drenched pussy.

“k-kento” you moaned, desperate for more. it just wasn't enough. after so many celibate months, you were brimming with need, ready to burst at any given moment.

“yes baby? what is it?” his coo was sweet and honeyed. he toyed with you like a doll, teasingly pushing his fingers in and out of you, slowly pushing each and every coherent thought out of your mind, leaving you in a hazy, blur of need.

“ah— i n-need more” you whined pathetically in response, reaching a trembling hand up to the nape of his neck while your knuckles turned white on the other from your desperate grip on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“more what sweetheart? use your words for me” he practically purred in your ear, his voice a soft caress. the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you like this.

he pressed himself closer against you, removing your dress strap from your shoulder to give himself easier access to your tits. you bit your lip, desperately stifling your moans as he seized a handful of your breast, kneading and teasing the supple flesh, his fingers rolling your nipple with a torturous precision. fuck him.

"p-please kento, want you t-to make me feel g-good" you let out, voice shallow and breathy. your whines and moans were music to his ears, and he vowed they would be the only sound he ever craved to hear again.

you let yourself surrender to the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body as nanami pumped two of his thick, long fingers in and out of you. god, what a sight you were for him—eyes squeezed shut, rosy-cheeked and completely breathless. until this moment, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed in these last few sexless, stressful months he had lived through.

you whimpered a desperate plea as your husband pulled his fingers out, leaving you teetering on the edge of release. no, he was not going to give it to you that easy— especially not after this long of a wait. he turned you around to face him, and in one swift motion, lifted you onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble cooling the burning, aroused skin of your thighs. you felt a strong, big hand grab your waist while the other rest on the soft skin of your cheek. he looked at you through lust filled, hazel eyes—admiring his irresistible wife.

growing impatient, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. "kento" you breathed against his lips, desperate for more of his attention. no matter how much he gave you, you felt it would never be enough to make up for all the time you missed with your husband.

he kissed you softly, mapping every inch of your mouth with his wet tongue. you flinched, as he caught your lip between his teeth, teasingly biting down and nibbling on it before pulling away and leaving you whining and aching all over again. removing his hand from your cheek, he reached his arm around you and picked up the bottle of whipped cream that stood with the rest of the pie ingredients.

"my dear wife, when was the last time you made me this pie? the day after our wedding?" he chuckled deeply, studying the can in his hands.

"thought you'd like it" you mumbled, embarrassed by his mocking tone. you'd never seen him like this. his expression was one—in all your years of dating and one year of marriage—you've never seen him display. he looked hungry. a hunger that went beyond satisfying his human needs—this hunger looked feral, almost primal and he looked ready to do whatever it took to satisfy it.

nanami took a step back, opening your legs further apart to give him a better view of all your sweetest parts. you watched him flick the cap off the whipped cream can, buzzing with impatience as you waited for his next move. a strong hand pushed the fabric of your skimpy linen dress up to your waist, and you almost jumped when he sprayed some on your leg.

"ah- kento, what are you doing?" you gasped, looking down at your bare thigh, where a cute little heart of whipped cream was now drawn.

"apologizing to my sweet wife" he muttered, placing the can back down on the counter. he leaned his head down to your thigh, one of your hands instantly tangling itself in his hair. that's right. this is how nanami kento would apologize for all your missed orgasms—for unknowingly denying his wife.

his tongue met with your leg and he began slowly dragging it up and down the skin of your thigh, licking up all the cream that sat in the shape of a heart. a soft moan escaped your parted lips, and you tugged on his hair to pull his head up despite him not being finished.

"dear husband, when did you become so dirty?" you echoed his earlier words right back at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you locked eyes with his ravenous gaze. there it was, that hunger— that pure look of desire which you hoped would never disappear from his eyes. marriage was hard but in this moment you were both convinced that doing this every night, would make it feel effortless. nanami only smirked lightly before diving his head back down to meet your trembling thigh. that's right, he had you trembling with need—that's how desperate you were for his touch.

strong hands held your thigh down as he finished licking the heart of whipped cream on your leg. this was an interesting way to apologize to say the least. he lifted himself up, locking eyes with you as he slowly licked the last traces of cream from his lips. holy fuck, you almost came from the sight alone.

moving his hands, he pulled your dress over your head, leaving you in just your skimpy, soaked, panties. "so beautiful" he rasped, drinking you in with just his gaze while grabbing the can and getting to work on your tits. you giggled, watching him spray two hearts of whipped cream, one around each of your nipples.

"baby you- ah" the words died on your lips as he began licking the cream, finishing off with a light nibble that had your toes curling from pleasure. with a groan, he worked his way to the other one, sending chills down your spine and whimpers past your lips. one thing was for sure—nanami knew exactly what he was doing. and he wasn't going to stop.

"please" you whined desperately— impatiently. nanami was holding you on the brink of release, dangling your orgasm right in front of you before ripping it right back when you were about to finish. it was fucking frustrating.

so many nights, while nanami stayed late at work, you lay in your shared bed, desperate and aching, your fingers working tirelessly—trying, and failing, to replicate the feeling of his. little did you know that your dear husband spent his time in similar ways. in the late hours of the night while you were soundly asleep, he stood in the giant two person shower of your shared bathroom, hand wrapped around his veiny cock, warm water streaming down his body, pumping himself endlessly. he tried, he really tried. but nothing—nothing could compare to the addictive pleasure that came from your warm, tight walls clenching around his cock or the heavenly feeling of your soft, wet lips wrapping him so sweetly. yes, it was safe to say you were both very desperate and very frustrated.

"you wanted it nasty baby, that's exactly how i'll give it to you" he groaned in your ear moments before you were flipped face down onto the counter, toes barely touching the floor. you had awakened something inside him, and now that you'd gotten a taste of this nanami, you never wanted to go back.

you craned your neck to look back at him, watching him unbutton his now crumpled white dress shirt. he met your gaze, smiling at you while he reached beside you to grab his tie. you had never reacted to your husband this viscerally before. just the mere sight of him was intoxicating, leaving your head light and hazy, as if you were drunk on his presence alone.

he moved your hands behind your back, crossing them over each other before binding them together with his tie. a light moan escaped you, and you wiggled your hands, getting a feel for the restraint.

"spread your legs" he ordered, his suddenly stern and commanding voice only fueling the desperate throb between your thighs. you obeyed, stepping your toes further apart to allow him to stand between your legs.

you'd never thought you'd be this pliable, this eager to please. but here you were, pushed against the marble counter, wrists tied and ready to fulfill any of his wishes and demands—no matter how filthy. nanami held a dangerous level of control over you and your body, and the thought of wanting it any other way terrified you. surely this is what addiction felt like.

you flipped your head over to the other side, enjoying the cooling feeling of the marble against your burning cheek while you watched him pick up his handy whipped cream once again. guess he wasn't done with that huh.

"kento" you whined, indulging in the slow, sweet pleasure but impatiently needing more than just the teasing he was giving you. it wasn't fair. you had waited long enough.

"ah ah, so impatient, my dear wife" he clicked his tongue, grabbing hold of your wrists. you shuddered slightly when you felt the cold whipped cream meet with your tight holes. oh. he placed the can down, and got on his knees, still holding your bound wrists tightly with one hand and squishing the flesh of your soft thighs with the other. he dragged his tongue up all the way from your clit to your ass, licking up the string of cream he had drawn on you just moments before.

god, this man was filthy. his tongue lingered around your rear entrance, licking playful circles around it and prodding it with his tongue. the initially foreign feeling slowly grew on you, shooting warm pulses of pleasure through every vein in your body and deep into your aching core.

he dragged his tongue away from your tight ring, lapping up the last bits of cream left around your drenched cunt. you clenched your fists, desperate to hold something—anything to help you cope with the overwhelming pleasure you felt.

"kento— e-enough, i need you inside me" you uttered, unable to contain your restless, writhing need for him any longer.

"fine, if my beautiful wife so desires" he replied lazily, letting out a low laugh. you heard him unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the ground while he unzipped his pants. finally.

"my dirty, filthy wife" he muttered, idly pumping his hard, veiny cock with one hand. before you could protest, his fat, leaking tip found itself at your seeping entrance, prodding the wet flesh around it. you heard him suck in a sharp breath, a low hiss slipping from his lips as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you so wide that your eyes fluttered to the back of your head.

"nngh- ah" you moaned at the feeling of his tip reaching your cervix. he was sheathed inside you, waiting for your quivering body to adjust to his thick length. nanami was huge—there was no denying it. no matter how many times you had taken his cock, it was always an adjustment for you.

wiggling your hips, you tried to get as comfortable as you could on the hard, white marble countertop while he started slowly moving his cock in and out of you. "i-i haven't ah-adjusted" you whined, needing more time to get used to him. after all, the months of fucking yourself with your small fingers were nothing compared to your husbands cock.

but nanami only said, "you can take it" whilst speeding up to an almost frantic pace. you felt like you were going to fucking break. but don't say you didn't ask for this. you exposed your most vulnerable self to your husband just days before, begging to be treated like this. so yeah, you asked for it. and he was only doing what his wife desired.

nanami began to question his sanity. he never cracked under pressure, no matter the circumstance, but he felt his once strong grasp on his self control now slipping through his fingers. yup. this felt almost too good to be real—like he was either high on the most potent drug or finally losing his damn mind. he couldn't recall the last time he'd ever felt like this—not even during all the other times you had sex. you just felt that good in this moment.

each thrust had you crying out and clenching around him tighter and tighter—reassuring you that this marriage could be saved, that your sex life was not dead forever. your mind was swimming in pleasure and pain, the head of his cock kissed your cervix so roughly yet so sweetly. you silently said your final goodbyes to the sweet, innocent, vanilla versions of yourselves, and welcomed this new beginning for your marriage. you wanted this version of nanami for the rest of your life.

he fisted a handful of your hair, quite literally pulling you out of your lustful haze. nanami wrapped the strands around his hand once, securing you in place—not that you had any intention of being anywhere else anyway.

"fuck- baby you feel so fucking good" he growled from behind you, his breaths slowing into heavier, raspier ones. push. pull. push. that's what this fucking felt like. your scalp ached from the strong pull on your hair and your pussy throbbed from how hard he fucked you. your bodies fused together, connecting with each of his slams inside of you.

"nngh k-kento gonna c-cum" you stuttered out. he had you so fucked out on his cock you were barely able to even think, let alone form a sentence. it was fucking pathetic.

"yeah- f-fuck come for me" his voice came out in a ragged breath and his erratic pace began to slow into a more languid, agonizing one. he couldn't help himself—he wanted, no— needed to feel every single muscle along your tight walls clench around his cock. nothing felt better than this.

a desperate cry ripped from your throat as your entire body tensed, the long built up pressure in your core finally snapping free. your breath hitched, and you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation, finally unraveling around him. your walls clenched and throbbed, milking his cock with every pulsating wave of pleasure that coursed through your body.

"that's it, good girl" nanami purred behind you, feeling his cock throb deep inside you— the unmistakable sign of his climax finally reaching him. he went still, letting his cum spill out inside of you as he came down from his high. he gently untangled his hand from your hair letting your head drop back down onto the counter top.

your eyes were shut and your body was limp. there was no way that you’d be able to get up and walk around— at least not for a while. you felt your husband finally pull out of you, hearing him buckle his pants back up. warm hands met with your still trembling body, and he gently flipped you over, scooping your body up into his arms. not a single word would come out of you. you were fucking spent.

“my love” he whispered softly, placing you onto the plush bed of your shared bedroom. you looked up at him through half lidded, blurry eyes. “hm?” you hummed out, hoping that was enough of an answer for him.

“let’s take a bath” he said simply and you nodded in response. you could use a warm soothing bath right about now. he stalked into the bathroom and you heard the water turn on. he came out naked moments later, and picked you up off the bed, carrying your limp, exhausted body to the bathroom.

he lowered himself in, and you followed, sitting in between his thighs, his huge frame towering over you from behind. he pushed you lightly to sit up and you obeyed, tilting your head backwards to give him easier access to your hair. he began running his long fingers through the strands, untangling the little knots that resulted from his pulling earlier. you hummed lightly at the feeling, enjoying this small, sweet act of intimacy.

he moved his hands down to your shoulders momentarily, placing light, wet kisses on each one, and a few down the length of your back. “you did so good for me” he whispered sweetly, his gentle praise sending a rush of warmth through you.

god. you loved your husband. he was so caring and so tender, and moments like these made sure to remind you of that. you hoped you’d never have to experience another drought in your marriage like that again and you would do anything to make sure it stayed the way it was in this very moment.

“kento?” you spoke up softly, eyes still closed and head thrown back as he began to lather your hair with your vanilla scented shampoo. “yes my love?” he asked in response, waiting to hear what you mustered up all your remaining strength to say.

“i didn't finish baking the pie" you said, letting out a soft laugh. so much for being thoughtful.

he let out a deeply chuckle in return, recalling how adorable you looked, baking in a cute little white dress. he'd never eat his favorite pie again if it meant sex like that for the rest of his life.

he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered "it's okay, i already had my favorite dessert"

a/n: holy shit if u made it this far thank you so much for reading. this ended up being wayyyyyy longer than i planned it to be but i had such a good time with this <3

[joffycourt]

OH SHIT NEW CHAPTER YAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Cult of the Lamb: Luck of the Lamb Part 6: Last Call

Stumbling through the night, it's rare to find anyone else at this hour. Yet the drunken songs of friends, full of merriment, brings the opportunity for some allies in troubling times.

~Previous/Next~

~Start~

PS: We just hit 1k Followers! Woo! More on that later!