#beating the rug. [ m!a ]

[ggumjjun]

# dumb girl kink !! n.j.m

# nsfw + mdni. what can i say, back wifh another jaemin likes dumb girls (+ breeding this time tho lol)

it should be so shameful, the way jaemin’s got you on a semblance of on fours, grasping your cute ass firmly in his hands, your cheek pressed to the soft rug on the floor, pretty nails scratching the tufting as your fingers struggle to hold on. come on, beg for nana, jaemin drawls teasingly, his gaze adoring in such a mocking way. after all, jaemin loves it most when you’re so dumb, teary, and obedient, doesn’t he?

a hard slap sounds as you whine in response, drooling at the sharp hit to your ass, jaemin’s fingers affectionately rubbing the warm spot, flipping up your too short skirt, as if it made much of a difference. n-nana, want your cock already—! you whine, frustrated pout peeking up at him, impatiently whimpering as his fingers drag up your drooling folds, a grin on his pretty lips at the sight of your glistening cunt, heavy bulge straining in his pants,, such a turn on to have a girl who can only think about his dick, hmm?

yeah? not going to complain ‘m too big for you this time? jaemin smirks, his fingers deftly unzipping his fly as you protest, want it now, don’t wanna wait— ah-nana! you cry out, whine pitching as his bulging tip pushes into your dripping folds, just enough to feel your warm walls clenching down, stupidly loud whines and whimpers bursting from your lips as his thick girth slowly stretches you open, ah—nana, s-s’ too big—!

thought you wanted my cock so bad, ‘s too big for you now, princess? jaemin teases, his fingers gripping your hips as he adoringly strokes your curves, biting his lip as he watches your cute cunt suck him in slowly, splitting you open from behind the way he likes it,, can’t beat the view of a dumb, pretty girl at his mercy, can he? and just to tease, he pulls out a little, only for you to whine, no, no, w-wanna be full! you cry, pushing your hips back into his cock, trying to hump him like a bunny in heat? god, he’d make you do the work if you weren’t so dumb once full of dick, all needy n needing him to do everything for you,,

so loud for me, hmm? my princess wants everyone to know she’s a slut, jaemin smirks, you going to let them all know? his housemates, all the boys who he knows stare at you a little too much, and jaemin’s more than willing to flaunt his girl, isn’t he? his fingers shamelessly groping your curves in full view, cooing affectionately when you try to hump his leg during dinner nights,, so why bother hiding when he’s fucking his dumb bunny,, and jaemin thinks it’s cute that you’re so noisy for him, hmm? s-so full—w-want more, you beg, your pretty voice pitched and so easy to hear, jaemin’s cock buried in your cunt, balls deep n cunt stretched out for him so nice and tight, who is he to refuse his pretty girl when you want it so bad?

nana, nana—! your whines crying his name as you cling to the soft rug, jaemin’s hips slamming roughly into yours without mercy, forcefully gripping your hips hard, bruises in the shapes of his fingers inevitable as you try to hold on, endless whines and cries of his name falling freely from your lips, cute, tight cunt taking him so well, aren’t you? clenching down hard on the vein lacing his girthy length, can’t think of much else but his cock? and your hips dumbly trying to push back into his, barely doing anything to fulfill your need to be full of him, always needing him to do it all, huh? and your movements slowing as pleasure consumes your conscious, giving him those cute, dumb eyes that beg for love and lewd pleasure as your pouty lips drool spit, his name and cock all you’re thinking about?

god, so loud for me, bunny, jaemin grins, just a cute exhibitionist aren’t you? nngh— n-nana, ‘m not a— e-exhibitionist, you whimper, volume pitching as jaemin thrusts hard, slapping your ass when you clench down on his cock just from his pretty eyes gazing into yours so lovingly, if only you knew what one was. no? you don’t wanna get fucked by nana in front of all of them, jaemin teases, because he knows you a little too well, the way you clench down on his cock at the mention of those boys, watching you get fucked by your nana. yeah? my bunny wants them to watch you take my cock like a slut? can’t lie to me, princess, jaemin grunts, tight cunt clenching down so nicely for him.

his voice dropping low, deepening as he leans over and whispers into your ear, heat rushing to your face at his dirty words. gonna let nana fill you up, hmm? make it feel good when you’re full n warm, yeah?

nana, n-nana, w-wanna be f-full! you cry out, so loud and noisy for him, so shameless. lewd slaps of skin on skin, squelching sounds of your juices spilling over his cock as you cry his name, ‘s all you can manage now, hmm? nana, nana, nana, god, does jaemin love it when you sob his name when you’re all dumbed out.

and as you tearily give him those dumb, pretty eyes glistening with tears, jaemin can’t help but fall in love a little more,, could knock my pretty bunny up, he groans, make you all swollen with my baby, ‘s all mine,, god, you’d be even more helpless, wouldn’t you? ‘m gonna take care of you, yeah? knock up my dumb princess,, and jaemin’s heavy cock splitting your swollen cunt open, slamming in hard as hot cum spurts into your womb, tip kissing your cervix as you wail in pleasure, sudden rush of warm fullness clouding over your eyes in a dumb haze, feels so good to have jaemin so in love with you, doesn’t it? and his adoring gaze never leaving you, fingers reaching down to wipe the drool from the corner of your lip,, and he’ll take care of everything. anything for his dumb darling.

[lunarw0rks]

farmer!price & sweet little girl next door!reader (yes i’m thinking about this pairing in the most perverted way possible)

a/n: here it is. the long-awaited neighbor!price fic <3 Hopefully, you all enjoy these Price crumbs. anon is onto something ;) & thx for the dog name ideas! ⊹。°˖➴ ao3 ver. // word count: 6.9k

// warning(s); nsfw (18+), implied age gap [r is mid-twenties, price is early/mid-forties], dadbod!price agenda, oral (r.), p/v unsafe sex, fem!reader

Price is living out his recluse dreams. Retired and secluded, finally! It was more than he’d wished for, honestly. He always desired a patch of land far from town, leaving out scraps for the critters, finding the simple pleasures.

But here he was, with a small, self-sufficient farm, growing enough to feed himself. It was a quiet, rewarding lifestyle. Entirely the opposite of his years in the service. Right now, he found himself conquering his lost list of mundane tasks. Watering his herbs, then sorting the junk that accumulated in his storage shed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After a grueling afternoon of unpacking, you needed to unwind. Right now, you found yourself lounging on your deck, head tilted back as you shielded your eyes from the summer sun. As if moving and assembling furniture wasn't exhausting enough — now you had the sweltering star beating down on you.

Abruptly, you feel something soft brush against your legs. Before you can open your eyes, there's a hefty weight plunged atop your lap. Your eyes snap open, greeted with the hot breath of a smiling golden retriever.

You caress the blonde fur, receiving several licks along your hand. "Zeus! down, boy!" A husky voice shouts, followed by the face to match it. The eager, not-so-small ball of fluff hops off your lap, prancing toward the man walking around the side of your house.

A charcoal gray t-shirt hugging his buff but girthy body. A man who's been in shape for years — arms bulging and tanned from hours of working outside, all whilst his older years have caught up to him a bit on his stomach, which stuck out with just a bit of fat cushion.

"My apologies, he knows better." He rubbed his head and flashed an apologetic look, exposing the faint abs you'd already imagined on him at first glance. Price's eyes wandered you from top to bottom, nearly forgetting to unfurrow his brow.

What a sight for sore eyes, you were.

You peer down at your lap, now stained with dirt in the shape of paws — on your thighs and the shorts you're wearing. "Oh, not a big deal! he gave me quite a scare, but it was a pleasant surprise." You look over at Zeus, his tail thwacking against his owner's leg.

For a few moments, all he did was leer, before he snapped himself out of it. "John," he steps forward as if going to shake hands but retracts hastily.

"—'m all covered in dirt, wouldn't want to get you dirtier than Zeus already has, hm?" He chuckles when he finishes his rhetorical, smearing the dirt onto his denim pants.

You shake your head and chuckle gently, “no room for pleasantries in the countryside, is there?” You case his appearance again, eyes skimming his muscles.

John flashes a polite smile, muttering a reply before hooking a finger around the Golden’s red collar. “Be seeing you.” He effectively leads the sparky dog out of your yard, preventing both any more surprise attacks and more ogling on his part.

Not only was getting a new neighbor a surprise, but her being so damn tempting — an entirely different genre of awe.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Yesterday wasn’t your smoothest first impression. looking rugged and sweaty from unpacking, ending up covered in dirt and in awkward conversation. You wanted a second chance. He was going to be your neighbor after all — and it wasn’t like there were many others. John was the only one within reasonable walking distance, it seemed.

Now, wearing a sundress as opposed to sweat-caked shorts and a tee — you were more confident in your odds of at least being civil with your neighbor. At the very least, a man who would roll up your trash bins before a storm. Perhaps even supply a spare cup of sugar if you were being optimistic.

You trudge down the dirt road, careful not to roll your ankle on the unpredictable mounds of earth. For a few moments, you’re convinced you’ve gone the wrong way. It’s either dense forest, patches of crop, or more road ahead of you.

Lord knows you were exhausted yesterday, maybe the handsome neighbor was just a figment in your fried mind. A foolish thought — but one that worsened the longer you walked.

The tray in your hands; a few oatmeal dog biscuits and some cookies made from the recipe on the chocolate chip bag. It was better than coming empty-handed, wasn’t it? That would just be distasteful judgment.

With eyes glued ahead, you nearly let the handles of the platter slip when you finally spotted the lights in the distance. Golden-tinted and countless, illuminating the updated cabin. In the yard, lay a few scattered chewed ropes and muddy tennis balls. You could safely assume you made it to the suave man’s residence.

You knock on the oak door, seeing the hues of a television flickering through some of the bent blinds. After a few seconds of mumbling, the door swung open.

Price answered with a beer in one of his fists, instantly straightening his posture when he laid eyes on you. The sundress; cherry red with splotches of tiny florals. Dusk sunbeams highlighted your bone structure seamlessly — casting an ethereal glow on your captivating flesh.

Today, instead of gray, his shirt is army green and just as snug of a fit. You can't help but prolong your stare when he leans against the doorway, his bicep bulging even when he stands with nonchalance. He's even more of a knockout when not covered in dirt; though you suppose the same could be applied to you.

"This is a surprise." He glances at the tray in your hands, then at the polite smile on your face as you flash it in his direction.

With a beam, you extend the platter out and wait for him to take it. "I wasn't sure when to come. I hope I'm not intruding." You speak softly, catching a glimpse of his tidy living space.

“No such thing as intrusion around here, eh? ‘m practically searching for chores these days. A little conversation won’t bother me any.” Price chuckles a bit, flicking his head as an invitation for you to join him.

You step inside behind him, engulfed by the scent of tobacco and cedarwood. The cabin's interior walls have been stained with a warm tint, stretching throughout what bits of the space you can spot. Immediately through the front door is his kitchen, likely the most modernized of the rooms.

Distressed, truffle-colored counters in an L shape; altogether enough space for a man living alone. Yet, the countertops are anything but cluttered — nearly spotless, in fact. He slides the tray across the counter, finally unveiling the homemade treats for both human and man's best friend.

"Figured chocolate chip would be simple enough, right?" You speak up, watching him examine one of them. For a few moments, he's lost in thought again, not taking a bite.

You furrow your brows, "please don't tell me I baked the one dessert you don't like."

Instantaneously, a grin smears on his face, then a rumbly snicker. "Nothing like that," he bites the cookie in half and savors its sweetness, "—just not used to having neighbors this deep in the woods, you're my first. And she can bake too, huh? Aren't I lucky?" He teases a bit at the end, rinsing off some chocolate residue from his scarred fingertips.

Well, it was only the recipe on the back of a bag, so you surely hope it would taste decent. You decide it best to leave that out, merely twirling your thumbs as he shuffles around the space.

Finally, he walks back around the counter and holds out the same beer he sipped when he answered the door. Your reluctant fist wrapped around the brown bottle's glass neck, following him as he led you to the porch.

“Weren’t you watching something?” You question, sitting yourself beside him on the cement steps. Zeus’ collar jingle sounded once the back door closed, the sound a signal for him to join his owner out back.

John shook his head, taking another sip of the brew as his achy muscles relaxed again. “You’re doing me a favor; I could cut back on my screen time.” He reached out his free hand and gently patted the dog’s head, giving his fur a few strokes.

“Cut back? By the looks of your land, you’re outside all day.” You retort with a playful scoff, feeling the nuzzle of a wet nose along your leg. Without shame, you glance at his hands, observing their size and condition. “The callouses don’t lie.”

You piqued his interest at the mention of his hands, and he'd noticed just how long you were staring at them. "Suppose you're right, love." On purpose, he caressed the neck of the bottle with his thumb. He takes another hefty sip, which prompts you to take your first.

You didn't have the heart to tell him before how much you disliked the taste. The tangy beer coated your mouth and throat, seemingly sliding down at an agonizing pace just to prolong the torment. Still, the scrunch of your face spilled enough of the fib.

"Faces don't lie, either." Price mocked, taking the barely touched bottle from your grip. His words held double meaning — one harmless and one sinful — though that truth was unbeknownst to both of you.

In a matter of seconds, you'd been caught in a petty lie. You wipe away the bit that dripped between your lips. "Guess you caught me," you chortle, "I don't like beer much."

"Much? Don't be so modest." He screws the top back on and sets it on the wooden deck beside him. "You hate it, don't you?"

The way he spoke had you in some sort of trance. Perhaps it was his age, perhaps it was his obvious past of influence. It was... like being interrogated. Not in the pathetic way an inexperienced civilian would mock his way through, either. The agitation of being put on the spot — feeling as though you'd done something illegal the second you approach airport security.

That is what this felt like; only the words came tender and sportive.

“Alright, I hate it.” You affirm, unable to wipe the simper off your face. “We’ve officially made it through our first lie. That’s a milestone, right? Saves us the sting later.” Unintentionally, you haven’t broken your stare — even when he did to gaze at the sunset in front of him.

Later? Would this company become a routine? How wrong was it for him to hope it would?

Eventually, he nods and turns to face you again, shamelessly taking you in like it was the first time. “Ah, you’re like me. Ten steps ahead, got everything planned out already.” He questions, squinting slightly from the bright dusk, which was actively being snuffed by storm clouds. "Besides, I could tell your lie from miles away. The way you fumbled that bottle."

You waved a flustered hand of dismissal. "Yeah, yeah. Point taken. I'll remember that next time."

John cocked a brow, "next time, eh? With no more fibbing?" He asked you jovially, once again putting you under his spotlight.

But this time you knew how to handle it. Besides, you had learned his ways of meaningless banter — despite only spending several minutes with the man. "Next time I'll make sure it's not so obvious, and you'll be none the wiser."

"It was more than how I held the bottle," you added accusingly. "You don't just afford a place like this with retirement savings. Not without sacrifices."

He was more than someone who once had a mundane, meaningless job. You could tell it from 'miles away' he was a man who had stories to tell. More than his scarred body already did, that was. A fierce career, a position of power — something cutthroat, literally.

Of course, you had no intention of prying. Screwing this relationship up prematurely would be a grave mistake.

Fortunately, he remained untouched by your suspicions; they intrigued him. And John, he knew you weren't wrong about him, either. He was one of the few souls who could confidently declare he'd seen it all — or the closest thing to it.

"Sacrifices... is a way to put it," his lips curled into a polite smile. Finally, he stopped staring holes into you and caught a whiff of musky petrichor in the air. "C'mon, we're due for rain. Get you inside before the mosquitos feast on us."

The same lips pursed, letting out a sharp whistle to recall Zeus. He transformed from a blond dot in the distance into a prancing canine at the speed of light, slowing to a prance when he laid eyes on his owner.

With one hand, he held both bottlenecks between his thick fingers, then opened the back door with the other. Zeus nudged your legs and walked through them, determined to get inside first. The sight made you snicker as you walked inside, hearing the soft creak of the door behind you.

His work boots thudded against the wooden floor as he took them off, setting them neatly beside the door. Yet another unusual trait for men his age living alone, at least in your experience. No clutter in sight, and no grime residue from his tireless yard work.

Now, his steps are a glide instead of thuds when he walks around the breakfast bar. You turned to face him, watching as he ignited a burner for the kettle. "Do you fancy drinking something you'll actually enjoy? Tea?"

You lean against the island, unintentionally allowing a bit of the dress neckline to droop.

“Tea will work.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

In front of you were the only signs of his old self. Metals and ribbons encased behind a glass frame, hung up in the hall as a quaint display of his achievements. Below them, on the hall table, decorative mason jars; most with faux leaves and vines. You made your way up and down, admiring how the rustic, shipshape decor was placed with such intention.

As your gaze panned left to right, you made it to the end of the display. Interest arose when you examined the last jar; a small mason with a bullet inside, littered with indents and some bits chipped away. Your mind swirled with scenarios as you put together the story told in front of you. A career so intense, so all-important; it was difficult to imagine the man in the kitchen enmeshed in one.

In the distance, the kettle whistles, effectively ripping you from your peering. Before he can shout for you, you’ve walked around the corner, ready to claim a drink your mouth will savor.

“Here you are.” Across the marble countertop, Price slid forward the mug.

A green tea of sorts, with a bit of cream on top and a dust of cinnamon. The presentation is nowhere near seamless, with its lopsided spoonful of foam and granules that ended up sprinkled unevenly through his fingers. Still, there was nothing wrong with a drink that looked homemade.

“Matcha?” You ask, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the mug, then using your supporting hand to hold the small plate it’s resting on.

Price glances at the tea box through the frosted glass cabinets then nods. When he presses his own mug to his lips, the tea is ebony and swirling like a cyclone from the sugar he mixed in.

From the corner of your eye, you skim past him and gaze out the window overlooking the deep copper sink. Through its rectangular pane, you see the string of herbs and leaves grown — well-tended and used often in his cooking, surely.

You point a free finger towards the fresh greens outside, “do you grow it?”

He lets out a rumbly chuckle and shakes his head, “if I could. Matcha plants are loads of work.” You now spot the pasty green box poking through the cabinet, which you hadn’t noticed when too occupied with the herb planters.

You mutter a ‘hm’ in response and raise the porcelain rim to your lips, feeling the steam scald the tip of your nose and Cupid's bow. The vegetal fragrance of the green tea soothes your senses — just before the spice of cinnamon gives them a right hook.

To keep your eyes from tearing, you close them and take your first sip. It’s thicker than you anticipated, coating your mouth and throat as you swallow, yet the taste is pleasant and earthy.

Whatever John had done to prepare it, he did it correctly. That much you could tell.

Before your throat can sizzle with aftertaste, the cold foam dollop calms it. From grassy, fresh matcha to a striking sweet cream.

“You have a bit…” Price motions to his mouth, an index pointed toward the left corner of his mouth. The cream is too airy for you to notice any accidental residue. You’ve missed the swear twice before he sighs and raises a crumpled napkin to your lips.

You meet gazes while he dabs at your bottom lip, feeling any confidence seep from you in an instant.

The sweet aroma fleeted instantly with the proximity, now with your nostrils flooded with his fragrance. Smokey and masculine; something rum-adjacent, mixed sinfully with cedarwood and the earthy smell of crisp soil. And then, lastly, there are the pungent remnants of his minty mouthwash, which is slightly diluted by the black tea he swallowed.

This close, you can trace every wrinkle and line with your eyes. While you’re engulfed in his presence, he’s observing. Smothered and suffocating with the weight of diminishing continence. The vermillion sundress, the tray of goodies in the corner of his vision, the twitch of your lips as he dabs and drags with the linen.

Price has yet to notice his other hand, grabbing the tip of your chin with a feather-like hold.

But you have, blinking rapidly a few times while the chalky foam is rid of your mouth, which might as well have been thrown in the trash along with the napkin — because you’ve turned reticent.

“There.” He whispers, mouth curling into a polite glow.

Ultimately, your haze falters. Your senses unfreeze when you’re no longer swarmed by his aroma, or his tender touch when he walks back around the breakfast bar. Warmth coaxes your fingers, still emanating from the tea snug in your grip — even after the milky olive-tinted liquid has gone tepid.

With a perpetually widened gaze, you raised your mug to finish off the rest of your tea. This neighborly visit had played out differently than you expected. You savored about half of the lukewarm brew, letting it mellow the pining that arose when he got close. Sweaty fingers fumbled around the handle when you tipped the cup again, sending a gush of tea down the front of your outfit. The fabric stained instantaneously as the warmth soaked in, whilst the sugary cream made the dress cling in an unsavory, sticky fashion.

You cursed audibly and darted your gaze towards him apologetically, setting the mug down with a clammer. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, feeling an ocean’s wave of dishonor pummel through you at once.

John, who was mid-cleanup, jerked his head to the side when he heard the commotion. When greeted with the frazzled expression, he made an effort to soothe it. It wasn’t your fault; it was only some overpriced, boxed infusion that had collected dust in the back of his cabinet. 

Besides, you were in front of him, now in soaked clothing and apologizing profusely.

“Don’t apologize. Happens to the best of us.” That damn smile again. The wrinkles around his eyes, the almost all-knowing look of understanding in them.

He fisted your discarded mug, turning on the sink.

“The washroom is down the hall, in my room. It has a better mirror than the half.” Price wavers through his instructions, overcome with his own helping of uncertainty. Nothing had gone explicitly wrong, per se, but it didn’t mean they went right. But they never do, do they? There’s a reason he decided on a life of recluse, even more, a reason for him to befriend seclusion so closely.

Your footsteps retreated down the hall, passing the picture frames and decor you had been admiring moments ago. John scrubbed both mugs until they were full of suds and then rinsed, placing them on the dish rack afterward. He made it a habit to never leave used dishes to sit in the sink.

Quickly, he walked through the open door of his bedroom. Golden beams peeked out from the gap under the door, where you were frantically blotting the stains. He pulled the string on his bedside lamp, illuminating a majority of the moody, rustic bedroom. His fingers hooked around the handle, gently sliding open the pocket doors of his closet.

His t-shirts hung neatly on the left wall, whilst his fewer button-ups remained on the opposite. With a quick hum, he took hold of his baggiest navy blue tee, draping it over his forearm. From inside his dresser, he grabbed a pair of sweats that were tight on him — enough to prevent them from slipping down your legs.

Inside the bathroom, you alternated between being hunched over the counter in embarrassment, to rubbing your dress profusely. The damp washcloth was doing little to the fabric, which was a few shades darker from the liquid, compressing tighter against you. It wasn’t a flattering look, nor was it a comfortable fit anymore. Akin to the feeling of maple syrup residue on your hands after breakfast, only it was covering the front of your body.

Would it have been better to spill on his authentic wood floors? Was it completely selfish to prefer it, to spare the discomfort of a soaked garment?

Two subdued knocks on the door halted your useless wiping. “I have some clothes.” The gruff voice spoke through the door, yet remained as placid as it was in the kitchen.

“Oh, no need,” you replied dismissively through the door. “I can change at home.” You tossed the wet towel into the small hamper. When you opened the door, Price remained standing there, fresh clothing in hand.

The thought was there, and now were the actions to go along. You didn’t want to change at home or be walking down that dirt avenue at all. At this hour, home would be lonesome and still, regardless of whether your new neighbor was fanciable or not.

But he was; that made him all the harder to decline.

Void of any attempt on John’s part, his gaze scanned the mess that covered you. This time, more obvious than he would’ve liked. It felt wrong; downright distasteful and discouraging, to do so.

Howbeit, he did — and you sensed it this time. The unavoidable gawking at your snug gown, devouring his dwindling abstinence. No unease, imminence, or desire to dismiss yourself ever came. Not like it did with men on the street, who resembled that of depraved, hungry hounds.

John wasn’t corrupted; behind the lust, there was something more, something too complex to daydream.

“Nonsense.” He persisted, the clothes remaining outstretched. “It’s raining. And you’ve got to walk quite a way, don’t you?”

You leaned your head against the thick wood of the door, unable to spit out another worthy excuse. “Thank you. Really.” With a nod, you took the folded clothing, setting the pieces on the countertop beside you. As he accepted your answer and turned on his heels, you mustered the gut to speak again.

“And, John?” You stepped through the threshold of the door, “if I go home in these clothes, you probably won’t get them back.”

“I’ll keep the dish, then.” This time, he didn’t back away after stepping closer. “Do we have a deal?” His breathing picked up subtly but was noticeable against your face. When faced with his proximity before, you fumbled a mug. But now, you were certain of every ache and desire troubling you.

Whoever leaned in first became a fleeting afterthought. It didn’t matter, not while your mouths and noses clashed together. He was the first to give way, to tilt his head to relieve the pressure on your nose, which allowed him more mobility.

Your knees nearly buckled when his hands cupped your cheeks — how the calloused prints of his fingers felt against the opposing texture of your face. It felt natural; a relief to every urge you’ve stifled from the moment he answered his door.

Before you broke away for air, he removed his lips while still maintaining his tender hold on your face.

“Are you sure about this…?” Price posed, pressing his forehead against yours. You exchanged each other's exhales, cloaking your racing thoughts with a suffocating, dizzy effect.

Still, regardless of your thundering heartbeat and draining lungs — you uttered the quickest yes of your lifetime. This time, you turned your head when lips and teeth clashed, back colliding with the door. Your lips parted as you panted, letting his tongue swipe along your lips, leaving them saturated. His beard audibly scraped against your jaw and down your neck, producing goosebumps as you shivered.

Though his movements weren’t theatrical or jaw-dropping, they left you unable to lose focus. His hands wrapped around the sleeves of the ruined gown, rolling the fabric down while he dropped into a kneel before you.

A need to provide, to satisfy, to satiate. No teases, no dramatics; just utter experience. The only terms you would associate with him currently.

The clingy fabric peeled off like a sticky bandage, peeling to expose the damn stain from cleavage to your pelvis. John’s briefly raised to suckle between your breasts, cleaning off every drop of the tea that had soaked through the discarded dress. Down; sternum to belly button, savoring the small remnants of the sweet cream.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, lips pressed to your lower stomach. His hands moved and kneaded your hips in worship. Despite his face hovering in front of your panties, and how he was actively trailing kisses along your thighs — his voice never changed. Not cloaked with blind lust or hesitation.

Admiration, purely; for you, maybe only your body. But you didn’t care about that — or couldn’t — right now. John was utterly too much, From light conversation to huddling in the restroom, then to being backed against the door. One hand rested on your lower stomach, as a means of keeping your back against the door. The other rolled your undergarments down at a sluggish pace, beard and lips following the falling undies.

Your neck craned down, seeing them fall to your ankles, shortly before the cold breeze hit your exposed core — emanating from the bathroom window left slightly ajar. The muscles in your thighs tense when Price’s tongue finally makes brief contact with it, blown pupils still staring up at you.

His tongue lay flat against your clit for a few moments until saliva rolled down his tongue, allowing him to delve deeper. Further on, he would kiss and suckle on the bundle of nerves, and you were sure your grip on the knob couldn’t have been firmer. Experience truly was the right word to describe him, earlier and now more than ever.

Along your slit, he plunged inside, growly breaths vibrating against your sensitivity. Your taste coated his mouth, and your natural scent drove him mad; like no other partner he’d had before.

“Wanna feel you—” Price slurped again, then pulled away to finish, “—clench around my fingers. You want that, sweetheart?” His tongue glistened under the spotty lighting, his buff chest still heavy. He was goddamn distracting in this state, more than he was before.

After a flash of muteness, you nodded your head. As if you could pass up that offer; if it was an offer at all.

True to his word and the desires racing through his head, John slipped his middle finger inside your entrance. Instantly, the appendage glided against the soaked, puffy walls of your cunt, causing him to chuckle with satisfaction.

Even the smallest pump forced a whine from your lips, though you were unsure what you should be pleading for. Tonight, this feeling was already unsurpassed.

“Another, huh? Can’t fuckin’ say no to you, can I?” Next entered his ring finger, the thick digits stretching you out delectably, in ways you could only dream of executing with your own two fingers.

His name slipped out when he curled them against your sweet spot, daring your knees to buckle and send both of you tumbling. His eerily observant nature had him anticipating the sudden weakness, and his other hand holding you in place never once faltered. Finding his shaggy hair, your fingers intertwined with the locks, purely to be holding onto anything of his when you inevitably come undone.

Back to slobbering, his tongue ran laps against your swollen clit, the tip of his nose knocking against it with every pass. Each flick, each thrust making your back arch wildly against the door. And once again, as he anticipated, you ended up clenching around his fingers like he wanted.

So tense, it was any wonder Price was able to keep moving his fingers. His erection pressed against his thigh, the tight denim making him resist the urge to squirm. Oh, how you sounded, how you felt. His years of stamina and strength training will surely be tested once it’s his cock filling you up instead.

The nub throbbed and visibly pulsed when he combined a well-timed lick and curl all at once, plunging you off that cliff of release. Around his head, your thighs clamped tighter than the fingers digging into his scalp. It was clear you’d be reeling this feeling for days to come, probably a climax to forever be unbeaten during your life.

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, your lungs exhausted and working overtime as you sucked in desperate breaths. “Fuck— that was…” You breathed, unable to articulate any one of the feelings assaulting your system.

The leer tugging at the corners of his soaked mouth wasn’t smug, it was pleased; pleasantly. Slowly, he raised himself, holding each side of your face. Price slurred, “You sound lovely when you cum, y’know that?” Before you could lift a finger to answer again, his dangerous tongue swirled around yours, spreading the taste of yourself against your taste buds.

Your sticky inner thighs glided when he blindly led you out of the threshold, collapsing atop you. The frame creaked under the weight of both of you, the mattress now with a crater in the center of it.

“Want you to fuck me, John. Please.” You pleaded between kisses, unconsciously wrapping a leg around his waist for any friction on the mess he caused. The sensitive tip of his cock ached, despite only being rocked against through the thick denim.

As if your sounds of pleasure weren’t divine enough, that fucking word was. Please. So desperate, so distraught. If he had the restraint or the patience, Price might coax a few more begs out of you — but those were the two things he didn’t have currently.

Briefly, his touches ceased when he leaned back. Swiftly unbuckling his belt, he slid out of his jeans and tossed them aside; discarded, now the only clutter in the bedroom. Soaked through his grey briefs, a stain of pre-cum, merely proving how badly he needed you. The same as his jeans, he rid himself of them, erection upright and freed.

Girthy and curved upward a hair, capable of reaching deeper than his fingers. Down his happy trail, which you got a peak of during the first encounter, were his trimmed pubes. The same shade of brown as the hair littering his chest. You examined further, spotting a few prominent veins bound to drive you mad.

Any longer without it, and you were willing to start pawing at him. The stars must’ve been aligned, because pleading wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Spread your legs f’me.” You did, as swiftly as he uttered the command. As wide as comfortable, you exposed the mess of your pussy to him, reflecting off the cool moonlight peaking through his blinds. Glistening and twitching from the first climax, remnants still left around your inner thighs. “Gonna fill you up, fuck you proper, hm? Have you clenching around me?”

As if his fingers weren’t euphoric enough. Gnawing on your bottom lip until it ached, you nodded your head eagerly, hooking an arm around your leg to keep the shaky limb steady.

Price gripped the base of his cock, guiding it toward your entrance. The tip slipped in as smooth as honey, coated in slick and strings of his saliva leftover. With a drenched glide, the rest of him dipped inside, until his pelvis was against yours.

Entirely crammed inside, your head lolled back against the comforter, reeling in the painless stretch of his girth. And how, before the movements began, the natural curve of his cock had him snug against your cervix, kissing all the right places within you. Your fingers trailed downward, beginning to rub circles around your responsive clit, the wet clicks combining with the squelch of his thrusts.

Whatever noises came from you were all-natural and uncontrollable, from a sensual place within you never trespassed. John grunted with every tighten around his length, pumping deeply and with more force. His thoughts earlier rang true, how little restraint you left him with. Already, he could’ve finished inside of you — just from the view of your body alone.

Breasts bouncing, hips jiggling, the sounds of your soaked core, the expression on your face as he got rougher. “Such a good girl, takin’ every inch of me,” his words came out grunts, matching the pace of his jabs.

“You’ll cum for me again, and let me hear those bloody sounds, won’t you? Fuckin’ touching yourself, all needy.” For him, the words acted as a distraction until you came undone for a second time. For you, it enhances your stimulation tenfold — his voice was like nectar, yet it rumbled through the room like thunder.

It mixed with the real thunder outside, which you caught bits of between everything. The rain he said the area was due for, faintly coming down in the distance, and surely headed this way by the time your legs shook.

With a soft nudge, he shimmied closer between your thighs, chest inches from yours, and allowed him to slam against your cervix. Your fingers had gone erratic, desperately teasing the bundle of nerves the closer you got to release.

And John, sure of this, allowed himself to focus on a fraction of his pleasure. You twitched around his length, swallowing every last inch of him. Arousal dribbled from you to the bed, soaking into the navy blue duvet.

When the coil of pleasure began bursting at the seams, his name slipped out again, in between your gasps for oxygen. How his thrusts had turned as sloppy as your fingers, every jerk of his pelvis knocking the wind out of you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, feet hooking under his backside to keep him locked in — as if the thought of stopping had ever crossed his mind.

Thighs quivering like your fingers were, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in his flesh. Yet another string of moans poured out of you, which tipped John over the edge same edge you’d tumbled off twice. His balls contracted while they drained, strings of pearly cum painting you on the inside.

Warmth filled you, from your tummy to your core, his length swimming in his own sloppy release. Your constricted ab muscles slowly eased up as the aftermath of orgasm faded, leaving you breathless and spent. His agape mouth dipped down as he withdrew his softening cock from you slowly, careful to not leave you any more sensitive than you already were.

The kiss distracted you and served as a reminder of what this hookup meant. Not regretful, not meaningless. Something lingered in the air, beyond the smell of sweat and sex.

Though his body begged to collapse atop you and fall fast asleep, you deserved to be taken care of. Price planted a parting kiss on your jaw, making the short trip to the bathroom to grab one of his fresh washcloths.

Silently, you observed his tenderness take over — even though it never left him. With a few featherlike swipes, he wiped away the messy aftermath of arousal, saliva, and cum, disposing of the used towel somewhere in the darkness.

You fought to stay awake, feeling his weight sink beside you once more after some squirming around. Eventually, John successfully got you and himself under the thick comforter, weighted and radiating as much warmth as your bodies. An arm snaked under your head, your back against his chest. The other arm around your waist, keeping you right up against his soft body.

He waited until he saw the rise and fall of your frame, the faint breaths of deep sleep before he decided that was permission enough to do the same.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Insects chirped loudly, enough to stir you awake.

Fresh morning light peaked through the blinds, which had been opened. Through your twitching lids, the intensity made your face scrunch. One hand reached up and rubbed them, while the other palmed beside you.

No sign of your neighbor, if he can have that title after last night.

His side had gone cold, and anything that was askew had been picked up or set back in place. Sitting yourself up, you groaned from hunger and the soreness in your legs. Beside the dresser, were the sweatpants and t-shirt he was going to lend you yesterday. Still neatly folded, placed with care on one of his leather armchairs.

You peeled the comforter off your sticky skin, coated with a layer of sweat from the sunlight on you. Usually overheating would’ve had you lying awake and sizzling, but it was clear that Price had thoroughly tired you out.

In addition to the shirt and pants, he provided a clean pair of boxers — since the ones you came over wearing had been long soiled. And nowhere to be found in the bathroom, where you made your best effort to fix up your appearance.

Aside from the sounds of nature, there was the hum of an appliance when you opened the bedroom door. Down the hall, you passed the dryer; the root of the tumbling sound. Through the small window, was your cherry sundress and underwear, half dry and spinning in circles.

Your bare feet adjusted to the cold wood, taking small, sleepy strides down the hall.

Into the living room, you laid eyes on the shelves around his television. Since you spent most of the visit on the porch, in the kitchen, and obviously the bedroom, you hadn’t had time to inspect this area closely.

Custom-built shelves frame the television. Rustic, meticulous decor placed on them. Some were store-bought, others looked to be souvenirs and memories. Stepping closer, you spotted a few framed photos; four soldiers, with Sharpie written on the corner: 1-4-1.

On the bright side, there is one mystery solved about his past. Military, or SAS, which you spot on their patches. Shuffling along, your gaze sets on the next section. More medals and ribbons, each most likely with their own significance.

Most notably, a plaque displaying his full name and title: Capt. Jonathan Price.

Another mystery solved. Why he had been so observant, so skilled at asking his questions. It all began to make sense, especially the closer you examined the relics. With a slight hm, you decided it best to stop snooping on the man’s possessions and continue your search for him.

No sign of Zeus in the house either, which isn’t shocking since he’s practically sewn to John’s hip.

Through the kitchen you go, finally picking up on the faint voice outside. Through the window overlooking the copper sink, you see Price tending to the herbs you pointed out the previous day, seemingly making conversation with his canine.

You continue on, opening the creaky patio door and shutting it behind you. You walk along the stained wood deck, rounding the corner. He’s in the middle of kneeling down, meticulously planting another herb or seasoning for his mini-garden.

“Looking good, Captain.” You startle him slightly, leaning a shoulder against the paneling of the cabin.

Price’s head perks up, snapping to the side at the sudden sound. And Zeus predictably treks over for your undivided attention, and you’re unable to refuse. The golden walks beside you when you approach further, and John gets to his feet with a small grunt.

“Snooping again, are we?” His lips curl into a harmless smile, dirt-covered fingers playing with the backs of your hands.

You shrug your shoulders, unable to conceal the feelings of fluster. Being put on the spot was something you’d have to get used to, that’s for sure. “Maybe I was. Just a little bit.”

“Careful now, sweetheart.” His voice molds into that of a superior, which you hadn’t heard from him yet. Was it twisted how much it excites you? Price continued, “or I might have you calling me Captain from here on.”

With a light scoff, you muster the last bits of confidence left in you.

“Is that a promise?”

♡‧₊˚✧˖° divider cred. - cafekitsune

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one. 

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse. 

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this. 

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous. 

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you. 

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared. 

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment. 

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips. 

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him. 

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this. 

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No. 

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace. 

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive. 

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s. 

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour. 

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is. 

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news. 

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open. 

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors. 

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place. 

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind. 

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice. 

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you. 

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want. 

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him. 

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors. 

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings. 

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him. 

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place. 

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock. 

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips. 

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head. 

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams. 

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version. 

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him. 

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan. 

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new. 

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration. 

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably. 

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute. 

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both. 

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point. 

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information. 

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling. 

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more. 

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so. 

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious. 

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema. 

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day. 

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you. 

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him. 

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home. 

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head. 

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm. 

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet. 

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference. 

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt. 

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love. 

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels. 

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go. 

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted. 

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick. 

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval. 

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch. 

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again. 

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited. 

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk. 

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too. 

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done. 

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south. 

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral. 

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you. 

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants. 

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver. 

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive. 

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens. 

But it is a surprise when he lets go. 

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer. 

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Not immediately, at least. 

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself. 

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him. 

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first. 

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away. 

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.” 

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch. 

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you. 

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal. 

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you. 

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night. 

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away. 

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you. 

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him. 

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more. 

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you. 

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you. 

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure. 

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot. 

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible. 

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t. 

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him. 

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.” 

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to. 

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps. 

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before. 

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning. 

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you.  Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you. 

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up. 

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom. 

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept. 

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change. 

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

[dabisqueen]

virgin call

Incubus!Dabi x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 5.7K

⇢ plot: unknowingly, you summon an Incubus. Just smut, no plot.

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, the reader is a bit under the influence of incubus aphrodisiacs, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, deep throatpie, oral (f receiving), size kink, belly bulge, cum kink, breeding (kink), loss of virginity, mentions of blood, kind of consensual unprotected sex (maybe dubcon)  an*l sex, overstimulation, multiple creampies, double-dick

⇢ personal note: it just came over me because an anon mentioned this… thank you! Submitted to the "ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔰" collab by @/nymphoheretic

Thanks to @/blankexpressions-and-falsefires for being my beta again– you're my writing-soulmate! 😘

Your attempt at conjuring a spirit went– let's just say, it was pretty unspectacular. After having set up everything, and singing the summoning chant—

—nothing happened. 

So here you find yourself kneeling on the floor, trying to scratch the spilled wax off the cheap linoleum tiles with your chalk and salt-stained fingers. The only thing spectacular about this summoning is the mess it had produced.

If only you had summoned a cleaning spirit.

You sigh. It is just another sign pointing to your miserable life. This project has been a disaster– like everything else in your life. You have no friends, can't keep a single plant alive in your apartment, only have a low-paying job as a cashier and—

—you're still a virgin at age 22. 

So much for not being pathetic. 

You exhale in frustration, finally managing to clean up everything and pull the faded rug back into its place.

After disposing of the remnants of your failed invocation, you take a quick shower and go to bed. Turning off the light of the crooked bedside lamp, you sink your head onto your pillow and close your eyes.

So precious. I want to make you mine.

You sit up in bed, taking several heaving breaths, sleep still fogging your brain as the echoes of that voice continue to linger in your ears. Confusion washes over you as you come to realize that it's night and you are in your room, having just woken from a dream.

So sweet—

That low sultry voice speaks again, close to your ear– and you jolt. You swear you can feel the warmth of a breath on your skin. You spin, panic rising in your stomach. Yet, as you look around you, the full moon outside only casts its dim light on the scarce pieces of furniture that you own. 

There is no one in the room with you and no evidence that there ever has been. Still, you swear you heard a voice. After your beating heart calms down again, you convince yourself that it was just a vivid illusion, caused by your earlier attempts at spiritualism. You lay down, tucking yourself in again for the night, until sleep finally takes over.

It starts like feathers on your skin, traveling up your exposed arms, your inner thighs. It makes you squirm in your sheets when more of them trail up your naked stomach, tracing the fullness of your breasts before grazing your hardening nipples. They feel like fingers, dozens of them, sliding over your body, making you squirm in your bed, an unknown heat starting to settle in your core. 

The fingers are reaching for you, their tips ghosting over the skin of your naked body. These sensations take over your mind when they start running over the points of your body that are most sensitive, concentrating their effort on heightening your growing pleasure. You feel wetness pool in your underwear, dripping down your thighs. 

You can barely process these sensations, your mind lagging, clouded. All these fingers on your skin– you are overwhelmed by how good it feels, each touch more intense than the next. They graze over your nipples again, perking them into sensitive little nubs while you get wetter and wetter. It is so much that the pleasure converges, sparks starting to ignite in your core. 

The fingers continue to touch — so eager on your skin, heightening every little jolt of pleasure. A little shock runs down your spine and you whimper. This feels too real as if it isn't a dream at all. You are so close. If only a few more minutes—

Do you want to cum?

The voice is there again. Too taken up by pleasure, your mind is starting to float somewhere above your body, far away. You writhe and gasp between moans, “Yes.”

The voice chuckles. The fingers intensify their ministrations and you arch. 

What will you do for me to fulfill this wish?

You are succumbing to a fog of heavy desire. Before your pleasure peaks into a white-hot light, you scream, “Everything!”

You wake up, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body, the afterglow of your orgasm still rippling through you, making your soaked pussy throb. Your heart is pounding loudly in your ears

Yet, not solely from the pleasure– it's also from the feeling that something is off.

A dark, silky voice breaks through the darkness– the same voice that spoke to you in your dreams.

"Did you enjoy that?"

Your eyes widen, the mental fog clinging to you slowly dissipating. As they adjust to the darkness, you see him standing at the side of your bed. He is strikingly handsome, sensually carnal. His great black wings unfurl and span the width of your small apartment. Patches of gnarled purple skin adorning his face and body are complemented in color by horns protruding from the top of his head, nestled amidst inky black windstrewn hair.

But his most breathtaking feature isn't the wings or the horns. It is his piercing blue eyes that seem to glow in the darkness. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver up your spine. That and the fact that he is–

–completely and shockingly naked.

Your gaze drops instantly, yet not without having peeked at his massive flaccid cock, hanging heavy and thick between his thighs.

He tilts his head down at you imperiously, his lips upturning in a mockery of a smile. "Like what you see?"

You gasp and blink, trying to ignore the rising blush on your face. He steps closer, smirking down at you, looking every bit sinful. He radiates such sexual confidence that it has you taking shallow breaths, chills of pleasure arise in your body as wetness resumes pooling in your underwear. 

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you try to ignore your body's reaction, mumbling dazedly. "Who are you?"

He tilts his head, drawing attention to the set of horns on his head. You stare as piercing blue eyes take you in. "You summoned me, sweetheart. You should know."

His seductive, low voice surrounds you, floats through you, and seeps into your brain.

"I w-what?" You ask, dumbly. 

He just smirks. It takes you a moment to realize what he is saying. But then it hit you.

The conjuring.

"I didn't think that—" Blinking slowly, you stare at him. "I mean, I wanted to summon a spirit— not a demon."

“You don’t even know what you’ve invoked, do you, little human?” He purrs, his husky voice so pleasing to hear.

“N-no,” you admit.

He moves faster than you anticipate, the mattress dipping under his weight as he suddenly hovers above you. 

"Sweetheart, when a virgin is calling a spirit, you know there's only one creature answering her calls." His face aligns beside yours, his lips brushing the rim of your ear as he whispers, "An incubus."

Your heart races a million miles a minute as you clench your thighs to suppress the throb between them.

"And now that I am here," he straightens up and grins down at you devilishly, "I'll have you take responsibility for stirring up a thirsty one."

The way his voice sounds through you causes your core to pound with pleasure. Goosebumps rise on your skin and even more wetness pools in your panties. A sinful moan rips from your mouth as he chuckles, low and seductive. 

“What is happening to me?” You ask.

“You're in the presence of an incubus. Your body is reacting–" He tilts his head, deep azure irises tracing the features of your face. “Cause it knows it's mine."

“It's– I'm not…" you whisper, clenching your thighs in an attempt to keep the heat at bay.

"Aw, little thing," A low chuckle rumbles through his chest. "There's nothing you can do about it.”

You slowly scramble backward in an attempt to get away from him– until suddenly you can't go any further and your back is pressed against the headboard. 

His smirk never breaks as the demon moves, one large, claw-tipped hand closing in on you. You inhale sharply as it hooks under the seam of your shirt, pulling it down and taut– before you hear the fabric rip. His claws keep slicing your shirt to pieces across your front, making your breasts spill out.

"You will only come for me," he muses, "on my cock, from now on."

Oh god… 

You have no thoughts, the chill of the cool air drifting over your skin making your nipples bud up. You suck in a sharp breath, another surge of heat rippling through your body.

"I fulfilled my part of the bargain, now it's your turn—” his eyes rake down your body like a caress, stopping at the point where your legs converge. "You will be bred, filled with my seed."

Despite the ominous threat, you can't help a moan from bubbling up your throat, your pussy throbbing at his words. 

“I-I don't want that!” You stammer, swallowing thickly.

“Oh doll, your body is telling me otherwise.” he chuckles, deep blue eyes twinkling. “You're aroused just by the thought of it. I can smell your slick, feel the heat of your cunt.”

Oh boy is he right.

He moves close and, looking down at you, leans forward, one hand supporting his weight on the side of your body while the other traps your jaw underneath his clawed fingers, propping it up, forcing you to make eye contact with him. The sharp horns crowning his head loom over you and block out the dim light of the moon, making the demon's eyes gleam. 

"You will beg–" You can see his azure irises swirl, drawing you in, "–beg me to fill you up, over and over again."

At his words, the ache in your core grows even more intense. Your pussy pulses with desire, releasing another surge of slick. You feel it dripping out and down your ass while he chuckles deeply.

"N-No—" You lie– obviously.

An unreadable expression crosses his face, then he gives you a wicked smirk before he dips down, hovering his mouth over yours.

"Oh, you will…" You can feel his hot breath fanning your lips, seeping into your lungs like an aphrodisiac.

You inhale deeply, his scent intoxicating. It has your blood buzzing in your veins and brings a pleasurable fog rolling into your head until it spins. Your pupils start to dilate, the heat inside your core burns unlike anything you have ever felt before and a deep moan erupts from you. Totally delirious, you can't stop the drool from spilling past the corners of your mouth, your core getting wetter by the second. 

You realize that you want this– you want this so badly. His presence, his scent, his voice… all about him just makes you feel pleasure– yet you want to feel more than that. You want to feel everything. It's then you know that he owns you.

“Please…" you moan.

"Please what?" Knowingly, his soft lips brush yours, sending fiery-hot sparks through your body.

"Please pleasure me." You sob, desperately.

He sits back on his heels, smirking, the cock between his thighs now fully erect. You blink as you stare at it. It is huge, the thick crown of it a reddish hint, leaking so much precum, it trickles down its underside, dripping onto the sheets.

“Come here.” He crooks his fingers.

Part of you wants to fight it– the pull you feel toward him. But your body reacts on its own, crawling –no– gravitating toward him without conscious thought. He palms the erection standing proud and stiff between his legs while watching you from above, eyes heavy with lust. His free hand rises to wrap around your throat. 

“Open.” He demands, the other hand holding the base of his thick cock.

Obediently, you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue. The head of his cock, hot and heavy, slips between your lips and sits thick on your wet muscle. 

“Close.” He growls and you do, wrapping your lips around him. 

The incubus' scent is intoxicating down here, the taste of his precum delicious and salty. Without conscious thought, your eyes flutter shut as your tongue swirls around his cockhead, greedily dipping into the slit. 

The demon grits his teeth, baring his canines. His hands go to the sides of your head, long fingers tangling into your hair to shove you down his shaft. A whine rips from your throat and you gag the first time his cock touches the back of your throat.

“Suck it,” he commands, tilting his head.

You raise your hazy eyes, misted by tears, to see the demon staring down at you with hungry eyes while his hips start to move forward and back slowly, restlessly.

He's gentle, yet commanding and you love it. You've never felt so wanted or needed. With your lips coated in a mixture of precum and spit, he starts thrusting forward harder now, his clawed hands holding you in place. Each time you sink even further down on his cock, swallowing every inch that fits into you. 

He goes deeper with each thrust, making sure his size hits the back of your throat every time. And even though you're being painfully stretched, all you feel is pleasure, delicious and intense, and a pooling between your legs. Still, the incubus gazes down at you with a frown, despite your best efforts.

“You can do better,” he coaxes. "Relax."

With that, he bucks his hips forward, holding them there, as you gag and sputter around his length. His grip on your hair tightens, and with a final desperate breath of air, you relax your jaw and his cock slips into your throat with ease.

“Such a good girl,” the demon purrs as your nose grazes the unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock, your throat bulging.

Tears spill down your cheeks as he starts moving again, the wet slap of his constant thrusting filling the otherwise quiet room. 

With his slow yet steady rhythm, you get used to his length sliding into you, learning how to breathe despite his intrusion. 

“You’re taking me so well.” His brilliant turquoise eyes gaze down at you, your throat tightening around him at his praise.

Your lips stretch around the thick girth of his cock while warm spit dribbles from your mouth and covers your chin, building a sticky mess at the base of his cock. Your fingers grasp uselessly at his thigh while he uses you to chase his high. In that moment, he, his scent, and his heat become your very essence.

Looking up at him from beneath wet lashes, you distantly feel his thrusts becoming more erratic, turning into a rough grinding in your mouth, when he orders. “Now, swallow.” 

It takes one, two thrusts before he stills, the obscene bulge in your throat proof of how deep he is buried inside of you. You don't taste it, just feel him spill his hot seed down your throat. His cock continues to twitch, unloading into you, filling your belly until you feel it stretch obscenely.

“Take it like the good girl you are," he purrs, "Take all of my cock.”

You obediently do, struggling not to gag around him, trying to take short shallow breaths through your nose.

Eventually, his cock slides heavily out of you, leaving a glistening string of saliva and cum connecting you. Sputtering and coughing, you try to catch your breath. The demon looks at you before one hand comes up to cradle your head, the other brushing soothingly over your hair. “You've done so well for me, little human.”

His thumb trails over your chin, wiping the drool off before he dips down, kissing your cheeks, lapping up all the salty tears that wet your face.

"Ah– virgin tears are so delicious," the incubus croons. 

You let out a soft sob, leaning into his touch before he retreats, taking you in with glowing blue eyes and you shiver at the hunger you see in them.

Without warning, his mouth crashes on yours, hungry and demanding. He knows what he's doing– devouring your lips– and you can't help but moan, making his hot wet tongue slip into your mouth. The fire in you keeps burning as you lean into him, his lips dancing against yours. One hand raises to the side of your face, his fingers curl into your hair, angling your face to meld your lips deeper against his. He kisses with so much fervor now that he almost consumes you. You shudder against his kiss, your mind heavily clouded and you moan into his mouth, making him groan. He releases you, pulling back.

“Fuck, you’re too delicious." His eyes glow bright, filled with lust. "Now, it's time to fill you up, my little human." 

His palm lays flat on your chest and he pushes you back until you drop on the mattress. He eyes your heaving breasts hungrily before leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly, then soothing over it with his tongue. 

“Oh God,” You let out a choked breath, half delirious.

"You can just call me Dabi." The demon chuckles against your skin, his scorching tongue swirling around your nub.

He casts you a darkly amused look and continues his ministrations until you are a writhing mess underneath him. Slithering down your body, his large hands grip your thighs and shove them further apart. He nuzzles your inner thighs, closing his eyes to inhale the scent of your arousal.

“Doll, who knew– you're at your peak.” His dark eyes rise to your face and he gives you a sharp smile. “My seed is gonna take perfectly.”

You pant heavily as he hooks a claw through the top of your panties and, pulling down,  slices the fabric open, his eyes drifting to your exposed cunt. Dabi licks his lips and with a pleased purr, he bends his head, sliding his raspy tongue along your folds. It's hot and wet, as he gathers your slick on it, tasting your reaction to him before he fastens his mouth over it to suck at your soaked pussy.

You nearly keen off the bed, mouth falling open in a gasp of shocked pleasure, writhing in his firm grip. Dabi keeps tasting you, licking from the source of your heat all the way up to your clit, sucking your tender bud into his mouth as you squirm on the bed. 

You whimper and squeeze your eyes shut– but all of a sudden, the sensation is gone, replaced by a sharp sting as Dabi spanks your clit. 

“Eyes on me, doll,” the demon growls, baring his teeth.

Your eyes instantly shoot open, not wanting to disappoint– and a satisfied smirk spreads across his face.

"Good girl," he intones huskily, running his hand soothingly over your hips.

His voice is lust-saturated, sending hot arousal pooling in your gut, making your body thrum with need. It is a feeling you've never felt before. His eyes never leave yours as he drags the flat of his tongue up and down your core before nibbling and sucking at your over-sensitive nub. His palms trail up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing them, like he's anchoring himself. Taking your nipples between his claw-tipped fingers, he rolls them between them, as he starts alternating between sucking and lapping at your swollen clit. 

You are so overstimulated, the pleasure you feel a mix of ecstasy and agony. You sob and beg– yet your pleas go ignored. Dabi continues eating you out, sending desire running down your spine and pooling in your core. You start bucking into his face, needing more of this. Then a white heat flares up in your core and your thoughts are cut off by the force of your orgasm. You can't stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your skull, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan as the blinding pleasure rips through your body like lightning. The incubus pulls back to look down at the mess he made of you, how you lay below him, your body slick with sweat. Pleasure still rolls through your limbs, fogging your brain and vision and you barely register the demon as he hovers above you, 

"I'm gonna fuck you until my cock is the only thing you can think of." His words send shivers up your spine.

You can't suppress it, your body wants just one thing– him. Your legs fall open, sinfully, and he slowly slots his body between your thighs, a claw-tipped hand running affectionately over your hair. He dips down, eagerly latching his lips on the pulsating vein on your neck, and pleasure floods your limbs, making it seep out of you. You feel his warmth pressed against you as he starts to gather your essence on his shaft. He grinds his hard dick against your swollen folds, mixing it with the copious amounts of precum that leak from his tip. 

“This pussy– this body– they are mine,” he growls against your skin. "I'm gonna breed you now, claim you as mine." 

"Dabi, please—" you sob, writhing in heat below him., "I-I can't."

"Yes, you can, my little human," he looks down at you with cerulean-colored eyes, "And you will."

A moan breaks from your lips, becomes a shudder as the pleasure intensifies with him thrusting along your folds now, spreading precum all over you. The endorphins flooding your system heighten your desires, overwhelming your doubts, and the urge to have his massive cock deep inside you becomes unbearable. 

As if he can read your mind, he purrs, lazily, “Want my cock?”

"Yes please–" you whine, needily. 

"How badly?" His voice is seductive, low, and husky.

"I need it!" It feels like you're burning up inside.

You gasp heavily when his hands sneak around your hips, pulling you up to align his throbbing cock at your entrance.

Dabi's smoldering blue eyes snap up to meet yours. "Are you ready to be bred?"

Part of you still screams no, yet your body desires otherwise. Your core is dripping, the sheets below you soaked. Your skin is hot, sweaty, and sensitive– and it feels like molten lava flows through your veins. You need him inside of you. It feels like a deeply seeded instinct to have this man– this demon– fill you up. Through teary eyes, you look at him. Dabi is so incredibly breathtaking– his chiseled features and captivating aura, his piercing blue eyes that are trained on you. 

"Please, fuck me." You sob deliriously. "Fill me up."

"Good girl." The demon chuckles, his posture dominating as he begins pushing his hips forward.

The bulbous head of his dick presses against your passage before it pops in. You cry out, the stretch of his girth immense. Dabi quickly hits resistance but with another quick roll of his hips, it gives. Your cries turn into desperate moans as the demon keeps shoving himself further inside, slowly disappearing inside of you, inch by inch. His massive cock spreads you apart, forcing your walls outward. The stretch feels amazing and you can't stop yourself from succumbing to the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure all in one. The second he bottoms out, you almost pass out.

"Ah– virgin pussy is simply the best," he groans, watching how your eyes roll back, his cock outlined in your tummy as your pussy keeps quivering around him.  

After a few much-needed moments for you to adjust to his size, he pulls out. He looks down watching how his cock comes out, covered in your slick mixed with the color of crimson. Nudging the tip at your entrance, he spears into you with one swift thrust and you cry out again. The sudden sensation of being filled sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He’s so big, so long and thick– the feeling so intense. The demon smirks at your reaction and starts to thrust into you now, drawing sweet cries of pleasure from your mouth as you writhe beneath him. 

“Such a fine cunt.” he inhales a sharp breath from between gritted teeth. “All mine.”

Your pussy is dripping onto his dick, lubricating it as he fucks you– hard, deep strokes that bring you closer and closer. You keep tightening up around him with each move, pleasure and pain wrecking your body and mind. 

Dabi’s face moves close to yours, as he stares at you with lust and hunger, a predatory smirk on his lips that makes your belly churn. Every thrust is so delicious, amazing. You want more. Your incubus keeps whispering dirty nothings about breeding you, punctuating his words with powerful thrusts, all while his essence keeps sloshing around in your belly. 

It's so obscene—

—yet so good.

He’s still sneering down at you when the tension builds up so high that you can’t take it anymore. It bursts, sending waves of pleasure shooting through you. Dabi continues to pound into you, your eyes rolling back, your walls clenching up around his cock again.

The incubus hisses, feeling you tighten around him. He keeps pleasuring your puffy cunt, balls slapping against your butt every time he sinks in, impossibly deep. The grip on your hips tightens, sharp claws digging into your flesh, piercing through skin until small drops of blood appear. But you're too out of it to feel pain– you just feel bliss.

Lifting your ass, his cock starts stroking along a spot inside of you that has your vision turn white. Dabi seems delirious as he stares down at where you both are connected. The wet sounds of him drilling into your pussy fill the room as he keeps impaling you on his cock over and over again. The little brain you have left working properly knows you’re a mess below him— drool running down your cheeks, tears cascading down your temples, dampening the pillow beneath you. And yet here he is, smirking down at you with no sign of exhaustion at all. It's quite the opposite to you– he seems to glow, a blue aura surrounding him that seems to flicker around his body and wings like caressing flames.

His hands slide to your thighs, pushing your legs back against your shoulders. You feel him slide his cock insanely deep, deeper than before– in a way that didn't seem possible. Each stroke into your convulsing hole is more intense, pouring more overwhelming sensations into your body. You’re moaning obscenely, with your insides stuffed impossibly full. 

"I'm going to cum, precious." He warns. "Gonna fill you up. Are you ready?"

"Yes!" You moan needily.

"Yes, what?" He asks again.

"Come inside of me," you gasp for breath, struggling to think clearly, "Fill me up and breed me!"

"Good girl." He growls sensuously, sultry and low. "Gonna fuck my seed into you—"

He thrusts deeply one more time, and you shatter into a million pieces. Your pussy clamps down on his length almost painfully, milking him, and the incubus hisses. His wings extend fully, spanning the width of your small apartment bedroom as he throws his head back in ecstasy. His cock seems to swell before he releases rope after rope of his thick hot cum into your waiting womb. 

"Ah yes," he groans. "Take it all— carry my offspring."

You hear his words but they're drowned by your pleasure, unable to comprehend the consequences of them. You are too far gone, head lolling and drool dripping from your mouth. Dabi stays buried inside you, copious amounts of cum pooling out at the base of his cock. The blue glow emanating from his body intensifies from all of the energy he's drained from you. You feel him, still hard, still ready for more and it sends sparks shooting in your brain.

"That's gotta do it," your incubus leans down to whisper against your ear, "But better to be safe than sorry, right?"

And with that, Dabi grabs you by your hips and flips you over. One hand clutches your neck to press your head into the sheets, the other lifts your ass up. Between one heartbeat and the next, he is looming over you. In your lust-fogged mind, you feel the heat of not just one but two dicks as he rubs them along your seam, coating himself in the ample mixture of your slick and his release. 

"W-what…" you murmur, exhausted, face half buried in your sheets.

"Didn't know incubi could change form, huh?" He intones and you feel the pressure at your holes increase.

"Dabi—" you whine and try to wiggle your ass away from him. "It won't fit—"

He grips your hips, holding you in place, dwarfing you in your attempt to get away from him. Your breathing stutters as you tense up.

"Shh, doll, it's ok," Dabi soothes in his deep voice. It causes your pussy to quiver in anticipation despite the fear lacing your mind.

He dives forward, his canines grazing against the supple skin of your neck before he shifts closer to your ear and whispers, "Relax and give yourself to me."

At his words, you allow yourself to loosen up and he begins to press himself against you in earnest. With a grunt, he breaches your virgin asshole while his lower cock slides into your gaping pussy. You cry out in an exquisite mix of pleasure and pain and your hips flex in his hold. He holds you there, keeps you stretched around the fattest part of his cockhead, while you bite into your bedsheets, tears breaching your lash line. 

Slowly, you get used to the stretch and the pain gradually changes into something else, something more pleasurable. Then, with one swift thrust, he drives himself fully into you, sheathing his two cocks into you at once. It sends tremors throughout your body before another rush of endorphins hits you like a wave. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, and you moan his name as he withdraws and pushes into you again. 

Dabi sets a demanding pace, and all you can do is fist the sheets as he rides you, pumping both dicks into you with vigor. The way he fills you feels obscene, his two cocks hitting you so deep. He's hitting spots that feel more amazing than anything you've felt before. You can feel the pressure building inside you and arch, pushing back into him. His pace quickens, and he fucks you with such force the bed creaks. This would normally concern you– if your brain were properly functioning.  

"Your holes feel so perfect, little one," he groans, as he pulls out and drives into you again, hard, turning your whimpers into broken moans. "The best ones I've ever had–"

Your brain is shut down, little hiccups escaping you as your body moves solely on instinct. On lust. Another gush of slickness gets you even wetter, the messy slick sounds of your holes sucking him in echoing through the room. His hands close in on your neck, pressing you down as he pumps into you, your ass clenching around him as your pussy tightens around his cock. Your cheeks burn, your mouth opens in a silent moan and in the back of your head, you feel a powerful orgasm building.

"I'm gonna cum, doll." Dabi groans.

He lightly circles your swollen clit with the tip of his clawed finger, pushing you beyond a point you've never been before. With his next thrust, you feel your core convulse with a force unbeknown to you. Your mouth opens in a silent cry, no longer able to speak as the pressure throbbing between your legs releases and you feel yourself come undone. Clear liquid gushes from your core and drips onto the sheets below. Dabi lets out a low growl when he reaches his climax, driving himself in to the hilt, pumping his cum into your pussy and asshole. Your belly starts pudging outwards as his burning hot release floods your insides and you topple over the edge yet again, your holes milking his cocks for all their seed. His pace staggers and slows until eventually, he pulls out, glancing down to scrutinize the mess dripping out of your two holes onto the drenched mess of your bed sheets.

"I have to admit," he pants, the corners of his lips quirking up, "You're the best I've ever had."

He finalizes his statement with another solid plow forward. 

For the rest of the night, the incubus plays with your body, making you cum until you lose count of how many times he shattered your world. Your holes are left creamy and white from every load he unleashes into you. Your eyes are stuck permanently in the back of your head from the constant pleasure wrecking your body. Your brain is non-functional, and your body is completely and utterly overwhelmed by the sheer number of times you came. The sun is just beginning to rise when he finally retreats and you slump bonelessly onto the bed, your entire body aching. The sheets beneath you are drenched with your sweat and your combined release. Dabi watches you intently, alternating between stroking your hair and your cheek. His wings come to shelter your body, their warm leathery skin gently caressing your form. 

"You did well for me, little one." Leaning over you, his lips brush your ear as he croons seductively into your ear, "I think, I will take you with me. I sense that my seed has taken and I can’t bear to part with such a perfect little human."

You should be upset over these final words, retaliate against their implications. Yet all you feel is drowsiness and absolute bliss. Being filled with his warm essence, your lips pull up into a soft, satisfied smile and your eyes slip closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

Careful What You Wish For

Sodo/Dewdrop Ghoul x fem!Reader Smut

W/C: 3560

A/N: Never been more mesmerized in my life then when I went to my first ritual... Unashamedly staring at this fucking ghoul all night. Thank you @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus for reading this first 💕

Content warnings: sodomy (obviously, which ghoul do you think this is?) m!receiving (oral), fingering, P in V sex, shame/embarrassment, voyeurism. Minors DNI.

“Straight through there, sister, you can’t miss it.” You received an unceremonious shove from Sister Adelaide. After catching yourself on the railing you continued down the curving stone stairwell alone. Your footsteps scuffed along the ice cold, ancient grey stone. 

It was freezing in the basement of the ministry, and you wished silently that the good Sister had allowed you to dress properly before she dragged you out of your shared bedroom. All you wore was a black night slip, and though it easily reached to your knees, its lace and satin offered no solace from the nipping, stale air. With no relief from the cold, all you prayed for was that you wouldn’t run into anyone down here. 

Finally, you reached the base of the stairs. A single black candle glowed from its head-level position on the wall. You squinted at it, considering it an omen, telling you not to go further. You peered out into the distance, feeling lost already. You can’t miss it my ass. You made a mental note to “thank” the Sister later for her astute direction. 

Suddenly, the first long corridor was lit instantaneously by a long trail of wall-mounted candelabras. It provided the only light source as you tiptoed along. The soft, yellow light carried you forth to meet a wooden door. You pushed it open with ease and were met with black darker than night. 

You stumble blindly forward through a series of black velvet curtains. Once you step through the first one, your heart kicks up in rhythm, the light seemingly sucked out of the hallway behind you and the door falling closed on its hinges with a creak. 

You take three more less-than-graceful steps and shove through one final curtain to find yourself in a dark room, lit by dim blue ambient light. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust, and you take a quick stock of your surroundings: a dark chaise lounge, in what color you couldn’t identify, a dark multi-patterned rug on the floor, and in the corner at an angle facing you, a large armchair. You sucked in a breath quickly. The armchair had an occupant. 

Is that…

Your thought was interrupted swiftly as the ghoul in the chair adjusted his posture, spreading his legs in a wide, almost lazy, “v” shape. The only sounds in the room were the distant hymnal voices in practice above ground, and the thrumming beat of your own heart. Your pulse pounded in your ears. You felt your hands become clammy. 

You studied the ghoul as your eyes continued to adjust to the dark room. But you were torn: adrenaline begging through your veins for you to flee, and curiosity ever edging your instincts out of the picture. 

As if sensing your thoughts, he moved again to stir your attention. His left elbow came to rest on the tuft of the chair, and he tilted his head as he rested it on his pale hand. 

His hands. 

You didn’t notice how his right hand had been sitting on his covered thigh, but now you couldn’t look away. His thumb was rubbing back and forth slowly, and even in the low light you recognized his tendons and veins as he flexed. You’d know those hands that belong to your favorite ghoul anywhere. His hands were imprinted on your mind like an unholy relic.

“Sodo.” Your voice was hardly audible, a mere breath coasting over your realization.

The fire ghoul said nothing, instead shifting from the disinterested position he was in to a commanding one, sitting straight backed against the chair. Your eyes found themselves watching his right hand again, as he slowly moved it from his thigh to be outstretched. He made a come here motion using two long fingers. Slowly, sensually beckoning you forth.

Your mouth went dry as the dirty thoughts regarding his fingers snaked their way up from your loins to leech into your brain. You obeyed. It wasn’t like you to disobey any member of the clergy. Especially not a member of the clergy who you’ve got it so bad for.

You timidly close the gap between you two. No words are needed in the exchange, but you size him up anyway. Sodo wears his mask, and he is covered from head to toe in his black uniform, the only exception of exposure being his perfect hands.

He pointed to the cushion at his feet and you kneel in submission. A perfectly obedient daughter of the ministry following the clergy.

“Wha -”

Where your question was going, you forgot immediately, as an old television screen turned on to the right of you. You jumped at the sudden addition of light and crackling sound, shrinking back in temporary trepidation. 

How strange.

It was a video monitoring of what looked to be the inside of the dark wooden confession box. 

Wait. Something’s -

The metal and heavy cloth sounds of the curtain moving made your stomach drop. You watched in horror as you, well, past you, entered the confession booth and sat down. 

You heard the unmistakable words of Papa Emeritus IV. “My child, what makes you appear at such an hour? Have you come to confess what plagues your mind and body?”

“I have. It has been one week since my last confession.”

You knew what was coming next.

“Come, my child, speak what unsettles you, let it weigh on your heart no longer.”

Utterly embarrassed, you tilted your head down to hide your shame at the impending admission coming from your past self. But then, you felt a strong, cold hand grip your jaw, forcing your face up to watch in horror, reliving the moment in confession you had after having one too many glasses of wine at dinner. 

“Last night I pleasured myself with the sinful thoughts of a brother…”

“Dio miserabile young sister!”

You bit your lip, both in the camera footage and presently. You had forgotten how Papa Emeritus IV had reacted so outwardly to your admission of guilt. After a pause, he spoke again. “Sister?”

“Yes, Papa?”

“Tell me which one of our pious brothers has turned your thoughts in such a devious way.”

“Uh…” You trailed off, your voice in the recording was meek, you sounded so utterly pathetic.

“Sister? I could just guess if that would make it easier for you.”

You winced at how pitiful it was that he had to coax it out of you. You watched, willing your past self to keep her stupid mouth closed, but of course she didn’t.

“It was… brother Dewdrop.”

“I see.”

In the room you thought you heard Dewdrop make a noise deep in the back of his throat, like a groan. Your attention quickly went back to the video, eyes never leaving the screen as made possible by the ghouls grasp on your face. There was a long-lasting pause, one that made your stomach tighten with the knowledge of what you were about to admit in that wooden box.

“Describe it, my child, you’ll feel better once you get it out.”

In the video you sighed deeply before continuing, “In my thoughts he was fingering me, using two, then three fingers inside me to make me come. Then I got down on my knees for him and serviced his cock, taking it in my hands and mouth.”

You stopped breathing. The sound of your blood rushing in the pulse near your ears drowning out the words coming through the screen.

“Continue.” Came the deep, accented voice of the Papa.

“Then I imagined I was in his lap, and he let me use his cock for my own pleasure. I fucked myself on top of him. Forgive me, please forgive me, I beg of you.” The video cut then, leaving you reeling. 

Speaking such depraved filth in confession was mortifying enough, but knowing the ghoul you were speaking about heard it too was devastating. You were frozen in place in embarrassment. At least, you would have stayed that way had you not noticed Sodo’s breathing changed. 

He had gotten so close to your face while gripping your chin that you could hear his labored breathing. His breaths came in heavy pants from inside his mask, like a predatory animal behind a muzzle.

Part of you wanted to take off his mask, see his devilish eyes, sharp teeth, and his horns for yourself. To let him bite you, mark you, ravage your body with his tongue and teeth. But you knew he’d want to keep it on, and oh how you aimed to please him. 

“Sodo?” Your voice was uncharacteristically quiet as you faced him. His grip did not loosen from your chin while allowing you to move, instead his index finger tapped your cheek in what seemed to be contemplation. What did he want to do with you now? Especially after seeing such a horrific display of lust on your part. You had sounded so desperate, so pitiful in confession. But if he gave you the chance, you’d show him how truly desperate you could be. 

He released your jaw from his hard grasp, placing his hands on each of his tightly clothed thighs. You exhaled soundlessly through your parted lips as he cocked his head to the left side. He sat there silently waiting.

Your voice came out timid at first, “It’s true, all of it. Every second of that tape is the truth.” You then cocked your head to the right, mirroring him while still from your position sitting on the floor. You gained more confidence as you continued, “Though I’m guessing you know that. And you knew I’d come here.” Does that mean that he too - that he could possibly -

Your eyes widened as he tilted his head down towards his lap, then back up to you. Asking you to, what, sit on his lap? 

Fuck waiting to decipher what he meant, you read deeply enough into his vague expression, and you would do anything to get what you wanted. You stood up quickly, his masked head snapping up to follow you intently. However, before you could crawl into his lap, he reached forward and grabbed your hips, spinning you in a half circle so your ass was facing him. He pulled you back to sit down.

You didn’t have time to react, let alone think before he hooked his ankles around the inside of yours, catching your legs with his respectively. Then, he spread your legs wide, earning a sharp inhale of surprise from you as the slip you wore parted salaciously. 

He put his fingers over your mouth and you licked them without thinking. You could swear he made a low, dark sound from behind you. Then he took those fingers and dragged them down the front of your body, tracing down your black garb in identical fashion to his movements during a ritual. He paused right at the hem of your night dress, as it had ridden up. His middle finger hooked under it and pulled it upward, exposing your most upper thighs and your lace black panties.

As his hand moved to cup you through your panties, you shifted your hips back to be more comfortable. You felt his hardness against your rear and felt yourself involuntarily clench around nothing. Fuck. 

You couldn’t help but grind your ass back against him, feeling his hardening cock against you was something you thought you would only ever get to dream of. You just hoped he was enjoying your body as much as you were enjoying his.

He hooked a finger in your panties, pulling and then snapping them back to get your full attention back on what he was doing to you. You gasped at the momentary sharp sting. Satisfied by startling you, he traced the seam of your underwear once more, before dipping a callused finger inside and brushing along your slit. 

You watched him pull his finger away, coated in your arousal, before going back to your heat and ripping your panties off of you, tossing them to the floor. He put his index and middle finger together and repeated the action of touching you. Sodo dragged his rough fingers through your folds and up to your clit. A whine escaped your lips, and his left hand grabbed your chest and pulled you back so you were resting completely against him. It led you to feel his arousal even better under your ass, and you swirl your hips twice to help spur him on.

Without warning, his two fingers plunged into your heat all the way to the third knuckle. You opened your mouth and nothing came out, only silence as you felt his fingers deep within your aching center. His thumb pressed down on your clit, providing the perfect addition of pressure.

His fingers felt as good as you dreamed they would be, so long, and hitting all the places inside you that were drawing you close to the edge already. He worked you in a steady rhythmic pattern, drawing his fingers in and out of you while circling your clit with his thumb. Just from this you knew your own fingers wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you again. 

His left hand moved to your breast, cupping and then pressing his thumb to your already hardened nipple. You knew it was a combination of both the chill from the room and the heat of the moment that caused your nipples to ache against the fabric of your night dress. Sodo used his thumb to circle your nipple through your slip, a mirrored action to his right thumb on your most sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. Fuck. 

Suddenly, you had a feeling of being watched. If there is a camera in the confession box then… maybe… You couldn’t finish the thought, if anything, it spurred you on further. Your head lolled back, resting on the ghouls' hard shoulder as you felt yourself reaching the peak. You had never come so fast before, and you tried to fight it off, but his fingers were like magic on you. He had changed his movements so that his long fingers curled perfectly within you. Each curl of his fingers had your breath hitching and your legs starting to shake. Sodo was a drug you didn’t know you needed and yet could never get enough of.

All the tension that had been building snapped and you came with a broken moan. His fingers never ceased their ministrations, only slowing to help you come down from your high. Soon you were squirming in his lap, the pressure of his calloused thumb on your clit almost painful now. 

Your breath came in heavy shudders, your head still resting on his shoulder, “May I?” You circled your hips against his hardness again to punctuate the question. He made a low sound, moving his legs so they no longer held yours apart. You scooted down to the floor quickly, kneeling on the cushion before the ghoul. He wasted no time pulling his cock out for his black pants, stroking it roughly with his right hand twice before looking at you in expectation. 

Your hands dragged up each of his thighs as you shifted forward. You made a silent vow as you rose up on your knees and lowered your mouth to taste him. If this is the penance that I will pay after confessing my lust, then I’ll be on my knees confessing every night.

You started at the hot tip, swirling your tongue around twice before placing your lips around him and sucking. It wasn’t enough, not for you, and certainly not for him. You grabbed him in your right hand and licked, your tongue wide and flat against the base of his shaft, all the way back up to the tip again before devouring him. Your mouth salivated profusely as you dipped your head down over and over and over again, massaging with your tongue and sucking expertly.

If your cunt wasn’t already wet from fucking his fingers, it would have been soaked just from this. Him allowing you to touch him, to pleasure him, was your salvation. You couldn’t get enough, high off his reactions to you as you changed pace. The way his breath shuddered, the sounds of his nails scratching on the armrests of the chair, it was all incentive for you to keep going and please him better than you had anyone before.

You dipped your head down again, going as deep as you could to take him all the way back in your throat. You breathed through your nose, ignoring your gag reflex, wanting only to pleasure Sodo.

You felt his bony fingers slide through your hair and you kept up your movements until he made a fist and yanked hard. Your lips fell from his cock with a soft pop. As your face moved back a strand of saliva connected your mouth to his erection. You looked up at his expressionless mask again. 

His silence filled the room. And as he patted his thigh in indication for you to get on top of him, it felt like all of the air had been sucked from your chest. You trembled in your kneeling position on the floor, heart fluttering, and rose, not wanting to vex him by wasting precious time. 

You climbed up into his lap like an obedient little pet. The aching within you came to a crescendo as you straddled him, holding onto his shoulders as you centered yourself. You looked into the eyes of the mask, seeing the empty void where his eyes would be. He nodded at you, giving you permission to do exactly as you fantasized about. 

You gripped his cock, still wet with your saliva, and lined him up with your center. You dragged the tip of him through your sensitive folds, wanting to draw the moment out just a little more, before sinking down. Only the tip of his thick cock was inside you and already you felt yourself shivering. You steadied yourself again, grabbing his shoulders as you lowered yourself down agonizingly slow. Taking him for this first time had your cunt burning from the stretch to fit him inside you. 

His cock was long and thick, but you were determined. Inch after inch you sunk down, and once you finally bottomed out, you didn’t miss how his nails scratched the arms of the chair. His head rolled back slightly, and just that provided the evidence that you needed to know he was relishing this moment too. You wondered how it felt for him, imagining that the ghoul was trying not to come just from the feeling of being inside your tight, wet, pussy.

You rose up on your knees, leaving just the head of his cock inside you before pushing back down in a full thrust. Repeating the motion had you lightheaded already, and you could feel the ridges and veins of his throbbing dick rubbing up against your g-spot with every move. One thing was absolutely certain, you were not going to last like this. 

Up and down, up and down, you bucked your hips rhythmically to do exactly what you wanted and fucked yourself on him. You were certain that you held your breath each time you impaled yourself on him, believing that his cock would punch the air from your very lungs if not. The pressure was building again, this time deeper within your core. All the tension was pulling, pulling so tight. Fuck. You wanted to last longer but it was impossible. The feeling of him inside you made that impossible. You gasped, “I’m - I’m going to - Ah!”

A primal sound tore its way out of your throat as you reached your climax. Dewdrops hands grasped possessively at your hips, forcing you to continue to fuck yourself on him through your orgasm. His hands kept you moving steadily on his cock and had you feeling completely overstimulated in seconds. You cried out a series of unintelligible words, the feeling so foreign to you but familiar at the same time. After several more deep, hard thrusts, his cock twitched inside you and you knew he would come soon too. The thought of him coming inside you became your undoing. You came again, screaming his name in praise and adoration and he pulled you down hard one final time before he jerked inside you and you felt his hot load coat your walls. Your pussy still spasmed from your own orgasm, milking him dry.

The two of you sat in silence while you caught your breath. You slid off his lap, wincing slightly as you felt his cock leave your cunt. You stooped to the floor, picking up your torn panties and then fixing your night dress. Straightening up you noticed he had zipped his pants back up and was sprawled lazily in the chair again. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. Is he sleeping?

Before you left the room, a red light amongst the blue caught your eye and confirmed your suspicion from earlier. You were being watched again, just as you had in the confession. You averted your eyes away quickly, not wanting whoever was on the other end to know you had discovered them. Hoping that by doing so, you could have another encounter with Sodo soon if he so wished.

-

... hope that ticked your taints *with love and adoration* (～￣▽￣)～

[elliesmainhoe]

"SUPER GRAPHIC ULTRA MODERN GIRL"

Ellie Williams x Fem!reader

Summary: wasting a friday night on a first dare with a boy you've never met in person was a dumb idea- and suprise! it all goes to shit- but Ellie's there to make sure you have a good time.

Warnings: boys are boring, ellie is hot, suggestive, alcohol, mentions of weed consumption, groping.

WC 500

DAY 2 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

Fuck you were stupid.

You would think at 23 years of age you would have learned to never waste a sacred Friday night on a first date. So here you were, with your hair straight, glittered eyelids, and glossed lips listening to a man you had met on BUMBLE talk about geo politics or some shit- you had stopped paying attention to whatever he was talking about at least an hour ago- or at least it felt like an hour ago.

Downing another shot, and giving the man in front of you a tight smile- “hey wanna dance? I love this song”

“nah- ‘m not a dancer”

Oh for fuck sake- could this get any worse? Your surrounded by loads of hot couples, grinding on each other, the smell of alcohol, sex and weed engulfed the space around you, and instead of having a hot one night stand with a stranger, you have to listen to this man- who was wearing the most disgusting, fugly skinny jeans which looked like they hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in a decade.

As if an otherworldly being had heard your thoughts a meek tap is felt on your shoulder, you turn around to see a pretty girl, around your age, maybe a little younger with a nervous smile on her face.

“uh- ill have that dance, if your still offering…”

With a laugh you take her hand, turning quickly to the man who now looked bewildered “ill speak to you later, or not-” you smile before dragging the girl to the dancefloor, illuminated by pink led lights and packed with people. You grabbed the woman’s wrists wrapping her arms around your waist as you push your ass against her groin, grinding against her to the beat of the music.

Her hands grip at your waist, pushing up against you in retaliation, “what were you doing with that asshole,huh?, a man like him can’t handle a bombshell of a girl like you-”

“what ‘re you saying, think you could handle me pretty girl?” a cocky smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you turn around, so you were now chest to chest with her, looking at the bashful blush on her cheeks at the nickname.

Your hips push forward now pelvis to pelvis with the girl, making her sputter out “ ‘m not pretty- im like so rugged”

You give another teasing laugh, hand brushing up into the girls hair, bodys moving together in unison “rugged huh?” you hum “suppose that makes sense, my knight in shining armour”

She grins at the compliment, hands moving down from your waist and landing on your ass, squeezing at the plush flesh, startling you into a whimper, suddenly becoming aware of how close your faces are, feeling the fan of her breath on her face.

“where you planning on sweeping me away from that asshole as soon as I got in here or what?”

“what can I say, I know what I want… now- your place or mine?”

••••••••••••••

WOOF WOOF WOOF- ALL HAIL OUR SUPREME LEADER CHAPPEL ROAN

not proofread

[heich0e]

bliss - vash/f!reader/wolfwood (trigun stampede) 3k, poly!au, wild west!au, bounty hunters, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, masturbation (m), cum eating, finger sucking, wolfwood calls reader 'kid' as a petname, there will be a part 3 where nico gets his moment i promise! 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

part 2 to bounty see also: BOUND - poly!au masterlist

you can taste the tobacco that clings to his mouth from this close, but you don't mind it when it tastes like home. “and it’s our bed, nicholas. so take me to it whenever you’d like.”

nicholas carries you inside with one hand underneath you, one on the small of your back, and your legs wrapped around his waist.

regardless of the familiarity, his strength always surprises you; the effortlessness with which he scoops you up into his arms and holds you there never fails to make your heart beat a little bit faster, no matter how many times he does it.

“aren’t you tired?” you mumble against his mouth between kisses as he totes you across the little timber ranch you call home. he nearly stumbles on the edge of a tattered old rug underfoot, the same one he's helped you hang on the clothesline a hundred times on sunny days, kicking it huffily back into place as he holds you tighter.

“not too tired for this,” nicholas replies easily, leaning forward and laying you flat across the wooden table that sits at the centre of the main room of your home. 

it’s the same table at which you’ve shared countless meals with him. the same table where you’ve sat the boys down and patched up their wounds after a bad hunt. the same table where you and vash play cards at night as the fire on the hearth burns low, where he always lets you win while nicholas watches on from his favourite rocking chair on the other side of the room with a sly smile on his face.

“i thought you were taking me to bed,” you say breathlessly as you stare up at him from the hard surface of the sturdy wooden tabletop.

nicholas smirks down at you, shucking the straps of his suspenders off his shoulders one at a time.

“thought maybe i’d have something to eat first,” he drawls as he drags the poplin of your nightdress up slowly over your thighs, baring your skin to him and revelling in the unhurried reveal, “i’m starving, you know.”

your breath hitches in your throat at his words, a heat flooding fast through your cheeks as you peer up at him. your lashes flutter slightly, blinking slowly as your desire for him builds inside of you, and you part your thighs for him invitingly.

nicholas’s playful smirk splits into a full-blown grin at the gesture, something so charmingly boyish in the expression, and he drags you down to the very edge of the table with his strong hands gripping your hips. he settles down on his knees, and you feel his warm breath against your aching centre, catching on the wetness that’s already begun to seep out from your core. above you, you stare up at the wooden beams of the ceiling overhead as your pulse thumps under your skin. to calm yourself, you trace the shadows that the beams cast with only the oil lamp on the other side of the room to light the space.

nicholas hums from his place on the floor, dragging two fingers up through the sticky wetness between your legs.

“you’re already this wet?” he muses, unmistakably pleased. “did you know we’d be coming home to you tonight?”

he splits his fingers into a V shape to spread you open, and you can’t help but whimper at the slightest brush against the sensitive bud at the apex of your sex. you hear nicholas draw in a sharp breath.

“oh,” he says the word on his exhale, a little shaky though he’d deny it if you were to bring it up. “you missed us, didn’t you?”

you nod even though you know he can’t see you from his current position, fisting the skirt of your nightdress in your trembling hands.

he hums curiously, goading you, and you know he wants you to say it.

“'course i did,” you whimper the words out helplessly, breathlessly, and completely sincere. “missed you, nico.”

“yeah? how bad did you miss me, kid?” he asks, pressing featherlight against the pretty swell of your clit. “because it looks like it was a lot.”

all you can manage is some sort of affirmative little sound, your breaths a bit harder to drawn in now that he’s touching you. your tongue more leaden under his careful attention.

he peeks up at you over the curve of your tummy, his dark hair hanging into his voracious eyes.

“anything else you wanna tell me?” he asks, pressing a bit more firmly against you now, tracing a lazy circle with the very tips of his fingers. your hips jump and your eyes squeeze shut, your heartbeat thrumming underneath your tongue.

“…myself” it’s almost unintelligible with how quietly you say it, and you can feel the satisfaction rolling off of nicholas in waves, like a tide that threatens to pull you under.

“what was that?” his fingertips trail down, dipping just inside of you, a little stretch but less resistance than there usually would be.

“i touched myself,”—you gasp at the sensation of him finally pressing into you, two knuckles deep now and far fuller than it had been when they were your own fingers—“in the bath. before bed. 'cause i missed you s’much.”

“i can tell,” nicholas breathes, but it sounds like a prayer—reverent and pious. “poor little thing.”

“nico!” 

your back bows as he wraps his lips around the bundle of nerves between your legs and suckles against it, his two fingers taking the opportunity to slip all the way inside and curl in just the way you like. finally giving you what you’ve been aching for all this time.

it’s noisy—your panting breath, your whimpers, the slick sound of his mouth against your wet wet cunt. the table even creaks slightly, in spite of its sturdy construction, when he drags you down even closer to his mouth, looping your legs over his shoulders until there’s no space left between you at all.

so it’s really no surprise when a figure appears in the doorway to your bedroom, blonde hair totally unkempt and rubbing at tired blue eyes. vash had stripped himself bare before he crawled into bed with you, and he hasn’t covered himself up since, so his scarred skin is on full display as hesitates at the threshold, watching curiously at the sight unfolding before him.

“vash,” you mewl, your fingers tangled in nicholas’s hair as your hips grind against his face. you reach out towards him with your other hand, and the dainty gold ring on your finger glints in the warm lamplight. 

nicholas pulls away from you with a loud, lewd slurp at your call of the other man’s name—strings of spit and god only knows what else stretching from his swollen lips to your pussy. vash and nicholas’s eyes meet, and the blonde hesitates almost shyly on the other side of the room. after a moment, nicholas sighs, but there’s almost something mirthful in it as he wipes the slickness from his mouth with the back of his calloused hand.

“you gonna make her wait all night, or what?” he calls to him, nodding him over like he’s giving him permission to approach.

even in his half-asleep stupor, vash doesn’t need much more of an invitation.

he’s at your side in an instant.

vash, rather peculiarly, sits in a chair at the table while nicholas returns his attention to the throbbing heat between your legs. you’re too distracted by the pressure building in the pit of your stomach to question it too intently, and so the blonde leans his head on his crooked arm, watching your face carefully as your other partner slowly takes you apart.

“feel good?” vash asks you quietly, a fierce flush burning along his cheeks as he raptly observes at every minor change in your expression. your head lolls towards him, and you nod. 

“kiss please,” you whimper to him, and he’s so so quick to oblige you, pressing his mouth to your own and greedily swallowing every sound that nicholas is pulling out of you with his unfairly talented tongue and his lithe, nimble fingers.

vash’s mouth is warm and wet and eager against your own. he kisses you the same way every time, whether it’s a hello, or a goodbye, or just a moment like this. he kisses you like he’s chasing something that isn’t running from him; taking everything you give him, but still desperately needing more.

“oh!” you gasp against vash’s parted lips as nicholas’s fingertips find that spot inside of you he seems to be incapable of missing, but intentionally skirts around to drive you even more insane. panting against your mouth, vash’s eyes flutter open and peek down at where nicholas is still dutifully at work. 

you watch his pupils dilate a little in the low light, the inky black swallowing up the blue of his irises as his eyes hone in on the wet, messy sight of the other man between your legs. vash pulls away from you as though drawn towards nicholas by sheer magnetism. you’re not sure if nicholas senses him nearing, or has more of his wits about him than you’ve given him credit for, because he lifts his head from where he’d been dragging his tongue along your clit as vash slips behind him to get a better view.

nicholas tips his head back to rest against vash’s hip, and his breathing is ragged as the blonde’s hands reach to gently cup his face.

“she’s so wet,” nicholas rasps up towards him as vash drags a thumb over his slick chin.

“yeah,” vash murmurs, his voice strained. his keen eyes flicker from nicholas’s face to your dripping pussy and then back again, like he’s not sure which sight he likes more. you watch helplessly as he lifts his thumb, covered now in your arousal and nicholas’s spit, to his mouth and uses his tongue to taste you both. “tastes good,” he moans, the digit still caught between his teeth.

“yeah, she does,” nicholas agrees, and you wiggle your hips involuntarily at the remark, feeling the crest of your building pleasure slowly begin to fade.

he chuckles when he notices, leaning forward again to press his fingers inside of you again. he holds them still there, and vash leans forward, gently pinning one leg further open so he can get a better view. you whimper when nicholas gives you none of the satisfaction you’re chasing, and keeps his fingers inside of you unmoving.

“please, nico,” you beg him earnestly, your voice fracturing on the plea. your nightdress is sticking to the perspiration on your skin now, and you want it off, but you have more pressing issues at hand. 

or rather more issues with hands pressing you.

“does this feel better than touching yourself?” nicholas asks, giving one slow curl of his fingers that has your back bowing off the hard surface of the tabletop. “does it feel better now that you have the real thing?”

“y-yes,” you keen, a sob building in your too-tight chest that you can’t even drawn enough breath into to properly let form. “so much better. i-i wanna cum, please make me cum.” 

“that’s our girl,” nicholas breathes, grinning wolfishly up at vash who looks completely enamoured watching you fall apart quite literally at nicholas’s hand.

below you, vash begins to stroke himself to the sight of you coming undone, his other hand tangling in the short strands of nicholas’s hair at his crown. nicholas indulges him while he continues to please you, because he’s never denied either of you anything you want. vash’s little whimpers and moans as he watches you writhe on the table top only make your heart beat faster, and it doesn’t take much more until you’re crying out, the levee of pleasure giving way to the rush of your peak.

“oh, look at that,” nicholas hisses against your pussy as your walls clamp down around his fingers to the point he almost can’t move them at all. you aren’t sure if he’s speaking to you or to vash, but it scarcely matters with the way your head is spinning. “you close too?” nicholas asks, tilting his face towards where vash is leaning against the table, one hand pressed flat against the surface now while the other passes quickly over his flushed, leaking cock.

you watch him through the daze of your own pleasure, marvelling in it. everything about vash is just so pretty. his parted lips, slick with spit and swollen from the way he catches them between his teeth. his delicate cheekbones, and the rosy blush that curls across them, that stains his nose, and even curls down to his chest. even the silvery scars across his skin, stories from a lifetime he knew before you, adorn him like art.

“yeah,” he whimpers out brokenly, his teary blue eyes meeting yours as you blink at him from your place on the table. nicholas rests a hand on vash’s hip, a rough thumb sweeping encouragingly over a scar that’s etched into his skin, and you watch the blonde tip his head back as he cums with a drawn out moan—the final push over the edge. his spend drips down over the divots of his knuckles, and he gives a few more half-hearted pumps of his hand to ride out his own end with a shudder.

it’s quiet for a moment in the your house. you hear the wind whistling outside through the windchimes vash had made for you, the sound of panting breaths, and the slowing beat of your racing pulse.

“what a mess you two made,” nicholas is the first to shatter the stillness, his tone wry. he clicks his tongue behind his teeth, eyeing the smear of wetness at the edge of the table that’s dripped down the inside of your thighs to pool there and the cum dripping from vash’s trembling grip. nico reaches up and takes vash’s soiled hand, dragging his fingers through your mess. the brunette shoots you a mischievous look, and then lifts sticky digits to his swollen lips and cleans them off with a flick of his pink tongue.

vash slackens as nicholas’s lips wrap around him, like the tension he’s been carrying since they got home–from the botched hunt, the long days away, and the argument they'd had that has been weighing on him–dissipates with the gesture. once vash’s hand is mostly clean, nicholas pulls back and places a kiss to his palm.

the two of them share a look, and wordlessly you know that all has been forgiven.

their eyes return to you, next.

“how are you doing up there, princess?” nicholas teases, his eyes scanning over your dishevelled form.

“good,” you reply, your lips curling up into a soft, satisfied smile. with a bit of effort, you regain your bearings and push yourself onto your elbows. vash quickly slips a hand behind your back to steady you, and you shoot him a coy look of thanks.

“just good?” nicholas asks as rises from the floor, his knees crack and he winces, but he shakes it off quickly. his palm comes to rest flat against the tabletop and leans down close to you. the smell of tobacco is almost gone now, replaced with something a little headier, a little more primal, but you enjoy it just as much.

“great even,” you say softly, and he kisses you to hide the smile on his face. the kiss is brief but welcome, and soon nicholas is helping you up off the table and back onto your own feet, your nightdress falling back into place as he smoothes his palm along the curves of your body. you lean into his side, batting your lashes up at him as you purse your lips. “i distinctly remember someone making me me a promise about taking me to bed, though.”

nicholas rolls his eyes, but it’s an expression that bleeds fondness more than anything else. “yeah well, i didn’t wanna wake this one up,” he replies, reaching out and ruffling vash’s already messy hair.

“hey,” the blonde complains as he bats away his hand, and nicholas covers a laugh by burying his face in the crook of your neck. you giggle too and it only seems to make vash more wounded. “i’m awake now.”

nicholas lifts his face from the crook of your neck, resting his temple against your own. you can hear the smugness in his tone as he replies “want me to make you regret it?”

vash eyes widen, and he blushes a little more.

you reach up, and vash dips down like he knows what you're reaching for even without you having to say it. you take your time carefully brushing his hair back into something more closely resembling its usual state, and his eyes shut contently as you trace your fingertips along his scalp. once you're satisfied with the result, you take his face in your palms, enjoying the warmth of his blush against your skin.

“it's good to have you home, boys,” you whisper with nicholas still wrapped around you, cradling vash’s cheeks in your hands. "i was lonely without you."

vash's eyes open once more–his pupils wide again like they had been not long prior–and at your side nicholas's arm tightens around your waist. you feel the press of something hot and hard against your hip, and you swallow thickly as saliva pools under your tongue.

"jeez, you really know how to make us feel guilty, huh?" he murmurs, his tone dry but noticeably tight. you feel the soft brush of his lips against the shell of your ear as he nuzzles closer, and you can't miss the draw of his suddenly more laboured breaths.

"guess you'll just have to make it up to me," you whisper back to him. you hoped your tone would be playful, but it's too anticipatory, too breathless, to have bite. your eyes are still trained on vash's, watching as they grow hungrier with every passing thump of your quickening heart.

"well, you know where our bed is, kid," nicholas whispers, and his voice makes you shiver when the heat of his breath tickles the side of your cheek. he nips at the sensitive patch of skin just below your ear, the sharp drag of teeth that you know would never truly harm you. "or are you waiting for me to carry you there, too?"

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 2

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 3.2k | prev | chapter 3 | m. list | read on ao3

There are tunnels under the bar. They wind and they twist and they are very easy to get lost in. 

That’s the point, Shigaraki tells you when you ask about the arrangement the next day. It had been a struggle to keep up with Kurogiri as he led you to your new living quarters for the first time – now you were able to get away with asking him to teleport you there instead. 

But you agree. 

They should be confusing so no one can easily find where you sleep. 

But not only are they confusing, they are dark, dusty and kind of spooky. Like an ancient vampire's lair or something silly like that. The rooms however, are not so creepy. They are oddly normal and have everything you need. 

Your room contains a desk, bed and empty shelves — ready and waiting to be filled with books. 

The sheets were neatly made and there was a small rug near your bed. You assume it's to break up the bland look of the concrete, but it's fine. For some reason it feels safer than what you've had before. 

A bed, desk and a door with a lock. Yeah, much safer.

There isn’t much time to dwell on the interior design of your new room because a knock at your door shakes you from your thoughts. 

It’s a little late at night for a visitor, but you push past the feeling, spouting a firm come in and waiting on the guest to make themselves known.

You have to will your face to stay neutral as Tomura Shigaraki walks into your room, absently closing the door behind him. He’s wearing the hand-mask, but you can still make out the carmine red of his eyes in the dim lighting of your room.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” he starts, voice sounding anything but apologetic, “but there are a few things I need to know.”

You watch as he stands by the door, hands in his pockets as he goes on, wasting no time questioning you. And you should answer him, especially if you are going to be staying here with them, but your mind cannot process whatever it is he’s saying. 

Everything around you seemed to come to a stop as your eyes and focus pinpointed on the closed door behind him. The feeling of being shut in with another person, another man, makes your throat feel dry and your hands shake. 

Shigaraki is watching, waiting for an answer but you’re frozen — stuck as the walls suffocate your words.

He tilts his head, another question ready to be fired off, maybe to ask about your lack of response, but you beat him to it.

“Could you… open the door? Please.” 

It catches him off guard, but his eyes never leave yours. “Why?”

There is no bite to the question, no malice. Just curious. 

“I just don’t like when doors are closed.” You shrug, refusing to meet his gaze. Desperate to keep some of your diffidence inside, “makes me feel claustrophobic.” 

Shigaraki hums, answer seemingly good enough for him as he turns back to open your door, wide enough that you feel comfortable, but still enough to give you privacy. You feel like you can breathe again.

“Like I was saying,” he picks up again, not missing a beat and pulling out your desk chair to take a seat. “I need a little more information. You say that you stumbled upon Giran, but how? What were you doing before?”

There’s an odd feeling in your chest. One of solid dread that weighed more than a thousand pounds. It made your eyes water and your chest tight, but you willed it all away. You would not break down here in front of a man you knew next to nothing about.

You clench your fists and meet his eyes, there was a decision to be made right now. If this place were to house you then you must do what you could to be honest. Not completely, but enough. 

“I… hurt someone. And I ran away before anyone could find me.”

“And who was the unlucky fellow?” His words are light and dripping with a sarcasm that made you feel like you were walking on eggshells.

“It was,” you stall, pondering if giving him the information would backfire. You decide that it is not something you should hide. There was no erasing the past. “My father.”

There’s a chill that passes through your body as the words leave your lips. The sticky sweet falsehood of the name makes you nauseous. That man is not your father, but it is all you know him as — and who were you to challenge that? Even without his presence. 

Tomura says nothing for a while, drowning the room in a still quiet so thick you almost think he hadn’t heard you. 

“Is he dead?” He asks, raspy voice finally breaking through the quiet. 

“What?” You ask, confusion lining your features. 

“Did you kill him?”

You shake your head, and it feels like you're in the moment again — shattering glass, splash of blood and then silence. The memory of him laying out on the living room floor, blood beginning to pool under his head sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I don't know.” And it's the truth, he could very well be dead, “and I couldn’t risk sticking around to find out. But I didn't mean to–”

“Can you defend yourself?” Shigaraki doesn't miss a beat, unphased by the possibility of you murdering your father and undeterred by your obvious incoming breakdown. 

You look to the floor, eyes focused on the rug below your bed, its curving patterns and the difference of its color against the gray cement floor. “Why?”

“If he’s not dead, if he looks for you — are you able to fight if it comes down to it?”

You can’t. You know that you can’t. You’ve never been able to hold your own against him and it eats you alive every night. So, reluctantly, you shake your head. “No.”

Tomura watches you, it feels like he’s analyzing you with every passing second. He hums, taking your answer in and standing up. “Alright.”

“That’s it?” You question, thinking there would be more to his questions. You may have killed someone and he doesn’t seem to care. Just who was this guy?

Shigaraki turns back to you, feet stopping just before your door, “Oh, yeah. We’ll get you a phone in the morning. Business only. Also, there’s a meeting tomorrow around three. Try not to be late, I hate when people are tardy.” 

You can only nod, watching as he turns away from you and leaves the room. Silence falls in his absence, a thick and loaded tension as you are left with your thoughts.

The idea of your father still being out there, alive and waiting for you makes you feel restless. Your mind races as you curl up under the sheets that were newly yours and pray sleep finds you sooner rather than later. 

—-----------

The meeting is uneventful.

It was a basic introduction, while discussing the plans and next moves for the League of Villains.

All of it feels surreal. One day you’re home wondering if the hell you lived was all your life had in store for you, and the next day you’re free. 

As free as one can be with a group of villains. 

You notice a few things in your first week amongst this new group you’ve joined. 

The first being that the league can be noisy.

It’s all you can think about as you take your place on a vacant barstool in front of the counter. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Kurogiri wastes no time, glass already prepped and ready, with two cubes of ice waiting. 

You shake your head, politely declining, “No, thank you. Alcohol’s not really my thing.” 

“Understood.” The man responds, shadows flaring around his figure like whips, “we also have nonalcoholic drinks.”

You give him a short sure and he pours you a glass of fizzy, clear soda. 

Shigaraki is a few seats down, nursing a glass of whiskey and reading the obituaries of a newspaper — easily ignoring the commotion behind you both. 

It’s hard to tune out the noise, but you try. You’ve been caught up in your thoughts all day, in the idea of your future. There is no guarantee you will be safe amongst villains, but there is nowhere else for you to go. And then there is your father. 

What really came of him? You’ve searched on the new phone Shigaraki gave you, but there are no news articles and no public meetings. If you really did kill him, if you really are free — just what does that mean for you?

“Bullshit!” 

You turn back to the group playing a game of cards. Spinner is losing against Mr. Compress for what he claims is the third time in a row. 

“C’mon Spinner, it's the rules! No, he’s cheating!” Twice and his two-toned persona calls out. The noise in the room was beginning to rise, bringing your anxiety with it. You can’t focus in here, but you don’t really know your way back to your room. 

Someone slams their hand onto the table and the sound makes you jolt, spilling a bit of your drink onto the table. 

You curse under your breath, grabbing a few napkins and cleaning the area. It’s a decent distraction and with it you try to calm your breathing down. Maybe getting lost in the depths of the hideout wouldn’t be so bad. At least no one would notice your absence. 

But someone would. 

“Hey, now,” Shigaraki starts, not taking his eyes off the newspaper in front of him. “Are you trying to give our location away? Lower your voices.”

And just like that, the tension in the room dissipates — taking your brain fog with it. 

Your shoulders relax and the group is now being subjected to Mr. Compress and his never-ending magic tricks. 

By the time night fell you were more than ready to retire to your room. 

“Kurogiri,” you start, hoping to keep your voice low enough to not draw attention. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you help me to my room again? The tunnels have still got me beat.”

To your surprise, Shigaraki raises a hand to stop Kurogiri's response. “Ah, Kurogiri, she’ll never learn if you just do it for her every time. Let me.” He offers, tone a little too flippant for something that should be an inconvenience. It feels like a trap.

You go to refuse, tell him you really don't need the help and you could probably find your own way, but he stops you — one hand held up and waving you off. You swear you could see the hint of a smile underneath the mask. 

“Don’t worry about it. We want you to feel welcomed here in the league.” He goes to stand and you follow, knowing it’s best to go along with it and not against. 

The walk is quiet and the tunnels are long. 

It's dark and decrepit while the cold air makes goosebumps spread across your skin like wildfire. 

Although, you could probably owe some of your unease to your unlikely walking partner. 

You did a little bit of research on your new phone that was given to you. A little deep dive on your new leader, Tomura Shigaraki, and just who he is. For starters, he is a villain who has one of the most destructive quirks you’ve ever seen. 

Decay. 

Tomura Shigaraki is a man with many dreams, those of which supposedly align with another villain — Hero Killer Stain. You don’t know how much of that is true, but you do know that he is dangerous, volatile and not afraid to kill to carry out his dreams.  

It's odd how fate brought you together. All you’ve known is to heal others while he seems to be a professional in death and destruction. Polar opposites. 

In your research you came across an article of the USJ incident, how the Symbol of Peace had been targeted. Shigaraki was the mastermind behind it all. 

It’s almost impressive how he seems to have captivated the attention of the public.

And now the very same Shigaraki is walking you to your room, insisting it is to make sure you don't get lost. Apparently that’s what a good leader would do. 

But there is no such thing as a free lunch. 

“You know,” he starts, interrupting your trail of thoughts, the never ending loop coming to a halt at his words. “There's something about you that's really gotten under my skin.”

Your breath hitches and you wait for him to elaborate. The quiet stretches thin between you both as your steps echo along the tunnels. 

“What’s your purpose here?”

It catches you off guard. “What?”

“Everyone in the league has a goal that they are fighting towards. The goals are like power-ups. I can't figure out yours.”

He’s got you. You don't have a goal, unless he counts survival. But they’re all just trying to survive aren't they?

“We’re all fighting for something or another. Money, freedom, revenge. Those are all important things that will drive you the extra mile in a pinch.” He keeps his tone leveled, innocuous. But you knew better. This is to gauge your resolve and you weren't sure what would come of you if you failed this test.

“What are you getting at Shigaraki?” You can't help the way your eyes narrow, waiting and watching as he brings a hand to the mask on his face. 

“I’m only asking to help you out. You can’t just go with the motions forever, you know.”

This guy thinks he’s so smart, like he’s got you all figured out. It’s irritating. “I’m not!”

Your eyes are glued to him as you both come to a stop. Your hands tremble as you watch him remove the hand from his face. The abrupt action makes you falter and you absently wonder if he’s shown anyone else in the league his face. 

Even in the dim lighting of the tunnels you could still see Shigaraki’s red gaze. 

His eyes consumed you so much that you had to take a step back. And he followed — close, but far enough away. 

“You are. You did what you had to do back then, but what will you do when you’re forced to make a choice like that again?”

The chill air of the tunnels do nothing to calm the heat you feel in your body. The fear and anxiety within your mind manifesting before you in its form of trembling fingers and labored breaths. 

What would you do if you needed to choose again? 

This situation could be over just as much as it could still be lingering. Watching and waiting for you. What would you do then? 

You hate how his tone makes you sweat. 

You hate the way his words make sense.

“An animal backed into a corner has no choice but to fight.” He continues, and you stare — taking in his features in the low light. His skin is pale and there’s something about the scars on his face that make you want to reach out. To see if you could heal them.

To see if he would let you.

You don’t. All you can do is stand before him, dumbfounded and speechless as he tells you the reality you face.  

“There will come a time when your ideals are challenged. What lengths are you willing to go to maintain that freedom? How hard would you strike at those who want to keep you down and dirty like a dog?” Shigaraki tilts his head, hint of a smile gracing his features but it is not one of joy. 

“This is your life. You are the one in control. Not me, not your father — you. I don't expect you to have all the answers now, but never regret making a choice that granted you freedom.” The words make you swallow, how someone could see right through you so easily… It felt absurd.  “And don’t underestimate the lengths you should go to maintain that.”

Shigaraki looks at you for a moment — as if to make sure you’ve taken his words in and then turns away. The silence was thick as he continued his route down the hallway. You drag your feet along to follow, unable to find the words to respond.

You're both arriving in the hall where your room awaits and you bite back a sigh of relief. This trip feels like it took years. 

You both pause in front of the door, staring each other down. It's like you're on another planet completely. 

“Goodnight.” He whispers, voice low as if there were others around to wake. 

Shigaraki places the hand back on his face and brushes by your side, his steps echoing in the vacancy of the tunnel as his words reverberate in your mind.

Tomura Shigaraki is right about one thing. 

You would do anything to keep your freedom.

—------------------

The following days within the league have been mellow. 

As the resident healer you come across all kinds of injuries and scratches that don’t take much effort to heal. It gets you into a routine of some kind. 

Toga, with her minor cuts and bruises, to Spinner who had a massive gash in his arm from lack of practice with his katana. It’s all simple and easy. 

Your current patient, however, is not simple and easy.

Dabi is someone you have had little to no interaction with, the man choosing to spend his time elsewhere and makes his stance with the league known.

He couldn’t care less for any of it. 

Far too focused on his own goals and motives, Dabi tended to be out and about on his own business. 

Your hands tremble as they hover over his bloody arm. Apparently there was a fight and one of the guys caught Dabi off guard. He only managed to cut his arm before being incinerated. 

The heat of his quirk lingers before your hand as you focus your energy into restoring his arm. It was hot and you could only imagine the waves of his flames. 

He says nothing as you work, opting for a comfortable silence in the air of your room. The door is cracked allowing more light of the hallway to bleed into the space. His body is not one that you could ever fully heal. 

The burns were permanent, and with his constant quirk use you don’t think he would stay healed if you tried.

Your eyes trail up his arm and you notice the glint of the silver staples along his body. Then up towards the silver lining his face. You can't imagine how painful something like that must feel. 

Your eyes trail further up until you meet the cerulean blue of his. The sudden contact makes you instantly dart your gaze to the floor and the realization of being caught staring leaves you feeling unsettled. You’re not sure how long he’s been watching you, but it makes your stomach turn.  

Shigaraki has no use for harming you, but you didn’t know Dabi. 

You finish healing him and he stands, boots loud against the cement as he makes his way to the door. 

He pauses, opting to give you one last look. “You should really work on that.”

You know he’s not talking about your abilities. Your demeanor could use a lot of work.

You can’t help but agree.

[malereadermaniac]

Bully! ~ Yoichi x Male Reader

Idk what the public opinion on Camp Buddy is, but Yoichi is hot, and I wanna write abt him Also for the purpose of this fic Yoichi is like 4-5 inches taller than you - ever if your 6" like me 😭 word count: 1k amab m!reader (genitalia mentioned but no nsfw) / FDNI

You and Yoichi had a very straightforward relationship - bully and bullied

You were a timid kind-a guy - liked by many but no-one would stick their neck out for you

So you were what Yoichi would call "an easy target"

It was non-stop 24/7

Every time Yoichi saw you he would find some way to pick on you or tease you

His antics varied from small comments to threatening to beat the shit out of you

His actions never actually matching his words but he got the message across

You could see it in Yoichi's eyes that he couldn't bring himself to hit you for no reason

Once your eyes were graced with the scruffy purple locks and ragged body of the muscular man, your ears would be equally graced with snide comments

"God! You're so pathetic, (n/n)"

"Fucking hell you're so weak!"

And if you'd try to ignore the taller man, he would get personally offended

"Oh, what? So I'm not worth your time now, am I, (y/n)?"

Being the compassionate person that you are, you tried to understand why Yoichi was the way he was - he had a rough childhood and has practically no family

But fuck did it get harder and harder to understand that bully!

With the camp sports day coming up, tension was clearly building within your cabin

The main person creating the tension being Yoichi

So when the purple haired man shouted at you for the 5th time today for not being able to climb a ten foot fucking rope - you felt something in you snap

The man towered over you, shirtless from his own training - annoyance visible on his face

But for the first time since your little relationship had begun, you matched his expression

"Is climbing a rope that fucking hard, (n/n)?" Yoichi teases you, his tone oozing petty annoyance

"How 'bout you just shut the hell up, Wolf Boy!?"

You gagged him a little bit with that one

Yoichi had never seen you snap back at him, he was left speechless for long enough to allow you to hit him with more

"Just 'cause you're insecure about yourself doesn't mean you have to fucking harass me y'know?!" You shout, pushing your hands against the hunks muscular chest, pushing him backwards

"A-At least I-I ca-an use my muscles-"

"Wow! Can't even form a sentence now can you? Just fuck off you bonehead!" You keep shouting at the speechless man

Yoichi should be getting mad at you right now

He's supposed to be annoyed and be mouthing off back at you with a pissed off scowl on his face

But instead, the rugged man is... blushing???

Barely anyone snaps back at him when he teases them - especially not you!

Why was his heart beating faster by the second?

And why could Yoichi only focus on how your body was moving with anger and sass?

"What? Can't mouth off anymore, can ya?" You tease the wolf boy, crossing your arms across your chest and looking up into Yoichi's eyes with slight disgust

In the span of 2 seconds, it clicked in Yoichi's brain what was happening to him

So just like a wild animal, he acted on his instincts and feelings

"What can I say, (y/n)? I get speechless when I'm around ya~" the muscular man FLIRTS with you

"HUH?! W-What are you on about now?!" You stammer out, a blush rushing to your cheeks as you avert your eyes

Yoichi moves closer to you, so you move backwards out if nervousness

You two move closer and further from one another until your back hits the wall of the rope-climb - Yoichi cornering you

"Heh... I'd never noticed you were so cute, shortie" Yoichi teases, his arm resting on the wall above your head

"F-Fuck off!" You say as you keep blushing, gently pushing your hands against Yoichi's chests

'Fuck he's so buff...' you think to yourself as you push against his massive pecs

"Ha! Alright alright... I'll see ya 'round, shortie~" Yoichi flirts as he turns around, waving goodbye to you without giving you a single glance

'What the fuck just got into him? AND WHY AM I HARD?!' You think to yourself, almost hyperventilating from the mix of emotions and panic you were feeling

Which was justified, your longtime bully just randomly started flirting with you

Calling you 'shortie' and 'cute'! Who just randomly does that?!

And it didn't help that you shared a cabin with the muscular man

So when you saw him later that night, all he did was give you a smirk and a wink

WHAT THE FUCK

You just tried your best to ignore him, heading straight for the bathroom to change into your pj's

The rest of the guys could tell something was off, you'd usually chat to all of them before changing

And Yoichi was never this silent, he was clearly lost in thought - which was rare since Yoichi barely ever used his brain!

Randomly, Yoichi goes towards the bathroom - once again following his instincts to just see you and tease you

He barges in on you changing

You jolt up and freeze at the sound of the door banging open

Silence fills the room as Yoichi gets practically entranced by your ass - a blush sprouting on his face as he bares his teeth in a grin

You turn around slightly to see the taller man eyeing you down - your turn also revealing your soft dick

"Damn, shortie~ Giving me quite the show aren't ya?" Yoichi says with a teasing smile, eyeing up your body

You were speechless, but you could still force your muscles to throw whatever was in your hand at the rugged man

"You pervert!" You shout, the item of clothing in your hand landing directly on Yoichi's face

It just so happened that the item of clothing was your underwear....

The universe must have it out for you today.

The purple haired man grabs the worn boxers and bunches them up - making a comment about them being cute or funny then giving you a horny smirk

'So cute... they smell good too ya know'

'SHUT UP!' You shout, pushing the man put of the bathroom, your frame still fully naked

'Well I won't turn down some free material' Yoichi thinks to himself as he looks at your bunched underwear and chuckles as he remembers your reaction to him seeing you buttnaked

[silassinclair]

Introduction!! Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CONTENT WARNING: Guns, Violence, Fem Reader, For 16+ Readers Preferably (Ik i cant stop you younger little shits from being here)

Mayor John L/n should have known better than to attract the attention of Maddox Graves; the West's number one most wanted criminal and outlaw. But Y/n L/n's Father, John L/n, is a fool.

It all started when John L/n rode into town on his fine horse. Tonight he was going to drink at the bar and chat with the other townspeople about some small town drama. When John arrived outside the saloon however he noticed all of the posts had horses tied to them already. John looks around and sees a free spot! Just as John hopped off his horse to tie the rope around the wood post another man beat him too it.

The man shoulder checked John as he tied his black horse to the post.

“Hey I was about to tie my horse there you brute! And how dare you hit me!” John says angrily.

"I had my horse tied here first old man. Go find some place else to tie yours." The Mexican American man says; his accented voice rich and deep. The bottom half of his face is concealed by a dark red bandana. His cowboy hat is a dark brown color, a contrast to the black attire he adorns.

"Do you know who I am young man? I own this town! Now get your filthy horse out of my way before I teach you a lesson!" Mayor L/n shouts aggressively.

The outlaw frowns disapprovingly under the cloth of his bandana. This greedy old fart dare insult his stallion? And threaten him?

The outlaw brings his masked face close to the older man, making the older man back up nervously. Bringing his rugged hands to his hips the outlaw moves his long black leather jacket to the side, revealing one of his two revolvers. Each revolver being a stunning silver color with black metal engravings. No other gunman in the west had such weapons, no one other than Maddox Graves.

The mayor notices the shining gun and he gasps in fear for his life. "Those guns! Y-You’re M-Maddox Graves!" He shouts in newfound fright.

"That's right old man. You fucked with the wrong guy. Telling me to move my horse and insulting him in such a way? You're a real old fart I tell ya. Ya had some real balls o’ steel to threaten me too." The outlaw says as he pats the back of his midnight black stallion.

The mayor doesn’t waste a second as he goes to his horse as quick as possible. He gets on it's saddle to ride off. Luckily, he escapes the outlaw. However the outlaw already knows where the mayor lives.

And he will not let him get away with what he has done. No one disrespects Maddox Graves unless they want to end up in their own grave.

.

.

.

"Father? Are you alright?" A young woman says. The woman's name is Y/n L/n, and she's the one and only daughter of Mayor John L/n. In this shit stain of a small town that is on the bottom corner of maps, she brings light and joy. The townspeople adore her presence and work ethic. Though she is wealthy and the daughter of the mayor she does volunteer work in local farms and helps look after the town’s children.

Though Y/n L/n has no Mother, not anymore. So John L/n protects her with his life. She’s all he has left and he may have just lost her tonight for what he has done.

"How can I be so foolish?! Oh god what have I done!" The old man says in despair as he rushes over to his daughter. He embraces her in a desperate hug which she returns gently with a pat to his sweating back.

"Father whatever is the matter? What has you in such a stress?" She asks with genuine concern.

The old man holds her plush face gently in his wrinkled palms. He gazes into her eyes, for it may be the final time he get to do so.

"I have made a mistake Y/n... I insulted a dangerous outlaw and he may come here to our home. I need you to hide okay... Whatever you hear, do not leave your hiding spot."

Y/n feels her Father tremble. "Father I don't understand! Please whatever it is let me hel-"

"NO! I CAN HEAR HIS HORSE OUTSIDE! GO UPSTAIRS AND HIDE NOW!"

The poor young woman yelps as her Father pushes her away. She is about to argue but the desperation in his eyes makes her only nod and run up the stairs and do as she's told. Y/n goes to her bedroom and opens the door to her oak wardrobe. She hides behind a few gowns and shuts the door enough for there to be a crack.

There are sounds of talking downstairs. Y/n can hear the voice of her Father and another. The other voice is deeper and strikes fear into her core. She can hear how desperate her Father is as he pleads for his life.

“You got a little girl right? Would be a shame if she lost her Father.” The deep voice says.

“Yes! So please spare me Graves! I’ll give you money, anything you want! So please leave us in peace!” The old man begs on his knees.

“Hmmm.” The dark outlaw ponders.

BANG

Y/n covers her mouth as she yelps in horror at the sound of the gunshot. Her body trembled, the silence now was frightening. No longer did she hear the sound of her Father begging for his life. All that was left was a deadly silence.

Her Father was dead.

“Come out girl! Your Father isn’t dead~ He’s just sleeping.” Maddox taunts as he blows the smoke from the end of his gun before returning it to its holster.

Tears fell from Y/n’s eyes as she struggled to steady her breathing. She could hear his footsteps ascending the stairs. Slow, and taunting. He was taking his time.

“I don’t like playing games. Now come out before I kill you.”

The hiding woman refused to make a sound. Her survival instinct made her once trembling body as still as a statue when she heard his footsteps enter her room. She felt frozen as his steps stopped right outside the closet door.

“I know you’re in here little girl. Now come out.”

She didn’t.

“Okay, you asked me to do this.”

Light flooded into the wardrobe as Maddox nearly ripped the doors off the hinges from swinging it open so hard and fast. Inside he heard the scream of a woman and suddenly a boot clad foot coming out from behind gowns kicked him in the groin. Keeling over in pain he clutched his jewels and fell on his knees.

“OO- YOU BITCH!” He yells. His eyes widen when he sees her though. She peeks her head out from behind the dresses and gowns. Her face is soft and stained with dry tears. Rather than a young girl who he thought, it was a pretty woman who looked to be a few years younger than him.

“You’re a disgusting man!” She says angrily and runs out of the closet past the kneeling outlaw. Dashing down the stairs she sees her Father on the ground, bleeding from his side.

“Father!” She calls to him desperately as she kneels by his side and cradles his head. He’s still breathing, thank god. But he’s losing a lot of blood. So Y/n grabs the hem of her dress and tears off a strip of the fabric and ties it around his torso.

“I-I’ll run to town and call for a doctor Father.” She says with a weak smile. His eyes are closed, he seems to have passed out from shock.

Just as Y/n stood up to run out the door to get help a gunshot rings out and the bullet hits the doorknob she was just about the grab. Whipping her body back in shock she looks up and sees Maddox at the top of the staircase, his smoking gun aimed at her.

“You’re a wild one aren’t you missy?” He says with a smirk. A freshly lit cigar hangs from his mouth.

Y/n stands by the door as still as a statue as Maddox comes down the stairs. Now standing before her the height difference is very stark. Her head only reaches his shoulders.

“Let me leave… My Father is dying. I need to get to a doctor.” She says with a wavering voice.

Maddox blows smoke in her face and laughs.

“He may as well be already dead girly. He’s lost a lot of blood. And besides, even if you did make it to town you would come home to him dead. There ain’t enough time for dilly-dally.”

He was right, unfortunately. Y/n tried her best to hold back her tears. She had to stay strong, she couldn’t show weakness to this bloodthirsty killer. But she could only handle so much.

She looks behind the outlaw and sees her Father grow more pale as the seconds tick by. The moment she noticed her Father’s chest still… and a final breath escape his lips.. Y/n felt like her life was over. Her Father was dead. All hope is lost for her as she crumbles like an ancient statue.

“F-Father, my Father is dead! You killed him-!” She breaks down and grips her hair in her hands, sinking to the floor. Maddox only watches with a small grin as he tosses the cigar to the side.

“He was an old man who was gon’ kick the bucket soon anyway. I only sped up the process a lil’ princess.” Maddox says with a mocking coo. But Y/n looks up at him with a piercing glare. Her hands turn to fists and she strikes. Her fist collides with his face, causing him to whip his head to the side. Y/n stills as she awaits his reaction. He is eerily silent and his downcast gaze is dark.

But then she is suddenly met with a chuckle. His deep, rich laugh radiates throughout the home. Like an infection that invades the young woman’s eardrums. She can’t stand it.

“You hit hard little lady, I like that in a woman.” Maddox grips her chin, squeezing her face and puckering her lips.

“Such soft lips… Wonder how they’d feel against mine. Poor lil thang like you needs a strong man in her life.” His condescending tone sparks rage in Y/n. This man, no… this beast. This murderer. She needs to take revenge. To kill the man who killed her Father in cold blood. But not now. No, she would have to wait. She needs the right moment to strike.

And she doesn’t mind playing the long game. She’ll play along for now.

Hey yall, it’s me. I’m SLACKING so hard. School and work has been busting my balls and writers block is eating me alive. But this Oc got me out of the gutter. Hopefully yall like him! I plan to write for him more.

[daisies-daydreams]

miguel ohara x chubby!fem reader.. ( i feel so bad for requesting the same reader UGH😭.)

can you make it fluff into smut ?? :D

them just making cookies together in the kitchen, them being lovey dovey hehe. :D and you can do your own thing with the rest.

Sweetness (Miguel O’Hara x Chubby!F!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Plus-Sized!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut Warnings: Tickling (non-sexual), Swearing, Grinding, Spanking, Praise Kink, Kitchen/Countertop Sex, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms (Reader), Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie Word Count: 2.4k+ A/N: Omg hi!! Don’t feel bad for requesting the same reader - I love writing for chubby/plus sized reader! ☺️ I hope you enjoy!

The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air as you pulled out a fresh batch. You hummed to yourself as you slipped a new baking sheet into the oven, gently swaying your hips side to side with the tune you sang. You gasped when your husband suddenly dabbed a wad of raw cookie dough onto your cheek as soon as you stood up.

“Miguel!” you laughed as he quickly hid the wooden spoon behind his back, his brown eyes flickering with mischief as he raised his thick brows.

"I’m so sorry, hermosa! I didn’t see you there,” he said as a wry grin sneaked over his rugged face [beautiful].

“Mhm,” you hummed as you tried to wipe the dough off your cheek.

"Here, let me get that for you," Miguel winked before turning around to grab a paper towel. You smirked as you watched him reach over the counter, his bottom sticking out.

The perfect opportunity to strike.

Miguel froze the second your open palm loudly slapped against his ass. Your smile quickly fell when he whipped his head around, the corners of his mouth curved into a mischievous grin.

“Migs,” you warned while taking a step back. He slowly approached you like a jaguar ready to pounce on its prey. You squealed and broke into a sprint as Miguel chuckled and ran towards you. Your heart raced as he chased you around the kitchen, your combined footsteps thudding against the hardwood as you ran.

You yelped when Miguel came up behind you and pulled your back flush against his front. You giggled when he suddenly brushed his fingers against your sides.

“M-Miguel! ¡Por fa!” you howled with laughter as he chuckled against your neck [Miguel please!].

"'Please' what, mi amor?" he murmured as he brought his hands up to your armpits [my love]. You wheezed and wiggled in his grasp as he relentlessly tickled you.

"P-Please stop! My sides are c-cramping!" you laughed as your eyes began to water. His hands quickly slipped away from your pits and traveled back down to your waist. Your eyes widened a little when he pulled your plump ass against his crotch, the feeling of his semi-hard cock making heat rise to your cheeks.

“Miggy…” you said before biting your lip. Your heart skipped a beat as he dipped his head down and pressed his lips over your pulse. You moaned softly as he began to gently rock his hips forward while he painted your neck with quick, sloppy kisses.

“W-What happened to ‘Bebé, let’s make cookies today’?” you gulped as a wave of heat swept through you. His low chuckle sent shivers down your spine as he squeezed your love handles.

“I can’t help that you look sexy in an apron,” he purred while plucking at the band of your sweats. Your face felt even hotter as he pressed his lips to your cheek and ran his warm tongue along the dollop of raw cookie dough he left earlier. You whined as he flicked and swirled his tongue around your soft skin, his cock growing harder against your cheeks with every slow thrust of his hips.

"Miguel..." you whined before glancing behind your shoulder. Your husband's eyes lit up with lust as he parted his lips. Your breath hitched as Miguel's lips danced over the delicate shell of your ear.

"Such a sensitive little thing," he chuckled deeply before hooking his fingers around the band of your pants. You unconsciously arched your back as he slowly rolled your sweats and panties down your thick rear. Your supple skin jiggled as your clothes crested over your cheeks, your soft walls fluttering and aching for his intoxicating touch.

Miguel groaned softly as he cupped his palms over your ass. You yelped when he lightly spanked you, your core clenching as the brief sting crossed your backside.

"That's payback for earlier," he smirked against your ear. Your heart pounded in your ears as he wrapped a hand around your front and slowly slipped it between your thick thighs. Your throat grew tight as Miguel slid his girthy fingers over your slick folds before rubbing over the tight seam of your entrance. You moaned and fell on your forearms, balancing yourself against the counter as he teased your aching hole with his deft digits. You mewled and threw your head back as bolts of pleasure shot through your heat with every slow, tender stroke of his fingers.

"P-Papi," you moaned as he gently nudged his fingertips inside your tight cunt [Daddy]. You whined and trembled as he began to shallowly pump them in and out with a symphony of lewd, wet squelches. You screwed your eyes shut as he rubbed his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves; his other hand quickly working it's way beneath your shirt. You shivered as he massaged your wet opening while eagerly pinching one of your pebbling nipples between his fingers.

"Can't believe how wet you are for me already, Mami," Miguel husked into your ear as he drew slow, sloppy circles around your clit, smearing your warm arousal across your puffy bud [Mommy]. Your face burned with heat as you ducked your head into your arms, squealing as your beloved suddenly sank his digits a little deeper inside your tight pussy.

"There's no need to be shy, hermosa," your husband chuckled as he took a handful of your breast and gave it a tender squeeze. Your jaw went slack as he inched his fingers even deeper inside your slick, gummy canal, his fingertips gliding over your soft g-spot as he flicked your clit with his thumb.

"Fuck, Miguel," you whined as his digits dragged along your gummy walls.

"God, you're so warm and tight...can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock," Miguel groaned as he slightly curled his fingers against your upper wall. Your eyes rolled back as your cunt clenched around every dip and curve of his soaked digits. You mindlessly rocked your hips forward as he spread your tight hole wide open, his other hand gently massaging your breast as he breathed against your neck.

"Fuck, I want to fill you with my cum so bad," he growled against your pulse as he thrusted his fingers at a faster pace. You tilted your head up and moaned as your body was electrified with unrestrained pleasure. "Stuff you so full that it makes a mess all over the fucking floor," Miguel's voice strained as he began to grind against your ass. You keened as you felt his solid cock glide against your soft cheeks, your body trembling with bliss as you dipped your head back down.

"M-Miguel," you mewled, your mind already swimming in a thick haze as the muscles in your lower tummy began to clench. Your husband knew exactly what your tone meant as he began to rub your clit even faster, his fingers fucking your pussy raw as he kissed and sucked on the curve of your shoulder.

You gasped loudly as he dug his fingers into the soft mound of your breast while he desperately ground his dick against your bum. Miguel's breathing grew more ragged as your walls eagerly sucked his fingers inside.

"Come on Mama - let me hear you," your husband rumbled as he shoved his fingers down to his thick knuckles. Your moan crashed over the room as you violently snapped your hips forward. Your knees nearly buckled as your cunt gripped onto his fingers, clenching them hungrily as a thick layer of cream seeped out of your stretched out hole.

"Fuck," you sobbed as your body glowed with euphoria. You wailed as your walls pulsed incessantly, your core bursting with pleasure as your mind became numb.

"Yes, yes," you panted as you relished in the feeling of relief washing over you. Your eyes shot open when Miguel suddenly slipped his fingers out of you without warning. You gasped as he made quick work of your apron and bra, your clothes quickly falling into a crumpled pile on the floor with a soft thud. You parted your lips as you remained completely bare in front of your husband: your dripping cunt on full display as he spread your thick cheeks apart.

"I'm sorry, cariño. I just can't wait anymore," he swallowed thickly before tugging the front of his pants and boxers down [honey]. A spark of heat flickered through your core when you felt his thick, heavy cock slap against your ass, a thick pearl of precum dripping down his tip and slipping down your crack. You wiggled your hips as he bent down, his muscular thighs pressed against yours as he rubbed his bulbous tip against your puckering entrance.

Your heart skipped a beat as Miguel laid one of his palms on your hip while he slowly pushed his length inside your heat.

"M-Mierda," your love grunted as he sank inch after inch of his long, hard shaft within your plush walls [Shit]. You moaned as the intoxicating feeling of fullness grew with every inch he fed into your weeping hole. Both of you gasped when he bottomed out, his thick balls kissing your lower lips as his cock throbbed deep inside your warm sleeve.

"Such a perfect, tight little pussy," Miguel praised before kissing the top of your head. You shuddered when he slightly pulled his hips back before slowly pushing them forward. Your mouth watered as your husband dragged his length along your plush walls, your pussy squelching each time he made the slightest movement.

"B-Baby, fuck," you groaned as Miguel dipped his nails into your love handles, his one hand smearing your now cool arousal across your hip. You squealed as he gently thrust into your tight heat, his breath fanning against your exposed shoulder as his chest rubbed against your back.

"Feel so good wrapped around me, hermosa," Miguel breathed. Your jaw went slack as he started to pick up the pace, your cheeks clapping wetly with every eager thrust.

"God, Miguel!" you cried out as his heavy balls slapped against your needy clit. Your chest grew tight when your beloved suddenly leaned on top of you, his arms draped over yours as he threaded his fingers between your own. You were practically standing on your tip-toes as he pounded into your pussy, your combined moans echoing throughout the kitchen as he stuffed you over and over.

"Mmm baby, that's it. That's my good girl," he purred into your ear as his hips slapped against your backside. Your legs grew weak at the feeling of your cunt making a complete mess of his cock, your juices soaking his length and dripping down the front of his thighs. You cried out as your hard nipples rubbed against the cool edge of the countertop, your walls already starting to tighten around his veiny shaft.

"M-Miguel," you slurred, your brain turned to mush as you felt him deep within your lower belly. "So close," you managed to squeal as the head of his cock perfectly rubbed against your spongey g-spot. Stars flooded your vision as his thrusts grew even faster, his dick stretching your pussy to the limit as he panted over you.

"Go on, Mami: soak this cock with your sweet cum," your husband rumbled as his tip slammed against your cervix. Your eyes shot open as he gave another vigorous thrust, the final stroke to send you careening over the edge of your release.

"Miguel!" you screamed as you tensed beneath him, your insides growing tight as another wave of pure bliss crashed over you. You sobbed and wriggled as your sex sucked him against the soft plug to your womb, his thrusts starting to falter as your pussy contracted around his heavy shaft.

"Fuck," Miguel let out a strained moan, his fingers clenching over yours as your cunt deliciously pulsed around his dick. You moaned as he continued to plunge his cock between your walls as your orgasm began to fade. Your limbs felt like jelly as you tried to balance yourself, your head still spinning as Miguel's breath faltered.

"God, (Y/N)," he growled as his cock swelled and throbbed inside you. Your pussy fluttered when he shoved his dick down to the hilt with one final thrust. Your legs trembled as you felt him stiffen against you, his muscles tense against your soft back as he released a gutteral groan. Both of you moaned as he painted your stretched walls with thick, heavy ropes of his potent cum.

"Sí..." Miguel grunted as he released one final rope of his seed [Yes]. You shivered as you felt his warm spend leak out of your hole and down the inside of your thighs. Your legs shook as a few drops of his cum splattered onto the floor, staining the hardwood with milky white drops. The two of you remained still for a few moments, your bodies trembling against each other as you caught your breath.

Miguel suddenly perked his head up and sniffed the air. You opened your eyes and tilted your head as he squeezed your hands.

"Cariño...did you remember to set the timer?" Miguel murmured. Your heart dropped into your stomach as your eyes grew wide.

"Shitshitshitshitshit," you spat out quickly as your husband scrambled off of you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness inside you as his cock slipped out with a slick "pop". You clumsily waddled over to the drawer next to the oven as the smell lingered in the air. You muttered to yourself as you slipped on some thick oven mitts, your heart racing as you threw the door open.

You wrinkled your nose and covered your mouth as a plume of smoke escaped from the confined space. Miguel was quick to throw one of the kitchen windows open while you yanked the sheet out. You coughed and spluttered as you slammed the pan onto the stove, your eyes and nostrils burning as the smoke began to dissipate.

Both of you exchanged weary glances as you eyed the fire alarm...only to sigh with relief when it didn't go off. The room was soon filled with your combined laughter as you eyed what looked like pieces of charcoal glued to the pan.

"Maybe you should let me put them in next time," Miguel mused as he stepped towards you. Your cheeks grew warm as he wrapped his muscular arms around your shoulders and pulled you close. You gave him a timid smile as he gently pecked your forehead.

"That'd probably be for the best," you giggled.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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[txjis]

Can you do a toji shot that includes a oral male receiving? I'm just asking for that, the rest can be whatever you want, just that 😭, pleasee idk why im thinkin so much in blowjobs 😞

ABSOLUTELY. I HOPE I DID U PROUD.

cw: toji x fem!reader , oral (m!receiving) , light face fucking , petnames (baby , pretty baby) , cum eating , that’s kinda it it’s just a BJ , lmk if i missed any! 1k

a/n: i wrote this at my brother bday party LOLLL so pls ignore if it’s not super good or kinda rushed 😔 beta read by @fictionalwench ❤︎︎

you find yourself on your knees in front of toji, your breath quickening as you anticipate the pleasure to come. the room is dimly lit, creating an intimate atmosphere, perfect for the lustful encounter you're about ready to indulge in. you've always had a thing for older men, and toji, with his rugged good looks and powerful presence, is the epitome of your fantasies.

leaning forward, you reach out to trace your fingers along his defined jawline. his skin feels warm and smooth against your touch. you can't help but admire the scar on his lip, a faint reminder of his mysterious past. toji's intense green eyes watch your every move, making your heart flutter with desire. he exudes a raw, untamed energy that both excites and intimidates you.

as your hand travels down his strong neck, you gently tug on the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. the scent of his cologne invades your senses, a musky aroma that ignites a burning desire within you. toji's breath is hot against your face as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear,

"you know what you want, don't you, baby?" his deep voice sends shivers down your spine. you nod eagerly, your hands now bold enough to slide underneath his shirt, exploring the firm muscles of his chest and abs. toji's body is a masterpiece, hard and chiseled, a testament to his years of disciplined and strenuous work. you can feel his heart pounding beneath your palms, beating in rhythm with your own growing lust. his skin feels like silk over steel, and you can't resist the urge to leave a trail of kisses along his collarbone.

"mmm... that's it," he encourages, his hands gripping your hair gently. he guides your lips lower, and you eagerly oblige, kissing and sucking on his sensitive spots. your mouth leaves a wet trail on his skin as you make your way down, eventually reaching the waistband of his pants. with deft fingers, you unbutton and unzip his pants, revealing the bulge in his boxers, straining against the fabric. you glance up, your eyes locking with his, seeking permission, and he gives you a seductive smirk.

"you know what i want, baby. show me how bad you want it." his voice is a husky command that sends a rush of heat between your thighs. without further prompting, you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, tasting the first drops of his pre-cum. toji groans in response, his hand tightening in your hair as he encourages you to take more of him. you moan softly around his length, the vibrations driving him wild. he's thick and long, and you struggle to take him all, but the challenge only fuels your desire.

expertly, you suck and bob your head, creating a steady rhythm, your hand stroking the base while your mouth works the head. toji's breathing grows heavier, his hips moving in sync with your suckling. his hand leaves your hair, moving to the back of your head, and he begins to guide your pace, taking control.

"that's it... take it all, baby. yeah, you like my dick, don't you?" he grunts, his voice raw with desire. his grip tightens, and he starts to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth with abandon. your eyes water slightly at the force of his penetration, but you welcome the dominance he exerts, craving to please this powerful man. toji pulls your hair gently, signaling for you to look up. you obey, your eyes meeting his fierce gaze.

"i'm gonna use that pretty throat of yours... you like it when i take control, don't you, pretty baby?" he asks, his tone demanding an answer. you can only manage a muffled moan of assent, your eyes pleading for him to continue. he reads your eagerness accurately, a satisfied smirk crossing his face. with no further warning, he grabs your hair firmly and starts fucking into your mouth with purpose. his cock slides deep into your throat, the head hitting the back of your mouth, triggering your gag reflex.

he shows no mercy, pounding into your mouth with primal ferocity. your eyes water, and your throat burns, but the sensation is strangely thrilling. toji's dominance overpowers you, and your body responds, your pussy growing wetter with each ruthless thrust into your mouth. you can sense his control, his precision, as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, each withdrawal followed by a brutal plunge into your throat.

toji's grunts echo in the room, mixing with your muffled noises of pleasure and discomfort. your eyes roll back as you surrender to the powerful waves of pleasure and pain, your pussy throbbing in unison with the pace he sets. you feel so deliciously used, owned by this virile man, and you love every second of it.

just when you think you can't take any more, toji's thrusts become more urgent. his cock swells in your mouth, and he unleashes a torrent of hot cum down your throat. he fills your mouth with his essence, thrusting a few more times to ensure every drop is savored. you swallow greedily, reveling in the taste of him, continuing to suckle gently as his orgasm subsides.

toji slowly withdraws, his softening cock gliding from your lips with a wet, lewd sound. he eases you back gently, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, his wild eyes now softened by the post-orgasmic haze.

"fuck, baby... That was incredible," he pants, his breath still ragged. "you suck cock like a dream... exactly what I needed."

you feel a sense of pride and satisfaction in pleasing this enigmatic man. he reaches down, caressing your cheek, then cups your chin, tilting your face up for a deep, passionate kiss. you taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of the raw, unforgiving pleasure you just shared.

as the kiss deepens, you sense toji's renewed desire stirring. his hands wander, exploring your body, and you know that this encounter is far from over. the night has only begun, and you can't wait to explore more of toji's secrets and uncover the untamed passion that lies beneath his semi-composed exterior.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

omg I am a SUCKER for the one bed trope 😭 with sanji, please? 🙏🏼

congrats on 300 followers!! 🎉 you deserve it all and more! 💕

S A M E ! I'm such a loser it's my FAVORITE TROPE!

Pairing: Sanji x afab!reader

WC: 15000

Prompt: "We aren't sharing a bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

Pairing: Sanji x Afab!Reader

Prompt: “We aren’t sharing a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

— — 

*wheeze*

“No, no please! Tell me again, HOW exactly you beat that sea king?” You laugh out while you clutch your beer to your chest on your barstool. 

“See this? It’s a very special exploding star! And you just-“ Usopp grabs a small bundle out of his satchel and moves to show you while you wipe tears from your eyes. 

“Wait I thought I slammed the thing and we ate it for dinner last night?” Your sweet, naive captain chimes in as he over hears your conversation with sniper at the end of the bar. 

“No, you’re remembering it wrong!” Usopp crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. You take another sip of your drink and snort. Another voice booms from the other end of the bar. 

“You had the rest of the beast for lunch, and yes, Luffy punched it in the face.” Sanji slurped the rest of his red wine and placed his glass on the bar top. 

“Well, if your stomach isn’t growling, we have our answer then?” You held back your giggles over the top of your beer glass as you looked at Usopp. 

The rest of your crew surrounding you at the bar laughed. 

— — 

“You’re a fucking idiot you want to put Maldon salt in an apple pie?! Get off your fucking high horse!” You slurred your words as your pointed your beer bottle in Sanji’s chest.

“Mon cherie, I am not arguing with you tonight about the integrity of a pie crust.” Sanji smiles as he takes your hand on your beer in his and lowers it back down to the bar at your side. The rest of your crew had retreated to their rooms at the inn you had all chosen to stay at for the night… minus you, Sanji and Zoro. 

“Holy shit… you guys are like… so boring?… woah…” Zoro claimed from his horizontal position on several barstools next to yours. You and Sanji were drawn out of your conversation and looked down at the blacked out swordsman. 

“We should leave him here, right?” You smirked up at the blonde man in front of you. 

“Obviously.” Sanji smiled as he reached out to grab your hand and helped you down from your tall bar stool. He leads you towards the innkeeper’s desk with your hand still in his. 

“We’re part of the Straw Hats. We’d like our room keys, please.” Sanji politely says to the innkeeper. 

The innkeeper shuffles through a large, leather bound book of reservations and stops on a certain page. “I-..I’m sorry sir bit it seems we only have one room left available.” The nervous innkeeper sputters out, afraid to offend a group of such powerful pirates. 

“What? You’re telling me that you can’t-“ Sanji begins to become upset. 

“That’s fine.” You interject. “No need to make a fuss.” You assumed it would be a typical room with twin beds and a couch. You and Sanji could sleep easily and if Zoro got his shit together he could end up on the sofa. You didn’t feel like fighting an elderly innkeeper in order just to have a private room to yourself. You were a pirate, there were much bigger issues in the grand scheme of things. 

The innkeeper gave you a thankful smile and gave you the key to your room. You and Sanji head up the wooden stairs and arrive at the door of your room. Number 17. You turn the key in the lock and enter the candle lit hotel room. To your dismay there was one queen sized bed and no other large furniture in the room other than a bear skin rug. 

You and Sanji stood in the doorway of your newly minted hotel room. 

“Shit.” The both of you said together. 

“We aren’t sharing a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Sanji immediately retorts as he enters the room and begins stripping himself of his suit jacket. He takes it off and drapes it over the chair in the entryway of the room.

“Oh…. Uh… Ok…. I’ll get ready for bed then…” You head into the ensuite bathroom and prepare yourself for bed. You strip yourself to your panties, and take off your bra underneath your shirt after washing your face and brushing your teeth. After getting ready for bed, you exit the bathroom and quickly slide your body under the covers of the bed. Sanji awkwardly and wordlessly slides past you into the bathroom and you hear the shower start to run. 

In the darkness of of the bedroom you lay back on the bed. You were just a bit drunk, you felt your head buzz as it hit the softness of your pillow. You listened to the sounds of the shower and couldn’t help but think about how close Sanji was to you, completely naked. Your mind wandered… You thought about how his blonde hair might plaster his forehead under the shower stream… you thought about how the soap would foam and drip down his toned abs… You felt yourself start to become wet… you slipped off your panties and discarded them somewhere underneath the covers. 

Your right hand slid under the sheets and crept towards your cunt. Your delicate fingers began to circle your clit just the way you know you like and you breathed out in pleasure. You find yourself becoming lost in the pleasure when you hear the bathroom door swing open. 

“Y/n?” Sanji emerged from the bathroom clad in just a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh! Sanji! Sorry I was… distracted….” You curl the covers up under your chin. 

Sanji stands at the foot of the bed, seemingly assessing the situation in front of him. 

“Y/n… were you… touching yourself?” Sanji cocks his head and asks you while standing over you. 

“I… I was…” You sheepishly looked down at the top of the comforter, too embarrassed to make eye contact even in your drunken state. “Can we just forget about this?” You lifted your head. 

“Y/n… I could… help… if you want? I mean… you probably didn’t finish… right?” Sanji met your gaze.

Your stare met his and your mind went through a laundry list of better ideas before you settled on the act you chose to take next. You lifted your shirt over your head and leaned up towards Sanji and placed a chase kiss on his lips. Fully naked you pulled back from him. 

“Fuck me, Sanji.” You whispered with his head in your hands. 

At the speed of light, Sanji shed the towel and landed on top of you again. He smashes his lips into yours with a hunger you had never experienced. He pressed his tongue fervently into your mouth, like you’d never give him this opportunity again. You felt the velvet tip of his cock brush against your hot sex. 

“Let me just put it in… please, y/n?” Sanji moves his lips to mewl into your neck as he nips and sucks at your nape. He begs you so cutely and desperately while he grinds his hard cock into your wet center, there’s no way you could say no. 

“Please Sanji, want to feel you…” You move your right hand down to position his cock at your hole. You grope sensually at his cock and try to push it inside of you. “Sanji, want you inside of me, please…” You whimper out in his ear as he pushed his face further into your neck. 

Sanji obliges and pushes himself balls-deep inside your waiting hole. He lets out a high pitched whine as he bottoms out. 

“Y/n…” Sanji lifts his hands and starts pinching at your sensitive nipples below him. Sanji leans backwards and looks at your wrecked body beneath him, tight hole enveloping his throbbing cock. “Pretty girl needs to cum… let me help…” Sanji plants one hand on your hip and the other on your throat. 

Sanji uses the thumb of his hand on your hip to stroke your clit and the applies pressure with the hand on your neck so that your airway is perfectly restricted. 

“San-….. ji!….” You choke out against your lovers grip as you cum on his hand that was deeply stroking your sex. Sanji’s soft, deft fingers swirl around your clit and spasming, stuffed hole. The feeling of Sanji’s thick cock buried deep inside you and the stimulation from his hands on your bud was too much as you felt your eyes roll back into your skull… 

“You’re so pretty mon Cherie, I want to cum in you baby…” Your head shoots up and Sanji slams his hips deeply into yours. “You’re mine now, sweetheart…” 

Sanji plows his slender hips into yours as he cums deep inside your raw walls. 

“Ah!-“ You squeeze and cream all over your lover, eliciting a pathetic whine from the spent lovecook who was still inside of you. You try to catch your breath and flop your head back on the pillow. Sanji gently pulls out of you and lays himself down next to you. You toss and turn on your stomach for a moment before settling in and Sanji moves to sit up.

“Let me clean you up, beautiful angel…”

 “Can we just sleep tonight, this bed is really comfy…”   You whisper as you stroke Sanji’s cheek, keeping him in bed with you.

“Im certainly glad I’m not on the floor, ma belle.” Sanji wrapped his arm around your torso and promptly began snoring. 

xx Mo

[lipglossanon]

Haunted House

Corrupt Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader - NSFW

Warnings: mean/condescending Leon, Leon being spooky lol, ghost story involving child murder, dirty talk, spitting, oral (m receiving)

not proofread ✌️

“I dare you to go in there.”

Leon raises an eyebrow, “Okay, and what do I get when I do?”

You bite your lip and he zeroes in on the action, “What do you want?”

“To eat your cunt in the back of my squad car.”

Nipples stiffening in your bra, you gasp scandalized, “Leon!”

He shrugs easily, “You asked.”

“I don’t want to get caught,” you murmur quietly. 

“I’m a cop,” he laughs, “you won’t get in trouble.”

“You’re not scared?” You try changing subjects back to the dare. 

He rolls his eyes, “Why? Just because some kids disappeared around this place back in the 20’s?” 

You nod, “Yeah, I mean it’s still pretty spooky.”

A wide grins splits his face making you nervous. 

“Let’s sneak in right now.”

Leon drags you into the local haunted house before you can even blink. There’s a makeshift doorway on the side that draws you up short making Leon’s grip around your bicep tighten. 

“I bust kids partying here all the time, nothing to worry about,” he pulls you along, shoving you into the doorway first. 

It doesn’t look as rundown as you thought it would, just beat up old furniture and dusty rugs lining the floor. The plaster walls are cracked and worn, covered in graffitied cuss words and dicks. Leon guides you past this room further into the house.

Teenagers or whoever must not venture past that opening room because these walls are bare save for the peeling wallpaper. Time worn photographs hang at odd angles but are too weather worn to see properly. Cobwebs coat every surface making your skin crawl. 

“Leon, let’s just turn back,” your voice comes out quiet, spooked by your surroundings, “we’ve went far enough for the dare.”

He clicks his tongue tossing you a wicked grin over his shoulder, “Don’t you wanna have some fun, sweetheart?”

He pulls you into another room, this one suspiciously less dusty than the rest of the house with a clean looking fainting couch sitting atop a Persian rug. 

“Leon this is…”

Weird? Off putting? Uncomfortable?

Something about the space is making your hair stand on end unlike the other more overt creepy part of the house. 

He chuckles low in his throat and pushes you down onto the couch. 

“Surprise,” he gestures around the room, but your eyes never leave his face. 

“I don’t understand.”

“This is where they went missing,” his dark blue eyes sweep around the room one last time before meeting your gaze. 

“I did some digging and come to find out, the nanny this family hired went a little nuts,” he laughs gleefully, “seems like she fucked the owner and when he wouldn’t leave his wife, she,” he makes a slicing motion across his neck, “decided to take care of the children permanently.”

You gasp softly, eyes wide as Leon only laughs harder. 

“What’s fucked is she told him but he didn’t believe her, just fired her on the spot,” he sighs, smiling a little too wide for his face, “she stayed in town and married some other poor schmuck.“

You clear your throat nervously, “How do you know—“

“Oh, she’s like my great, great, great aunt,” he waves his hand like it’s inconsequential information, “that’s beside the point. The point being is she killed them in this. very. room.”

You lick your lips and take a quick glance around; aside from it being cleaner than the other parts you walked through, it’s pretty nondescript overall. 

“And they say,” Leon’s deep voice murmurs in your ear making you jump, “you can still hear them crying if you show up at the right time.”

He grabs your forearms and pushes you down onto the rug. 

“And since we have a couple of hours to go til then, why don’t I keep that pretty little mouth busy,” he tilts his head, sandy fringe covering one eye, “sound good?”

And now, you’re not even sure why you let it happen, but you’re on your knees with Leon’s thick uncut cock dripping over your face. Even though you’re angry at yourself, you can’t help but feel turned on in the situation. Clit throbbing with need, you loll your tongue out, holding your mouth open for Leon. 

“Such a good girl,” he croons, “so eager to please.”

A bolt of heat pulses in your cunt. His hand cradles your jaw gently before he spits onto your tongue making you whine, nipples tightening to aching points in your bra. He slaps his cock down onto your tongue, smearing his spit and precum all around the wet muscle. 

“You’re gonna give me some sloppy head, baby,” he grins meanly down at you, “and if you’re good, I’ll let you swallow.”

Eyes fluttering, slick fills the gusset of your panties, making the cute lace stick to your pussy lips; you press the dough of your thighs together hoping to alleviate the pressure in your core. 

“Mmm so slutty just letting me fuck your mouth like this,” he goads with a smirk, dick sinking into your open mouth, “bet I could get you on your knees anywhere.”

Your eyes water as his thick cock obscenely stretches your mouth open. 

His hips thrust forward, sinking another inch into your hot wet mouth.

“Such a pretty little throat,” he murmurs to himself, letting his hand squeeze around your neck. 

You whine as your thighs clench together, more slick pooling in your already drenched panties.

His hand shifts to the back of your head, rocking your mouth further down on his dick, fat tip kissing the back of your throat and making you gag. He presses there until you cough and retch around the tip, making him slip his cock free. You cough slightly, breaking the stringy lines of spit connecting his thick length to your lips. 

“Aww too much?” he coos mockingly, “don’t worry, we’ll train this slutty throat til it can take me nice and deep.”

Your cunt aches as he slaps his cock across your face, smearing spit and precum everywhere before slowly easing it back into your drooling mouth. He pulls out until you’re suckling on the fat head of his dick before sinking back into you, balls slapping your chin. 

“M’gonna give you a nice throatpie, sweetheart,” he grunts, hand moving to the top of your head to guide himself deeper.

You swallow around his dick, saliva dripping from the corners of your lips while Leon’s fat, heavy cock ruts in and out of your mouth. Hands grasping at your leggings, you move them to brace on his legs and let your mouth sink down on his cock even more, tip knocking into your throat making you gag. 

He pulls you off and takes a seat on the couch, patting his leg, “Crawl over here and suck me off, pretty girl.”

A full body shudder runs through you, pussy feeling like a wet mess between your legs as you crawl the few feet over to him. 

“Good girl,” the praise drips like honey from his lips, “being so good for me, tonight.”

With a mewling sigh, you eagerly wrap your mouth around Leon’s dick and sink down. 

“Gonna keep my dick warm for a while,” he pets your head, rocking his cock into your mouth, “if you try to suck, I’m gonna spank that soaked little cunt.”

Moaning, you go slack against him, letting Leon nestle his dick deep into your mouth, leaking tip bumping against the opening to your throat. You constantly swallow to prevent yourself from gagging but it only seems to make more precum dribble from his cockhead.  

He murmurs condescending praise making your brain mushy and cunt leak until you’ve soaked through to create a wet spot in the front of your leggings. It doesn’t seem like long at all before he’s slowly pulling out of your mouth with a groan. You whimper and chase after his cock, mouth kissing and licking at his spit coated shaft making him laugh down at you. 

“So needy,” he grasps your jaw and fucks his cock back into your swollen mouth, “think it’s time I give you your reward. Ready to drink all my cum? Cream that throat like you deserve.”

He thrusts half a dozen times before burying his cock into your mouth with a low groan, spilling down your throat. You feel dizzy as hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat before you’re swallowing it down, greedily sucking his cock.

“Good fucking girl,” he humps against your drooling mouth, “drink every drop.”

You milk Leon’s cock until he’s spent, pulling his softening dick away from your mouth as you press a soft kiss to the head. He glances down at his watch before pulling you up onto the couch with him.

Your brain feels empty, cunt needy for stimulation as Leon kisses your cheek and teases across the inside seam of your leggings. 

“When we get to the car, gonna make good on my promise, sweetheart,” he nips your earlobe, “gonna eat you out til you’re crying.”

You arch against him with a whine, “Please, can we go now?”

He hums shooting another glance to his watch, “I guess so, not like it’s real anyways.”

Brain too muddled to argue with him, you squirm as Leon pulls you up from the couch. Neither of you notice the two pairs of luminescent eyes watching you from the corner as you leave the room.  

divider: @firefly-graphics

[pastafossa]

I legit wanna sit and scream over how good Echo was. I want to s c r e a m

Fun, good fight scenes, and a nice improvement over a lot of what the Big MCU has had so far imo

We got some blood and darkness again which has been soooorely missing

The gorgeous transitions between sound and silence, weaving you in and out of Maya's perspective

CREATION STORIES I LOVE CREATION STORIES

MATT WAS THERE FOR 30 SECONDS IT MADE ME SO HAPPY DEVIL VOICE GRR

The parallels and differences between Fisk and Maya were - not SUPER subtle since they bring you attention to it, but not ham handed either which I loved

Maya's arc is BRILLIANT - you know I love me some morally grey protags looking for redemption

The scene of her grandad selling to the Karen and Greg and they ask about a Najavo rug had me ROLLING because... yeah I've met those people 🥴

HEALING. HEALING. HEALING. THE SYMBOLISM OF THE BIRD AND FISK????

NETFLIX DAREDEVIL IS CANON, WHEN I SAW THAT HAMMER I WAS SHOOOOOOK

Fisk where is your WIFE

Did anyone catch the Fisk's Dad Fisk Beats The Bully Ice Cream Man and Baby Fisk Child Maya Kicks Him Too parallels???? No? Just me?

Maya making the rollerskate gun to shoot bolts was fucking hilarious

'Breakfast. Most important meal of the day.' I love her your honor

The way ALL her fucking ancestors showed up to help gave me legit chills, it was SO FUCKING COOL

I LOVE IT I WANT MORE

I guess this means I'll eventually have to do a TRT sequel set in this time period after the official end of TRT just post S3, or at least some one-shots if only so I can write Maya too, oh no, how surprising, who could have expected that. 🤷‍♀️

[boozenboze]

2. Hound Dog

Tf!141 x Roberta!Male reader

Summary: Don’t mess with the people he holds to dear. He will get blood on his hands for them.

Women/Female Aligned DNI

While going through the endless amounts of older articles and private information. Price hadn't found much significance in the writings, though there were a few things he took to mind. Some of the poorly taken photos were clear to be of M/n. However, there was something weird under the information. He used to be under an elite squad way before he joined the 141. The call sign he has now Teleiotís, wasn't even his original call sign. Having gone under the codename Hound. "The hell were you up to lad..?" Price murmured, eyes focusing on the name. It was another word for a dog, a wild beast. M/n wasn't like that, he'd always been the perfect soldier. Even if he did act robotic sometimes. Despite the decent amount of info that was given, there wasn't enough to piece many things together. Why was he so durable, strong at that. He'd met many other soldiers in his time, yet there was nobody like this. Nobody like him.

Going a bit further, he found a folder in the corner of the screen, the slightly hidden folder having caught his full attention. He clicked on it, watching the screen flash black, extracting a look of wary from his face. 0...13..26...45...60..76...89...95...100..loading.

A knock on his door swept his attention away from the screen, Price now looking towards the door.

"Time to start headin' out," Laswell called out, leaving Price to sigh in response. He still had shit he needed to do, that would have to wait. They still had a job to do. In the moments that Price put his hat on his head, and headed out the door, a description was shown of a man. In bold italic letters in red, showed something that could change a lot. The Blood-Hound of The Inner Circle.

—————-

Everything went to shit, leaving Soap beat up on the ground with Gaz tied up to Price, arms to their backs. They don't know what they'd done with Ghost, but he's a tough one so they try not to worry much about it. After almost acquiring what they needed, the whole operation having gone too smoothly for their liking ended with them being led into a trap. M/n was nowhere to be found, hell he hadn't even come on this run with them. If anything he should still be at the base, doing whatever work he does when they do go on a mission without him. "Watcher-1, do you copy?" Price grumbled, voice sounding hoarse and dry. He struggled against the rope, wrists having rug burn on them causing a stinging sensation. "Shit.., Soap...lad you alive?" Soap opened his eyes, having had them closed moments ago. He looked roughed up, having run his mouth more than needed towards the enemy. Left him with a bruised cheek and busted lip.

"Never been better sir.." Soap groaned, feeling the pain in his back as he sat up groggily. He pushed himself up against the wall, working his wrists only to feel that he was tied too. "Got this shit bloody fucking tight- ugh." Soap struggled against his restraints to no avail, his wrists beginning to sting due to his struggle. He leaned his head against the wall, sighing out of frustration. As far as they could tell, they were unable to hear anything going on outside the room, and the only thing there for potential escape was a ventilation system high up on the ceiling. They were stuck, no doubt, with no possible way of escape. A few moments passed, Soap lolling his head to the right, hearing the door to the room they were being held in being unlocked. Adrenaline rushed through their bodies, an unspoken sentence going through their heads as their eyes set heavy on the door. Be ready

The door creaked open, Gaz shifting in his seated position, fully being on edge. With the door fully opened, they found themselves staring into nothing. The hallway was completely dark, the lights occasionally flickering. "The hell..?" Price murmured, squinting at the dark abyss of the hall, attempting to land his gaze on something, anything. Then he saw it, the familiar sight of the red substance he and the rest of his fellow soldiers often got on their hands. It looked fresh, and as the lights flickered again he could see the extent of it all. An audible gulp was heard from Soap, which was understandable. They weren't able to hear or see...whatever the hell happened, but there was no mistaking the sight of Ghost walking past, the large man stopping when he found his team. "Bloody hell..." Ghost said under his breath, rushing to untie Gaz and Price from one another. "Well look at that, L.T. here saving the day." Soap cheered cheekily, though the look Ghost gave him shut him up. He let the man untie him, nodding his head at him once finished. The 3 took the chance to stretch, needing to be ready to move again. "Mind telling us what going on?" Gaz questioned, referring to the flickering lights and blood-splattered walls. "Dunno wasn't me though." Ghost replied gruffly, his gaze coming in contact with the others who held a look of confusion and a sense of uneasiness. If Ghost hadn't done this, that'd only mean one thing. Someone else was here

"Where were you-, what'd happened when they took you," Soap asked, shifting his weight to his right leg. Silence filled the room, Ghost just staring at each of them.

------------

Thwack

Thwack

Thwack

Blood was spat out of Ghost's mouth, and his mask had been ripped off his face, leaving him with his balaclava. He was being interrogated, his silence having ticked off the enemy soldiers badly. "Hell's it gon take to make ya talk eh?" The soldier said, the annoyance prominent in their tone. Ghost's head was to the side, his gaze to the ground.

"Oi...speak damnit!" A loud thud was heard, the butt of a gun making contact with Ghost's skull. The soldier went in for another hit only to be stopped by the other soldier in the room with a hand to the shoulder. They scoffed, backing away and letting the other soldier have his turn. They turned on their heel, walking out of the room, leaving Ghost alone with the other soldier. The man stood there for a moment, looking down at Ghost who was also looking at him. A look of distaste clear in his gaze, moments going by with just this. "You're gonna have to talk," He stated shortly, the soldier, pulling a chair to now sit across from Ghost. He sat, lounging in the wooden chair casually, potentially trying to appear laid back. An often yet effective tactic. "And hell if I don't?" Ghost said back, hardened stare not leaving the soldier who visibly became uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Well, ya teammates seemed pretty worried bout ya earlier." The soldier said, staring back at Ghost with his newfound found hand. The fucker was holding the lives of his team over his head, and quite frankly. That's not something he'd want to happen.

He glared, the smirk appearing on the other man's face pissing him off with each second it remained. "Lay a damn hand on any of em and I swear I'll-" Ghost was cut off by the sound of a blood-curdling scream, followed by the sound of glass shattering. The enemy soldier stood up, pulling his gun up steadily. The screams faded out, a cracking sound echoing through the now silent hall. The soldier stopped in place, the sound of footsteps being heard making their way down the hall. With a shaky hand, he grabbed the doorknob, slowly opening the door and peeking out of it.

His breath hitched, at the sight of the soldier who was originally inside the room with his neck twisted where the back of his head should be. His mouth was ajar, blood spilling from his mouth, worse part about it being that he was still alive. He wasn't getting enough air, choking on his own blood while using whatever air he had left in his lungs to breathe. Or at least try...

The soldier backed away, the door creaking open on its own, enough for Ghost to see as well. He tensed, gazing hard at the now dying soldier. Not even a second later, a gun went flying towards the soldier in the room with him. The man got thrown back, the gun sending him flying into the wall, the head of the gun piercing the man through the mouth and out his skull. His body now hung from the wall, completely motionless.

The remaining man, Ghost stared at the whole scene. He couldn't move, gaze shifting to the doorway again to see someone standing there. He was locked in, being able to hear his own thoughts yet couldn't move a muscle even if he tried. His pupils dilated as the figure approached him slowly and tentatively. Upon closer look, he had a black surgical mask on his face, with a familiar uniform on his body. Was he worried about that at the moment though? Not at all.

Ghost's eyes lost their sight on him once they went behind him, feeling the enigma untie his hands. He still hadn't moved, yet a look of confusion was now held in his eyes. His breath hitched when he felt something land in his lap, relaxing when he saw his mask. He looked back up, about to say something only for the man to be gone.

------------

The three stared at Ghost, looks of equal confusion and intensity in their eyes.

"Let's move, can't risk gettin' caught up with whatever the hell's going on." Price said, quickly moving to lead the others out. They had to be quick, or else there'd be a possibility that they'd end up having the same fate as those other poor sods.

As they moved through the large building, swiping whatever guns or knives the fallen soldiers had on them. Gaz had to cover his nose at one point, the metallic smell of blood making him feel sick.

"Where we even goin'..., place s' like a labyrinth," Gaz murmured, staying close on Price's 6 while Soap stayed a bit further back with Ghost's imposing figure.

"Should be an exit somewhere-." Price held his hand up, the others stopping in suit. There were two people at the end of the hall, both throwing punch after punch at the other. With a quick and swift movement, the soldier who was clear to be the enemy lifted the other up, slamming him onto a table that was for some reason at the end of the hall.

"You really thought I couldn't recognize you...," An unfamiliar voice spoke, possibly the enemy soldier. The sound of a gun clock echoed through the quiet hall, the 141 members hiding around the corner, silently watching the whole spectacle. "I know how you fight, hell we were from the same regiment.

"Hmm, well I do recognize you..." The other voice spoke, Soap's ears perking up at the sound of it. If he wasn't dreaming, it was who he thought it was, despite his tone being so... different. A scoff of amusement was heard from the same man.

"Why don't you just shoot me eh? I see that look in yer eyes." The enemy spoke, glaring down at the other man. "You were an asset to our plans, yet you up and left us like an old toy. Boss wasn't very happy bout that..." Silence came back into the room, Gaz looking back at Soap who had a look of familiarity in his eyes. "What?" Gaz whispered, staying as quiet as possible. Soap held a hand up, a silent motion to tell Gaz to be quiet.

"Come back with us Hound, stop pretending to be some weak-ass hero. Come be the man you were before." The man pushed, smirk clear in his voice. The four men's eyes widened, their teammate? No, it couldn't be...how... "Markov would love to see this pretty face again y'know."

A low chuckle left the other man.

"Well...I am tired of it all, but once I'm done here, my job will be done," The voice spoke back, undoubtedly belonging to their teammate. The enemy backed away, gun still in his hands as he watched Hound intently. With the way his gaze lay on the man, it was clear there was something else he wanted. Hound, being the quick-minded man he was, sighed as he sat up a bit more on the table.

"Still being cautious, understandable." The sound of a belt unbuckling made Price quickly move slightly from around the corner, ready to shoot the man. Without missing a beat, the lock on Hound's belt opened, revealing something other than a belt. The sound of shots firing made Price back, the enemy yelled out in pain, falling to his knees.

"You fucking!- AGH." The man was cut off when he was suddenly lifted off the ground, Hound landing a heavy blow across the soldier's face. "You think I'd lower myself down to your level again? Pig," Hound spoke, glaring down at the soldier who looked shocked. Another punch to the face, then the stomach. The enemy spat out blood, knees buckling yet Hound's hold on his shirt unwavered. Another punch was heard, only this time a loud crack was heard. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost listened intently, an uncomfortable feeling in the pits of their stomachs to the sound of bones breaking. "I'd never go back, not when I have them," Hound spoke, voice void of any emotion towards the beaten and wounded soldier "They're my family and my loyalty...my protection...my love is for them. I'd be damned if I let them go, or have you try and take me back to that shit hole."

It was like a pang to the heart, despite how sinister his tone was coming off. It was refreshing, he really did care for them despite how he behaved. Though, they couldn't ignore the fact that...he'd been associated with Markov. (A/n: I tagged those who asked to be tagged or be made aware of when this came out in the comments of pt.1) @byakuren100 @d0wnwthecl0wn @thefanpov @sochigonzo

@hashslingingslasherofficial @hauntedapplefarm @incubusx @king825