#and i think this was what i needed to let go

[yan-randomfandom]

Heyy could you make waking up next to and soft morning with yandere saja boys x reader🫶🏻😭

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; omg there's a gif of this moment!! so satisfying to watch KRRRRK and maybe it's not too soft but 😛

— ⛅

As their human manager, the one thing you must remember is that the boys become absolutely exhausted after whatever they're doing.

That's why you have the guest room prepared for that. A fairly large bed stationed and some extra mattress whenever they need. The couch is free too. Not to mention pillows and blankets they unnecessarily forced you to buy.

Still. It sometimes goes unused. Especially when the first thing you see upon waking is Abby staring at you like he's from some kind of K-Drama.

It's dim, but there's enough sun to see how your faces are way too close for comfort as he lies beside you. Not to mention he's completely shirtless. He smiles, eyes halfway, a hand slowly reaching for you.

Hmm. No thanks. You smile back to be polite, vaguely noticing how his eyes brighten a little, only for you to flip your body around—

Oh. Now Romance is staring at you.

"Good morning," he whispers, pink hair splayed across his forehead. "Had a good sleep?"

With a tired groan, you face the ceiling instead, grabbing a pillow and covering your face. Despite them agreeing to stay away from your bedroom, they slowly but surely broke that rule.

You don't know what you expected.

Gently, a weight topples over your pillow and body. You pause, waiting for the consideration that they'll leave you alone, but it never comes.

You sit up carefully, letting the body on top of you fall to your mattress.

Baby stares at you with big eyes, glancing at your arm beside his head. You click your tongue, watching him blankly—

Something fluffy goes under your other arm. You turn, spotting Mystery's head resting on your waist. He's purring, somehow... You look around your bed, beautiful grown men—demons—all over, and you wonder how they even managed to fit themselves.

"Okay," you sigh in defeat, patting the demon on your side, "where's Jinu?"

"Right here," Jinu reveals, sitting on the chair in your room. He's looking at you through your mirror. "Sorry about them. I think they missed you."

The boys on your bed shuffle a little. You ignore them, staring at Jinu's reflection, who nonchalantly shrinks every passing second that you do. "...Flattered."

Well, since they're here, guess you should go and prepare for the day. You glance at the clock, 4 AM. Weird. That feels too early, doesn't it?

Whatever. You don't know anything about KPop idol schedules.

You start to stretch and raise your body from the bed—only to get pushed back down.

"No, no! Stay and sleep more," Abby ushers, pushing you on your shoulders. The pillow hits your head softly. "We're here to rest, not to work."

"Wha," you sputter, watching as Romance lets the blanket comfortably fall on your chest. "Uh, thank—"

Then Mystery flops down on top of you next. Baby follows, nestling in close at your side—clearly wanting to be the little spoon. Romance drapes an arm over both you and Baby. On your other side, Abs settles in with his arm across both you and Mystery.

"Oh," you cough.

You stare at the ceiling, dazed and so confused, until you cast down your gaze to Jinu.

He smiles awkwardly.

—

jinu . facepalms

if this actually happened irl i'd be scared for my life btw

[fawniette]

thinking about your older boyfriend who is just so nurturing and caring, wanting to take care of his controversially young girlfriend in every way possible. he spoils you rotten, giving you his card every time you want to go on shopping sprees or whenever you see something you just need to have. and he’s always more than happy to buy you it.

he’ll never let you open a door by yourself or pull out your own chair, being a gentleman as he guides you everywhere with his hand placed on your lower back or snaked around your waist where he can’t lose sight of you. he loves being the dominant one in your relationship, loving the fact you can let him take charge and all you have to do is sit there looking pretty.

he’s also the type who doesn’t shout, especially in arguments. he’s letting you get everything out your system as he looks at you with intent eyes, nodding his head while listening. then, when it’s his turn to speak, he’s explaining things in such a gentle and patient manner that it has any anger or hurt fading away, just appreciation that your boyfriend is so gentle with you and your feelings.

and when it comes to your pleasure, your boyfriend doesn’t fall short. he’s older, and comes with a set of experience that can intimidate you at times. but you can easily say he’s never left you disappointed, making your sex life beyond magical as he draws out pretty moans from your lips as the curve of his cock hits all the right places while he talks you through it.

he’s snapping his hips forward with deep grunts as your velvet walls flutter around his cock, kneading at the plush of your hips while paying attention to what draws out those high pitched moans or the way your back arches when his cock kisses that sweet spot of yours. at the same time, he’s muttering against your ear, “you’re taking me so well, baby. taking me like a good fuckin’ girl.”

his praises have you hiding your face as your pussy flutters around his cock once again, feeling that hot build up of pleasure in your stomach. and he’s chuckling before moving your hands away, “don’t hide from me, sweetheart. i wanna see that pretty when when i make you cum.”

his dirty words have you biting your bottom lip as your brows furrow, arching your back while trying to contain the needy moans that threaten to fall from your lips. he knows exactly what gets you off, smirking when his hips snap forward, his pace quickening until you feel a crash of tingling pleasure and your lips moaning out his name in pure ecstasy.

so, while you might be a lot younger with occasional side eyes and comments from people, you can confidently say that your older boyfriend treats you better than anyone else ever could. and he certainly makes you feel better than anyone else ever could, a lazy smirk on his face as he looks down at your heavy chest and flustered expression before leaning down and kissing your parted lips like he hadn’t just made you come completely undone beneath him.

[p1girlfriend]

pregnant wife is extra emotional – f1 grid reactions

lando norris you cry because you forgot how to spell “banana” he panics like there’s blood on the floor “WHAT’S WRONG???” you just sob, holding your phone and spelling it out loud he tries not to laugh. fails. but hugs you anyway “it’s okay. we’ll never eat bananas again. they’re banned.”

oscar piastri you’re quiet. emotional. tearful. he doesn’t say a word just sits beside you with a hand on your belly lets you cry it out, kisses your temple “it’s okay. cry if you need. i’ve got you.” asks if you want hot chocolate or a nap. maybe both. he becomes your emotional support husband™️

charles leclerc you get weepy over a commercial with a dog he sits there blinking, like ?? “is this hormones or do you actually want a dog?” you start sobbing harder he panics and brings tissues, chocolate, and every single pillow in the house also googles “what not to say to pregnant wife crying”

lewis hamilton you cry while folding baby clothes he walks in, instantly kneels down and holds your face “what’s going on in that heart of yours, love?” listens to everything, rubs your back, tells you you’re doing amazing tucks you into bed and puts on your comfort movie also cries with you, because he’s that emotionally connected

carlos sainz you yell at the oven. literally scream at it. he walks in like “…am i interrupting?” you burst into tears. “I BURNED THE TOAST” he pulls you into a hug, laughing softly “you’re not mad at me, no?” makes a new batch of toast and calls it “healing bread”

daniel ricciardo you get emotional because your bellybutton’s changing shape he gasps like it’s life-changing “YOUR BUTTON IS BLOOMING” calls it your magic center takes photos of you every day and narrates everything with an Aussie accent to make you laugh kisses your belly like it’s made of gold

gabriel bortoleto you cry while brushing your hair he slowly takes the brush from your hand “leave it to me, meu amor.” sits you down, brushes your hair so gently, tells you you’re beautiful “it’s normal, tá? feel it. i’m here.” makes tea and reads baby name lists out loud to distract you

franco colapinto you get emotional because your feet are swollen and “ugly” he kneels down, kisses each one and says “these feet are carrying our baby. i think they’re the most beautiful feet in the world.” makes you lay down, puts a pillow under your legs draws little smiley faces on your toes with a marker until you laugh

max verstappen you start crying mid-conversation he stares. stiff. nervous. “…was it something I said?” you say no, you’re just overwhelmed. he nods like he gets it (he does not) proceeds to cancel all plans, order food, and set up the coziest space ever sits beside you with one hand on your belly, quiet and steady “you cry as much as you want. i’m right here.”

©p1girlfriend | requested | requests open!

[okaylikeschaewon]

Undeserved

~6k words, Dating Seraphs Part 11

“How much longer do you plan on waiting?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“How about, I don’t know, talk to her?” Sakura snaps back sarcastically, mouth agape and eyes wide, feigning shock with that tiny head shake she does. “Crazy idea, I know.”

You let a heavy breath escape your lips – you know she’s right. It still leaves you feeling dejected, but it’s hard to complain when you’re the one who asked her to join you for dinner.

“It’s not that simple,” you mutter, squishing a fry between your fingers, squeezing it until the potato mush spills out. “Thanks for coming by the way, I know you’re busy this week.”

“I’m just here for the free meal,” Sakura replies with her cheeks full. “We had most of the day off anyway.”

“You know, I never really understood that,” you lean back and drop the fry. “Even back in the day, buying you food was always the answer to everything. Angry? Food. Happy? Food. Tired? Food.”

Sakura brings a hand up to cover her mouth before she speaks. “What? A girl can’t like food? Is that really such a foreign concept to you?”

“I’m just saying, I don’t get why an idol would go crazy over food as if they can’t afford any meal they want.”

“It’s more about the concept of free food,” Sakura pauses to take a sip. “Like, a free sandwich beats one I buy for myself. See this?” she holds it up. “This is amazing.”

“How? If it’s the same sandwich–”

“You just won’t get it,” Sakura shakes her head with a sigh, already fed up with you. “There’s also the freedom to get whatever we want when someone is treating us. Although, now that I think about it, the company doesn’t really track me anymore. I guess I’ve been around long enough for them to stop worrying so much.”

“Ah right, strict diets,” you sit back up. “Well, you make sure to take care of your body, that’s probably why they don’t press you as much anymore.”

“Implying they had to before? I guess I didn’t take care of my body,” Sakura casually picks up her sandwich and admires it, calculating her next bite. “That’s sweet of you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Right,” Sakura replies curtly. “I eat too much and don’t take care of my body, I hear you.”

“I meant they trust you now,” you roll your eyes. “And for good reason, you look great lately.”

“Lately?”

“Sakura…”

She chuckles quietly. “I’m just giving you shit, I know what you're trying to say. I appreciate it.”

“You really haven’t changed at all.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she smirks before taking the last bite of her sandwich.

“Bit of both, I guess,” you answer quietly, pushing your tray forward.

Sakura frowns and her eyes soften with empathy. “You barely touched your food,” she notes gently after swallowing her bite.

“I didn’t have much of an appetite to begin with honestly.”

“The fuck?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sakura demands. “We didn’t have to go out, we could have just chilled somewhere quiet. Why would you offer to take me out to dinner if you weren’t hungry? You know how much I hate when you do this.”

“Didn’t you just say your sandwich is amazing?” you laugh.

“Well, yeah–”

“And that’s why I didn’t say anything,” you flash her a small smile. “Like I said, you really haven’t changed at all.”

Sakura’s shoulders slump and she gives you that ‘really?’ look. “That’s not fair,” she whines.

“It’s not like I’m throwing it out,” you chuckle. “I’ll pack it to go. Maybe I’ll leave it in your fridge for you to have tomorrow.”

“You’re annoying,” Sakura pouts as you flag down your waitress. “I never would have agreed to this if I knew you weren’t eating.”

“I know,” you respond, barely paying attention to her as the waitress walks over. “Kinda reinforcing my point Kkura.”

There’s a bit of a pause while you start packing your leftovers into the box. Sakura’s glaring at you, and you’re waiting for her to say what you know she wants to say.

“You can keep pouting or you can spit it out.”

“At least let me pay,” she pleads.

“We both know I don’t need that,” you chuckle. “I invited you for your company, the food was secondary.”

She frowns, but this time it’s not with anger, it’s more supportive and empathetic.

“Look, it’s just like we talked about this morning in the car,” she starts. “Just go, be honest with everything, and then whatever happens next isn’t in your control.”

You look up to face her again. “I get that, but that’s also exactly what’s making it so tough,” you reply. “Maybe I moved too fast, maybe I fucked up.”

“Oh my God, shut up with that,” Sakura rolls her eyes. “Maybe you did fuck up, maybe you’ll regret it one day, but I saw that glow you had this morning when you walked out of our room. That smile? I didn’t need details, I could see it, your dumbass was not regretting the decision this morning.”

“W-We just talked–”

“I said I don’t need details,” Sakura repeats firmly while crossing her arms.

“Sorry,” you notice the subtle blush of her cheeks – Kazuha probably told her anyway. You hesitate for a moment.

“I’m not judging you for it,” Sakura reads your mind. “Especially not after seeing Kazuha also with that same glow. She really likes you, don’t fuck this up.”

“Thanks,” you mumble quietly, a bit embarrassed.

“But promise me one thing,” Sakura uncrosses her arms and leans forward. “Please talk to Chaewon before you and Kazuha…” her voice trails off. “She doesn’t need to know about this morning, but please do right by Chaewon and talk to her soon, she deserves at least that much.”

“I know,” you sigh, standing up in your chair. “I’ll talk to her tonight. I promise.”

—

“Do you think I could talk to Zuha, for just a minute?”

Sakura makes a face, eyes squinted and full of judgement. “You get a minute before I’m walking in, and I better not see something that I don’t want to see,” she crosses her arms and steps aside.

“Thanks,” you give her a quick side-hug before entering their room.

Inside, Kazuha is sitting on the floor stretching with her phone propped up in front of her. Once she notices you, she immediately takes out her earbuds and hops to her feet.

“Hey,” she smiles warmly.

“Hey,” you walk up to her and place your hands on her hips. “I’m sorry for ignoring your message, I was caught up with dinner and then driving.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t worried,” she places her arms around your shoulders.

“Zuha,” you move a little bit closer. “Be honest with me. Do you think we’re moving a bit too fast?”

“Yeah,” she answers without missing a beat, catching you a bit off guard. “This might be my first attempt at some sort of relationship, but even I know how much of a risk we’re taking.”

“A risk…” you whisper under your breath. You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Are you?” she asks quietly.

You hesitate for a moment to think before answering.

“Well…”

“It’s Chaewon,” Kazuha interrupts. “Isn’t it?”

“I guess that wasn’t very hard to deduce,” you sigh. “Yeah, I have no idea how she’s going to react.”

Kazuha drops her hands off your shoulders and flashes you a pursed-lip smile while taking a step back.

“It’s not too late to just forget about this,” Kazuha says softly.

“No,” you squeeze your hold on her hips and pull her back.

“I’m not changing my mind or anything,” Kazuha clarifies quickly. “I’m just being realistic.”

“Realistic?”

“This morning, you came to me and asked me to be your girlfriend,” Kazuha explains slowly. “I guess, in the moment, I answered with my feelings before really thinking about how this would even work.”

“I probably jumped the gun,” you admit softly. “I was also acting on feelings, without really thinking.”

“Right, and that’s not something I’m blaming you for,” Kazuha continues. “But are you… are you going to break up with Chaewon? How does this even work?”

“If we’re going to be together, properly,” you start slowly. “I think I’ll have to, yeah.”

“What if I said you don’t?” Kazuha whispers, avoiding your gaze.

A rush of warmth quickly shoots through your body. “What?” you stammer.

“I just mean, you should talk to her about it first before we decide anything,” Kazuha explains with a meek smile. “She’s one of my best friends, and I know you still love her, so I don’t want you to break up with her for nothing. This won’t work without her… permission? I don’t know if that’s the right word.”

“But Zuha…”

“There’s really nothing you can say to convince me,” Kazuha interrupts. “I really like you, and I want this. Really want this. But it all depends on what Chaewon says, if she’s… I’m sorry but… I won’t be able to…”

“Alright,” you agree, but deep down you know there’s no chance Chaewon doesn’t get hurt by all of this. You don’t know what to do anymore, and the feelings of losing both of them start to settle in. How can you even consider what Kazuha is suggesting? It doesn’t feel fair to either girl.

“If it’s any consolation,” Kazuha says softly. “Reality is, we can’t undo what we did.”

“And I wouldn’t even if we could.”

“Me neither,” she smiles and steps a little bit closer and stares right into your eyes. “I meant what I said about you, and if you meant what you said about me…”

You lean in and close your eyes, moving forward slowly until you feel the softness of Kazuha’s lips against yours. That sweet, delicate emotion that you yearned for, it simply washed away your worries in the most cliché way possible. As your tongue slowly eases into Kazuha’s mouth, you forget about the messiness, you forget about any conflictions.

At some point without realizing it, you’ve started moving forward, slowly edging Kazuha backwards until her body presses against the wall. You let go of her hips and caress her face with your palms as your lips part just slightly, only to immediately press back together. Her hands end up on your back.

She’s more comforting than you could have imagined, and you can almost feel literal heat emanating from her body right into yours. The kiss burns with this intense passion, intoxicating and obsessive, you feel Kazuha’s nails clawing at your skin, digging absentmindedly into your body. You hardly remember to breathe.

Then, as you’re leaning into the kiss, you feel her entire body jolt.

“Ah!” she lets out a small squeal.

“What happened?” you quickly pull back.

She scrunches up her face in frustration – it’s beyond adorable – as she reaches up behind her and takes a clip out of her hair. “It got caught,” she giggles, holding the clip up in front of you.

“Stupid clip,” you take it from her hands and toss it out the open window before leaning in for another kiss.

Kazuha lets out another quick giggle before she returns the kiss. She pushes her tongue against yours, intertwining and twisting playfully. She even eases a hand up the back of your shirt, sliding her fingers against your skin.

She gives you the courage to slide your hands down her body. You get to appreciate the curves, that impossibly toned core of hers, each muscular little ridge of her skin against your fingers. You squeeze your hands around her hips until they’re planted against her lower back.

Carefully, you move a tiny bit lower. You’re hesitant, but that doesn’t last long as Kazuha starts leaning deeper into the kiss. You start sliding your hands lower until they’re resting against her ass, and she doesn’t hesitate for even a moment. Not when you give her a little pat, and not when you grab her ass hard with your entire palm.

Her body is unreal, you can’t even believe how good she feels – so soft, yet toned. You give her ass another slap and her body jerks before she pulls you closer and pushes her tongue deeper into your mouth. She gives you a light, playful bite on the lips before finally moving back.

Your lips slowly part and you’re left smiling at each other for a moment, just taking it all in. You can’t believe how beautiful she looks right now, so soft and delicate, so pure.

“I’m gonna need that clip back at some point,” she giggles in a hushed tone.

“Spur of the moment,” you laugh softly. “I’ll go find it later.”

She giggles one last time before pushing you away. As she walks past you, the door clicks and Sakura enters the room, glaring at you.

“One minute?”

—

Chaewon’s door is staring you in the face. She’s inside. Waiting. Still, you’re standing in front of it, trying to think of any excuse – but there is none. You have to get this over with, whatever happens, you need to tell Chaewon. It was time.

“Are you lost?”

“Hmm?” you look back over your shoulder to see Yunjin staring at you, confused.

“I’ve been watching you for like three minutes now,” Yunjin chuckles. “You didn’t even hear me come up the stairs.”

“Sorry, I’ve just been… I don’t actually know what I’m doing…”

“It’s a funny coincidence,” Yunjin walks up next to you. “But I ran into Sakura doing the same thing this morning outside of her room.”

“Oh?”

Yunjin leans a bit closer and speaks quietly. “She gave me a bit of a rundown of the situation.”

“So you know why I’m standing here?” you let out a feeble chuckle. “And you probably hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you, don’t be an idiot,” Yunjin hits your arm. “I understand what you’re going through, and I also understand it’s not easy, even if I don’t know all the details.”

You sigh deeply. “Well, Yunjin, my advice to you, one girl at a time.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life,” Yunjin chuckles as she walks over to her room. “Good luck with everything, rooting for you!”

The sound of Yunjin’s door closing echoes through your ears as you muster up the courage to rap your knuckles against the wooden door twice before turning the handle.

“Chae?” you announce through the crack. “You there?”

“Yeah, come in,” she calls back.

You open the door wider and enter, taking a moment to close it behind you before walking over to Chaewon’s bed. She’s sitting with her knees up and her phone in hand, watching you with a tiny smile on her face, one that screams ‘happy to see you, but exhausted’.

“Hey,” she sighs softly.

“Long day?” you take a seat on the bed next to her legs. She straightens them out and you open your body up to her while placing a hand on her thigh, massaging it delicately.

“Long week,” she smiles meekly, tossing her phone to the side. “I basically slept all day, my body just wasn’t having it.”

“I’m glad you finally got some rest,” you reply softly as your gaze fixes itself onto the hand you were lightly pressing into her thigh.

Chaewon reaches forward and lays her hand on top of yours. “What’d you get up to all day? You eat dinner yet?”

“Yeah, right before coming here,” you answer quietly.

“Good, good,” Chaewon continues gently. “So,” she draws out the word extra long. “Your text said you needed to talk about something?”

“Right,” you stare down at your lap for a moment before taking in a deep breath and looking up at her. “I’m just going to get straight to the point. Do you remember when you told me that if I ever was to develop some sort of feelings for Zuha, that I needed to tell you?”

“Ah…” Chaewon pulls her hand back. “That’s right, I did say that.”

“Well, I spent some time with her this morning…” you pause and watch as Chaewon leans over to grab a couple of tissues.

She places them on her lap and looks up at you again. “What? Keep going, these are just in case I need them after what you’re about to tell me.”

“Chae,” you whisper as you scoot closer to her. “I need to tell you the truth.”

She tries to smile through it, clearly incapable of forming words, settling for a small nod as her eyes already start to shine.

“I’ve been think–”

“Did you have sex again?” Chaewon blurts out.

It catches you off guard and you freeze.

“This morning,” Chaewon continues as her cheeks burn red and her eyes glow. “You said you spent some time with her this morning… I was just curious.”

“We–”

“It’s fine if you did. I told you it’s okay,” she adds. “I’m not upset.”

“Chae…” the word hardly has time to escape your lips before tears begin streaming down Chaewon’s face. You lean forward and wrap your arms around her.

She squeezes back and you tighten your grip, holding her body against yours. You rub her back gently with one hand while the other caresses the back of her head.

“So it is true,” Chaewon sniffles into your shoulder. “I’m not enough.”

“Don’t–,” you choke up, voice cracking. “It’s not like that.”

The two of you hold each other in silence for a moment, steadying the other, trying to stop the other from trembling. She takes in a deep breath and leans away from you, eyes bloodshot.

“Knew I’d need these,” she lets out a small, pained laugh as she takes a tissue and dabs at her eye before holding one up for you to take.

“I wish it wasn’t like this, but it’s not about you being enough or not,” you say, rejecting the tissue and letting your tears flow freely down your face. “I just think I might have feelings for her, and that has nothing to do with you not being good enough.”

Chaewon lets her hands drop into her lap. “If I was a better girlfriend–”

“Don’t,” you intervene firmly. “You’ve been nothing short of perfect.”

“But–”

“That’s the only reason I’m even coming to you and being honest about everything,” you continue. “Because I trust you. And love you.”

Chaewon’s lower lip trembles as she fights back a fresh wave of tears. “I love you too.”

You give her a moment to compose herself before you continue.

“But I need to know what we’re going to do about this,” you add softly. “I… I do want to see things out with her.”

A single tear slides down her face, unwiped.

“I am so sorry,” you rub your eyes with the back of your hand as the sight of her launches you over an emotional cliff. “So, so, so fucking sorry for being an asshole. You deserve so much better.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Chaewon mutters, her voice cracking under her feelings. She stares at you with dewy eyes, beautiful as ever, and then she hesitates for a moment before sniffling and speaking up again. “Do… are you… what do you want to do exactly?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Chaewon chuckles as she wipes her eyes again. “I think you should see it through with Zuha.”

It feels as if the world around you stops. A wave of heat courses through your body as you question whether or not you heard her correctly. It almost hurts, even though this is your decision, it almost feels like Chaewon is breaking up with you.

“I think that’s the most fair, for everyone,” Chaewon continues softly. “You see it through with Zuha. Properly. And then we have this talk after.”

“But what about you? How is that at all fair to you?”

“I also played a role in this whole situation, it’s messy I know,” she replies. “You’re not allowed to blame yourself for anything, it was my idea, you were against it from the start. And if you have feelings for Zuha, it’s not fair for me to take that away from you.”

“So are we–”

“No,” she cuts you off with fresh tears suddenly streaming down her face. “Please don’t say what you’re about to say. Not yet.”

“Then what exactly–”

“I don’t know,” her words quiver. “Wherever we end up, we figure it out together, eventually. Just not now.”

“But… Chae–”

“No matter what happens,” she continues firmly. “We stay on good terms. No matter what.”

“I…”

“Promise me,” her lip quivers again. “I love you, and I love Zuha, that will never change.”

You hesitate again. You want to believe her, you really do, but you’re scared.

“Promise me,” she repeats, with less conviction than before, the syllables faltering.

Each second feels like a lifetime. Her words weigh heavy, and you want to reassure her, you want to tell those beautiful, vulnerable eyes that everything will work out – but you don’t know. You’re just as scared as she is, looking through the wall of emotions built by all the memories you two share. Your head is spinning, and every moment that passes instills more doubt into Chaewon. You hate yourself for it; You feel stuck. The worst of it all is how undeserved it feels.

Kazuha flashes into your mind. This feels wrong, for her sake too. The feeling is suddenly replaced by Chaewon. The girl sitting right in front of you, your girlfriend, refusing to let things end while still reassuring you that it’ll work out. Nothing makes sense. You’re bouncing between the girls, trying to figure out what the fuck you are supposed to do.

It’s impossible to believe her, despite how hard you try. You’re not convinced, but there’s no other option. You don’t know how to stop yourself from doubting your choice, and seeing Chaewon like this reminds you, clear as day – you’re definitely still in love with her.

“I promise,” you reassure her against your better judgement.

“Good,” she whispers before leaning closer to you.

“Babe…” your heart starts pumping as Chaewon moves closer.

“I love you,” she whispers right in front of your face before she leans in and kisses you.

It’s so sudden, you don’t even have a chance to think. A rush of emotion shoots up your spine. You shut your eyes against a wave of sudden tears and you wrap your arms around her. Your hands pull her close, pressing into her body as you kiss her, tenderly and slowly.

With mouths still glued together gently, you end up on top of her. She’s on her back, taking short breaths whenever your lips part, just for you to press your mouth forward again and again. You can feel her hands, one on your back and the other on your nape. Your hands slide down to her hips before easing around her body, resting against her lower back.

Her warmth is like a blanket, engulfing you, filling you with feelings that you didn’t know could exist. Your love for this girl comes flooding back in, overwhelming you. It makes your body scream. You’re pressing into her, and her legs wrap around your hips, locking you in place.

She wants you just as much as you want her, mutual addiction, and it’s making your heart ache. All the tears and choked-up words suddenly didn’t matter as you’re both fumbling with each other’s clothes. It takes forever, and a lot of effort – mostly because neither of you would let the kiss stop – but eventually you find yourself lined up between Chaewon’s legs.

Finally, the kiss ends, and you’re staring down at Chaewon. She’s there beneath you, flat on her back, eyes more tender than ever, face still stained with tears. Time freezes. Not for a second or a minute, but for what seems like hours or days. You stare into each other’s eyes, reliving all the memories you share.

And then you ease into her.

A sharp gasp escapes her lips and she tilts her head back, shutting her eyes tight as you push yourself all the way into her before opening them back up slowly.

This time feels different. Not a good nor a bad different. Just, different. You can’t really make sense of it as you hold steady inside her tight warmth for a moment before falling forward and pressing your lips to hers. You start moving your hips slowly, inundated by her love, fumbling around the bed with your hands until you find hers.

She interlocks her fingers with yours and squeezes hard, and at the same time Chaewon wraps her legs around you once more. She won’t let go of you, not with any part of her, it’s not an option.

And you won’t let go of her.

You start pumping your hips faster, the intensity building between your legs. Your mouth slips off hers and starts digging into the crevice of her neck. You’re kissing and sucking on her skin, desperate. Consumed. The more you get, the more you want. You’re greedy for Chaewon.

It feels better than a dream, a lucid trip, and Chaewon’s the drug. Your body enters a state of higher existence and you start to lose track of yourself. It feels divine, like if ecstasy was being pumped straight into your brain – but there’s no drug – only Chaewon.

Suddenly, she’s on top. You have your back against the headrest, and Chaewon’s straddling your lap. She lowers her body onto you while you wrap your arms around her tiny frame and pull her close. You kiss her clavicle as she tightens around your body.

“I love you,” she whispers into your ear.

Her arms are wrapped around your head, and she’s holding onto you for dear life. Her body moves with yours – flowing gently like a river. She falls forward a touch as you bring your knees up and ends up kissing you on the mouth.

You’re kissing her too, no hesitation, no second thoughts, and your hips are jamming up into her body with an intensity that matches hers, while still maintaining a degree of affection that you don’t think anyone in this world deserves more than the girl sitting on your lap.

Your hands slide down her body and dig into her soft bottom, opening her wider, getting you deeper. There’s this connection, one that words cannot explain. For a moment, you forget the world, and you let yourself drown in Chaewon’s passion.

She feels perfect. You want nothing more than to live in this moment forever – as if that was an option. She’s breathing softly, each bounce and each thrust sending her to another universe. She’s just as obsessed as you, she wants this and her body is screaming to you in ways that don’t need words.

Right when you think you’re starting to understand reality, the sound of Chaewon’s moans hit you like a truck. Right up against your ear, not loud, not fabricated, just pure intimacy. They’re so soft and elegant, accompanied by her body flexing against you. Each and every fibre inside her starts to squeeze, and with one last moan, it all becomes too much for you.

Your warmth shoots out of you while Chaewon’s still shaking. A beautiful tandem of emotion and intensity connects you together as you squeeze each other’s bodies as hard as your physical limitations allow. While it feels like an eternity to you, it ends just as quickly as it comes, and you feel all the strength dissipate from your body.

The grip you have on her falters, and her body collapses against yours. You’re breathing heavily, and so is Chaewon, while she strokes your chest softly. You place her on the bed and ease out of her, warmth still connecting your bodies in the most intimate of ways.

Then, suddenly, reality rushes back in and kicks you right in the gut. Your bodies separate as the realization of what you just did sets in. As if anything made sense in the first place, it definitely made less now. You get up to leave, incapable of formulating a coherent thought.

—

From Chaewon’s room to the front door, everything is a blur. You don’t remember anything, but you have a pain in your chest that refuses to leave. It’s as if you were stabbed, and all you can hear is Chaewon’s parting ‘I love you’ echoing through your ears – you can’t even remember if you said it back.

You’re walking around the outside of their house, using your phone’s flashlight to help you search until you see the little sparkle from Kazuha’s hair clip. You walk over to pick it up, and right when you place it into your pocket, you hear voices coming through Kazuha’s window.

“...there’s one thing,” Kazuha’s voice pierces the night with a little laugh.

“Oh?” you can almost hear Sakura sit up by the inflection of her voice.

There’s more shuffling inside the room before you hear Sakura’s voice again.

“Zuha!” Sakura squeals with excitement. “Oh my God!”

Kazuha’s laugh rings through the air. “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

“I remember on our first anniversary,” Sakura begins with a giggle. “He…”

Her voice softens to the point where you can’t hear the conversation anymore. You take a couple of steps closer, trying to listen in. Then, as you take one last step, you hear the two of them start laughing.

“Kkura!” Kazuha shrieks with a laugh. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Did you not hear yourself literally five seconds ago?!”

“I know! But… wow…” Kazuha chuckles.

The two of them laugh some more before calming down and letting silence fill the air again. Someone, you think it’s Kazuha, says something inside, but it’s too quiet for you to hear.

“...why do you say that?” Sakura’s voice flows through the window, gentle and empathetic.

Zuha exhales deeply. “It was so much easier to tease him before,” she answers, her tone far more serious than before, “now I just feel… something… every time I even think about him.”

“That something is called feelings,” Sakura chuckles softly. “Don’t overthink it, just do what feels right. He’ll know if you’re trying to force anything, and I promise you he likes the real you more than a persona.”

“That’s the thing, I’m like, too nervous to be natural around him anymore,” Kazuha laughs, the discomfort evident in the tone. “I used to tease him all the time, I loved the way he would squirm, it brought me so much joy. I’ve never felt this way around him before.”

Sakura ponders for a moment before speaking up. “I think that’s natural. For context, during our first date, I probably said a total of five words the entire time, and this was after spending a week texting him every day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, even if you know someone already, this can be a pretty big change in the dynamic,” Sakura explains gently. “Especially given the circumstances, it’s totally reasonable to feel a bit awkward. I’d even go as far as saying I’d be surprised if it wasn’t a bit awkward at first.”

“Oh well, it probably won’t even matter.”

“What? Why? What happened?” Sakura asks. “You two were obviously doing more than admire the view when I walked in earlier.”

“I can tell the Chaewon thing is bothering him,” Kazuha admits quietly, “even though I know he’s trying to hide it from me. I saw it in his eyes earlier, he was hurt, and I don’t know if he’s ready to move on from her yet.”

There’s a long pause in the conversation. You freeze in place, scared to make noise, holding your breath until Kazuha’s voice comes through the window again.

“Sorry–”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sakura interjects softly. “I get it.”

Kazuha sniffles just loud enough for you to hear over your thumping heart. Her next words are so quiet that you question whether you even hear them.

“Am I a bad person?”

“Of course not, Zuha,” Sakura snaps, and there’s a degree of anger behind it. Her next words are muffled as if she’s speaking through Kazuha’s body. “No one will ever blame you for your feelings.”

There’s another break in the conversation. This one is significantly longer than the last. Just as you begin leaning in toward the window again, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Holy sh–” you gasp before a hand quickly covers your mouth.

The voices inside disappear for a moment, but all you can think about is how your heart feels like it’s about to explode through your chest as you turn to see Yunjin standing right next to you. She drags you away from the window until you’re both out of earshot before letting go of your mouth. “What are you doing?” she whispers as she pulls her hand away and laughs quietly.

“I d-dropped something…” you stammer, as the blood rushes to your face.

“Right,” Yunjin giggles. “I guess you were struggling to find it, whatever it was.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mumble as you crouch down and take a few deep breaths, relaxing your body.

“Get up,” Yunjin reaches down for your hand and pulls. “I’m not trying to explain this to anyone who might peek through the front door.”

“Where are we going?” you take her lead down the path.

“For a walk.”

---

A/N:

This chapter was tough. I lost count of how many different drafts I ended up writing, but ultimately this is the one I chose. Some were a LOT sadder. It honestly got a bit frustrating at times, I could have easily spent another few weeks dissecting some of these scenes.

Anyway, I gotta know what you guys think about the ~6k word length for updates to the story. I already wrote the next scene which is the talk with Yunjin but decided to cut the chapter here for ease of reading. You guys prefer that or would you rather have chapters be a bit longer? It would have been close to ~9k words had I kept the next scene in, but that feels a touch too long?

Speaking of Yunjin, she's getting some more scenes coming up. God damn she is stunning lately. I know I had someone ask if she was getting any smutty scenes and I said pretty firmly that she wasn't, but now I don't know... (potential spoiler I guess, also still no plans for Eunchae, sorry!). For now though, Kazuha fans rejoice maybe? Sakura fans stay patient, she's not out of the picture just yet. I'm gonna stop typing now before I accidentally spoil too much.

[okwonyo]

YOU ARE THE BOSS ★ anything that you say

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗌

𝟏𝟐𝟗𝐎𝒾──── downbad!enhypen 𝗑 f!rea ✿ fluff 𓂋 mention of alcohol kissing skinship ❞ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ｡ ⠀

𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦

HEESEUNG

you drank a bit much tonight. heeseung smiles at the cute rose tint on your cheeks and your messy hair.

“woah, woah, calm down, baby,” you tend to get a little touchy when tipsy. heeseung find it cute, very attractive even. but it’s hard when he is trying to go get you water.

“where are you going?” your pout almost makes heeseung crawl to bed next to you.

his heart sinks when he needs to take your hands off of him, “i’ll be back, sweets.”

he innocently thinks he has tamed you for a second. then, your hand holds onto his tie when he is about to get too far from you. his mouth falls on yours without him realizing.

saying that he melts into the kiss in a millisecond is an understatement. his mind goes completely blank— kissing you back being the only thing he knows at the moment. he would let you drag him like this anywhere, any day and anytime.

“holy shit,” he is stunned. unable to move even five seconds after the kiss. he stays still, blinking as he tries to remember what he wanted to do at the start.

JAY

“do i look good?” he asks, stepping in the bathroom. he stands right next to you, observing his reflection in the mirror with a worried expression plastered on his pretty face.

seeing him through the mirror isn’t enough. you have to turn your head to his direction. you take a well needed time to scan his entire body: from his head down to his expensive shoes.

nothing goes past you, not even the tiniest details on his red cravat, not even the fabric of his white shirt or the buttons of his black suit.

however, as you take your time to admire what is standing in front of you for free, jay grows impatient, “is it bad?”

“are you joking?” you huff in disbelief. he seems quite serious to you and in need for some stress relief.

he is too distracted by his suit to see you reach for his red tie. he doesn’t expect to be pulled forward so strongly but he holds your hips still and kisses you harder.

“you look good,” you say against his lips, with your arms around his neck.

he hums, “look at you, princess.”

JAKE

he loves watching you dance. especially when you are a bit tipsy, when your dress turned whenever you do and when they play your favorite song on the big speakers.

amongst all the people on the dance floor, he thinks you stand out the best. perhaps, because he is obsessed with you. but he is sure there is a reason for that.

he drank a little too. he follows your order like a puppy when you give him the sign to join you with your index finger.

he tries to follow your move on but being around you when he is drunk makes him a little nervous. his dance moves are messy and ridiculous enough to make you burst out laughing.

his feels his entire face getting red at the sound of your laughter but he laughs back. his heart pulse rises when you wrap your fingers around his tie, his eyes grow wide with fascination the more you pull him closer to you.

the sound he makes when you kiss him is downright embarrassing. but you are goddamn hot and your lips taste too good to be true.

SUNGHOON

he isn’t even sure of where you are taking him or why you're guiding him like that. but he is enjoying it a lot.

you have been dragging him like this since you both stepped out of the car. with your hand around his tie, you make him trail behind you to your apartment’s door. let’s say you got him on a leash, quite literally.

he likes it. loves it, even. he follows you with a sick smirk drawn on his lips. wondering why you are so eager to get back home.

your hand doesn’t leave his cravat even after the door closes behind the both of you. sunghoon chuckles, “you really lov—”

soon enough the kiss you give him shuts him up. he groans inside your mouth, thick eyebrows furrowing at the intensity of the kiss. it’s like his dreams are becoming true.

his hands are well too comfortable moving all around your body for him to remember what he wanted to say.

SUNOO

playing with sunoo’s tie is always very fun. you like to twirl it around your finger like a wandering hair strand, to run your thumbs over it’s pattern or loosen it to tighten it after.

your boyfriend really doesn’t mind. he is too busy talking to you to get bothered by your silly antics. he is always so immersed in his rambles— which you find really cute.

now, your favorite thing to do when sunoo wears one of his pretty ties is to pull him close to you. he lets himself lean in without stopping to talk. you give him a kiss, he blushes, he continues talking right after you pull away.

you wait until he is standing straight to repeat the lovely game you made. over and over. kisses and kisses and rambles.

at some point, sunoo gets to red in the face and becomes unable to continue. he starts to avoid your eyes, a gentle smile spreading on his mouth before he hides his face in your neck.

JUNGWON

he is running late. honestly, he can only blame himself for this. no matter how many time you tried to wake him or get him off of you—and the bed— he groaned and readjusted his position.

he only got up when you told him what hour it was. he left the bed in such a hurry than he almost fell on the floor. his sleepy headed self bumped into every furniture on his way.

“are you not going to take breakfast?” you ask when he kisses you cheek. all dressed up and clean. suit hugging perfectly his body and cravat sitting so politely.

“i don’t have enough time,” he answers in a hurry, already ready to leave.

you won’t let him go away so quickly though, “ah, ah,” you grab his tie.

all the tension in his body seems to leave as soon as your mouths touch. he hums, sounding extremely content and soft at the contact of your lips.

he cups your jaw, tilts his head to the side, getting a little too much into it. “you have work,” “i’ll take care of you first.”

RIKI

“can you help me with this?” his voice is soft as he hands you his cravat.

you take your eyes off your phone to gawk at him— you swear you’ve seen him tie it on his own before, “uh,” you get up, taking the piece of clothing hesitantly, “sure.”

riki doesn’t look at how yours fingers work on the tie. he stares shamelessly at your face, which makes you nervous. he grins, “you suck at this.”

you want to give him a mean look. your eyes fall into his immediately, which makes your gaze more fond than not, “shut up.”

“no, baby, that’s seriously not how you tie a tie,” he laughs. he is lying for the pleasure of teasing you— you are doing it perfectly actually.

you ignore him. but he won’t shut up, still. “it’s too tight—”

his stupid grin won’t go away even after you yank him closer by his tie, “riki, shut up.”

“make me,” he whispers and funnily enough, he is the one who kisses you first. when he kisses you fervently like this, you understand it was all part of his evil schemes.

분지 ܃ i hope you enjoyed 🎀

taglist open 。

[bunbun007]

One Hell Of a Trip - Saga Boys x Reader

Wanings: Demon pacts I suppose? Not explicitly explained. Word Count: 1.3k Pairings: Saga Boys x Reader

Next ->

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You should’ve never made a pact with a demon. Multiple demons, apparently.

Regardless of your religious beliefs, you knew that personally contacting the reins of Hell was a stupid, crazy idea. But then again, you were only human.

And humans needed to eat.

Didn’t they?

“I'll die if I don't do this,” you murmured, voice ever so soft, echoing in the dimly lit room. “Or maybe I will if I do. Heavens, this is so stupid… Lady, are you sure this will work?”

★

It had all started on a quiet street. You’d been walking with no real purpose, when you encountered an old lady — a beggar, by the looks of it.

You’d offered her kindness.

It was the only thing you could offer, realistically. You had nothing on you. Nothing at home, either. In fact, in a few days, you might not even have a home.

The lady seemed enamored by your sweetness and handed you a little flyer.

“The man who gave me this was very sure of its usefulness,” she said. “Maybe it'll help you. You seem like you need it.”

Ouch.

Even if she meant well. Ouch.

Still, desperate, you unfolded the flyer and read it. It was a crumpled old piece of paper — photoshopped and funny-looking, like it was made by middle schoolers promoting their DnD club.

Not judging, tho.

You held it in your hand and almost laughed at the absurdity. What if?

Realistically, what could go wrong?

It’s not like demons actually existed.

And if they did… maybe they’d pity you. In your sleepless, starved state, this seemed like a genuinely great idea.

Which is what brought you to this very moment —Sitting on the floor of your tiny apartment, placing candles in a circle like some cursed Pinterest board. “First time summoning a demon… hope you don’t mind the mess, Hell Lord,” you giggled to yourself at the pitiful joke and sat in the middle of the room.

What should you even say?

“Oh… hear ye, hear ye, demons,” you tried awkwardly. “Help me progress in my job… um, I really need it to live. I’ll return the favor if you let me live a decent life. "You looked around. “I’ll be bound to you…?”

.

.

.

Right.

What were you even expecting?

Candles bursting into flames?

A thunderclap?

The Hell Lord himself popping in through the wall?

“Well, would you look at that.”

A voice. Low and raspy, but with a slight youthful ring to it.

“Our plan keeps getting easier, doesn’t it, boys?” A series of soft laughs filled the room.

Your entire body tensed — and froze.

“Now, little one. We appreciate your help. We’ll gladly take you as ours.”Your neck almost snapped from how fast you turned toward the voice. You saw a tall figure — and before you could think, you grabbed the closest candle and threw it at them.

“THE HELL?!”

You kept throwing the lit candles like your life depended on it. And well… it kind of did. The entrance was blocked by figures.

Shadowed, unmoving.

“Who are you?! All of you?! I swear, I’ll break your necks if you come any closer!” You grabbed a nearby pillow and held it up with both arms.Your gaze flicked from figure to figure. They were tilting their heads forward… until they all slowly raised their chins.

They were men.

Attractive. Scary-looking. Men.

Still men, tho.

“Who are you?! How did you break in?!”

The man in the center took a step forward, flashing a smirk in your direction. His skin shimmered in a purple hue, tattoos spiraling across his collarbones. “Hello, human. We are your saviors—”

He flinched. “HEY! Did you just smack me with a pillow?!”

“Stay away!”

“Stop, human. I’m warning you. Quiet.”

Suddenly, your voice was gone. You tried to speak — to scream — to whisper, even. But nothing came out. It was as if your own body betrayed you, forced to obey this man’s words. And the men began to walk forward.

Each one was different in height and build — but all of them shared that same violet skin.

“We are the demons you contacted. Your saviors. Your new responsibility.”

The shortest of them — one with blue hair and an irritatingly smug face — held the crumpled flyer right up to your nose. “The owners of your soul…” They stood in front of you, forming a perfect line. And all you could do was stare.

“We are the Saja Boys."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Of course. Demons apparently existed. And you were now bound to five of them. They had you at their mercy. ‘What do you want from me?’ ‘You work as a manager, don’t you?’ 'Yes…’ ‘Then make us famous.’ ‘Unforgettable.’ ‘Desired.’ ‘Envied.’ The man in the center smirked. “Make us be loved by everyone."

Did I stay until 12 am stressing over the format and this little fix? Yes, yes I did. I've never posted but seeing how this movie has gained popularity and how loved the boys are, I wanted to write for them.

We barely see anything from them in the movie, so I'll probably take creative liberty to write their personalities. This might work as the starter for individual series (for each member) but it all depends if you guys actually like the idea or not Jajaja.

Which reminds me!

The original prompt belong to @soldmygenderforglitter and I took some liberty to develop it! I hope you like it!!

Ppl who also liked the idea: @arieslucy @lylian333 @silverklaus

[snapscube]

would you say, at this point, in your own opinion, that Deltarune is better than/surpasses Undertale? both narrative wise and gameplay wise

i think this is the kind of thing where i would really be jumping the gun to say so definitively either way. deltarune is the hype right now and we’re still right in the middle of the most intense rising action of its story, entering the era where it is going to be the most exciting that it will ever be as we barrel towards the final chapters. that’s a crazy high note, but it won’t portray the full scope of deltarunes accomplishments when compared to its intent. that’s the kind of thing we need to wait on, and that’s the kind of thing we absolutely have for undertale. undertale has such clear intent and such insanely clever, concise, and poignant delivery of its intent. let it never be forgotten how much of a fucking masterpiece undertale is IMO, it’s one of my favorite games.

i do think, however, there is a lot to be said about how deltarune could fare in that comparison based on what i’ve seen so far, and in summary: it was hard to understand at first because of how revolutionary undertale felt, but i’m finally beginning to see how this was the game toby really wanted to make for a much, much longer time. if there was ever a game with the potential to make fucking UNDERTALE of all games feel like a prologue for something bigger, it might be deltarune. but that’s a lot of pressure i don’t want to put on it so im just enjoying the ride for now and enjoying how compelled i am in spite of the act it’s trying to follow.

[alien-slushie]

DcxDp idea

Jazz is moving away for collage/university, and while Danny knows his sister is more than capable of protecting herself, he can't help but worry[shut up sam, no he is not paranoid!], so he marks her with his signature. Marking her with his signature doesn't do anything really, its more or less just a warning against ghosts, demons, fae and the like to stay away from whatever person is marked, kind of like putting a sign on them that says: "Hey! This person is my family/friend and under my protection! Screw off!" He did the same thing with Sam, Tucker, and even Dani. Jazz didn't think it needed to be done, but if it helped Danny cope with her being away from home she was happy to let him do that.

The thing is, Danny is a bit stronger than the average Ghost, he did play a key role in the re-sealing of Pariah, won most if not all the brawls hed been in, and he was heavily doused in Clockwork's magic due to his time travel escapades, in fact many of the Infinite Realms wouldn't be surprised if Danny rose to Ancient status once he was older. Why am I telling you this? Well, due to his power and feats, his signature made a bigger impact than if, say, Skulker or Boxy were to mark someone. While yes, his signature still only told others to screw off, the power emanating from said signature was rather significant, making others, especially ghosts and ghost adjacent feel nervous, cautious, in Jazz's presence, full on detearing most of them from even approaching her, if not scaring the living daylights out of them. Danny knew this before he asked to mark her with his signature, but he maybe didn't tell her that, mostly because he didn't think it was important.

And maybe it wouldn't be important, had Jazz not taken her 3 month Collage internship at Arkham Asylum. But as it stands, she did take her internship there, and since most of Arkham's residents had been touched by death at least a little bit, well, needless to say they're terrified of her, even if they have no idea why.

Or

Danny marked Jazz with a spiritual *do not disturb or i will break your kneecaps* sign so she could go to collage and Danny could feel assured knowing she was safe. Liminals/Death Touched can't see the sign for what it is like full ghosts, but they can sense the warning/danger from it; so when Jazz goes to Arkham for her Internship for Collage Credit, she terrifies the occupancy there. They, the patients(?), have no clue why they're scared of this 19yo woman when they've faced off against the bats at least once, but they know, for the most part, to trust their instincts. This is gonna be a long 3 months for them, but hey, maybe they'll actually get the help they need.

[dragon-creates]

Was Pomni in the wrong to tell Ragatha to calm down? Yes but I don’t think that was intentional. She does want Ragatha to express herself but I think she was also worried that Ragatha would say something hurtful that she would regret later.

Pomni does want to help people, but she isn’t a therapist. She can listen to the struggles that her friends are going through but all that can’t be placed on her alone. It’s why she let Gummi Goo come to his own conclusion, let’s Gangle go home early so she can close. She does help, but she lets the rest be up to them.

And that’s what Ragatha needed, not to explode but figure out a way to express herself negative emotions in a healthy way. (Dear god don’t let me get jumped for this.)

[9iavolo]

❝I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL❞

synopsis: you're supposed to be healing. mark's supposed to behave. but neither of you are very good at following the rules—and once he starts, he can't stop. warnings: smut, rough/dominant mark, mark being a perv, sub!reader, fem!reader, dirty talk, breeding kink vibes, possessive behavior, praise, overstimulation, soft obsession, light pain kink (due to injuries), oral (fem receiving), oral-to-pentration transition, unprotected sex, creampie, getting caught by cecil wc: 6k

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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The room smells like antiseptic and blood.

And you—still beneath it all—you.

Your sweat. Your skin. Your wrecked body calling to him like a fucking siren.

Mark shouldn't be hard right now.

You're hurt. You're bleeding. You almost died. And still, all he can think about is the way your legs are spread—like a dare.

Like a death sentence.

She's hurt. She's half-naked. She almost died. And I'm standing here like I'm about to fuck her in a hospital bed—because I am.

You're sprawled across the GDA medbed—bruised, bandaged, breathtaking. The remnants of your tank top barely cling to you, the shredded fabric sliding over your ribs. The gauze across your side is already bleeding through. One thigh's propped up slightly, bruises painted like ink across soft flesh.

And that stupid fucking blanket is hanging off your hip, one tug away from falling.

You look like sin.

Mark's hands are curled into fists. He tries not to breathe you in again—tries to look away from your thighs, from the blood, the curve of your waist—but his eye betray him.

Everything about you pulls him in. It always has.

Dangerous? No. You're catastrophic.

"You keep staring," you murmur, dry.

Mark's fingers twitch at his sides, his jaw clenched.

Of course I'm staring. Look at you. Fucking look at you. All wrecked and smug like you know what you're doing to me.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"No, you're not."

You don't even open your eyes. Just let your head tip back like you can sense how close he is to breaking.

"You could've died," he says.

"You say that every time."

"You keep almost dying."

"And yet," you breathe, finally cracking one eye open, "here I am. Breathing. Chest rising. Skin flushed. Guts still inside."

A smirk curls your lips. "Guess you'll have to deal with that, won't you?"

And that's it.

That's the moment Mark snaps, hitting him all at once—the fear of losing you, the aching need, the way you're taunting him, bleeding and beautiful.

And he breaks.

"Fuck it."

He's on you in seconds.

Not rough. Not angry.

Just urgent.

Desperate.

I'm not even pretending anymore. I need her. I need to taste her. I need to mark every fucking inch of her until she remembers she's mine.

His mouth crashes onto yours, fingers cradling your face, threading into your hair like he's afraid you'll vanish beneath him. You kiss him back without hesitation—tongue sliding against his, slow and warm and unbothered.

She tastes like heat. Salt. Blood. Fuck, she tastes alive.

"You—fuck, you don't know what you do to me," Mark groans, pulling back just enough to breathe.

His hand slides down your side, reverent.

You flinch slightly when he grazes the bandage on your ribs.

He freezes instantly.

"Not the left side," you murmur.

"Okay."

So he kisses the right instead.

Then just below it.

Then lower.

And lower.

Still, you don't stop him. Still watching him with half-lidded eyes like you're curious what he'll do if you just let go.

She's letting me. She's letting me see her like this. Letting me touch. Letting me taste. I'd drop to my knees for her every fucking time if she just asked.

Mark tugs the blanket down.

You're wearing black panties—thin, snug, and soaked.

And holy shit.

He nearly groans out loud just from the sight.

Fuck. Fuck. I can see the shape of her cunt through these. She's wet. She's wet for me.

"Do you—" his voice cracks. "Do you want this?"

You prop yourself up on one elbow. "What do you think?"

"I need to hear you say it."

You look him dead in the eye.

"I want your mouth between my legs."

Mark chokes on the air, feeling his cock throbbing.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Don't come in your pants, don't fucking come just from that—

He kisses your knee.

Then the curve of your thigh.

His mouth lingers on every bruise like he's trying to erase them with his tongue, every slow press of his lips a prayer to whatever god let you survive.

Finally, finally, he kisses you right over your panties.

"You smell so fucking good," he breathes, inhaling shamelessly. "Been thinking about this for weeks."

You huff a soft laugh. "Knew you were a pervert."

"Yeah," he groans, dragging his nose along the crease of your thigh. "I am. And I'm so gone for you. I'd lick this pussy through cotton, denim, Kevlar. Doesn't matter. I want it like I want air."

I'm a fucking mess. I'd sniff this pussy in public. I'd lap it up in front of a goddamn mirror just to watch myself beg.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and drags them down slow.

And when you're bare?

He dives in.

Tongue flattening against your slit. Then a slow, wet stripe all the way up to your clit. He groans—low, filthy, addicted.

God, she's soaked. Fuck, fuck, I knew it—I knew she'd taste good.

She's warm. Sweet. Salty. Fucking perfect. Mine. This pussy's fucking mine. I could die with my face buried here. I want it on my face, on my chin, want her dripping down my neck. Want to fuck her and lick it off my own cock.

You gasp, hips twitching.

Mark grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you.

"Don't move," he mutters against you. "Let me make you come. Just this once. Let me be the only one who ever gets to see you fall apart."

Then he sucks your clit into his mouth and moans like he's about to lose it.

Lapping. Sucking. Breathing against your folds.

I'm gonna make her scream. Gonna make her drip. Gonna make her beg.

You're panting now. Your fingers curl into his hair.

"Don't stop," you gasp.

"Say my name," he groans into you, tongue circling. "Say you want me."

"Mark—fuck—keep going—"

And that's all he needs.

He starts eating you like a man possessed.

Tongue dragging. Mouth sucking. Breath heavy through his nose as he fucks you with his mouth like it's the last thing he'll ever do, loving the way your hips jerk.

She's shaking. She's coming. She's falling apart just for me. God, I need this. I need her. I need her to come again. Again. Again—

You break.

Your orgasm hits hard, gasping, hips bucking off the bed—and he doesn't stop. He moans into your cunt, nose buried in your folds, licking you through it, chin soaked, tongue fucking you through the aftershocks.

I'm gonna make her come again. I don't care if she's twitching. I want her ruined. I want to fuck her full and then clean it all up with my tongue.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening.

He swipes a thumb across his mouth and licks it clean, pupils blown wide.

"You gonna let me fuck you now?" he pants, voice raw. "Or do I have to make you come again first?"

You didn't say anything. Just watching him through lazy lashes, breathing heavily.

You looked like you knew.

Knew he's seconds from ruining every promise he made to take it slow. Knew how hard he's been since the moment he walked in. Knew you had him.

And let him see everything he needs in your eyes.

She's mine. Mine. And I'm about to fuck her like I'll never get the chance.

He runs a hand through his hair, ragged.

"I shouldn't."

You arched a brow. "But?"

He groans. "But I will."

Mark stands between your legs, breath shaking, hands trembling at your hips.

She wants me. She wants me now. After everything—after almost dying—she's giving this to me. Letting me have her. Letting me fuck her.

He shoves his pants down to mid-thigh, cock springing out and slapping against his abdomen—thick, flushed, and leaking already.

You glance at it, brows lifting. "You've been hard this whole time?"

He grits his teeth. "From just looking at you."

You hum. "Bigger than I expected."

Mark groans, fisting his cock once. Beads of pearl leak at the tip and smears down his shaft as he strokes. Your eyes linger on it, almost curious.

"You're evil."

You grin. "You love it."

He does.

He fucking does.

I love that she teases me. I love that she ruins me. I love that I'm this hard and she hasn't even touched me yet.

Mark slides two fingers between your folds.

You're soaked.

Dripping from the orgasm he just gave you. Warm, wet, swollen.

He nearly whimpers.

"God, you're soaked."

"You made me come," you say, voice lazy. "What did you expect?"

Mark presses the head of his cock to your entrance. His breath catches.

"You sure?"

are you sure?

You shoot him a look. "If you don't fuck me right now, I will break your nose."

That's all it takes.

He slides into you slowly—but he's so thick, so long, the stretch pulls a sound from your throat that's a half-growl, half-moan as your hips twitch.

Mark groans deep in his chest.

Holy fuck. She's tight. She's squeezing me like she doesn't wanna let go. Warm. Hot. Velvet. Fucking heaven.

You're panting, nails digging into his forearm.

"You're too big."

He pauses, buried halfway.

"I can stop—"

"Don't you dare."

He growls low in his throat and bottoms out, cock buried to the hilt.

Fuck. Fuck. She's wrapped around me. All of me. I could die like this. I could stay like this forever.

His forehead drops to yours, breathing hard, trying not to come on the spot.

"You feel—Jesus—you feel perfect."

You clenched around him on purpose, smirking.

"Mark?"

He swallows.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me like you mean it."

And he does.

He snaps his hips forward, and you shout.

Hard, deep, fast.

No warm-up. No mercy. Just raw, hungry, desperate thrusts that shake the bed and jolt your body with every slam.

Your injured body rocks with each stroke, but you didn't stop him. You gripped him tighter. You moan louder. You meet him thrust for thrust.

You take him like you were made for it.

"You're gonna break me," you gasp.

He growls. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You're the pervert—"

"You're the one taking me so fucking well—like your pussy belongs to me."

He pulls out halfway, slams back in, again and again, wet slaps echoing in the sterile room, your slick coating his cock.

He grips your thigh, pushes your knee up, angles deeper—and hits your spot.

Your back arches with a strangled cry.

"Mark—fuck—there, right there—!"

He doesn't stop.

He drives into it over and over, mercilessly, grinding his cock deep inside your soaked, pulsing cunt until your eyes roll back.

"Right there?" he pants, drilling into your spot again. "You want me to keep hitting it? Wanna come again on my cock?"

You moan. "Yes—yes—yes—"

"Say you want it," he pants.

"I want it—"

"Louder."

"I want your cock, Mark—I want you to ruin me—"

That's it.

He loses it.

She wants to be ruined? Then I'll fucking ruin her.

Mark grabs the headboard with one hand, the back of your thigh with the other, holding you down while he pounds into you, cock pistoning like he's trying to claim you from the inside. Wet slaps echo in the sterile room, your slick coating his cock as he pounds you ruthlessly.

Your cries get louder. Needier.

He watches your tits bounce with every thrust, watches your face twist in pleasure.

"Come for me," he growls. "Come all over this cock."

You do.

You scream.

You come so hard your thighs seize and your cunt clamps tight, pulsing around him in waves that make Mark sees stars.

And even then, he doesn't stop.

He keeps going.

Thrusting through it.

Grinding into your g-spot like he's chasing another orgasm before you can breathe.

She's not done. I'm not done. I'm gonna fill her. Gonna come inside her. Gonna make her leak for days.

He leans down, panting into your mouth.

"Can I—fuck—can I come inside?"

"Do it," you gasp.

"You're not on anything."

"I said do it, Mark—"

That's all it takes.

He slams in deep—one last time—and lets go.

He spills into you in thick, hot pulses, filling you to the brim, groaning against your neck, body shaking from the force of it.

You can feel it—his cum flooding your cunt, thick and hot, dripping already.

He doesn't pull out.

Not yet.

He just lays there, panting over you, cock twitching inside your drenched, used hole, both of you ruined.

You brush a hand through his sweaty hair, breath catching.

"Still a pervert," you murmur.

Mark grins against your skin.

"Only for you."

And you both know it's not over.

Because he's still hard. Still inside you.

Still hard.

Still twitching.

You're trembling beneath him. Bruised, wet, leaking, Your chest rises and falls with ragged gasps, skin flushed, sweat clinging to every dip of your body.

I just came and I'm still hard. Still deep. Still obsessed.

He doesn't move.

Doesn't pull out.

His cock throbs inside your slick, cum-stuffed cunt, and he feels your walls flutter around him again—like your body can't tell if it's sated or starving.

"Mark..." you breathe, voice raw "You're still—"

"Hard?" he murmurs against your neck, dragging his nose along your collarbone. "Yeah."

"You just came—"

"I know." He grinds his hips, slow, thick, deep. You jolt beneath him, overstimulated. Your moan is hoarse.

"And you're still dripping."

He can feel it. His cum, hot and thick, slid down your thighs, coating your pussy, soaking the ruined medbed beneath you.

He growls low in his throat.

"I filled you up," he murmurs. "But it's not enough."

You twitch—your leg jerks involuntarily when his cock shifts inside you again. Your body is too sensitive, your pussy so raw and full and wet.

Yet, you laugh, broken and breathless. "That's the pervert talking again."

He pulls out halfway—only to slam back in, thick and wet and deep.

"That pervert wants to watch it all leak out just so he can fuck it back in."

He fucks it back in.

Slow.

Heavy.

Deliberate.

You gasp, head tipping back.

Mark groans. "That's it. Take it. Take every drop like the good girl you are."

His hand trails down to your thigh, spreading you wider. His other slides under your back, lifting you just slightly, angling you so he can go deeper.

You whimper.

Fucking perfect. She's already wrecked, and I'm still hard. Still hungry. Still not done.

Your body twitches with every lazy thrust. You try to close your legs—but he grips your knees and pins them apart, burying himself deep again.

"I said lie back," he growls. "Be good. And let me finish the job."

"Mark—"

He cuts you off with a kiss—sloppy, wet, claiming.

You try to breathe, but he doesn't give you the space. His tongue slides past your lips, tasting you, owning you, devouring you.

And then—without warning—he flips you.

I want to see her face while I fuck her stupid. Want to watch her drool and sob and smile while I stuff her full again.

You gasp as he drags your hips back, hands firm, strong, urgent. He pulls you to your knees, forces your ass up, presses your chest to the sheets.

Look at her. Fucked dumb. Covered in bruises and cum and still so fucking tight.

You barely register the position shift before his cock slams back in.

You scream.

"F-Fuck—Mark—there—!"

He pounds into you from behind, skin slapping skin, each thrust harder than the last. Your ass ripples with every impact. Your arms tremble. The bed jerks beneath you.

Mark watches it all.

Your back arched. Your mouth open. Your thighs shaking.

She's mine. Mine. No one else gets to see her like this.

His hand wraps in your hair, yanks your head back so he can whisper into your ear:

"You wanted round two, baby? Then fucking take it."

He slams in again—wet, filthy, relentless. Your pussy's so soaked now that every thrust squelches, obscene and loud.

He watches your juices drip from our slit to the sheets. Watches his cock disappear into your cunt again and again.

"You're—nnngh—you're disgusting."

"You're soaked."

"I just came."

"You're gonna come again."

He fucks you faster, sloppier. His cum is squelching out around his cock now, coating your thighs, dripping off your ass, pooling under you.

It's filthy.

You let him rail you into the mattress like it's what your body was made for.

"You like this?" he groans. "You like being fucked so full you can't hold it?"

You nod desperately. "Yes—yes—Mark—please—"

He groans, hips jerking harder.

She's begging again. Already. And I'm just getting started.

His hand grips your jaw and pulls your face back to him.

"Say it again."

"Please—Mark—please don't stop—"

He fucks into you hard—one perfect, brutal thrust.

Your legs give out.

And then you come.

Again.

A sob rips from your throat as your pussy clenches, your body locking up around him, slick gushing down your thighs.

That's what does it.

Mark gives you everything again.

He slams deep—hips flush—cock pulsing as he comes inside you again, moaning against your neck, spilling himself into your already ruined cunt.

More. Hotter. Thicker.

Your body jerks with the force of it, and he keeps grinding in, like he's trying to push it in deeper.

You both collapse.

His chest on your back. His arms around your waist. His cock still inside you.

Neither of you speak.

There's only the sound of your breaths, your pulse, your soaked skin sticking to his.

His mouth presses to your shoulder, reverent.

"I'll do it again," he whispers.

You don't answer.

But your cunt clenches around him.

And Mark grins.

Eventually, he pulls out. You wince. His cum trickles down the inside of your thigh. Thick and white. Coating your folds. Sliding over your ass.

Holy fuck. That's mine. I did that. I filled her up and she's still leaking.

Mark swears softly under his breath and grabs the nearest towel, but his eyes are locked to your pussy. The stretch. The swollen, wet curve. The pink glistening between your thighs.

I want to push it back in. I want to use my fingers. My tongue. My cock again. I don't care how tired I am. I need to ruin her again.

"Sorry—here, I've got you. Just let me—fuck, you're dripping."

He presses the cloth between your legs gently, kissing your knee.

"Still okay?" he whispers, voice hoarse.

You hum. "Better than okay."

She's going to kill me. Fuck me to death and I'll die smiling.

He wipes you slowly, carefully, holding your legs open, watching his mess drip out of you.

He groans. "I don't wanna waste any of it."

You scoff. "Don't get ideas."

"I already have them," he grins, tossing the towel and crawling back up beside you. "Let me hold you."

"You're heavy."

"I'm warm."

"...Fine."

You let him spoon you from behind, his hand gently palming your bruised waist, thumb grazing your stomach.

"You're mine," he murmurs, pressing his nose into your hair. "No one gets to see you like that but me."

"Jealous?"

"Territorial."

"...Pervert."

"Yours," he murmurs. "Until you beg me to stop. And then I'll stop being a pervert. But now?"

He rolled his hips, letting you feel his already hardened cock grind against your lower back.

Slow.

Heavy.

"i'm not done," he growls.

"Mark..." you breathed, fingers curling against his shoulder. "You came—twice."

"So?" His voice is low. Wrecked. Dangerous. "You're still wet."

His hips grind against yours, cock dragging against your oversensitive walls, slow and thick. You twitch—gasping.

"I'm not done tasting you," he murmurs against your throat. "Not until you forget your own fucking name."

"Mark—" your voice cracks, almost a plea.

He growls.

"Say it again."

You bit your lip and shook your head.

Wrong move.

He grabs your hips, pulls out halfway, and slams back in hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

"Say it."

"Fuck—Mark!"

"There she is."

He fucks you slow—agonizingly slow. Each thrust drags slick down your thighs, your overstimulated cunt gripping him so tight he hisses through his teeth.

"You gonna tell me to stop?" he rasps. "Or you want me to keep going?"

"You're obsessed," you pant, nails dragging down his back.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

"I'm in love."

You freeze.

Just a second.

That's all he needs—because the next thrust steals your breath.

Harder now. More focused.

He's not fucking you just to fuck you. He's making a point.

That you're his.

That your body remembers him.

That no matter how hard you fight it—you melt for him.

Every. Damn. Time.

"You think I can stop now?" he groans, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your throat. "After feeling you come around me? After watching your eyes roll back? After hearing you beg?"

His cock slams deep—your moan cuts off.

"You're fucking soaked, baby."

His fingers find your clit again—rubbing it in tight, filthy circles.

You jerk, twitching, trying to squirm away.

He holds you still.

"Nope," he growls. "You don't get to run."

"Mark—I—I can't—"

"Yes, you can." His voice softens for just a moment. "You can take it. You always take it."

You whimper—just a little.

That makes him snap.

He flips you—hands on your waist, dragging your hips back, forcing you onto your knees on the medbed. You barely register the change in position before he's inside again, deeper now, angled just right to hit that sweet, devastating spot.

You cry out—loud.

"F-Fuck—there—!"

He pounds into you from behind, hands gripping your ass so tight it stings.

"Yeah?" he pants. "That's it? That's the spot?"

Your response is a broken sob of pleasure.

He leans over you, his chest brushing against your back as he whispers into your ear:

"Still so tight," he pants. "Still clenching. God—like your pussy knows me now."

His balls slap against your soaked cunt with every thrust. Your legs shake. Your arms tremble.

Your body is wrecked. Ruined. Perfectly fucked.

But you don't beg him to stop.

You take it.

You want it.

"Such a good girl," he pants. "Letting me use you like this. Letting me fill you up again and again."

"Please—Mark—please—"

He doesn't stop.

He growls your name like it's a prayer, a curse, a vow.

And then he grabs your hips—thrusts deep—and stays there.

You gasp.

He's not moving.

"W-Why—"

"I want you to feel every drop when I come inside you again."

"F-Fuck—"

Your cunt clenches around him, trembling, overstimulated, raw and needy.

And then you break.

Your fourth orgasm rips through you like a storm—your entire body locking, hips jerking, breath stuttering into a silent scream.

That does it.

Mark slams deep and stays, cock twitching as he empties inside you a third time—hot, thick spurts that flood your already ruined pussy.

He slumps forward, chest to your back, arms wrapping around your stomach, anchoring you.

Neither of you spoke.

Not for a long, long time.

You're shaking. You're leaking. You're full.

He doesn't pull out.

Not yet.

He kisses your neck. Your shoulder. The back of your ear.

And then—softly, like it's a secret—

"I'll do it again."

You smirk, dazed.

"...Round four?"

Mark grins against your skin.

"Oh, baby."

"We're just getting started."

The room still reeks of sex.

Of sweat, blood, and something filthy—something primal. The medbed's a mess. Your thighs are coated. Your body's trembling. And Mark?

Still inside you.

Still hard.

Still buried to the hilt.

You're slumped against the mattress, one cheek pressed to the pillow, your ass tilted up, both legs shaking from being fucked into another dimension. Your cunt is raw. leaking. Full.

Mark leans over you, lips brushing your spine. His cock twitches again inside your overstimulated pussy.

"...I think I blacked out," you rasp, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Mark lets out a short, ruined laugh, dazed. "Yeah. You clamped down so hard I—"

The door opens.

Both your heads jerk up.

"Mark, I need an update on—"

Cecil.

Fucking.

Stedman.

Stnading in the doorway.

Holding a folder.

Pausing.

Looking right at you.

Your entire half-naked body spread out across the GDA medbed, bruised, flushed and dripping. Hickeys across your neck. Bite marks on your shoulder. Cum leaking out of your cunt.

Mark is behind you. Also half-naked. Also covered in sweat. Cock still buried inside you.

Still hard.

Still twitching.

No one moves.

No one says a word.

Mark slowly lifts his head, mortified.

"...Sir."

Cecil doesn't even flinch.

He stares.

Long and hard.

Then exhales through his nose like he's been through Vietnam and this somehow ranks worse.

You groan, dropping your face back into the pillow. "For fuck's sake—"

"This isn't what it looks like." Mark blurts.

Cecil raises a single eyebrow. "Son. It exactly looks like what it looks like."

Cecil slowly turns to you, deadpan.

"You do realize you're on government surveillance, right?"

You blink.

"What."

He gestures at the corner. "Thermal cameras. Body monitors. Vital sensors. Whole nine yards. And unless I'm mistaken, we just clocked four orgasms, three ejaculations, one dislocated bed railing, and a sudden spike in your heartbeat that almost triggered a defibrillator call."

Mark makes a small dying noise.

You just glare.

"I said don't stop. I didn't say invite your boss."

Cecil pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I was coming to tell you she's cleared for fieldwork in seventy-two hours," he mutters, already turning back toward the door. "Not that you took it as an invitation to field test her flexibility."

"I'm still injured," you mumble into the pillow, hiding your face.

"Clearly not enough to stop you from reverse cowgirl while bleeding internally."

Mark groans.

Cecil turns at the doorway. "Also? You're on cleaning duty. Bed's broken."

He pauses.

"And for the record?" He looks at Mark with one absolutely withering glance. "If you're gonna rail someone so hard they lose brain function, maybe next time... lock the damn door, kid."

He walks out.

Slams it shut.

Silence.

Mark stares at the wall.

"...I'm gonna die," he whispers into your back.

You wheeze.

"You better not," you mutter. "You still owe me round four."

Mark groans again. Deeper. Filthier.

"Oh my god."

You reach back, slap his thigh. "Round four, Grayson."

He grabs your hips.

And thrusts.

Hard.

You scream into the pillow, laughing and moaning all at once.

Your body is limp. Breathless. Shaking.

But Mark—Mark is still hard inside you.

Still thick. Still pulsing. Still possessive.

The aftermath of round three clings to your skin like oil. His cum slicks your thighs, your stomach, the inside of your cunt—wet, warm, and never-ending. And he's not stopping. Not even close.

"You're insane," you gasp, voice hoarse, barely there.

Mark's lips are pressed to your spine, panting against your sweat-slicked skin. His cock throbs deep inside you—so deep it feels like you'll never be empty again.

He doesn't answer.

Just groans.

Long.

Low.

Starved.

I could stay inside her forever. Just fuck her slow until she begs me to stop—then keep going anyway.

"...Still warm," he rasps, hips rocking slow. "Still tight."

God, I can feel her twitching around me. Like her body wants me again. Like her pussy knows it belongs to me.

His fingers dig into your hips, bruising. His forehead rests between your shoulder blades. You can feel the tremble in his thighs, the possessive heat pulsing off of him like a second skin.

And then—

Then he moves again.

Slow. Sinful.

Dragging himself out of your swollen cunt inch by inch, just to slide back in with a filthy, squelching sound that makes you gasp intot he pillow.

"Mark—" Your voice cracks. "Please—"

"Still begging?" he groans. "Even after I fucked you full?"

Look at her. Limp. Leaking. And she still wants more. Fuck, I'll give her more. I'll break her open and stuff her full again until she forgets her name.

Your fingers curl against the sheets. Your whole body twitches.

"You wanted to be ruined," he growls. "So let me finish the job."

And then he starts fucking you again.

Hard.

Sloppy.

Obsessed.

Every thrust punches air from your lungs. Your tits bounce. Your bruised rubs ache. But all you can feel—all you want—is more. More of him. More of this. More of the way he fucks you like he owns you.

"You're still dripping," he snarls. "Fucking hell—look at you. Look at how much you needed this."

My cum's still leaking out of her and I can see it. Thick. White. Mine. Coating her thighs like a brand.

His cum leaks around the base of his cock with every thrust. You're soaked. Ruined. Splattered with it.

"You gonna come again?" he pants against your ear. "Gonna come with my cock still inside you? With my cum still inside you?"

You choke on a moan.

"F-Fuck—Mark—"

He grans your hips and slams into you, voice breaking.

"Say my name. Say it while I'm still fucking you like this."

Her voice—saying my name like that—fuck, I'd come just from that. I want to record it. Play it in my fucking ear every night while I jerk off.

"Mark—Mark—Mark—!"

"You're fucking mine."

This is mine. All of it. Her throat, her moans, her cunt milking me like she never wants to let go.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulls you up until your back arches against his chest, his cock still buried inside you from behind.

"You forget your own name yet?" he growls against your throat.

You shudder.

"Because I'm gonna make sure you do."

Then he starts pounding up into you, your ass bouncing off his thighs, your cunt a soaked mess around him. Every thrust hits that sweet, broken spot that makes your knees go weak.

His voice is ragged now—like he's losing it.

"I'll fuck you until you can't think straight. Until you forget what it feels like to not have me inside you."

You're babbling. Barely coherent. Tears sting the corner of your eyes—not from pain, but from overstimulation. From how good it is. How full you are. How utterly destroyed he's making you.

Mark bites down on your shoulder, groaning like an animal.

"You wanted round four, baby? You want everything?"

"Y-Yes—"

"Then take it."

He throws you down again. Flips you on your back. Crawls over you, cock still inside.

He stares down.

You're flushed. Wet. Shaking.

And smiling.

"You're such a fucking pervert," you whisper.

Mark's pupils are blown black. His body is tight, trembling above you. He lowers himself, cups your face.

And then—

His voice drops.

"I love you."

You freeze.

Just a second.

Then—

"I know," you breathe.

And then he kisses you.

Hard.

Deep.

Like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

Your breath's caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. Mark's lips are still on yours—feverish, clumsy, needy. His cock is still inside you. Throbbing. Dragging against your too-sensitive walls like he's trying to write his name on you.

You're so full.

His cum's already leaking out from round three, but he hasn't pulled out once. Just stayed there. Pressed deep. Obsessesd.

"I meant it," he murmurs into your mouth. "I love you."

You breathe in shakily, eyes fluttering. Your legs twitch around his hips.

"Mark—"

"Say it back."

You pause.

Then—soft, broken— "I love you."

Something breaks in him.

Fuck, I'd give her everything. My name. My life. My goddamn soul. Just to hear her say that again with my cock still inside her.

He growls, low and guttural. And then he moves again.

Slower now—but harder. Meaner. His cock drags out soaked and then slams back in until your thighs shake around him. Until your breath comes out in little gasps.

I should stop—but I can't. I don't want to. I want to make her come until she forgets how to walk.

He grabs your wrists. Pins them above your head.

"You love me?" he grits, thrusting again. "You love being fucked like this?"

You moan—nod. You're so wet it's obscene.

"Say it again."

"I love you—f-fuck—I love you—!"

He lets go of one wrist. Brings his thumb down to rub tight, filthy circles against your clit while his cock pounds up into you like a goddamn sledgehammer.

"I'm gonna make you come again," he pants. "I want to feel you squeeze me. Want to feel this perfect pussy milk every drop I give you."

You whine.

"Mark—"

"Yeah? Right there? You like that? You gonna come for me again?"

You're nodding—eyes wide, lips open, breath catching.

"Do it," he groans. "Fucking do it."

You break.

Your body locks up. Your thighs squeeze around his waist, your back arches hard—and then you shatter.

Slick floods around his cock. You're convulsing—again—wrung out, tears in your eyes, mouth open but no sound coming.

Mark doesn't stop.

"Oh my god," he groans. "You're still coming."

He slams in again. Harder. Rougher. His hips stutter. His voice turns desperate.

"You're milking me—fuck—I can't—"

You grab his arm—claw into his shoulder—

"Do it," you whisper. "Come inside. Again. I want to feel it—please, Mark—"

He slams in and stays.

Thick.

Buried.

Deep.

His cock jerks once, twice—

And then he's coming.

Hard.

So fucking much.

You feel every pulse. Every rope. Every drop of cum flooding into you like your pussy was made to take it. Your belly aches with the heat of it, your whole body shaking beneath him.

He moans into your mouth, still grinding his hips, like he wants to push it deeper. Like he's trying to mark you from the inside out.

"I love you," he says again. "You're mine. Mine. Fuck—"

His forehead presses to yours.

You both breathe like you just survived something.

And maybe you did.

He pulls out slow.

You whimper.

His cum spills out of you—wet, hot, shameless.

He watches it and groans.

God, I want to lick it all up. I want to see it on her tongue. Taste it from her pussy. Watch it drop onto my hand just so I can push it back inside.

Then—reaches down, spreads your thighs wider, pushes two fingers back in, curling them to keep it from leaking.

"I'm keeping it in," he murmurs. "Every drop."

You twitch. "Pervert."

"Yours," he smirks.

Your legs won't stop trembling.

You're boneless beneath him, soaked in sweat, skin sticky with bruises and spit and slick. Your pussy pulses with the aftershocks—raw, full, dripping. You can still feel him leaking out of you. Still feel his fingers there—gently plugging it back in.

Mark's forehead rests against your temple.

His voice is hoarse. "Didn't mean to get that hard."

You snort, exhausted. "Liar."

He laughs quietly, arm wrapping tighter around your waist.

"I did," he admits. "You looked too good. All bruised and bandaged and half-naked. And your mouth—God—your mouth was saying stop but your eyes said keep going."

"They didn't."

"They screamed it."

You hum, too tired to argue.

He shifts slightly and you wince, a soft sound escaping.

"Too much?"

"No," you rasp. "Not enough."

Mark groans and drops a kiss to your shoulder.

"You're unbelievable," he mumbles. "Most people want a nap after getting railed."

"Nap after round five," you mumble.

His cock twitches against your thigh.

"...Don't say that unless you mean it."

You crack one eye open. Smirk. "You're hard again?"

"You were clenching," he huffs. "You know what that does to me."

You roll onto your back—barely—pulling him with you. He drapes an arm over your waist, nose burying in your hair.

You both breathe in silence for a minute.

"...It smells like sex in here."

"Yeah," Mark grins into your neck. "Like you. And me. And all the filth we just did."

You feel his cock throb again. He's not even inside, and he's still hard. Still aching.

"Don't even think about it."

"I wasn't," he lies instantly.

If she clenches around me one more time, I'm gonna fuck her into the mattress and come until she's dripping for a week.

"You're twitching.”

"So are you."

"...Pervert."

He kisses the shell of your ear. "Yours."

His hand slides up under your ruined tank top. His palms rests beneath your ribs—warm. careful.

You sigh. Sink into him.

"I love you," he murmurs again, softer this time.

You whisper it back.

And finally, your eyes start to flutter closed.

And outside, Cecil orders every camera wiped, every log erased... and a hazmat crew for medbay three.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

a/n: heyooo! sorry for being inactive! i was out on vacation with my family and i didn't have time to post anything ;w;

but don't worry! i'm back and i have a looooot in my drafts that i'm itching to post soon! >:)

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ You’re done already?

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ smut, fluff, lowkey crack lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They finish a bit too quickly

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The moment Rafayel gets home, his arms are already around you. He doesn’t even take off his boots. Just scoops you up in that familiar clingy way, pressing his cold nose into your neck like he’s been away for years, not just hours.

“Missed you,” he breathes, dragging his teeth gently against your skin, “missed my pearlie so much I couldn’t even think straight in that dumb meeting. Thomas kept asking questions and all I could hear was your voice in my head whining for me.”

He kisses you hungrily, tugging at your clothes with a desperation that feels sweet and a little pathetic, he’s always like this after time apart, even a short one. The need to claim you again.

And so you end up in bed, and he’s already flushed before he even gets inside you, panting, trembling just a bit, forehead pressed to yours. “So pretty,” he groans, breath shaky as he pushes in, “how are you this warm and tight every time, huh? Gonna break me, cutie—“

He barely lasts.

Barely a few thrusts in, and he gives a broken little sound, eyes squeezed shut, hands gripping your hips like they’re the only thing anchoring him to earth, and finishes with a soft, pathetic moan, burying his face in your neck.

Silence. His body twitches a little. And then:

“…I hate it here.”

He stays buried in you, not moving, arms tight around your waist like maybe if he holds you still enough time will reverse and let him try again. His face is bright red. He won’t look at you.

You stifle a giggle, brushing your fingers through his soft purple hair. “Sensitive today, huh, raffy?” you murmur teasingly.

He groans into your neck. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m heartbroken. This was supposed to be epic. I had plans. Positions. A playlist.”

You laugh. He immediately sulks harder.

But then you kiss his forehead, press your thighs snugly around him, still keeping him tucked inside. “It’s okay, baby. You missed me too much, didn’t you?”

“Too much,” he mumbles dramatically. “Woke up hard three times last night thinking about you in that pink dress. The one with the bows on the back.”

You hum, cheeky. “Should I go put it on again?”

His head pops up immediately. “Yes. But also no. Because if I see you in it right now I’m gonna bust another one on sight. Give me like ten minutes. Fifteen if you keep petting my hair like this. Twenty if you kiss my neck a bit—”

He’s already hardening again inside you.

“…Ten minutes,” he amends, voice already slurring slightly from overstimulation, “maximum.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Zayne’s always controlled. Always measured. Even in bed, he takes his time with you, slow hands, deliberate kisses, whispering in that calm voice about how beautiful you are, how you feel, how he’ll take care of you.

But tonight? That self-control shatters the second he steps into the bedroom and sees you waiting in his shirt, his shirt, sleeves dangling off your hands, your bare thighs curled prettily beneath you on the bed.

“Sweetheart,” he exhales, jaw tightening. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You tilt your head innocently, smiling. “Like what?”

“Like you missed me,” he says roughly, undoing his cuffs already, “because I’ll ruin you.”

He means it, too. But the second he sinks into you, tight, warm, clenching around him like you need him, his body betrays him.

Zayne lets out a quiet, shaky groan, forehead pressed to yours as his hips twitch. One thrust. Two. His breathing stutters. His hands fist the sheets.

He stops. Tries to pause. But you whimper.

That’s what breaks him. That needy little sound that tells him you missed him just as much as he missed you.

His whole body stiffens, and he buries his face in your neck as he finishes embarrassingly fast, the low groan he lets out sounding nearly pained.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t speak.

“…Well,” he mutters against your collarbone after a moment, “That wasn’t exactly what I intended.”

You smile softly, brushing his hair back. “Did you miss me that much, darling?”

He groans again. “I did. And now I’ve embarrassed myself.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth, cheekily wrapping your arms around him tighter. “You didn’t. It’s cute. Kind of hot, actually. My big scary heart surgeon husband undone in thirty seconds.”

Zayne exhales a breathless laugh, hiding his face. “…Thirty-five, sweetheart. Please. I have some pride.”

You giggle. “You gonna make it up to me?”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes dark and smoldering now that the wave has passed.

“Oh, absolutely. I’m not letting you sleep until I make you forget that ever happened.”

And he does. Very thoroughly. With meticulous precision. Doctor’s orders.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

He’s soft and lazy with you tonight, curled up in bed like a sleepy cat, silver hair falling across his forehead as he kisses at your shoulder. You’d been teasing him for hours, walking around the penthouse in your tiny silk slip, humming while scrolling through your gala dress options, dropping into his lap just to “ask his opinion.”

Now he’s got you underneath him, the stars outside your window casting silver patterns across the sheets, and his voice is low and warm against your throat.

“You keep tempting me like that, bunny, and then act surprised when I lose it…”

You’re giggling under him, legs around his waist, fingers tugging softly at the hem of his shirt. He’s usually so quiet during intimacy, calm even when you’re both undone, but tonight there’s an edge to him. Like he needs you. Like he’s been holding back all day.

And when he finally presses into you, it hits him harder than he expects.

You moan his name softly and Xavier’s whole body stutters, his brows furrow, jaw clenched tight, hands trembling where they grip your waist.

He tries to keep going. He really does. But he lets out this quiet little gasp, eyes fluttering shut, and then… he finishes. Just like that. Quick. Uncontrollably. His breath catches in his throat and he collapses forward, panting softly against your collarbone.

You blink. “…Baby?”

He groans miserably into your neck. “…Don’t talk to me.”

You’re already trying not to laugh, your fingers brushing through his silver hair. “What happened?”

“I malfunctioned,” he mutters into your skin. “My system crashed. Rebooting. Please wait.”

You do laugh this time, and he groans again, hiding his face deeper into your chest.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, kissing his forehead. “You missed me too much, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“You gonna make it up to me?”

His eyes flick up, cheeks pink, and he gives you a sly, sleepy smile. “…Eventually. Just let me lay here for a minute so I can stop wanting to die.”

“Okay,” you hum sweetly, nuzzling his hair. “But after that, I want your full focus, Xavi.”

At that, something flashes in his eyes. His smile turns a little dangerous.

“…Well,” he murmurs, voice low, “if my wife commands it, who am I to say no?”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

It starts so cocky. Of course it does. He’s got you in his lap in that massive leather armchair in one of the private armories, your legs draped over his, designer heels still on, silk robe slipping off your shoulders.

He’s been gone for four days. Four long days. And he hasn’t stopped touching you since he walked in the door, hand around your throat, kisses behind your ear, that low, amused voice murmuring how clingy you looked in all the security footage he secretly watched while traveling.

“Look at my spoiled little housewife,” he smirks against your lips, “bet you’ve been aching for me, huh? Been playing with yourself in all my sheets?”

You pout prettily. “You’re the one who’s desperate, Sylus. You haven’t even let me stand since you got back.”

“Because you belong right here.” He palms your thigh, grinning. “You’re lucky I didn’t take you the second I walked through the door. I’m being gentle.”

But here’s the thing, he’s a little too smug. A little too pent-up. And when he finally slides into you, everything falters.

His cocky grin twitches. His breath catches. He goes silent.

You tighten around him instinctively and.

That’s it. He finishes. Just like that.

He grits his teeth, groaning through it, body tensing as he releases way too quickly, hips stuttering, jaw locked like he’s furious with himself.

“…No,” he mutters darkly. “No. Absolutely not. That didn’t count. Don’t look at me.”

You blink up at him, stunned. “…Did you just—”

“Shut up.”

You stare. He stares back. His ears are a little pink.

And then you burst out laughing.

“Sylus,” you giggle, brushing his silver hair out of his eyes. “You finished so fast.”

His eyes narrow. “I will bury this entire chair in concrete and never speak of this again.”

Still giggling, you lean in and kiss his cheek. “You missed me too much, kitty.”

He huffs, scowling, clearly humiliated, but still keeps you in his lap, still keeps himself buried in you. After a beat, he rolls his eyes.

“Stay still.”

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna fix it.”

He picks you up with him still inside, carrying you toward the bedroom like a man on a mission.

“I said don’t look at me,” he mutters. “Ten minutes. You’ll be crying for mercy. You’ll regret laughing.”

You do not regret it. But you do cry for mercy.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You barely get the bedroom door closed before he’s on you.

Caleb’s been gone three days, leading a Farspace recon mission, and you hadn’t even expected him home tonight. But the second he stepped into the Skyhaven penthouse, eyes locking onto you in your fuzzy house slippers and silk nightgown, it was over.

He didn’t even take off his uniform.

“Pips,” he murmurs against your neck, voice a little hoarse, “I missed you so bad, baby.”

And it’s different tonight. He’s not teasing, not smug. Just quiet, almost urgent. His hands are shaking a little when he touches you. And when you kiss him back, soft, welcoming, pulling at his jacket, he lets out this soft, broken noise.

You’re on the bed within seconds, your pretty thighs parting for him, his belt half undone, purple eyes nearly pleading.

“I need you,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours. “I missed you so much, pipsqueak. I was losing my mind out there.”

But the second he sinks into you, his hips twitch.

He freezes. Eyes wide. Breath caught. One deep, slow thrust, and he’s done for.

He lets out a soft gasp, burying his face in your chest as his entire body trembles, breath coming in sharp, silent shudders.

You blink. “…Caleb?”

Silence. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe for a second.

Then, “…Baby I’m so sorry.”

You sit up a little, confused and blinking, still holding him inside you. “What?”

“I” He lifts his head, looking absolutely devastated. “I ruined it. Our first time since I got back, and I ruined it—”

“Caleb—”

“I swear I didn’t mean to, pips. I just, You felt so warm, and you were looking at me like that, and, God, I didn’t even last, I’m so sorry—”

He looks genuinely heartbroken. Like he’s about to weep.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down. “Baby,” you coo gently, kissing his temple. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

He’s still upset. “I was supposed to make it special. You’re my wife. You deserve slow and pretty and perfect and I came in two seconds like some desperate schoolboy—”

You laugh softly, stroking his hair. “You are my desperate schoolboy.”

“Pips,”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks. “You missed me. Your body just… panicked. It’s kind of sweet, actually.”

He groans, collapsing back down onto you with a pout. “I swear I’m gonna make it up to you. Just, just let me reset. 20 minutes. No. 15. I’ll drink water. I’ll do pushups if I have to.”

You smile, rubbing his back. “Okay, Colonel.”

He peeks up at you with the tiniest, boyish grin. “…You still love me?”

You boop his nose. “Of course I do. My cute little quickdraw.”

Caleb makes a mortified noise, but he’s already smiling against your skin. And exactly 14 minutes and 37 seconds later, you learn exactly how serious he was about making it up to you.

[yan-randomfandom]

How would yandere saja boys react to reader being a child of Gwi ma, but is nothing like him as in they want to help people?

Saja Boys x Demon!GN!Reader

a/n; i keep missing in my fics, i keep forgetting the plot!! so sorry anon,, i don't know what i'm trying to do in this one (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠) but i do love the new scenario!! tho sadly this isn't obviously yandere,,

— 👑

"Dying king with a crumbling crown," you hum, a teasing smile stretching across your feline lips. "Will he let the fire go out?"

Jinu sighs, absentmindedly plucking his strings. "As much as I love seeing two tigers, I think it'd be best if you take another form. It's creepy watching you talk with its teeth."

With a chuckle, you shapeshift into his bird instead, licks of fire dying as soon as it appeared. You made sure to keep the tiny hat on. "Yeah, sure, okay. Hey, that was a pretty bold move to your king. Y'know, my creator."

One of his demon companions snort. You snap your eyes toward the one with abs. "That's Jinu for you. Knows what he wants, knows what Gwi-Ma wants. As it's always been."

Jinu doesn't react, he doesn't reply—yet, you and the rest of the Saja Boys could tell he's deeply uncomfortable. He continues his focus on his bipa.

Baby coughs. "Look, I'll do the rapping, yeah?"

"I already said that—"

... After a while, you stare blankly as they get lost in their planning. Listening to every word. Paying attention to their movements. You can barely contain the frown itching to crawl on your—oh, wait. You have a beak.

"Master," Mystery suddenly calls, poking a finger on your wing.

You make an expression with three eyes. "Do not call me that. What is it, Mystery?"

His lips curl. "Why are you here?"

All your three eyes blink. The rest seem to be intrigued for your answer.

Of course, you're here to disrupt their plans. You don't say that out loud. Always so grateful that you and Gwi-Ma have cut connection, so even he can't hear your spirits.

"I believe I don't need to answer you," you shrug, earning some looks. You flatter your wings and stand on Mystery's shoulder instead. His smile grows. "Just keep doing your magic."

— 🐦‍⬛

You wonder what the Huntrix girls are doing right now.

Probably better than... whatever this is.

"Gwi-Ma is going to be so disappointed in us."

"What? No! The opposite! He'd be so impressed, we'll never have to be punished—"

"Master's waiting for us to move already."

Gwi-Ma this. Gwi-Ma that. Even if you're the literal spawn of the guy, it's still such a bummer with him being the only topic in this damn world. Well, aside from famine and destruction of your kind. Okay. Enough of this. You have to check on the girls.

Jumping off of Mystery's shoulder, you shift into your true form, pink fire dancing in your silhouette.

You thought you could quietly leave but—

"Where are you going?" comes Jinu's voice, inquisitive. Suspicious, almost.

Romance cast you a look. "You haven't even seen our rehearsal yet! Or, maybe, you'd like to see it live—"

You flow your fire to Romance's side, patting his head in reassurance. "I'll be there."

Maybe that's good enough to be convincing. Then, you leave.

— 🔥

In one of the farthest seat of the stadium, you sit and watch as the Huntrix practice for their performance. Put simply, they're amazing. You always did prefer acapella from the girls.

You've taken a human form, hopefully that will be enough for them to lay off if they spot you. Act like one of the staff who's slacking or whatever.

"So this is where you are," a familar deep voice mutters, and you immediately shoot up a hand to their face. A face that's come from a half-body in the seat next to you, the Honmoon tear strong in your senses.

Between your startled glare and fingers, Baby smiles in curiousity as his eyes glow. "I'm a little hurt. Didn't know you prefer the hunters."

You relax. Okay, cool. He found you spying on Huntrix. "No one will believe you."

A cough. You follow the noise on the floor and find three out of four other Saja Boys. Abby, Romance, and Mystery stares at you with something in their expressions—completely unreadable.

"Does Gwi-Ma know you're—"

Hmm. Darn. You interrupt whoever spoke. "Why are you all here? Did you come to look for me?"

You turn, seeing Baby's immense stare on you. But he doesn't answer. None of them do.

... Weirdos.

"Where's Jinu?"

Baby pauses, then points at the other side of the area.

You follow his direction and Jinu barely meets your eyes.

A frown makes its way to your lips. This human... This human is a wonder. You have Gwi-Ma's memories—while the others are fairly content with their sins, you know Jinu's so much more complicated than that.

Honestly. He'll know about Rumi's patterns in one way or another.

Someone pokes your cheek.

You sigh. "Mystery, stop doing that."

"Ah, no, I'm Abby. You're acting weird."

You? Acting weird? Haven't you always been? You look down on your patterns. An intricate design and color unlike the others.

The weight of your memories — not even yours, really — rumbles in the pit of your core. You don't like what you are, or where you are, or who you are. But, at the same time, you care so much. It's hard to think.

"I'm not answering that," you say eventually, using your higher position whenever convenient.

—

errmm my bad, also im trying to combine asks as I go ... hrrmmm eeemm hmmmm it's not working well

i tried to go with demon reader (anon1) and reader who hates the saja boys but loves huntrix (anon2) but for this one—they just really don't like what they stand for

[my-castles-crumbling]

Apologies

jegulus - based on @by-me-with-meraki 's request - word count: 289

Regulus Black did not apologize.

“Apologies are for people who can’t afford to keep fighting, Regulus,” Walburga had once told him, sipping her tea. “And we can afford anything.”

But now, sitting on his bed, arms curled around his knees as he stared into space, the most embarrassing tears forming in his eyes?

It felt like all the money in the world couldn’t make this better. Because the deep, gnawing hole in his heart couldn’t be fixed by simply buying something new. Aching loneliness couldn’t be bandaged with money. Only the person he yearned for could do that. And really, by staying stubborn, he was risking something that couldn’t be bought. Something much more important than anything in Walburga Black’s vault.

So he stood, sighing, feeling like the smallest person alive, as he walked to where he knew he needed to be.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured ten minutes later, staring at the back of James Potter, who was standing at the top of the Astronomy Tower, staring at the stars.

The older boy turned, eyes wide. “You…really?”

“I…I’d rather be with you than be right,” Regulus said honestly, shrugging. “Which…is a horrible thing to realize, truly. Very out of character.  You’ve cast some sort of love spell on me, I think. I’m going to have Pomfrey do tests, because–”

But he was cut off by James pulling him into his arms. 

“Potter!” he gasped letting out a surprised laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Loving you,” James grinned, holding him close. “And celebrating. I’m so glad you've agreed that our future kids can be Puddlemere fans and not Magpies Fans.”

Regulus just scoffed and rolled his eyes, allowing James to kiss him. Really, the things he did for love.

[neilsbeloved]

mess up your white tee (i’ll do you dirty)

summary: driving back to the kent farm after your internship, you see your boyfriend in his tight white tee… drenched in sweat. (inspos: this p-link + this tiktok)

warnings: MATURE (18+) / pure smut w light fluff / no plot, just clark wearing a white shirt / excessive description about cocks and dicks / overstimulation / oral (m) / groping / established relationship / no penetration / mild dirty talk / reader is ovulating, clark is free-use / semi-public sex (someone walks in)

a/n: oh my lawwwd this might be my best smut piece yet !!! pls do not hesitate to comment your thoughts & reactions, it motivates me a lot when u guys enjoy my work :3

gifs from @/zanephillips !

The front door of the Kent house jingles on your arrival.

The smell of Martha Kent's town-famous pies infiltrating your nostrils as soon as you entered the door. Martha, who usually was out of the house most of the time, seemed to have some spare time because she's baking again.

And God knows how happy you are that she is.

"Sweetheart, I set you aside some pies and muffins for you and Clark to eat over the weekend," Martha says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek like a mother would. "I have to go to New York with Lionel for a charity ball… you know we need the sponsors."

You hum, taking a utensil from the drawer to eat the sliced pie on the counter. "That's great, Mrs. Kent! Though I'm not sure Clark'd appreciate you going with Lionel."

"I know," she sighs. "But it's what I gotta do. I can't run the senate seat without sponsors, we need the funding."

The moment you feel the pie melt into your mouth, you're done for. You moan loudly, jerking your fork back and forth making Martha laugh.

"Sorry—have you told Clark about it?" You lean on the counter, voice slightly stuffed as you continued eating.

Martha shakes her head, "Still trying the right time to."

She sets the topic aside, beginning to talk about things happening in the senate. Both of you occasionally laughing when she talks about something particularly ridiculous that the other senators do.

It was a sweet and lighthearted conversation you had with your boyfriend's mother; it always is. Aside from the incredible being that is Clark Kent, you're also thankful that he had such a cool mother and a wonderful father behind him. Makes you feel all the more lucky to be part of such a family.

When you finish your pie, you feel a lot more rejuvenated. Like you could take on the world. Let fate give you their biggest challenge, who cares?

"Want another slice? I have one more—"

You spot Clark come out of the tool shed through the kitchen window, the white shirt he had on was littered with black stains and possibly some oil grease. The fabric clinging onto his body like second skin, barely letting his biceps breathe as he hoisted up some tool his shoulders, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he began heading elsewhere.

Your mouth waters, mind drifting off to the image of Clark underneath you, utterly ruined and glistening with sweat. Hips stuttering, cock begging to be tended to.

Sorry Martha Kent, I just found something else I wanna eat.

"Actually, I'll eat the last piece later with Clark," you tell her, putting on a sweet, innocent smile on your face. "D'you happen to know where he is?"

Martha's mouth forms an 'o', looking behind her to glance through the window. "I think he was at the shed earlier… you should probably go check the barn. I think he's fixing up something there."

You were already by the door when she finished, waving happily. "Thanks!"

A loud mechanical sound comes from the barn, practically reverberating all throughout the farm with how loud it was. You clasp your hands behind your back, discreetly walking inside only to see the first floor empty.

Your eyebrows furrow confusedly, hands coming apart to grip the strap of your bag, looking around the area for your white-shirt wearing hunk.

"You got home early," a voice comes from above.

You immediately looked up, an amused scoff coming from you as Clark leaned down on the wooden rails, grinning at you endearingly.

"Didn't you miss me?" You ask teasingly, face beaming as you made your way to the stairs, meeting with him at the center. Arms immediately thrown upwards to pull him close. Clark chuckles, not expecting you to lunge yourself towards him. Definitely not when he's sweaty and dirty.

But that's how you like him—sweaty and dirty.

"I missed you real bad, sweets. It was—oh—hard fixing the farm without a human radio beside me," Clark grunts in the middle of his sentence, suddenly feeling your hand over his clothed member, rubbing him gently through his jeans. "You okay? I just… I just finished bringing some heavy stuff up the loft and it's…"

Clark's words trail off as you began kissing the thick column of his neck. Messily licking the sweaty skin while your hand continues massaging him, your other one resting on his shoulder.

You feel his chest heave. A low, almost silent, groan leaving his mouth the moment you bite on the spot between his neck and collarbone, same time as you pull at the hairs on the back of his neck with your free hand.

The manly smell of sweat oozing off of him has you grinding your body on his. The hand you previously had on his center, slowly moving up and under his white shirt. His firm abs flexing under your touch.

Just as his eyes roll back, he snaps into reality, pulling away haphazardly.

"B-baby! What's gotten into you?" Clark laughs shakily, confused at the suddenness of your actions. "Look, I'm all dirty," he moves his arm up to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. "Let me take a quick shower and we can continue this, alright?"

Your face drops, "No."

He laughs again, this time with an expression that has you rolling your eyes. He stared at you like the word no was the least of his expected responses. "What do you mean no? Baby, I'm all sweaty—look, my shirt's dirty. I'm dripping of sweat, sweetheart, your clothes gonna get all messed up."

The smile he offers to you was a consoling one. Telling you that he'd really wouldn't want you to be with him in such a state wherein he's not clean and spotless.

You look at him through your lashes, lips separating as you stood on your tiptoes, moving close to his ear while he quickly leans down to your touch. "All the more reason to let me suck your cock, Clark."

When you pull back, you grin devilishly when Clark looks at you with bewildered eyes. His adam's apple bobbing uncontrollably. You push him back onto the steps of the loft, his body falling defenselessly on the top section of the stairs, the two of you hidden by just a few wooden panels.

Clark swallows on nothing, the heat of your voice has blood rushing into his cock, jeans tightening quicker than usual. You throw your bag somewhere in the loft, the rattle of your things being the least of your worries.

You turn to Clark, taking one more look at him; sweaty, flushed, and very much aroused. The evident bulge in his pants and shirt has you drooling.

You climb on top of him, Clark's hand immediately holding your body to make sure you won't fall back. You kiss him with much hunger in you, aggressively swiping your tongue and biting his bottom lip.

Your hips grind on his clothed cock, the rough material of his jeans making you mewl into the kiss. Clark lets you in without a fight, tongue tangling itself with yours as he has his own exploration underneath your top. Big, manly hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You grind even harder on his cock, a coil building up in your core despite the two of you still fully clothed. You pull your hand up to slide underneath the waistband of his pants, feeling the weight of his hardening cock on your hand. The fabric of his boxers slowly getting wet by the tip.

Clark pulls away to let out a rough whimper, raspy and breathy, his forehead scrunching up with the way you jerk him softly through his boxers. The sound makes you feel hotter, urging you to ruin him even more.

The two of you separate for a brief moment, Clark's hands immediately moving to take off his white shirt, already holding the hem when you put your hand over his. You shake your head, smirking.

"Shirt stays on, handsome," you wink at him, leaning down to kiss the firm center of his chest, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

Clark throws his head back, grunting. You take the moment to hop off of his lap and pull his jeans just past down his knees. Clark helping you out to quicken the process, now equally as aroused as you are… probably even more.

His boxers tent shamelessly, the thin piece of blue fabric failing to hide the outline of his dick as you make out a darker colored blue right at the tip. Your mouth waters at the thought of his cock leaking just for you.

You pull down the waistband of his boxers, completely captivated at the way his cock proudly stands up, just barely hitting past your lips. The ridiculous size of it has you clenching your legs together, doing your best to fight the urge to just take him right then and there.

However, you had other plans, some that supersedes the ache between your thighs… like making sure Clark Kent remembers never to wear a white shirt when you're coming over.

His cock twitches on its own, the tip pulsing with an angry shade of red. It was so hard, you swore it looked like hurt. And for Clark, it actually did—even more so when you stare at it like it's the only thing you ever wanted. His hips move impatiently, Clark doing his best to stop himself from grabbing you and doing the job himself.

Finally, your hand cautiously grabs his shaft, involuntarily licking your lips at you began jerking it off, testing the waters as you flicked your eyes up to your boyfriend.

Clark's barely hanging on. His mind is going dizzier and dizzier by the second. Feeling his sanity hang by a single thread now that you're starting to move your hand even faster. Trying to hold in the moan in his throat when you put your lips around his tip, rolling your tongue around the fat head of his cock.

The salty taste of his pre-cum made you sigh contentedly, the vibration in your mouth making him twitch.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," you rasp, holding out your tongue to lick one thick stripe on the underside of his cock. Making sure you keep your eyes locked with his, not letting him miss a single moment of your version of heaven-on-earth.

"Oh God," Clark groans, now slightly high-pitched. His eyebrows furrowing upwards, lips falling apart.

He stays there, incapable of looking away from you as your tongue began slobbering all over his cock. Tasting and tracing every vein that trail from it, like an artist mimicking lines for their piece.

You take him in your mouth, slowly and deliberately, making sure to breathe through your nose as you already feel him at the back of your throat, lips stretched to the max as you did your best to take him in, both in length and in girth.

Clark's cock is only halfway inside of your mouth when you gag, the tip hitting the back of your throat making you swallow involuntarily. His hips jerk up, chasing after the tightness of your throat as the sound finally escapes his mouth.

The sound. The whimper.

It was brief, quiet, and subtle, you wouldn't have caught it any other day but fortunately today wasn't those days. The sound makes your insides swell as Clark finally falls back on steps defeatedly. His arms stretching to the back of his head, his biceps spilling out of the sleeves of his shirt, the thought of the fabric ripping because of it making you even more motivated.

You pull off his cock with a loud breath, gasping like you had just been submerged underwater way longer than you should have been. Your hand moves up and down the remainder of his cock—the part you didn't manage to suck—your other hand coming to your lips as you spat on it loudly.

A grin comes onto your lips, Clark's eyes rolling to the back of his head when he watches you rub your spit all over his cock. Making sure every inch of him is covered by you.

You put him back in your mouth, this time having an easier time fitting him in. When you began bobbing your head up and down his cock, tongue licking the shaft, Clark's unable to control his moans. Whimpers and whines spilling from his mouth, clearly trying to use whatever sanity he has to manage the volume of his sounds.

You don't want him to, though. You want him utterly wrecked, broken, head too deep in the pleasure to even worry about who hears his beautiful sounds.

"Fuck, baby—oh god, that's…" Your sudden hand on his balls has him moving uncontrollably. Clark pulling himself up to prop on his elbows, lips red from biting it over and over again, his lust-blown eyes staring at where your hand fondled with him.

He drops his head back, feeling you swallow around his cock. One hand stroking him event faster, the other massaging his balls. Everything around him begins to blur as he slowly loses the reins of his mind.

You let him thrust inside of your mouth, keeping your breath going through your nose, letting him hear the loud and dirty sound of your gagging.

"O-oh!" He gasps loudly, eyes closing shut when you moan around his cock. Slipping off for a second to run your tongue over his bails, popping each one in your mouth before taking his cock back in. "Fuck, that feels so good baby. Don't—mhmm—don't stop, baby, please, right there."

You don't stop the smile that tries to come on your lips, every time your name slips from his mouth is like an angel whispering to you the greatest of songs.

Clark's control disappears. Abandoning his care for anything else besides you on his cock.

You do a quick motion to pull his shirt back just a bit, giving yourself some eye candy—his sweaty abs flexing—as you hurriedly try to push him off the ledge.

Clark grabs the hem of his shirt, almost pulling off his white shirt when you stop him. "I said it stays on, handsome."

He groans, dropping the fabric from his hands and putting them on either side of your head. The moment he does, you know he's got nothing else on his mind now aside from getting himself off.

Clark begins to chase after his own release. Hips thrusting into your mouth with a roughness that has you stuck on the spot. Eyes watching every strain of muscle in his features. His cock hits the back of your throat multiple times but you didn't care. Not even a bit.

All you cared about, at the moment, was letting him finish himself, letting out every bit of frustration he has about the world inside the warm inside of your lips.

"There, shit—nnghf, fuck, stay like that baby," Clark says, whiney and breathy. Pleas of your name falling endlessly.

He feels the coil in his lower stomach twist even harder. The familiar white spots appearing in his vision as he clenches his teeth together, doing his best to tip himself off the edge without accidentally hurting you.

When your fingers tighten around the base of his cock, just enough to give him mind-dizzying pressure, he looks down. Your eyes locking with his in the most erotic way you could. Then he lets go.

Clark's lips split open to let out one of the deepest groan you ever heard from him. Ropes of his cum coating the inside of your mouth as he rides out his high, grunting and whimpering every time his dick touched the softness of your cheeks.

"Shit, that was… Oh fuck," he sighs, slowly coming back down to Earth as he looks around.

You grin at him, holding your tongue out to show him his masterpiece. "Baby." he says, running his hands through his hair as the aftershocks of his orgasm still made his thighs clench.

You swallow his cum without a question. Throwing your hair to the side as you shifted in your place, peeling off your panties from underneath your skirt.

Clark smirks lazily, thinking he knows what comes next.

Unfortunately for him, you weren't done yet.

You throw your panty over to him, Clark catching it with ease before he holds it close to his face, just enough to get a whiff of your wetness on it. His eyes darkening the moment he sees it absolutely drenched.

"You did so good for me, handsome," you purr, coming on top of him to nip at the neckline of his shirt. Licking the beads of sweat twinkling down his neck. The salty taste of the liquid making you hum contentedly. "So fucking good."

"Let me take care of you now, sweets. Must be so drenched for me, huh?" Clark tries to slide off your top, running his hands all over your sides.

You chuckle, the glint in your eyes telling him something different. "I'm not done with you yet, baby. Just relax for me, m'kay?"

You sit back up, sitting on top of his thighs, your skirt bunched around your hips to give Clark a sight of what's happening to you underneath that composed facade of yours.

Clark watches you with anticipation, tongue coming out to lick his lips as he tries to prop himself up with his elbows again.

"H-hey!" Clark stutters, eyes widening when your hands grab his cock again. It was still hard, leaking, and even aching. You're not sure just one release gets the job done. "Sweets, I just came…" he breathes, voice cautiously low. "It's your turn now, c'mon. Let me take care of you." He tries to pull you up from your position, maybe even have you sit on his face as a way to return the favor.

You don't budge though. You slap his hand away with your free one, leaning down to put your face beside his cock. The lewd sound of his cock sliding in and out your palm paired with the subtle tingles of overstimulation, and your erotic eyes, it gets the same fire inside of him burning again.

"Just give me one more, Clark. One more and I'll let you take me," you pause, tilting your head to his cock, spitting on it loudly, "…however you want."

Clark glares at you, jaw clenched and body tense, his eyes holding a sense of determination that tells you he's not turning down your offer.

A proud smile comes on your lips, giving the base of his cock one kiss before you start jerking him off. Using your spit and his pre-cum to slide it smoothly. You use both of your hands now, one at the top focusing on his tip, while the other moved up and down his length.

"Mhfm," Clark groaned, his tip being too sensitive right now. His face getting warmer by the second, body clenching uncontrollably. "B-baby, it's… oh… fuck."

"Yeah?" You raise an eyebrow, taking your hands off abruptly making him thrust upwards into nothing.

He looks at you wide-eyed, shocked and confused. You only chuckle at him, slowly placing your hand by his face, open palm by his mouth. Clark stares at you, awaiting your word.

"Spit." Clark gathers up his saliva for a second before spitting it all in your hand.

You smile, thanking him sweetly before you went back to your position. Letting the feeling in his stomach subside before placing your hands back. The hand with his spit placed over his tip, swirling his own liquid around the engorged head.

It was right then did Clark understand how fucked he was. How fucking dirty all of this is.

Worst of it all, he can't even do anything. He's fully at your mercy. Having to take everything you're giving to him without a complaint.

You find your pace, wasting no time to finally get that second release you desperately wanted from him.

Clark doesn't fight it anymore. He lets out every groan, whimper, and moan he has in him. Your name being at the top of the his lungs as he continuously called out for you, begging and pleading to let him come.

"Please, baby, I'm—I'm almost there baby."

"You gonna come f'me?" You tease, batting your eyelashes innocently.

"Uh-huh, keep going," Clark nods repeatedly, his features scrunching up as he feels it start to hurt, start to tingle. Somewhere between the pain and pleasure of the overwhelming sensation—that's where he is. Almost at the top. "Yes, baby, just like that."

You decide not to torture him even more, letting him have his release as you continued to move your hands with a faster pace. The sounds of his cries slowly getting louder.

Then, you hear a voice downstairs.

"Clark? You there sweetheart?" Martha Kent.

His eyes shoot open, hand immediately slapping over his mouth to stop his own moans. He looks to you with panic, but you only smile wider.

"I've finished baking!" Martha called again. Apparently she's been looking for you as well. "When you find her, head to the kitchen, alright? I tried a new recipe for my muffins, try 'em out."

You swiftly, and carefully, move to his ear, whispering: "Answer her."

He shakes his head, "No," he says quietly.

"Now," you say, dropping one hand from his length to his balls.

Clark's eyes roll back, taking his hand off of his mouth. "Y-yeah, mom, we'll check… check it out in a bit!"

His voice was shaky, but you applaud him from even trying. Staring at him proudly, stars dancing in your eyes as you hear Martha's great! see you! in the back, footsteps slowly disappearing.

Clark releases all over your hand the moment you sit back on his thighs, wet slit touching his bare thigh. An aching and almost painful groan ripped away from his throat as more strings of cum shoot out of his cock. Generously falling down the tip and onto the base.

Clark's breathing heavily now. Chest moving up and down after what felt to be like the last orgasm in his lifeline. It was so strong—so intense, he couldn't even wrap his head around what just happened.

Why you were still smiling at him as your tongue licked up the cum dripping on his length, as if you didn't just swallow it minutes ago.

You clean him up, his cock finally softening just a bit in your hold. You move up to him, resting your chin on chest. "You’re so pretty."

Clark's weak scoff enters your ear. Arm weakly wrapping around your back. "Have I been neglecting you or what?"

You laugh at him, kissing his lips lightly. "Never stop wearing white shirts."

When you start rolling away to get up, Clark tightens his hold on you.

"Oh, baby," he shakes his head, tongue poking at his cheek. "You're not getting off that easily. Up the loft, c'mon. It's my turn."

hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! xoxo

[athenalvss]

hi hello may I request Jason Todd with a breeding kink pleeeeease 🥺 especially if he runs his mouth and gets a little carried away with it

FULL OF ME ( Jason Todd! )

summary: Jason has a fixed idea in his mind of how good you would look with his baby in your belly, and he can't help but try to put a baby in you every time he fucks you.

tw: sex (p in v), unprotected (dont do thaaat), breeding kink, dirty talk

pairing: Jason todd x fem!reader

open request - Jason todd masterlist

Your legs are still shaking when Jason pushes you hard against the mattress. The room is dim, lit only by the streetlight streaming through the window. His gaze is completely dark, lost in the pleasure and desire to feel your pussy squeezing him.

It was the fourth time this week he'd fucked you, and the second time in that night he was close to cumming inside your soaked pussy, ready to fill you again, without hesitation, as if it were the only thing he knew how to do with you. Each thrust sank deeper, more desperate, as if that were even possible.

"So fucking perfect..." he murmurs, between gasps. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your ear, as if he needs to mark every inch of your skin. "You know what you do to me, don't you? You look so good like this, taking all of me."

His voice trembles a little as he speeds up, and his words become dirtier, needier. He was completely blinded by desire, by watching your face twist in pleasure every time he entered you and touched your needy clit, constantly bringing you to the edge, making you squirm of pleasure against his hard body.

"You don't know how much I think about this, about you filled with me. You cumming for me, you asking for more..." He laughs softly, but there's something dark in that sound. "It makes me want to do it nonstop until you can't take it anymore. Until you're trembling, with my name between your lips and my seed deep inside you."

Your arched back, your moans, everything incites him. And he doesn't stop talking. He holds you tighter as he wraps one of his large, rough hands around your neck. "are you going to let me put a baby inside you?"

That whisper in your ear makes you tremble, without much chance to respond you could only nod with difficulty, while you tried to keep your eyes open to be able to look at him, giving him a more than hot image of you totally stimulated and with that silly face that made you look so pretty, your pussy inevitably clenches at his dirty words, and of course he notices it.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you? You love it when I tell you I'm going to fill this greedy cunt with my cum, completely, all the way. Fill you up until your needy cunt spits out all my cum."

He moves slower, deeper, emphasizing every word, enjoying how foolish you look because of his cock, your eyes barely open.

“Imagine how beautiful you’d be with my baby... and me looking at you, knowing I did that to you. That I filled you so much you couldn’t help yourself.” He pants against your neck, his lips grazing your skin as his pace becomes more erratic, desperate. “Glossy skin, bigger breasts, I’m going to eat those fat tits full of milk out of you every day, I swear, fucking perfection.”

One of his hands moves down to your belly, caressing it as if he could already feel something there, as if the mere thought drove him crazy.

"I want to see you like this. I want everyone to know that I did that to you. That I fucked you so good and filled you up so much that you couldn't help yourself."

And when he cums inside you, he doesn't do it quietly. He says your name with a tremor that mixes love, lust, and need, as if finishing inside you would bring him a great sense of relief.

The silence was filled with the sound of your ragged breathing and the heat still burning between your legs. You felt his excess slowly begin to spill out, hot and thick, sliding down your thighs with obscene slowness. The cum made a glistening path on your skin, mingling with your own desire, while Jason remained inside, panting, looking at you as if the sight made him even more addicted.

"Look at that..." he murmured with a dark smile, his fingers moving down to touch where their bodies were still joined. "There's no way you don't have my baby."

[mvth3r]

The Ol' Switcheroo

your husband wasn't the joking type, but his brother sure was. that was fine, you would teach him that every game didn't need to be brought home.

cw: 18+ (suggestive language), cursing, black reader, second person pov

an: *taps mic* is this thing on?!

The man standing in front of you was not your husband.

He looked like him, sure, from the warm, dark eyes framed by unfairly thick lashes down to the full lips that sat beneath neatly trimmed facial hair.

But you knew better.

Smoke had texted you an hour ago, letting you know he was on the way home. Usually, he’d call you when he was heading in, asking if you needed anything or if you’d cooked, but you hadn’t thought much of it, responding with wishes of safe travels and going on about your business. Now you were wondering if the lack of phone call had been in an effort to keep you from clocking their scheme too soon.

Unfortunately, they had failed.

The differences between Smoke and Stack were less than minimal when it came to their appearance. Early on, you might have confused them once or twice on account of not having met Smoke’s family yet, but you were seasoned now. You could pick your husband out if he were a quintuplet.

Stack stood in front of you with a dour expression, dressed in the suit that Smoke had left home in earlier that morning, coincidentally on his way to meet his brother for a business meeting.

From then to now, you had no clue what they’d been up to beyond Smoke’s texts through the day, but those were often far and few between. Your husband was a man of few words, especially when it pertained to business. You didn’t particularly mind, secure in the fact that you would always be the first person notified if something bad happened.

You refocused your attention on Stack, watching him watch you like he was waiting for you to catch on. How he had convinced your husband to play such a silly game, you had no clue, but whatever. You would play your role.

“Welcome home, handsome,” you said, arms reaching up to twine around Stack’s neck in a textbook loving embrace.

Stack wasn’t so good of an actor that he could conceal the way he startled, arms stuttering as they lifted to wrap around your waist in turn, “Evening, baby. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was fine. Just missed you a lot,” you put on a charming smile, leaning back to look Stack in the eye. One of your hands slid slowly around his neck and down the muscly planes of his chest, “How was yours?”

Stack blinked a couple of times, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh, “It was alright. Meeting went well and all that.”

“Oh yeah?” You responded, fingers toying with the buttons of his dress shirt, “Well a good job deserves a fittin’ reward, don’t you think?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement in the hall that connected the kitchen, where you and Stack stood, to the garage. Your smile turned coy, full lips twisting wickedly.

Stack cleared his throat, stepping backwards out of your embrace in an attempt to make some distance, but you followed him anyway, the gap between you disappearing as it formed, “Don’t need a gift for doing my job, baby.”

You hummed, hands raising to push him lightly against the edge of the counter, “I didn’t say anything about a gift, handsome.”

The emerging bewilderment on Stack’s face almost made you crack, the laugh bubbling up in chest, but you were too committed to your performance. Silly games, silly prizes, and all that.

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” you whispered, pressed in close against his chest, “Since when you had a problem with a lil’ kitchen love? You don’t like bending me over the counters no more?”

If you hadn’t been so close, you would’ve missed the choked off whimper that came from Stack’s throat. His eyes darted towards that dark hallway like he was waiting for Smoke to turn the corner and jack him up.

But you knew he wouldn’t.

He was watching, you knew that. You could practically feel his eyes traveling over you from that hallway, gaze as piercing as you knew it to be.

He wanted to see how far you would go. You wanted him to make you stop.

A different game, but just as fun.

Your hands drifted slowly over Stack’s ribcage and down to his waist, nails scraping softly over the fabric. By the time you’d reached his thighs you could feel his heart beat quickening.

“Or maybe,” you whispered, those fingers creeping towards his zipper, “you’re in the mood for something else..”

You let your voice trail off, tone layered with heat and intent, as you began to shift, crouching low until you rested perfectly on your knees. Your eyes met Stack’s from where he stood frozen above you, mouth slack with genuine shock. His gaze shifted from yours to the grip your fingers now had on his zipper and back.

“Is that what it is, baby?” You murmured sweetly, face moving closer until your lips hovered just shy of making damning contact with his pants leg, “Is my mouth a better reward than my—”

Stack jerked suddenly, and you didn’t have to turn to know that Smoke had finally made his entrance. You rose slowly from your spot on the floor, a false look of confusion painted on your face. It was for Stack’s benefit more than yours at this point, and he knew that.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why you actin’ like this?”

“Game’s over, stop fuckin’ around,” Smoke cut in before he could respond, voice gruff.

You glanced back and forth between the two of them, eyes widening dramatically, “Smoke?! Oh my goodness! I thought you were him!”

Smoke’s voice was sharper, “Cut it out.”

You held on to your wide eyed look for a few more seconds before finally allowing your expression to drop, a laugh rumbling in your chest, “Okay, okay. I’m done.”

Stack, brain finally back online, sputtered in amused disbelief, “You knew the whole time? Could’a fooled me, shit!”

You hummed, laughter tapering off, “Might'a been born at night, but not last night, Stack. You think I can’t recognize my own husband?”

“Ah hell,” he grumbled, “You should’a just said somethin’.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, “But now y’all know I ain’t the one for these crazy games, and..”

Your gaze shifted to your husband, ever the quiet observer, “This was much more fun, don’t you think, Elijah?”

Smoke huffed a dry laugh, hand reaching out to ease you closer, “Sure. Why don’t you head on upstairs? Let me walk this fool out and I’ll be up to talk about just how hilarious you are.”

The following silence was heavy, not with tension but heat and you couldn’t help the goosebumps that rose to life on the skin under Smoke’s fingers.

You didn’t bother with a response, smiling sweetly instead and turning instead towards where Smoke was directing you, a brief ‘Have a good night’ tossed Stack’s way as you left the room.

Stack shuffled back the way he’d came, through the dark hallway and out to the garage that was still open. His eyes flitted from the dark glint of his truck’s metal to the cement floor, contemplative.

“What, Stack?” Smoke muttered, standing behind him in the doorway.

“Guess she know’s you better than we thought, huh?” He responded, a weak attempt at humor.

Smoke didn’t respond. Stack hadn't expected him to.

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, opting to twirl it around his fingers rather than reaching next for a lighter, "You think she really would'a..."

"If I let her," Smoke responded coolly. "'s that what you wanted me to do?"

It was Stack's turn to go quiet, he fingers stilling long enough for the cigarette to slide silently to the floor.

He heard Smoke turn on his heel, muttering, "Drive safe. And close the garage 'fore you leave."

The door closed with finality and Stack released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Silly games, indeed.