#but indulging that part of my brain that just wants to cry and cry and cry about it is just

[elytrafemme]

long theoretical post about my friend hugging me

like. to dissect a matter that none of you are involved in and then i'll delete in the morning: my friend in college hugged me about ten minutes ago and i don't understand why. he's a physically affectionate person so we knew it was bound to happen, it was a running joke between us that we'd like schedule our hug to happen. nothing extraordinary happened tonight. in the second half -- which is when i spent the most time with him -- i was so fucked up that i barely processed what was going on? i was listening to what he was telling me, he just rambled about stuff, and it's interesting and i could recite all of it if asked and the expression he made at each part, but there was absolutely nothing in my head. and he never asked if i was okay which i think he would have if he thought something was wrong, because he's done that before. and we were alone so he could have and there would have been zero consequences. but he didn't ask me what was wrong, so it's hard to assume that the hug was for emotional consolation reasons. he wouldn't have noticed me on the brink of tears, either, he's not that observant. i would have known if he had. and i didn't do anything truly kind to him today, i listened to him talk about his interests and we hung out for a while, but that's what we do all the time. nothing happened. there was the chair thing but i thought i played that off well, i tried to have a coherent narrative about it an hour later too so he would guess what i had hoped, and i think i was successful. he wasn't distressed, i would have known. and he was tired but he's been tired a lot before and he's never acted like this. so he had zero reason to hug me unless he maybe sensed that this entire time i just really fucking wanted him to hug me, but he wouldn't have, and i would never have voiced that, because i don't want him to see me at that level. but i needed that hug badly. and i don't understand why i received it.

[strawbebyjam]

listened to francis forever & didn’t cry so. Progress!

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[bucks-babe]

Be Mean To Me

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: After a long day at work, you just want to lose all control and have your boyfriend fuck you into oblivion 

Warnings: Established relationship, slight angst, fluff, smut, mean!dom!bucky, reader asks for it, they are so in love, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, oral (male receiving), ball sucking, slapping, spit kink?, degradation, humiliation, name calling (slut, whore, bitch, sugar, good girl), daddy kink, some praise, spanking, pussy slapping (like once), safe word (yellow), vaginal sex, no prep anal, Bucky has a huge dick, choking, aftercare, check-ins, crying during sex, crying after sex, soft!Bucky, no mention of Y/N, no description of reader other than being female

Word Count: 4.9k of mostly smut

A/N: This was very self indulgent. Work has been kicking my ass and I want to be taken care of. Any mistakes are my own. If I missed any warnings please let me know. @bucknastysbabe it's done! I think I should go back to therapy. But hey, smut

You feel your throat tighten as you walk up to the apartment you share with Bucky. It was one of those days that left you beaten down and wanting to curl up under your blankets and cry. You didn’t even want to go into work this morning, having to force yourself to get ready. Too many rude customers, incompetent coworkers giving you more work than you get paid to do, everything leaving you overstimulated and wanting your boyfriend.

It left a craving deep down inside of you, a want that you knew only he could quell. You just wanted to shut your brain off, have Bucky take care of you, ruin you, treat you like a whore, break you down, just to put you back together again.

You swallow the lump in your throat and unlock the front door, finding Bucky on the couch watching some random action movie that he claimed to hate. At the sight of him your body naturally relaxes and the urge to crawl onto his lap is too much to bear.

“Hey, sugar. I’ve been missing you all day. You’ll never fucking believe the video Sam sent me of Tony trying out his new thrusters! He flew rig- What’s wrong?” He perked up at the sound of the door opening, truly missing his girl. Whenever you’re around him his entire day gets better, a lightness filling his chest, but when he sees how run down you are, his heart literally hurts for you. Bucky wants to protect you from everything, from supervillains all the way to spiders in the house.

“Long day, baby. Just wanna be with you.” He opens his arms and you instantly crawl into his lap, eyes burning with tears you refuse to shed. He runs his metal hand up and down your back, pulling you as close to him as possible, while his flesh hand rests on your head, holding you to his neck, letting you breathe him in.

“What can I do for you, sugar? Want to talk about it? I can order from your favorite place. Can run you a bath. Whatever you want, sweet girl.” 

“Please, be mean to me, Bucky.” Bucky feels his heart clench in his chest. He wants to keep your heart safe from whatever it is that is plaguing you, but he knows he can’t. What he can do is follow your request and make you forget.

“How mean do you want me, sugar?” Bucky has done this for you a few times. He always asks how you want him to treat you. It’s in his nature to be sweet to you, fill you with praise, but that's not what you want right now. You want to be degraded and treated like a fucktoy.

“Mean.” You keep your eyes trained on him. This is the only part where you need to keep your head on, make sure that he knows you want this.

“Remember your colors, sugar?” You nob, excitement bubbling up inside of you. “Remember, daddy will only be upset with you if you don’t use them. If you need to say yellow or red, you will.” His tone is final. This is the only way he would ever agree to treating you like a slut.

“Yes, daddy.” And just like that, Bucky’s entire demeanor changes. He goes from your sweet, cuddly boyfriend to a cold and callous body of muscle. 

“Then take your clothes off, slut.” He pushes you off his lap, just hard enough to give the illusion of indifference. As you strip, Bucky keeps his eyes trained on the TV, not paying you any mind. Your core throbs at the fact that you are completely exposed while he is still fully dressed. 

“On your knees.” He’s still not looking at you, but you obey without thought, willing to do whatever he wants. Grabbing the back of your neck, he forces you in between his spread legs, and you whine at the fact that his cock is still soft inside his sweats. Any other day, Bucky would make sure that your knees were never on the hardwood floor without a pillow or something soft underneath, but not today.

On days like these, when you want to feel completely submissive, it takes Bucky a while to get aroused. It’s in his nature to love up on you, make you drunk with pleasure in the sweetest way possible. He feeds off of your energy. When he is sure that you are having fun, his body lets himself fall into his role.

“What? You think at the first signs of some tits I’m gonna get hard? I knew you were a dumb slut but I didn’t realize just how thick you were.” Your pussy was absolutely pulsing with need. With his hand still on the back of your neck, he rubs your face against his crotch, feeling his cock begin to harden at the smell of your arousal.

He pulls you back far enough to slide his pants down, foregoing boxers, and you immediately try to take his half hard length in your mouth. Before you can process it, Bucky’s right hand lands a slap to your cheek - hard enough to make a welt that will take a few hours to disappear. You gasp and your cunt pulses even harder than before at the sting left on your cheek. 

His metal hand wraps around your chin, much cooler than it’s supposed to be, and forces you to look him in the eye. In the back of your mind you realize that he turned on the cooling function in his arm to sooth your cheek; the arm was built to keep him cool in the Wakandan sun and heat. “Did daddy say you could suck his cock?” He uses his hand to shake your head from side to side, answering for you. “Then keep your slutty mouth shut.”

He spreads his legs wider and pulls your face closer to his heavy sack, already full of cum. “Hands behind your back, and suck on daddy’s balls.” You join your hands together behind your back without question and nuzzle his balls. Wasting no time, you take one into your mouth, sucking feverishly, enjoying the light dusting of hair tickling your face.

“Oh, fuck, come on, slut, I know you can do better than that. Take ‘em both in your dirty mouth.” He pushes you further into him, cutting off your oxygen, and you swear you hear your slick drip onto the floor. Your jaw aches as you try to get them both in your mouth, but you can't; his balls are too big. Bucky ruts against your face, squishing his balls, precum leaking from his tip, dripping onto his stomach after he takes his shirt off.

With your limited amount of movement, you alternate between each ball, licking at the seam. Every time you switch balls, you feel the other drag wetly across your face and you have to clench your legs in an attempt to quell the ache between them while fighting with your need for air. “Such a dirty bitch, lapping at your daddy’s nuts, shit.” He pulls you back just as your head starts to go fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, and you gasp for air, spit is covering the lower half of your face and is dripping down your neck and chest; Bucky feels his cock throb at the sight.

Reaching out, Bucky smears your spit around your face and leaves another, weaker smack to your cheek before he grabs his cock and uses his weeping tip to tease you, dragging it on your face. “What a nasty fucking bitch, drooling all over the place just from sucking some balls.” He slaps your cheeks with it a few times before forcing your head down all the way, making you gag and you immediately pull off, coughing.

He stares into your eyes, cold and calculating, waiting for you to speak. When your coughing subsides you manage to get out a hoarse ‘green,’ giving him the all clear. He takes your head and once again makes you take his cock, this time much slower and not as deep, the first time he wanted to fuck with you. “Such a perfect fucking mouth, shit.” He stops you from bobbing your head, “Stop being such a desperate whore and let daddy finish his movie.” You're sure you’re leaking onto the floor at this point.

You are able to see his face and he looks wrecked, mouth hanging open and head back; he’s not watching shit. Nonetheless, you rest your head on his thigh, getting comfortable, spreading your legs out to get closer to the floor so your head won't be bent at an awkward angle, ignoring the pain in your knees and the ache in your jaw. 

The only sounds filling the room are Bucky’s ragged breathing and the movie playing in the background. There is saliva everywhere, his cock, all over his balls, down to his ass and on the couch. His cock is constantly leaking precum into your mouth but you don’t swallow, letting his taste linger on your tongue. 

This isn’t what you wanted, you wanted him to demolish you. Sitting with his cock in your mouth is giving you too much time to think, so you do what any sane person would do - be a brat. At the first suckle, Bucky lets out a broken moan, at the second, he knows what you’re up to. Flicking your ear with his metal hand he hisses, “Don’t make me punish you, bitch.” At the third, he yanks you off of his dick, a trail of drool and precum keeping the two of you connected, as slaps you once again with his flesh hand, this time not soothing the marred flesh with his metal hand.

He stands and kicks the couch out of the way and pulls you with him by the neck. “You disobedient little-” he cuts himself short at the small puddle of slick that he finds from your previous position. “Is that what I think it is?” You only whine in response, his grip on your neck never faltering. 

With his free hand, he reaches down to your pussy to feel just how wet you are, confirming his suspicions. “What a dirty fucking slut, leaking all over my floor.” He pulls you in closer to him just to whisper, “Lick it the fuck up, bitch,” before pushing you to the ground. 

Your knees hit the wood hard and pain runs up your spine. You ignore the ache and brainlessly lap at your juices on the floor before Bucky smushes your cheek against the puddle and you moan. “Messy bitch, you are? Cunt is pulsing, waiting for my dick. Too bad I have to punish you, isn’t it, slut?” He leans down to the floor, eyes lined up with yours. “Daddy is going to give you ten spanks and I want you to count them.” You don’t respond immediately, stuck in a sort of limbo, drawn in further at the softness in his eyes.

No matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t hide his devotion to you, that’s why he doesn’t let you look at him when he needs to play this role. His whole face softens at your silence, fearing he’s gone too far. “Color, sugar.” Stroking your cheek, he leans in closer, breathing you in.

“Green, daddy, so green.” The sigh Bucky lets out is audible and he feels ten times lighter.

“Good girl, you want to keep going the way we were?” Even though you said green, he wants to be certain.

“Yes please, daddy, want you to be mean.” You look so small and soft. Bucky struggles to put his facade back up, but he knows you need this.

Bucky positions himself behind you, staring at your ass and glistening pussy, and feels his cock bounce. The first slap isn’t soft by any means, you know there will be a handprint left. Your body jolts and Bucky groans at the jiggle of your ass. “One.” The second is on your other cheek and makes you clench around nothing. “Two.” He lands the next two much harder on the same cheek and you feel tears form in your eyes, yet continue to count, digging your nails into your palm.

He repeats the two spanks to your left cheek and takes a break to sooth your heated and raised skin with his metal hand after you’ve counted. The ground beneath your cheek is hard and unforgiving, leaving you neck bent at an odd angle. Spank seven lands on the back of your right thigh and somehow feels much stronger. “Shit! Seven, daddy.” Eight is on your left, and is just as hard. Your entire lower body aches: cunt pulsing and throbbing for his cock, thighs burning, and ass red and raw, sobbing with every impact.

“These last two are going to be harder, slut, since you forgot to count.” Even with his warning, you aren’t prepared. They are hard and fast, hearing them before you feel them, knocking the breath out of you, and you try to scramble up, but Bucky holds you down. “Don’t run away from me, you know better.” All of a sudden, the sharpest and most excruciating pain blooms from your cunt, and then you hear the wet smack of his metal hand hitting your core. 

You wail, body shooting up, legs fighting to close to soothe the sting left. Before you can, Bucky’s hand on the back of your head keeps you to the ground, while he slams his cock into your cunt, not stopping to let you adjust. “That’s it, fuck. Such a good pussy. Dirty fucking bitch.” You can’t breathe, his cock is knocking all of the air out of your lungs. The only sounds in the room are Bucky’s moans and the wet slapping of skin, his heavy balls banging against your sore clit. With each thrust you’re sure he’s hitting your cervix.

The hand on the back of your head leaves to grab your hip, letting him fuck you even faster, the both of you sliding further and further on the floor. You try to brace yourself with your hands, but the brutality of his fucking is no match. “Daddy, fuck, s-so g-good, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but your cunt is pulling him in, barely letting him pull out.

Bucky is practically chasing you on the floor, hips never slowing down, eyes trained on your pussy, loving the creamy white mess on his dick. “Fuuuck, look at the ass bouncing on daddy’s cock, shit! Love the way this fat fucking ass looks when its all red and sore.” He’s in heaven, with the tight clench of your cunt wrapping around his cock, making him feel crazy.

“Daddy! I can’t, f-fuck, please, too much!” You’re fucking delirious with pleasure, feeling something twisting inside of you. You searched for something to hold on to, only finding smooth surface, legs locking, body seizing up.

“You can and you will take this dick, bitch. I don’t care if it makes you fucking bleed.” The pressure in your core builds tighter and tighter, all the while, Bucky’s hips never falter, sack still ramming against your clit.The breath is knocked out of you when you feel the most intense orgasm of your life pass through you.

Keening and wailing, you squirt on Bucky’s cock, the sounds of your fucking somehow getting even more wet until the force of your orgasm pushes his cock out. Your body is left twitching. There is a much larger puddle on the floor now - your cum. Bucky could fucking cum at the sight of your pathetic body laying on the ground, body wrought with pleasure. “Fuck, sugar! That was so fucking hot! You squirted all over, shit! I fucking love you so goddamn much.” 

The entire lower half of his body is covered with your cum and Bucky swears he can feel his heartbeat in his cock. Nonetheless, he wraps his arms around your waist and hulls you over to where he kicked the couch, placing your upper half on the cushions. “You’re so fucking wet now I bet I could slide right into that tight ass, what do you think, slut?” Your core pulses at the thought of his fat cock in your ass, the two of you don’t usually do anal, given how big he is, but you can’t think straight, especially after cumming so hard.

“Yes, daddy. I want your big cock in my ass, want you to fill me up.” Bucky groans at the thought of his excessive load running out of your ass. Leaning back, he ruts against your pussy, gathering more of your slick, before spreading your cheeks with his hands, staring at your puckered hole. He lines his cock up and watches as precum leaks from his tip.

His cock is huge, much longer and thicker than average, and he knows it. Grabbing himself near his tip, he pushes, grunting at the resistance, knowing that this would be much easier if he takes the time to prep you, but you want to be treated like a whore. “You gotta loosen the fuck up, bitch or else I’ll really fucking hurt you. Want this fucking ass so bad, better let daddy in. Cock is too big for this little ass, isn’t it, gonna split you in half, leave you leaking for days.” 

He pushes harder, tip finally popping in, causing searing pain to shoot through you. Crying out, you try to pull forward to escape the burning pain, wiggling further into the couch. Bucky leans over, careful not to push in any further, he knows you need a moment, any other time you would have been fully prepped and he would have slid right in, and wraps his metal hand around your neck, shushing you, “Shhhh, stop being so dramatic.” 

After a few minutes, the pain begins to subside and your breathing calms down. Keeping his hand around your throat, he pushes in, inch by inch, and the pain comes back. You whine into the cushion, every new inch burning more than the last until his hips are flush with your ass. “What the fuck?! Your ass is so fu-fucking tight, shit! Fucking milking my cock, wanna pound this little hole, wanna fucking ruin you.”

Burying his face in the back of your neck, Bucky was taking deep breaths, completely out of it. He wasn’t thinking straight, not when your tight hole was hugging every inch of his cock. You on the other hand, were struggling, it was too much too fast. It fucking hurt, there were tears in your eyes, but your pussy was aching like it wanted more. Your clit throbbed with need, even when your ass was stretched to the brim.

You didn’t want to stop, but you needed a break, before Bucky could move his hips you muttered, “Yellow, daddy, yellow.” The hand on your neck left and Bucky maneuvered his upper body so that he could look you in the eye without moving his cock. His entire demeanor was different, back was your sweet, caring boyfriend. 

“Good girl, daddy’s so proud of you for using your safe word. Shhh, it’s okay, sugar. Do you just need a second to breathe? Take your time, if you need to stop I will.” Bucky caresses your face as he soothes you, bringing you back down. His cock is still buried to the hilt in your ass, driving him insane. He wants to rail you so fucking bad, tip of his cock probably purple by now, but he would never do anything you didn’t want to, more than willing to sit with his cock inside of you until you’re ready or decide to stop.

You don’t know how much time passes, but eventually, you loosen up and your mind goes fuzzy once again, desperate for him to move. You wiggle your hips, rocking back and forth, instead of pain, blinding pleasure courses through you. “Green, daddy. I’m ready, just needed to get used to your fat cock, want you to pound into me.” Bucky lets out the most sinful groan and stills your hips with his hands.

He starts out slow, easing you into his motions, gradually gaining speed and force the louder your moans get. “Daddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!” You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open. His hips and thighs were wet from when you squirted on him, slapping against your ass, everytime he pulled back a vulgar shlick sound could be heard.

He fucked you faster and harder, staring at where you were connected. “This fucking ass feels incredible. Taking me so well, knew you could do it, fuck. Splitting your tiny ass in half. Oh God!” He could feel his orgasm building up, fighting it off everytime his cum filled sack slapped against your pussy. Letting go of your hips he snarled, “Show daddy how much of a fucking slut you are and bounce that fat ass on his cock.”

You whined, but complied anyway, digging your toes into the floor to get more leverage to keep slamming back on his cock. The sounds of skin slapping and both of your moans completely drowned out the ending of Bucky’s movie, not that either of you cared. Panting and moaning, you kept working yourself on him, feeling another orgasm bubbling up.

Meeting your thrusts, Bucky was rambling, not having one coherent thought in his head, “Look at that, give me that ass, yes! Don’t you dare fucking stop, bitch, want you to milk this cock. Love the way it fucking bounces, never seen anything like it, oh fuck!” He was getting whiny, high pitched moans falling from his lips. He couldn’t help it, his cock was too fucking sensitive and you felt too good. 

“M Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?” Bucky practically growls, getting up to his feet to squat, not missing a beat while still trusting in you. Every time his pelvis met your ass he whined and whimpered, loving the way it jiggled. He could feel you clenching around him, drawing his own orgasm closer.

“Not until I do. Fucking hold it, bitch.” It seemed impossible, but Bucky fucked you even faster, his hips moving at a ferocious speed. He wanted to cum so fucking bad and your high pitched moans were about to make him bust. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I’m gonna fucking nut. You want daddy to fill your ass up, huh? God! Fuck, I’m splitting you in two. Uhhh. Balls are so heavy, so much cum. Fuuuuuuck. Daddy’s gonna fill you up, have you leaking.”

His hand wraps around your throat and chokes you, hips still smashing against yours, your orgasm barely being held in. You try to talk, get him to let you cum, but no words come out. Bucky felt his orgasm approach, balls pulling up, “Shiiit, daddy’s gonna cum, gonna flood your ass, you ready, cum with your daddy. Right. Fucking. Now.” Bucky cums with a long, drawn out moan. The feeling of his endless load pouring into your ass sends you over the edge and you cum so hard your vision goes black for a second. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through you. Bucky’s hips jerk involuntarily, prolonging both of your orgasms. 

As you both catch your breaths, you feel Bucky begin to soften inside of you, still plugging your hole, stopping his cum from leaking back out. “You were so good for me, sugar. I’m so proud of you.” At those words you feel your bottom lip begin to tremble. Burying your face into the cushions, a sob escapes your throat, all of your emotions finally bubbling over.

Running his hands up and down your back, Bucky soothes you. This was always his least favorite part, seeing you cry. He knows that you’re crying isn’t because of him, but there is always a twinge of fear that shoots through his body, scared that he went too far with you. Bucky pulls out as gently as he can, hissing when the air touches his spent dick, and moves to rest his back against the couch, pulling you into his lap.

Neither of you care that his cum is leaking all over. Bucky will clean the room later, after he takes care of his sweet girl. You cling to him as you sob into his neck, his hands massage your sore cheeks as he whispers in your ear, “Such a good girl for me, you made me feel so fucking good. Can’t even begin to explain how good you felt. There you go, let it out. I’m right here.”

Carefully, he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. When he tries to set you down you just cling on harder to him, not wanting to leave his embrace. “I gotta draw us a bath, sugar. You know you have to pee, I’ll be right here when you’re done.” You hesitantly let him go while he draws the bath, putting in your favorite oils. After you pee and wipe, he helps you up so you can wash your hands before sitting you both in the tub.

Bucky sits against the wall of the tub and you curl further into his lap, not wanting any space in between you. Somehow you still aren’t close enough to him, wanting to be surrounded completely by him. Tears are still leaking down your face and even with Bucky’s consuming presence, you can’t seem to pull yourself up to the surface. Bucky’s arms are wrapped around you, making sure that you are as close as possible without him being inside of you.

“Sweets, can you look at me? Want to see those pretty eyes.” You can hear the concern in Bucky’s voice, but you can’t bring yourself to move away. He’s your safe space and you just want to bask in his warmth. “Sweets, please. Can you tell me how you feel? I need to know you’re okay.” You don’t know why that set you off, but all of a sudden more tears escape you, sobs fighting to make their way out.

Bucky’s entire world stops, fear shoots up his spine. He doesn’t know if he could live with himself if he hurt you, if he did something that you didn’t want. He knows that you asked him to treat you like a whore, but what if you didn’t want him to go as far as he did? You used your safe word when it got to be too much, but what if you really wanted to say red, not yellow, but wanted to please him, or felt like you had to please him. “Sweetheart, did I hurt you? Did I go too far? Please talk to me.”

Even though you didn’t want to talk, you could hear that he was about to cry. “I’m okay. Just love you so much.” You could feel Bucky relax under you.

“You sure, sweets? I’ve never seen you like this before.” While some of his fears subsided, Bucky was still worried about you.

Picking your head up so you could look him in the eye, you saw just how scared Bucky truly was. “I promise, Buck, I loved every second of it. You made me feel so good and cared for. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.” Bucky closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. At that moment, Bucky understood why aftercare was so important. Of course he knew you needed to be taken care of so that you knew how much he loved you, but hearing those words come out of your mouth made him feel loved in a way he didn’t know was possible. 

Before the water gets cold you’ve stopped crying, making Bucky feel much better and he washes the sweat and spit off of your face and body, being extra careful with your sensitive pussy and ass. All the while whispering sweet nothings into your ear while you take turns kissing each other all over.

Bucky feels ten times lighter when he gets a giggle out of you. He knows that there will be days when you need him to treat you like a slut, but you know how much he loves and respects you. He lays you on the bed before grabbing your favorite lotion to put on, being extra careful when it comes to your sore ass, placing kisses in each spot after he's rubbed in the lotion.

 The marks on your face are gone by now, but Bucky still fusses over your skin care routine, knowing you don’t have the energy to complete it. After taking care of you, he climbs into bed and covers the both of you up, still naked but you don’t care. Bucky reaches into the bedside drawer and grabs some chocolate while you feed it to each other. Neither of you say much, but nothing needs said. 

You place kisses on his chest and arms, anywhere that you can reach, trying to let him know how much you appreciate him - Bucky knows. You fall asleep first, not being able to keep your eyes open any longer, Bucky moves you to his chest, cocooning you into him before he falls asleep, your head tucked carefully under his chin, legs tangled together, completely protected by him.

[bunnys-kisses]

holy- THE MAX WEED FIC MIGHT BE THE HOTTEST F1 PIECE IVE READ SO FAR OML PLEASE MORE DRUNK FILTHY SEX WITH MAX I BEG YOU!! or hear me out his rival (who already is into max but refuses to admit it) accidentally takes an aphrodisiac and she’s forced to beg and grind on max for his help!! size kink please with those huge thighs and hands of his ❤️❤️

oh my god thank you!!! i wasn't too sure how people would like intoxicated fics! i know that most write it with liquor, but if you've had sex while stoned, it's a nicer feeling. anyway, i'm really fucking with this idea so! i hope you enjoy!

and for those out there on the internet, send me your ideas! i love ideas to be shared and written!!!! send me your smutty ideas! i want em!!!

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, aphrodisiacs, begging/whining, size kink, praise kink, non-penetrative sex, driver!reader, recreational drug use (weed), enthusiastic consent, thigh riding, clothed sex, max being a good rival/lover

"i think i should cutting these up for you, schat." he said as he cut the bag open for you. nothing too spectacular on, just four pieces of chocolate, "so this was their response to not having weed." he picked up a piece and eyed it in the light of the kitchen.

most drivers had their vices, many indulged in the bitter nectar of alcohol. others enjoyed the private company of certain individuals, which left heavy stacks of money on nightstands and tucked into bank accounts. a small portion got their kicks from substances that went harder.

you remembered having to sit in a meeting with max when you first started in formula one about the dangers of illicit drugs. as if most of the retired drivers didn't have their brains re-altered by the likes of cocaine.

but this wasn't canada, or certain parts of the united states or even amsterdam. you couldn't just freely by your fix, weed, so you had to get creative. but someone with as much money as you, with that much influence in a city like monte carlo allowed you to get what you needed.

it may not be marijuana on paper, but it would do the trick on a saturday night during summer break.

"you don't think i can handle it?' you asked as you rested your chin against your hand with your elbow on the counter. you sighed, "you think so poorly of me, verstappen?"

he sighed, "no, i just don't want you passed out on my couch. the point is to have fun, not get wasted." he said but before he could grab a knife to cut it half for you, you had taken a piece of it and ate it down. max looked at you and put the knife back in the drawer, "you know, fine. fine, fine, fine. let's see how this goes, schat."

it was almost a dare and made you sit up a little more, you made a face at him, "what? i'm a big girl, i can handle a little drugs."

he drummed his fingers against the counter top and stuck out his bottom lip as he made a face back at you. his other hand was on his hip as he said, "like you could handle all that vodka in austria in twenty-nineteen. or when you out smoked me that weekend in amsterdam and i had to stay in your hotel room because you were going to cry if i left."

"ya know, verstappen. i don't like how i'm being spoken to."

he sighed, he went around the counter and kissed you on the cheek, "grab your bottle of water, you're going to need it." max knew, underneath it all, you carried a soft spot for him. he did for you as well, but he was a little more open about it. you had protected your soft underbelly when it came to him, while he held his arms open for you.

the feelings didn't start until an hour after you took it.

there was some movie on, but you weren't paying much attention. you were cuddled up against him. his arm was around your shoulders and kept you closed to him. you could feel the tingle in your feet and up your legs.

you made a small moaning noise with your nose in the side of his neck, right up against his hair. your hand was spread across the broadness of his chest.

your clenched onto his shirt and shakily exhaled as it start to really hit. everything felt gooey in your brain as you rubbed up against him. usually when you took part in illicit fun, you just got hungry or sleepy. but not this, something swirled in your gut.

"max." you said out of breath.

he pulled you closer to him and looked at you, "yes, schat? aw, was it all too much for you?" he cupped the back of your head and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

you whined against the kiss as you felt the heat run through your body. you felt hot all over, your knew your face must feel so hot. when you pulled away, you swallowed, "i'm.. i'm really turned on."

he chuckled, oh this was perfect. he rubbed the back of your head, those blue eyes enchanted you. this guy really was going tire-to-tire with you almost every weekend. that excited you.

you've thought about the sight of him in that driving suit, the stupid kits red bull puts him in. even now in a white t-shirt, and sweatpants after a nice dinner, you thought about what was under there.

"shit."

he chuckled then reached over to grab your metal water bottle. he opened it for you and gave you some. you drank it down heavily before he laughed once more. he put the bottle down and asked, "how are you feeling?"

"hot all over." you said, "i need you to fuck me."

he said, "i don't think i can. you're too high." he tucked hair behind your ear, but his eyes went wide as you got on either side of his thick thigh. he looked up at you and said, "schat, i need your word. are you okay to do this?"

you nodded as you gripped onto his shoulders, "yeah, yeah. i'll do all the work. nothing serious." even through the layers of clothes, you felt the stimulation across your clit. you could feel the blood rush in your ears.

your dug your nails into the meat of his shoulders, through the t-shirt he wore. you shakily exhaled, "i can see why everyone obsesses over your thighs." you then grabbed his hand and pressed your palm against his, "i didn't realize how big your hands were either." you giggled, "they're like bear paws." then pressed his hand against your heated cheek.

"they're not that big."

you nodded as you moved against him, your clothed cunt felt stimulated by the movements you made. plus his hands on you made you more turned on. your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, "they so are, they're like big paws. big bear paws." you giggled as you squirmed against him.

max looked away from you for a moment and sighed deeply to compose himself. in all fairness he wanted to sink his teeth into you. he wanted to fold you in half and fuck you until no words could leave your mouth. but he couldn't not while you were like this, even when he said yes. he wanted to make sure that you were sober when he did that.

"why can't you fuck me, max? i've been such a good girl! i almost beat you in belgium, that should make you fuck me." you whined, you stuck out your bottom lip with your hips still grinding against his thigh.

he cupped your behind and kept his nose against your, he sighed, "i'd love to, beautiful." he said, "but, you're not in the right mindset. i know we're rivals. but, i could never hurt you." it was the god's honest truth.

"no fair!" you whined.

"if you need to get off again after this, you can feel free to... pleasure yourself." he said, the words got caught in his throat. he could feel the blush up to his ears at the sight of you grinding against his thigh.

you nodded and held onto him as you continued to rub against him. you panted wildly and you were louder than usual. nromally you were rather quiet, but while high you were pitifully loud. you kissed him on the jaw and said, "next time i wanna feel that nose of yours against my pussy."

he exhaled deeply, his heartbeat staggered, holy shit. your dirty talk was making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. he held onto you and let you continue to rut against him like a little puppy.

"aw, ya like that, max?" you asked softly.

he chuckled, "i have to say, usually you're more subtle. i didn't know that you liked my body so much."

you looked at him and said, "max, are you fucking kidding me? have you seen yourself. the first time i ever saw you without your shirt on, i almost came!" this was something you'd never admit sober, "big ol' hands, big ol' thighs, big ol' nose. all leads to one thing." you jabbed your finger in his chest, "and i know the answer to that!"

if this was a dream that max was going to wake up from, he was going to wish he was dead. but as he clenched onto your hips and let you set your own pace, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

usually giving him a compliment was like having your teeth pulled. but right at that moment, your tongue was loose as you chased that orgasmic high you needed.

"just keep going." he panted, trying to keep himself together. and that you did, rubbing yourself raw against him.

you eventually hissed through your teeth as you climaxed in your panties. you wanted to cover your face from the rush through your system. you felt the sweat on your neck as you slowed down. you let out a few stray moans before you slowed down enough to a stop.

"holy shit." you panted as you rested your face against his shoulder. your fingers held onto the front of his shirt as you felt the aftershocks in your body.

he rubbed your back, "how are you feeling?" his cock was painfully erect in his sweatpants, but he wasn't going to try it push it further. not while you were in this state. he'd rather a painful erection then you getting hurt.

you pulled away and looked him in the eyes, your eyes were rimmed red as you nodded, "perfect, excellent, amazing. do..do you have any snacks in the fridge?"

he chuckled. you were painfully cute like this, all snuggled up with him. he knew come the next race you'd be getting in his face and challenging him at every turn. but at that moment, with you high as a kite both of the chocolate and sexual bliss. he ran his fingers through your hair and looked at your cute face. he said to you, "why don't you just lie down and i'll see what i have."

you giggled and wrapped your arms around him. you kissed him on the cheek, "you're a life saver, max!"

-

you woke up the next morning with a headache. it was a deep throb like a hangover but it still made you wince if you focused on it too much. you rolled over, away from the streaming sunlight and into max's arms.

"why did you let me take a whole piece?"

he moved his face closer to you and exhaled deeply, "because you're the most stubborn woman i've ever met." he pulled you closer to him, "give me five more minutes and i'll get you something for your head."

you pressed a kiss on his jaw. maybe he wasn't a total nightmare to be around. underneath the mask (or helmet) he wore, he was a caring man who wanted what was best for you. he even made you breakfast afterwards, but don't mistake it all for pure kindness.

come the dutch grand prix after the break, you two were going to go back to wanting to maul one another (and not sexually) <3

[ceilidho]

Hello~ new lurker here. I've been daydreaming about Price wanting a family, but not having the time to court someone, and two other possible scenarios came to kind.

Reader, not part of his team but works at the same base, who was just served divorce papers. She wanted kids, the soon to be ex-husband didn't and he found someone else. She doesn't *know* how to be a girlfriend anymore. She only knows how to be a wife.

Or

It's family day on base. Price is wistfully watching families show up for their soldiers. And overhears someone who is in the same boat as him.

"don't be getting babyfever."

"Too late. Want a baby. I want something worth retiring for."

you're hitting all my buttons with this :\\ I'm realllyyyyyy going heart eyes at the first idea though.

Poor reader who maybe got married knowing that her husband wasn't interested in having kids but hoping that she could change his mind. Then maybe accepting a childless marriage after years of being together, but always felt like she was giving up something immeasurably valuable to her, like giving away the future she'd always envisioned for herself.

Only to get hit with divorce papers after giving up so much of herself for her husband. She signs them in a daze because he's already moved in with his new girlfriend and she couldn't bear the humiliation of trying to beg for him to come back when he's already so clearly moved on.

Maybe Price has always been interested in her, but respected the ring on her finger and figured that he was just too late. A damn shame, but over the years that they've worked together, he's come to treasure her companionship. He treats himself to daydreams, to quick wanks in the shower before work so that he doesn't spend the day looking for her or hovering over her shoulder when he finds her. So he can pretend at being normal.

And his brain short circuits when she stops by his office one day and he glances down to her hands out of habit only to find them bare. No ring. Glances up again and really looks at her this time, the troughs under her eyes, dark circles from poor sleep, from crying, cheeks losing a bit of their plumpness from not eating right. Price doesn't even listen to the words coming out of her mouth, some request from her superior that she'd been tasked with bringing to him. It all falls to the wayside because her ring is gone.

He lets her confide in him, gives her his shoulder to cry on. Locks the door to his office and pulls her into his lap even though it's not appropriate, he's not her direct superior but he is a superior. He shouldn't be brushing his thumb under her eyes to wipe away her tears and speaking to her in a low, hushed voice, exhorting her to tell him everything weighing on her. He shouldn't be pitting her against her ex, telling her that he'll help her sell the house (she can't afford to buy her husband's half since it's in both of their names) and she can stay with him in the meantime.

He shouldn't feed into her anguish by telling her that he understands her pain. How much he's longer for a baby as well, just never found the right person, the right partner. The big, empty hole in his life that he's never been able to fill with work or friends or extended family. He shouldn't indulge himself in the way crying makes her pretty lips swell and her eyes go big and watery. He shouldn't nudge her into agreeing to move in with him when she's this vulnerable, still beaten up and hurt from signing the papers not even a few days ago.

He does anyway though :\\

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. one (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 9,7k.

WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, crying, mentions of drinking and drug usage, mature language, petty behavior, insults, yunho and reader really hate each other i fear, pet names (princess), negative mentions of body image, panic attacks/panic disorder, negative??? (or so they think) tension. no smut on this part, it's an introduction to these two characters, their families and the chaos they bring to poor yunho's and readers life.

NOTES: hi everyone! i know i posted the hwa fic ten days ago or so, but i wanted to get started with this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of the stories on my masterist! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: september 14th 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68, @e3ellie, @alsomimi

masterlist. / part two / part three.

A trembling finger is all you can see in the still dim light of the room. 

It's quiet, very quiet. You haven't heard anything but your thoughts all night. It grosses you out, so you wait for the clock to turn to six and press the button you've been hovering on for, at least, half an hour.

Park Seonghwa is your only hope right now. 

The conversation doesn't go as planned. 

“No, I will not go to the party with you and no, I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.” 

Not even your great pitch could've turned him around to help you. Sighing, you replay the conversation in your pounding head. 

“This is very inconvenient for me but I hope you and the cool girl I saw yesterday are happy together… Even if it ruins my happiness forever!” 

Your happiness was probably ruined the day you were born. Sighing again, you turn to the window. 

It’s raining. 

You didn’t notice until you ended the call that was, if you’re being honest with yourself, your last resource. 

Brain rotting away the entire night, wine drunk and edible high, you didn’t even notice the rain accompanied you through your misery. 

The sound of the droplets hitting your studio window and the sun trying to break through the gloomy clouds adds insult to injury: You’re running out of time. 

Any time now, your mother is going to call you up to let you know you’re possibly getting promised tonight. Not engaged, but promised and presented. 

Like you’re some sort of property your parents can give away. 

Nails connecting with your glass desk, the noise syncs up with the rain pattering on your window sill and, to your tired mind, it also mimics the tic-tacking an old clock would make.

You figured, if you show up with someone on your arm tonight, they might finally leave you alone. 

And not marry you off to Jeong Yunho. 

There’s not enough hours in the day to plan a perfect escape, there’s not enough will left inside you to reach out to someone else and make everything seem genuine, organic, like you’ve known each other for years and kept it a secret all this time. 

There's not enough time to save yourself. 

Because there's this… unspoken agreement you’ve known about since you were eight. 

Your parents and Yunho’s parents are friends. Your mom went to school with his mom and your dad met his dad when they were teenagers and they all got married off respectively because it was what worked for their families at the time so, after hearing the superficial love story at the age of seven, you knew you were going to meet the same fate eventually. 

And the next year, you met Yunho. 

He was an hyperactive little kid with a lot of energy and facts about the earth you didn’t care to listen to because the second you started playing with him in his huge backyard and turned to check if your mother was watching you, you realized that was not a casual playdate. 

Smiling ear to ear, both your mother and his, it signaled to you that it has started. 

Your planned love story with Jeong Yunho had sailed smoothly in their eyes and there was nothing you could do about it. 

Naturally, you have hated him since then. But you were taught etiquette and were media trained since you turned three and could form complete sentences, so your hatred only really showed when you two were alone. 

Turns out, he didn’t really care if you liked him or not. 

He’s always been good at pretending as well. 

That chirpy personality, kindness and humbleness he exudes in front of everyone else? An act. 

And you were proud of yourself when you saw right through his bullshit when you were both eleven and left alone so he could show you around their new, bigger house. 

Gone too soon was that child who wanted to teach you about worms in his backyard and in its place there was this distant tween who’s smile disappeared as soon as your mothers were out of sight. 

“Listen, I don’t know why we’re being forced to hang out but I don’t like you.” 

Dumb kid. 

“Good, because I don't like you either but they can’t find that out.” 

He scoffed, crossing his arms and frowning at you “I’m planning on telling mommy that you… chased me around with a knife or something, so she can see how psycho you actually are and stop forcing me to be around you!”

Eyes lighting up, that was the first time you saw a possible escape from all of this “You think that would actually work?” 

Annoyed and a little freaked out, Yunho pointed at the smirk on your lips “See? That’s exactly what I mean: Psycho.”

And you both only grew hostile at each other since then. Sure, saving face in front of your parents and older siblings was necessary to not get scolded and revoked of your privileges (and you actually liked to be alone with him, only if it meant you could take a break from your mother and her judging gaze), but pretending to like Yunho proved to be more difficult than what you had imagined. 

Especially when you both outgrew the phase where you tried anything and everything under the sun to piss the other off. Not so harmless pranks were pulled and the petty behavior got you both in trouble with your oldest brothers a couple of times but, no matter how hard you tried, it never “accidentally” got to your mother. Or his, for that matter. 

So when you two stopped trying to get your point across and grew cold towards one another, that's when it got really ugly. Vile words cut through both of your egos harshly, family vacations that include his were uncomfortable and holidays were your personal hell. 

December thirty-first and January first have always felt like purgatory. Christmas was always spared because you have family living on the other side of the world who you travel to see every year but it's never truly enjoyable when you know that, in the next couple of days after that, you'll see his dumb face. 

But you have always smiled brightly at him and hugged him when he comes in with his unnecessary luggage at your home. You hold his arm and bat your eyelashes when you know your mom is watching from a distance and it all but confuses him every single time. 

Remembering the time you both were thirteen and you went through very sudden puberty makes you smile. The look on his face when your kitty heels helped show how tall you got over the summer was fantastic. 

“Look at what the cat brought in!” Scrunching your nose and squeezing his cheeks in fake affection, you noticed it took a lot for him to not swat your hands away. 

But you also remember noticing that he was blushing when you pulled away. 

“You look like a very ugly gigant,” he whispered with a smile, matter of factly and all “It doesn't really suit you.” 

He was a pain in the ass. A manageable pain in the ass, but a pain nonetheless. 

It all took a wrong turn when he caught up on your mothers plans by age fifteen. By that age, you've known for a while and the mercy you had on him, on explaining everything you believed to be true, was simply a way of keeping everything at arm's length from you. 

The second he put two and two together, your guesses had automatically turned into a possible reality you couldn't cope with. 

A reality that's about to hit you in the face and leave a bruise that doesn't really go with your polished image. 

The rain picks up and you close your eyes in hopes of coming up with a new idea. 

It only makes your headache worse. 

You really should get going with your day. 

There's appointments you need to get to, meetings you have to fill the space in because your brother is going to fail to show up as usual and you have to get your hair and make-up done for tonight. 

You really shouldn't be crying right now. 

Are you even allowed to cry? 

Your fate was probably decided the day you were born, five months and a few days after Yunho. 

“Shit.” 

Sobbing is useless, so you get in the shower. You do your skincare routine and plan the outfit you're going to wear to the office while you cover your eyebags and try to make it look seamless, natural even. 

If the struggle shows up in your face, you're going to get yelled at downstairs. 

Living with your parents might be a bigger nightmare than getting presented with Yunho tonight but there's really nothing you can do about that, either. 

Working in their company, gaining connections through them and being praised by simply having your last name attached to your first makes you completely useless when faced with a situation where you simply want to tell your mom to fuck off. 

“Y/N, I hope you already weighed down the options for the dress you're wearing tonight,” is what greets you when you enter the dining room, breakfast laid out perfectly across the table both your parents sit at. She's glancing at you in warning “And I hope you know that the navy blue dress is the best option. It's on theme and it's classy, it shows your figure too.” 

Fuck off. 

You might've been taught a bunch of things while growing up in this tinsel bubble but never ever were you taught how to stand up for yourself. 

It shows in the way you nod and smile and sit down on your designated spot next to your dad and in front of your mom. 

“Navy dress it is, ma'am.” 

The nod she gives in approval makes you nauseous. At least she's not saying anything about Yunho. 

“Excellent choice, dear.” 

You swallow the food on your pre-portioned plate with a tight throat and, after sipping your black coffee, you turn to your dad. 

Feeling a little delirious on lack of sleep and a little bold, especially when it comes to work related matters, you take the opportunity to press on the other thing that kept bothering you the entire night. 

“Father—” 

He sees right through you. 

“No, Y/N. It's not an open discussion, the deal is signed and sealed.” 

“It's not a smart choice.” 

“Kim Y/N!” slamming her utensils down on the table and making everything shake in the process, you barely flinch at your mothers warning “Are you calling your father dumb?” 

“No, of course I'm not,” you defend yourself immediately, the softness in your voice hanging by a thread because all you want to do is scream at her to stop putting words in your mouth “All I'm saying is that he's too generous. That company is not profitable and he gave them half a floor in the building and an initial investment that's going to backfire,” you calmly explain to her what you told him the day before “There’s not really a market for physical media anymore.” 

“And they're trying to bring it back,” your father returns, his eyes never straining from his food “I think it's a great idea. You said a couple of months ago that eighties and nineties style is coming back.” 

“As a trend,” you remind him with a tight smile “And trends tend to die down rather quickly.” 

“Soohyun approved it,” he finally looks up and his next words have you biting your tongue bitterly “You don't have a say on the final decision and you know it.” 

Damn right you fucking know it. 

“Are we clear on that?” 

Glancing at your mother, you notice how she's picking on her food to try and avoid sticking up for you. Not that she normally would but you think, as the years pass, the mistreatment must give her some sort of guilty feeling she can only escape if she avoids your eyes.  

Straightening your spine, you fix your face and smile with fake acceptance “Yes, sir.” 

The tinsel bubble brings in unnecessary amounts of money and privilege, but it doesn't really save you from tradition and misogyny. 

Soohyun is the firstborn, after all. 

He's also a complete fucking idiot. 

You love him a lot, but he's completely useless when it comes to this business. 

Although trained separately and for completely different positions, you always paid close attention to the company. 

You studied hard, you graduated early at the top of your class and went to business school as soon as you were able to. You even got to be valedictorian last year at your graduation and even then you knew you weren't getting your father's role once he took a step back from being the face of the company.

But you couldn't help but wish. 

Wishing and imagining was your way of coping with it. What if you were born a boy instead? You surely wouldn't be in this predicament. 

What if your brother wasn't pampered the way he was growing up? You surely didn't have to step in to save apparences with your employees.

Your day to day would probably flow so much smoothly if he actually wanted to do his job like he should. 

Heels clacking on the marble floor, you strut the hallway into his office to aggravate your headache just a bit more: The space is a mess and when you glance at the tree you started to paint on his wall when he asked you to help him quietly turn the space around but never got to finish it brings your mind to the man who declined your offer this morning. 

And the clock in your mind starts ticking again, faster and louder this time. 

Soohyun’s voice comes out of a corner in the big office, behind some piled up boxes   “Well that's not good.” 

Snapping out of it and turning to him, you cock your head to the side “What is it?” 

“You,” he comes out of his hiding spot, suit barely ironed and hair a little messy which makes you cringe “Usually, you complain as soon as you close that door,” he points at it with a tiny and concerned smile “So now I'm worried they cloned and replaced you, sis.” 

“Well, you made a mistake yesterday and there's nothing I can do now to cover it up so,” raising your arms before tossing your purse on the free loveseat that serves as his lounging area, you sigh “Nothing to complaint about today, except—” you squint your eyes, making a show of pretending to be thinking about it “Oh! I'm probably getting married off tonight.” 

The fake happiness laced in your tone makes your brother scoff. He walks to his desk, sitting down on his chair and shaking his head in disapproval. 

“It's not an engagement, Y/N. It's more of a… Public relations matter.” 

“Oh, so you agree with it?” Blood pressure skyrocketing, you quickly make your way across the space until you stand in front of him “You're fine with it?!” 

“Don't act like you didn't already know this was going to happen eventually,” leaning back, he gives you an apologetic look. That's how you know there's nothing he can do about it either “Jeong Tech is the largest investor, or primary partner and basically the first big successful business we helped to launch here.” 

The explanation is unnecessary. You know. You know he knows you know. 

“And after the stocks falling over that little… Hiccup they had last year—” 

“The selling clients information hiccup.” You recall with a tight smile. 

Soohyun gulps. 

“Yes, that, they need to rekindle their image with the press and, in the process, we gain a few reputation points in the market by association. You know how this works,” looking away for a moment, he bites the inside of his cheek before pressing on “And you two are loved and shipped by everyone online already. Grandmas swoon at the potential TVN drama they could make about your love story.” 

What fucking love story? 

It's more like a gruesome, slashy horror movie to you. 

“Okay, is that why they don't marry me to Gunho instead?” 

“No, Y/N, they don't marry you off to Gunho because he's in love and soon to be engaged to a complete nobody,” he responds right away with a shrug “Besides, you and Yunho—” 

“We hate each other. We—” 

“Now, I wouldn't say that—” 

“—Completely and utterly despise one another. He's the unwanted dirt under my Louis Vuitton heel, he's the bee I want to kill but can't because they are needed for the environment,” you continue without taking a breath “He's somehow needed to this environment,” meaning the company “Although he's attending a public university and detaches himself from his responsibilities because he already has a brother who actually takes care of it all, unlike me!” 

Soohyun doesn't seem hurt at that and you're annoyed he's not. That he knows you well enough to know you're trying to sink your claws into his pride because yours is flat lining as the minutes pass. 

That does nothing but fuel your anger. 

“Unlike me,” you repeat “Who has to take care of your responsibilities because you are too busy playing renovation simulator in your stupid office to attend your meetings! Because if you did attend them you would know yesterday’s decision was a mistake and—” 

“There it is!” 

“—You're going to cost us millions of won for nothing.” 

Soohyun sighs and the way the scowls at the scattered papers on his desk lets you know he's not about to entertain this conversation any longer. 

For the third time today, you are about to lose. And you're a sore loser. 

“You're not getting engaged,” he reminds you, standing up and fixing his hair with his hand, his expression kind and sweet like you didn't just yell at him “You don't have to marry Yunho.” 

You scoff “For now.” 

“Or never, if you don't want to,” rounding his desk, Soohyun pats your head softly like you're a child “Just pretend for a bit and then let him break your heart publicly so that the media doesn't treat you like a stoned hearted bitch.” 

“I am a stoned hearted bitch.” 

He shakes his head “You're not but even if you were no one has the right to call you that,” your expression softens and you kind of want to cry at that, but you don't “Except me. Now, we have a meeting to go to, don't we?” 

Duty calls, like it always does. Your brother steps away and rushes to the door. 

Grabbing your purse and following him out, you fix your own hair in the reflection of the glass separating the cubicles from the hall “Do you even know what it is about?” 

He smiles back at you “Nope but you're going to tell me on the way there anyway.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don't.” 

The call comes after the meeting, when the sun is finally breaking fully through the clouds and your headache is starting to go away. 

Only to come back in full force once you see Yunho’s face as soon as you make your way to your own living room. 

Wearing a formal black blazer with matching trousers and a white shirt, the asshole doesn't even spare a glance at you even when you're sure he knows you just walked in. 

The room started to fill with negative energy. He must have felt it, right? But he doesn't show it. 

He's on the phone, eyebrows almost melting together as he pays attention to what the person on the line is saying. 

“What do you mean he met this girl two days ago?” 

Oh, he's gossiping. Your eyes almost meet the back of your skull when you roll them and, with a sigh, you throw your purse at him. 

He catches it without making that much of an effort. 

Asshole. 

“End the call.” 

“Wait, wait,” he covers the microphone with his hand and frowns at you instead “Shut it up, princess, this is an important call.” 

“Princess? Who are you calling princess?” It's not hard to hear the person on the other line, a poor confused guy, talking back. 

“My mother's friend’s daughter,” he shoots back and gives you a tired look, putting the phone to his ear again and signaling you to close your mouth “Anyways, is Seonghwa sure he wants to introduce us to her? Isn't it too soon?” 

At the name, you perk up. Gears turn in your head, one by one because you're tired and your machinery probably needs another coffee to oil everything up there, but then it hits you. 

That's where you knew Park Seonghwa from. 

You were not proud of yourself for letting curiosity tickle you enough to check Yunho’s instagram page merely six months ago. On your burner account, of course, the one with a fake name and fake pictures so that people don't know you stalk them when you're bored. 

There's this picture on his finsta where they're all sitting around a bonfire. It looked cozy, like they actually love each other which is a crazy concept for you. 

All your friends are fake. Also, the concept of a bonfire is insane. Bugs? Acoustic guitars and careless laughter? 

Insane. 

But it seemed genuine the first time you saw it and it made you burn with jealousy of a life you could never have. 

And in that picture, Yunho was hugging Park Seonghwa. 

Huh. You wonder what would've happened if he accepted your proposal earlier today. 

“Well, okay, uhm… I probably can't tonight. I know I said— Yes, Wooyoung, I know,” he sighs deeply as you sit down right in front of him, one leg over the other with rehearsed poise “I’ll see you all at Hongjoong's gig this weekend, yeah? Okay, bye… I love you too, oh my god,” he giggles and you frown, disgusted “Bye.” 

You immediately go for it.  

“Your boyfriend?” 

“My husband,” his smile is fake and tight and it makes you want to punch him in the face “That's what I'm telling our mothers in fifteen minutes, by the way.” 

Rolling your eyes again, you let out a tired breath “As if that would ever stop them.” 

“So I reckon you know what's going on?” 

“You don't?” eyebrow rising inquisitively and expression turning into a pitiful one, you wonder if that's why he seems so laid back at the moment “Please, indulge me and tell me you do.” 

“Of course I know what's going to happen,” scoffing, he crosses his arms and looks at the living room double doors “Just trying to figure out if you're out of the loop so I can put you up to speed on our escape.” 

“Oh, please,” you huff out a bitter laugh “If you really wanted to escape you would have been out of the country by now. Don't pretend you're not a people pleaser, Yunho,” looking back at you, that familiar wrath burns in his brown eyes and it makes you smirk “Passing the opportunity to hang out with Park Seonghwa and the rest of your public university crew is not usually what you do. You were probably given an ultimatum by your mother and that's why you're here, isn't it?” 

Watching his expression shift from annoyance to confusion to anger in the span of seconds gives you the satisfaction your lost fights of the day took away from you. 

“She's really pretty, by the way. His new girlfriend, the mechanic,” you smile, moving your eyes to the ceiling like you're trying to remember something “Didn't catch her name, though. Tell her I say hi when you see her. Oh, and tell Mr. Park I say hi as well. You don't really have to explain to anyone how you know me after tonight anyway.” 

“How the hell do you know them?” he's full on frowning now and the corners of your lips twitch in amusement “Are you stalking me, Y/N?” 

“Wouldn't you like that, hm?” clicking your tongue in disappointment of his guess, you rest your arms over your knees and lean your weight on them, like you're about to share your secret “I always know everything, Yunho. It's my superpower.” 

He imitates your movements, jaw clenched and chest heaving “And here I thought it was being spoiled and annoying.” 

Shaking your head, you lean a little further now “You're so silly, Yun, you know that's yours… When will you stop projecting your shit on me?” 

“When you stop ruining my fucking life.” 

Oh, he's so easy to mess with. 

“Glad to know you think I have that much power over you,” you bite the inside of your cheek for a second and then sigh loudly and dramatically “Sadly, I can't control what my parents want me to do. Or do you really think I would choose you, the hypocrite who pretends to run away from his responsibilities, out of all the men in the industry?” 

That cuts deep. His face lets you know it does, you also know it's hypocritical on your side to criticize him for getting the treatment you wanted to get to begin with. 

He leans in a bit more “As if I would ever choose you, the most cold hearted snake out of the elite.” 

Fuck him. 

You lean in more, chin up “Mama’s boy.” 

Doing the same, he griths out: “Spoiled brat.” 

“Rakehell.” 

“Psychopath.” 

Laughing, you dismiss the fact that your noses are almost touching to shoot back “I hope you enjoy the way the media is going to tear you apart when it comes out that you cheated on me, asshole.” 

“And I hope you enjoy when Dispatch digs up what you did at that party four years ago, princess. Falling off a table for mixing your drinks and your drugs and yelling at the staff as they tried to helped you out is quite embarrassing, isn't it?” he returns immediately and it fails to intimidate you but the fact that he knows about that angers you and it sparks in your eyes, so he smirks “Not that I would ever leak that information, of course.” 

“You stupid fucking—” 

“Ah, good! You're both here already.” 

Pulling apart and standing up, you both try to regulate your breathing and conceal your flustered state as your mom and his walk straight towards you. 

They're here early, you think. You couldn't possibly have argued with Yunho for fifteen minutes straight. 

“I beg you save the public displays of affection for later, though,” his mom says and with a hand on your back she directs you to sit on the sofa Yunho was occupying before. You sit and he does too and you both make sure to leave enough space for the holy spirit and all deities in between you “We're going to need them for the cameras.” 

Uncomfortable, you fidget on your seat until the warning look from your mother forces you to stop. Yunho gulps beside you, probably just as uncomfortable as you. 

Both women smile brightly like they're not about to lay on you the saddest news of your life. 

“As you both know, tonight's gala is a celebration of the twenty years Jeong Tech and Kim’s Innovation have joined creative forces and built the empire we have the pleasure to see unfold today…” 

Is your mother reciting your dads speech? It sounds robotic, rehearsed, fake and forced and it's not something new from her but you hate it either way. 

“And in celebration of our families friendship, loyalty and alliance,” Yunho’s mom continues and you take in a breath “We're finally making your relationship public!” 

Finally? 

“Finally?” Yunho asks and you lick your lips “Mom, Auntie… We don't have a relationship.” He tells them plain and simple and you don't look at him when you nod in compliance with the statement. 

“Oh, you two have been in love since forever!” His mother dismisses what she just heard “It's only fair to finally let everyone confirm it. This way, you can actually be seen together without our public relations team having to rush to cover everything up.” 

That has never happened. You prefer to stay as far away from Yunho as possible when your free will is actually yours to live with. 

“Mom, we—” 

“We are friends, obviously,” you interrupt Yunho before he dives head first into the depths of hell and his head snaps to you, eyebrows creasing a bit “But it's very much platonic. I don't feel—” 

“Yes you do,” your mother interferes, tone stern and fake smile falling for a second as a result before she composes herself “You have loved him since you both were kids and he saved you from falling in the pool at you tenth birthday,” that never happened and slowly but surely you realize they have a whole story planned out for you “And you, Yunho, realized you loved her when she stayed by your side when you had the flu at age thirteen. When she cried over your high fever and came over everyday until you got better. Right?” 

The question floats in the air for what feels like eons and she has successfully shut you up for good.

You knew, when you first met Jeong Yunho, there was no way of escaping this. 

And he, ever so hopeful and foolish, can't seem to accept it the way you do. 

Standing up, he looks at his mother with so much hurt you wonder if you still have that amount of delusion inside of you “You can't do this to us!” 

“Dear, do not raise your voice at me—” 

“This is the stupidest idea you had yet! I don't care how many years you've been planning this, it's not fair!” He paces around the space and you sigh, looking down at your lap. His voice echoes around the living room and you can practically feel your mom scowl with annoyance at the recklessness “You can't marry me off to someone like it's the eighteenth century! This is ridiculous, I—” 

“You'll do it,” his mother stands up as well, voice firmer than you have ever heard. She's a soft spoken woman, a sweet woman even. She's never raised her voice in your presence and you don't let it show how by surprise it takes you “And you know what happens if you don't.” 

You don't know why you relate to the pained expression on his face. You really shouldn't because you two are, clearly, on two different ends when it comes to pleasing your family. 

His family seems loving, the way his mother treated him growing up felt so genuine you always wished you could switch places with him. Even at times where they thought they were alone in the room and you hid to witness the cracks on the foundation of their love, it never happened.

Until now, when he storms off and she seems rather unaffected by his pain. What she gives off is annoyance, just like your mother, she's annoyed that this didn't go as smoothly as imagined. She moves to follow him. 

“Jeong Yunho!” 

After she leaves the room, there's screaming in the distance, probably at the end of the long hallway. And then, there's silence until your mother breaks it. 

“Well that was an unfortunate mess.” 

Your throat feels like it's closing up but you push through it, standing up when your mother does too. 

“Mother, I don't really think this is the best way to—” 

She frowns at you.

“What are you wearing? A suit?” 

“W-what?” 

Dumbfounded, you look down at your choice of outfit that she saw this morning and then back up at her. 

“I understand there's really nothing that can be done about your body shape but wearing silhouettes like these makes you look very masculine, Y/N.” 

She's doing that thing where she belittles you into submission. Vulnerable because of what you just lived and what you just witnessed, you stand there and take it. 

“And are you wearing makeup? Your eyebags, darling… I can't believe you let Yunho see you in this state.” 

If only she knew you stayed awake the entire night trying to sabotage her plans. 

This triggers you beyond belief. It starts with your heartbeat picking up, with your inner child begging you to stand up for yourself and banging at the walls of the safe you locked her up so many years ago. 

When you both hear footsteps coming down the hallway, she looks down at her watch and your chest starts heaving. 

“You need to get your hair and makeup done in an hour and a half. No need to go to the salon, I arranged things and they're coming over,” she informs you camly, putting on her fake smile when Yunho’s mom sighs at the doorway and when she turns away from you to get to her and loop her arm around hers, you catch his eye as he makes his way to you “Now, how about I show you what they did with the garden, dear.” 

They walk away from the wreckage with a giggle that only raises your panic. 

The fire of it burns your pride, your self image and your capability of keeping it together in front of your sworn enemy.

It doesn't help that he comes in with full vengeance, ready to take out on you what he obviously couldn't take out on his mom. 

“Why didn't you say anything?!” his voice fills the room once again and you physically recoil, which makes him reconsider. He looks you over once and then takes a deep breath before pressing “Why did you tell them that we're friends? We're not friends, Y/N! You should've… You should've told them that you hated me, that y-you were in love with somebody else, anything!” 

Tears cloud your vision and you can only reply in a faint whisper that sounds far away “Yunho, shut up.” 

“Are you seriously letting them get away with this?” his index points at the door and he looks at you like he doesn't know you. He doesn't but he does know what your family is like, so you don't know why it surprises him “Are you seriously going along with this stupid charade?!” 

Air leaves you. You can't breath but you try to and you faintly hear him say something else but it sounds bottled up, like you're underwater. 

“I c-cant.” You try again but it barely comes out.

Breathing in with your mouth, you close your eyes and focus on the way your head pulses. Migraine in full force, it only aggravates the feeling of complete loss of control over your body. But your feet move before you can think, to the couch, to look through your purse because damn it if he finds out. 

He follows you. 

“Is this some sort of sick revenge against me or—” 

They're not there. Why didn't you bring them with you today of all days?

God damn it. Yunho is, somehow, still talking. 

“Because if we don't go out there and let them know that—” 

“Yunho, shut the fuck up! Stop it!” 

Turning around with tears streaming down your face and hyperventilating seems to shut him up for good. 

“What's wrong?” 

He stops, breathing hard with a confused look on his face and his eyes follow you when you quickly move around him to get out of the room. 

“Y/N, wait—” 

You don't wait to see if he's following you upstairs. You only know he is because when you trip midway, his hands are there to catch you.

Physical contact with him is so strange and unfamiliar that you have to push his helping hands away and, quickly and still hardly breathing, you make your way to your room. 

Neatly done by the staff assigned to ready it up everyday before you get home, the order gets destroyed by your panicked state. You look through your vanity drawers messily, full on sobbing and mumbling incoherently as you do and you slam your fist down on the thing when you fail to find your pills. 

“Where the fuck is it?!” You sob out, hand hurting and shaking until you fall to the ground.

You try to recenter, pressing your shaky palms into the soft material of the carpet and sinking your nails hard in it until it starts bunching up beneath your fingers. Eyes closed, you can't see when Yunho knees down next to you but you do jump in fear when his hand touches your arm. 

Looking at him, you see when he removes his hand until, hesitantly, he places it firmly on your shoulder “I need you to breathe with me, Y/N,” he starts demonstrating, breathing in once, holding it in for a few seconds and letting the air go next. You choke out a sob “Breathe with me so you can tell me what I can get you.” 

You want to scream at him to stop pretending to care and get out but you can't. 

Instead, you listen to him. You breathe in when he does, hold the air a second longer than him and let it out afterwards. You do a few rounds of this, just staring at him with tears still falling down your cheeks until the fog in your brain starts clearing. 

It's agonizingly slow and it pains you to let yourself be seen in these circumstances, especially by him. 

“Now, what were you looking for?” 

Coughing uncomfortably, you attempt to get up the floor but he stops you from doing so “You can leave, Yunho, I can get it myself.” 

“You're shaking, Y/N,” it takes for him so say it to look down at your hands, which are barely grasping the carpet now and just hovering above it as they tremble “What do you need?” 

“My pills,” you tell him in a murmur after a few seconds, closing your eyes because, to you, this whole thing is very embarrassing “I don't remember where I put them, m-maybe in my nightstand?” 

“Drugs?” he asks with a frown and you shake your head, too panicky to get offended at the insinuation “Ah, actual pills, I see, um…” He gets up and you open your eyes to him walking over to your bed, sitting down to open up the drawer of your nightstand “You have a lot of shit here. What do they look like?” 

“Prescription bottle, not a blister.  Translucent, white cap.” You're taking control over your own body now, breathing starting to normalize and mind syncing up with the situation again.

Your head hurts still, but it's better than five minutes ago. 

“Here it is,” you hear him say and he's on his knees next to you a second later. You take the bottle from his hand, unscrew the cap as fast as you can and shake it to get a pill out of it “It was behind a bunch of stuff. I'll get you some—” putting the pill on your mouth, you crane your head back and force yourself to swallow it “Water.” He finishes in a whisper. 

When you look back at him, he looks a little freaked out. 

“What?” 

“N-nothing… Do you still need some—” 

“No. Thank you for getting me these, you can leave now.” 

Your tone is cold. The memory of him yelling at you downstairs returns so now you're pissed off and still very, very vulnerable. He's not allow to see you this way or any way for that matter. 

But he just did. 

He stays still and you're about to ask him if he didn't hear you or what but then you follow his eyes and notice he's staring at the way you hands still shake a little while trying to get the cap on the bottle again. You presume he's trying to read the label on it, too. 

“How long have you had them?” 

“The pills? This is a new prescription, so like… A month or so.” 

He sighs, closing his eyes and sitting fully on the floor next to you  “You know what I'm talking about, Y/N.” 

Looking away, you hate that the cat is out of the bag. If only your mother didn't comment on your appearance maybe, just maybe, you could've keep the secret to yourself and take it to the grave with you. 

You hate that Yunho, out of all people, found out. 

But he helped you, so you decide to please him with an answer. 

“I started getting them when I was ten, I think. I didn't know what was happening for a while and then at fourteen I learned what a panic attack was,” you recall, tone sounding breathy and tired and a little annoyed. He nods “And then I got officially diagnosed with panic disorder at twenty, so not that long ago.” 

Eyes back at him, you see him frown and then nod again as if the information you just gave him is hard to digest. It's not, it's actually extremely normal for someone like you. 

It makes you wonder if he has ever felt the same. 

Taking another calming breath, you speak again “I would appreciate if you keep this in between us. Not tell your brother or anything,” you clarify before he can respond “Because your brother is going to tell my brother who is going to tell my mom and that's a whole disaster I don't really want to deal with.” 

“They don't know?” 

“Of course they don't know,” a bitter laugh makes it past your lips “If they knew, don't you think I would be the image of a visibility campaign against anxiety or something like that?”

“They're your family, though.” 

“Blood is thicker than water but I'm allowed to have my secrets,” it's pathetic, the way your vision clouds once more and tears trail their path down your face once nor3 “And you of all people know how exploitative they are, so don't tell them.” 

What happens next takes your breath away again. Not for the reason you expect but it does and, for the first time in your life, Jeong Yunho is able to make your brain malfunction. 

You don't really think he realizes his hand is on your cheek, thumb whipping away your tears so softly it turns to you to a puddle right away

The last time someone handled you with that much care was… 

Never? 

Unable to look away, you catch the second he notices what he's doing and, by the time he does, he already leaned in a fraction into your space. 

Snapping out the weird, dizzy moment you two just had, he lowers his hand and you clear your throat to try and shake your feelings, all of them, off. 

Off. Away. You need to get your shit together and work on depuffing your face before the makeup artist and hair stylist arrive. 

“Listen, if you want to mysteriously disappear tonight and miss the gala you can totally do it and I'll cover up for you. I wouldn't blame you and I don't really care if our parents take it out on me,” your words are fast and your tone lighthearted. Like you're making a joke but, also, you're totally not “In return for you to keep your mouth shut about this,” you shake the pill bottle “I wouldn't do it out of kindness, of course, after all I am the most cold hearted snake of the elite.” 

Scoffing, he closes his eyes and lets his head hang low for a few seconds “You’re so—” 

“Beautiful? Smart? Outstanding?” You offer. 

He looks back at you again “Insufferable.” 

You squint your eyes at him before your lips turn upwards in a sardonic smile. 

Yunho lets out a heavy sigh “I'll do it.” 

“Run away to Timbuktu and change your identity?” 

“Be there,” he corrects, clearly tired of your antics “I’ll be there tonight. We are up to our necks in this bullshit, both of us,” he reminds your “And I'm sure my mother wouldn't let me get far if I did try to run away.” 

The ghost of a genuine smile curls in your lips “Pussy.” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“See? Annoying as fuck.” 

Your smile fully widens at that. Finally, some sense of normalcy after whatever the hell happened a few minutes ago. 

“What dirt does she have on you to make you bend to her will all of the sudden?” 

“She—” 

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” both looking up at your door way, you try your best to hide the pills under your thighs as you eye the staff member suspiciously at his interrupt “But misses Jeong is calling for Yunho downstairs. She says that you have to leave to get ready and misses Kim urges you, miss Kim, to get a shower.” 

“Yeah, she smells kinda bad, doesn't she?” Yunho jokes but the staff member doesn't laugh at his quip. Instead, he earns a push from you before getting up “I'll get going then.” 

The guy bows and disappears at that. 

“Finally.” 

You feel like you have to thank him again for what he did. With words, not actions. But he doesn't look like he's expecting it and the words hang on your tongue without making it past your lips because it's against your morals to thank Jeong Yunho for absolutely anything. 

“See you tonight, Y/N,” he says and you make a face that makes him smile for some reason. He moves to the door but stalls and, as you get up, you see him turn to you one more time “Bring them with you,” he points at the bottle on your hand “Just in case.” 

You huff and close the drawers of your vanity, stashing the pills in one of them “Don't tell me what to do.” 

“I wouldn't dare,” mimicking the staff member, he bows dramatically and you groan “Goodbye, princess.” 

You close the last drawer with a little more force than you intend to as soon as he's out of eyesight and then whisper and amused: “Asshole.” 

Now that's a couple of hours later and your head allows you to lock back in, to focus on the matter at task and prepare for what's to come. 

Sitting in the car, your chauffeur takes the hill up to the Jeong’s so you can pick up Yunho and show up together to the event. 

Hair beautifully done and makeup beat to the gods, it irks you that your mothers have everything so planned out down to the last details. There's a tablet on your lap and you're rehearsing the backstory they put together for this made up relationship. 

As they told you earlier, you have to pretend you two have been in love since childhood. There's some paragraphs narrating how you supposedly felt like you owe him your life after he “saved you” from failing into the deepest part of the pool when you didn't know how to swim. 

Which is true, you didn't know how to swim at that age but Yunho never saved you from anything. 

Except maybe today, only after aggravating the situation to the point you couldn't help but break down in front of him. 

Pressing a finger down on your temple, you close your eyes and try to wipe the image of him helping you away. Instead, the way the washed your tears away pops into it and you groan, earning a curious look from your driver. 

“Is this hill endless?” you ask in a way to cover up your true grieving and he laughs a little, which makes you smile before complaining again, as a joke. Kind of “That's why they usually come to our house, it takes a whole business day to get here.” 

That seizes your driver's curiosity and you look out the window when their mansion comes in full view. It's majestic, it's modern and it looks really pretty from your balcony at night, when it's all lit up even when you know the probability of someone actually being there is scarce. 

His dad and brother are always at the office, his mom is always at a meditation class or the gym or the mall with your mom and Yunho, well, you can only assume he's never actually there. He seems to have a very active social life and you don't think his mom would necessarily approve of his public university friends being there. 

When the car comes to a stop in his driveway, you look back down and scroll to that part of the document: You're supposed to be supportive on his choice of avoiding a private education, call him humble and down to earth if the question gets asked but not praise the public education system because your dad endorses a really expensive school, the one he and your fake father in law graduated at. 

The one you graduated at. 

It was so freeing not looking at his face in the halls when you started uni and you, quite frankly, don't think about him often enough to wonder why he was allowed to attend the university of his liking and study what he pleases. 

Now you're curious but, as you see him descend the stairs that lead to his massive front door, you're not sure you want to talk to him outside of business for too long. 

He's all dolled up in a navy three-piece, color matching your dress and all. Hair done and out of his forehead, you hate to say it does more for him than the usual style he wears it in. You don't remember the last time his bangs didn't cover his eyebrows and now you're wondering if you pushed all the times you did to the back of your mind. 

It'll be hard to pretend you don't think he looks good because he does and you don't want it to show in your face, so you stay focused on the tablet as he makes his way to the car. 

The driver gets out and attempts to open the door for him but you hear Yunho telling him it's okay. 

“I'll do it, thank you, thank you,” he opens the door and so you hear him more clearly now and he slides on the seat next to yours with ease, a disappointed look on his face when he notices you “Ah, you're here.” 

“They didn't tell you?” sounding boring as hell, you scroll to the bottom of the document and pass the tablet to him, avoiding to look at him again “We're supposed to arrive together so the photographers waiting outside can start speculating and reporting to the media outlets that something might be going on.” 

He grabs the tablet, looks at the document for five seconds in total and then hands it back to you “Oh, yeah, I didn't read that.” 

Your driver gets in his seat and starts the car, maneuvering out of the driveway in seconds and so you have to brace yourself on the seat to avoid sliding down on it as you're driven down the hill. 

“You didn't read it?” your head snaps back at him and he shrugs “Yunho, we're supposed to pretend we're madly in love with each other and you didn't study?!” 

“We've been pretending to get along in front of our moms for over a decade, Y/N,” he deadpans “We're doing the same tonight, only at a bigger scale. It's not that complicated,” shrugging again, he looks out at the street for a second before looking at you again, a disgusted expression on his face “I hope you're not expecting me to be all over you because now that I can't fake.” 

“Because you're never felt the touch of a girl in your entire life? I know that, loser,” he's about to retaliate but you stop him with your index finger “You've been away from the spotlight for way too long. You don't know how ruthless and scrutinizing the people attending are, I do. So sit pretty and study this.” 

You shove the tablet back and he groans, looking through the document briefly again. 

“And how do you know who's attending?” 

“Page ten through twenty five. There's a detailed list with names, occupations and hobbies so you can have possible topics of conversation. I also took the time to highlight in pink the ones I want to avoid,” you point out and he moves his finger on the screen until he gets to the list, scoffing in amusement a second later “You should avoid them too. Especially the Hwang’s,” he gives you a look, asking for an explanation “They gossip too much, their friend groups are filled with snakes who can't take an NDA seriously and the girl is a little in love with you, so she'll flirt with you the entire night.” 

“I don't even know her.” 

“You don't have to, she's in love with the idea of you and your family's influence. Seriously, Yunho,” you let out an annoyed noise, crossing your arms over your chest “It's like amateur hour with you. You should know this.” 

“I live a normal life, princess, I don't know any of this because it's not important to me,” he states as simple as that and you shake your head in disapproval “It shouldn't be important to you or to anyone, really.” 

“Oh, but it is,” you return and when you look at him he's looking back. There's this electricity passing in the space in between you, something dangerous that's the tail tale of how different you both are and you start asking yourself how are you going to pull this whole thing off “And now, it is to you. You're about to enter a ballroom filled with people who admire you for simply being a Jeong, people who want to be you. It's hard and it’s pressuring but you declined my offer to not show up earlier today, so fucking own it.”

There's a pause where you see his jaw clenching, you see him shift uncomfortably and adjust his tie before presumably telling himself to relax. 

“And study as much as you can, I'm not covering up your mistakes.” 

The rest of the ride to the venue is silent and, when you get there, you exchange a look with your driver that's both apologetic and a request for discretion. You know your staff is discreet but you thank them every time you can because it's a lot of shit to handle. 

“Here you go, honey.” The pet name almost makes you gag but you take the electronic from his hand, lock it and give it to the driver to safekeep. 

“I prefer Y/N,” or even princess, because you're used to it “Don't try that inside.”

Rolling his eyes, he sarcastically lets out “Anything else your highness wants from me before we get off?” 

“Yeah, for you to shut up and leave me alone forever after tonight but that's not really going to happen, hm?” You can see through the tinted windows how people gather outside to try and see who's inside the car and so you fix your hair with your fingers and then turn to fix Yunho’s tie. He makes a noise of disagreement but you shush him “Oh and for you to open the door for me?” 

He levels you with his stare “Can't do it yourself?” 

“Fucking do it and stop asking questions, Yunho.” You say under your breath and he smiles a little, triumphant like he just won something only for pissing you off. 

Neither one of you want to lose the staring contest you suddenly have going on and it's, once again, electric. The tension is palpable and not in a positive way but you have to act quick when his brown eyes scan your face and linger where they don't need to. Hand still on his tie, it's tempting to try and choke him with it so instead you just tighten it a little more and it serves as a 

“Now, Yunho.” 

When he gets out of the car, you hear people gasp. He's not usually at these types of events because his mother must indulge him a lot. But also, he's usually seen with a frown whenever he does attend, so it must come to a shock to everyone he actually showed up. 

It came with a shock for you too, you're not going to lie. You fully expected him to back out on his word and leave you hanging to deal with the shitshow yourself, no matter what he said this afternoon. 

Rounding the car, he doesn't make the dramatic pause you were hoping for before opening the door and offering his hand to you. The gasps intensify once you elegantly get out, flashes going off and blinding you for a second before you take your surroundings in and loop your arm around Yunho’s. 

There's people screaming both your names, asking questions that you don't get to answer because it's not the time for that and this is not a red carpet you have to walk through. 

You wave your hand at the cameras, bow to the photographers and smile brightly when a girl behind an iphone tells you how pretty you look. 

That would be the first person to compliment you today.

You don't turn to see what Yunho is doing, probably handling the attention in his own weird, detached way like he normally does and when someone signals you both to get going inside, you follow the person until the doors of the venue closing behind you drown out the paparazzi noise. 

In the solitude of the initial hall, you see how Yunho lets his posture fall and lets out a breath “Well, I hated that.” 

Condescendingly, you smile at him “Poor baby,” you lean in a bit into him “We’re only getting started.” 

The horror on his face as he stares back brings out a nervous feeling inside you, but soon you're dragging him by his arm and following the staff member down the hall. 

And when she opens the door into the ballroom, you let the feeling overcome you for a second and you gulp because of it. 

Only getting started indeed. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is part one of three (possibly more if the story extends that far). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[cheolhub]

11:59 P.M. — CHOI SEUNGCHEOL࿐

summary. cheol offers you a striking incentive to help you turn in your assignments due at midnight.

wc. 2.1k

warnings. soft service top!cheol but also soft dom (?), so much praise, cockwarming, cheol w/ a BIG [redacted], dumb!fication, pet names [princess, baby, pretty, good/smart girl], unprotected s2x, creampie (yum), desk s2x <3 both of them are very desperate ><

note. happy belated birth 2 me ^^ to celebrate, i’m posting my first (100% self-indulged) cheol fic (it’s long overdue, i know.) reblogs are greatly appreciated mwah!! ily all sm <3 [ not proofread ]

“cheollie…” you whimper softly, eyes fluttering close. “please…”

seungcheol smiles, lips pressed to your ear. “did you finish, baby?” he asks with a voice barely above a whisper. when you shake your head, muttering out a soft ‘no,’ he simply hums. “how much more do you have?”

“i-i only have 150 more words to write,” you tell him breathily, hands tensing up as you think about how full you are of his cock. “but i can’t focus anymore… i dunno what else to say.”

“oh, maybe i should take you–”

you cut him off with a desperate cry before he can even suggest taking you off his cock. “no! no, don’t– but…maybe i should turn it in as is?”

“you’re doing so well, though, baby. i know you can do it, you’re my smart girl.” he coos. “plus, that wasn’t our agreement.”

right, you think. the stupid agreement. 

seungcheol saw how much you were dreading your school work so, naturally, he offered to let you sit on his cock while you did your assignments. you both agreed– him more than you– that as soon as you turned in all of your work, he’d then treat you just the way you needed. 

but now the only thing you can think about it is his stupidly big cock and his buff arms wrapped around you and the stream of arousal that pools at the base of his length. it’s almost overwhelming how he’s filled your senses. 

“i know, cheol, but i’m tired– i wanna fuck.” you whine and he chuckles at the vulgar words. 

“i’ll only fuck you if you finish your work, princess, you know that.” he reprimands. “c’mon, it’s 11:23, start typing.”

you groan, hands falling to your keyboard. you do your best to come up with 150 more comprehensible words and, for the most part, you’re doing well. you easily write two sentences of 53 words, but when cheol accidentally shifts under you, your hands freeze and you let out a soft whimper. 

when you clamp tightly around him, the softest sigh slips his lips. “‘m sorry, baby, keep going.” he says, trying to control himself. 

“you’re teasing me on purpose, cheol,” you whine, eyes fluttering close when you feel his cock twitch inside

“‘m not, promise.” he whispers, hot breath fanning against your neck. “just feel s’good, can’t wait to fuck you.” 

you gasp, brain going haywire at the words. a soft moan slips your lips and a lightbulb goes off in cheol’s head. 

he knows exactly how to get you to finish your work. 

he smiles cheekily, “you want that, right, princess? you want me to fuck this pretty lil cunt full, yeah?” his voice is low as his lips trail up to the shell of your ear. 

you huff. “fuck… yes– i want that.” 

“i know, baby,” he murmurs against your ears. “just 97 more words ‘n i’ll let you turn off that big brain of yours and fuck you stupid– you can do that for me, can’t you?”

you shudder, nodding your head incessantly. you take a deep breath and let your eyes refocus on the screen at your desk. seungcheol proudly hums, chin resting on your shoulder as he watches you type. 

it’s obvious you have no idea what you’re talking about. your trigger fingers clack against the keyboard as if your life depends on it, but your sentences are nearly incoherent. you forget your commas and apostrophes and proper capitalization, but he can’t find it in him to correct you. he knows how badly you need this and he also needs it just as bad.

when you type your last period and press submit without proofreading the work, you let out a cry of relief. it definitely wasn’t your best work– probably your fucking worst– but you’re nearing the end of the semester and you could truly care less about what your professor thinks of you. you let out a sigh, instantly grinding down and clamping around seungcheol’s cock as soon as you see the ‘submitted’ sign on your computer. 

“so good,” he moans, hands guiding your hips. “my smart girl, you did so well, fuck.”

“oh my, god.” you whine desperately. “cheollie, y-you’ll fuck me right?”

“god, yes.”

unbeknownst to you, too caught up in your own desperation, seungcheol was needy. probably just as needy as you. you wrapped around him so nicely– you always fucking do– and it has been driving him up a wall for the past hour. he wanted, so badly, to buck his hips up to fuck into you, but he had to control himself. he had to let you finish your work before you could finish in the way you deserved. 

but now, you’re done and he plans on ravishing you till the only thing can say is his name. 

his hands grip your waist tight, halting your movements and ripping a loud whine from your throat. 

“up.” he demands softly, pulling you off his cock. 

you pant, “but cheol–”

“promise i’ll give you what you want, baby— told you i would—  but not like this, yeah? let me take care of you.”

you nod dumbly, lifting up and whining in the process at the emptiness. seungcheol grunts, already missing the tightness of your pussy, but he quickly moves to spear you back on to him. he stands to his feet and pushes the chair back before roughly spinning you around and pressing his lips to yours. you melt in his calloused hands, your own flattening against his hard chest. 

your mouth cracks open on a moan and cheol takes it as an opportunity to shove his tongue inside. your knees give out at the feeling of him invading your mouth and your fingers grab at the loose grey shirt on his body to keep from falling over. you fist tighter and tighter as the seconds pass, arousal leaking from your bare cunt. 

he presses you against the desk, blindly sliding your laptop out of the way. when he groans into your mouth, you hoist yourself on to it with his assistance, sitting on the edge and spreading your legs for him to stand between. 

panting, seungcheol parts from the kiss, “hold on to me, baby.” he says, words rushed and a bit whiny.

you eagerly nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning back so he can easily press into you. his breathing is shaky as he aligns his cock with your hungry, drooling hole and when he slowly pushes in, he lets a loud moan out– one louder than the whimper that escapes your lips– while huffing out a curse. 

your head falls back and your eyes roll when you feel his cock fill you up again. even though he was inside you a mere three minutes ago, his girth is still so much to take. so much in a good way, of course. the burning stretch is one you miserably crave throughout the day. 

“still so tight, fuck,” he sighs, basking you in. you look so fucking beautiful in his loose t-shirt alone and, even with the tiny dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly disheveled, he still thinks you’re the prettiest thing in the world. his pretty fucking girl. 

a choked sob dies in the back of your throat as he bottoms out. “ch-cheol.” you manage to get out, a pained expression falling over your face.

he shushes you softly, “just breathe, baby, you’re takin’ me so well, but you need to breathe.” he urges, words strained as he’s fighting the impulse to moan again. it’s nearly impossible, though, with how fucking amazing you feel. 

you nod profusely and take a shuddered inhale followed by an even shakier exhale allowing your body to adjust to his intense size. when the pain finally subsides and you can nearly taste the pleasure on your tongue, you softly moan out his name. 

he asks if you’re good and that raspy, deep voice fills your ears, sending shockwaves to your messy cunt. you clench again but ultimately tell him, “‘m okay– s’okay. y-you can keep going.”

he grunts at this, pulling his cock out– eliciting a whine from you– before gently pushing back in. he gives you a few experimental thrusts, listening to the way you moan for him prior to setting a steady speed. 

“how’s this, princess?” he pants, large hands still roughly grabbing at your waist. “too fast?”

you shake your head, looking at him with teary, doe eyes. “faster? please?” 

he moans, nodding his head. “tell me if it’s too much, okay? know you’re tired ‘n i just want you to feel good.” he reminds you sweetly, voice cracking as the tempo of his thrusts increase. 

even if it was too much, you wouldn’t tell him. you love his cock– love the way he makes you feel– and you would spend days fucking him if you could. you nod anyway, though, giving him peace of mind. 

the desk under you wobbles a bit with the rapid speed at which he fucks you, but it’s very obvious that the unsturdy object is the least of both of your worries. your mouth is hung open, moans and soft cries drooling out while cheol watches completely enamored of you. 

it’s right when he gives you a sharp thrust, hitting the spongy spot in your pussy, that he sees your brain shut off. he sees the way your eyes glass over and hears how your pleads and cries have slurred. he’s already fucked you stupid. 

“that’s it, pretty baby, don’t need to think anymore. so pretty ‘n smart. so fuckin’ perfect. just for me.” he moans breathily, grip on your body somehow tightening. he’ll have to remember to apologize and dote on you a little more when you wake up with bruises in the morning. “oh, shit— you’re doin’ so well, baby. always so good f’me.” 

his cock stirs you up and it’s hard to stop your orgasm from brewing in the pit of your tummy. “cheol!” you gasp, tightly wrapping your legs around him. you pull him closer to you and he feels like he might let go too soon if you don’t ease up on him.

“‘m here, right here. all yours, baby.” he promises. “gonna let go for me? make a pretty lil mess all over me, huh?”

you nod, tears of pleasure soaking your lash line and getting ready to spill down your face. “uh-huh! ‘m so close.”

you just need a little bit more and you’ll surely soak him in your cum. luckily, seungcheol knows exactly what you need. 

“rub your clit,” he tells you, a loud grunt following his words at the thought. “rub your clit and cum all over my cock, princess.”

a broken moan slips out and you nod weakly. one of your arms leaves his neck and snakes in between your bodies. your nimble fingers find the puffy, untouched bud, rubbing uncoordinated circles into it.

seungcheol finds the sight so alluring and when you clamp around him, his eyes nearly roll. he can’t stop the way his hips pick up in speed as his own brain turns to mush. your jaw goes slack and your eyes squeeze shut at the onslaught of pleasure. you don’t even get the chance to warn him when he gives you another sharp thrust and the tight coil in your tummy suddenly unravels. 

your cries die on the tip of your tongue as you release with an inaudible squeal, body jerking under his. tears begin to fall, painting your heated cheeks as you’re overwhelmed by the immense gratification. 

“that’s a good girl,” he groans, feeling how you trap him in between your tight, gummy walls. “fuck, fuck, fuck– you feel so good.” he tells you, eyebrows knit together as he wears the sexiest face of pleasure. 

you sob as he fucks you through your orgasm, body slumping in exhaustion. “cheollie,” you mewl, still trembling on top of the desk. 

“i know, baby, ‘m gonna cum… w-where–”

you cut him off, “inside.”

he grunts a curse, “shit– gonna fill you up, gonna give it to you, princess,” he babbles, thrust growing sloppy. “take it all for me.”

it happens before you can reply. his hips flush against yours, cock stilling before he empties his load into your cunt. he whines softly, mumbling out more words of praise. 

he stays nestled inside of your cunt, holding your body up with his hands while he peppers kisses all over your face. 

“did that feel good?” he whispers, unable to trust his wavering voice. 

“so so good,” you sigh. “thank you, cheollie.”

he smiles, humming, “you deserved it, princess.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

taglist 🔖: @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @rckwithyou @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol @miriamxsworld @enhacolor

[chrisevansonly]

Tutte le Tempeste Hanno Una Fine

charles leclerc x female reader

synopsis: sometimes you just need a hug and your favourite person to make the rain go away

warnings: mentions of mental health, sad reader, fluffy charles

a/n: this is so self indulgent and very small, i have never felt worse in my life, im so close to just giving up. i don’t want to do this shit anymore and im sorry i haven’t been writing much, its just been a bit hard for me recently…thank you for your continued patience<3

You never really see the real side of mental health online, often you see the glamorized version, not the sheer weight and pain you carry as you move throughout each day. How every passing minute is agony as you search for rhyme and reason as to why you are the way you are, or why your brain is wired the way it’s always been.

Having no motivation can start to make you feel almost useless in a way. Watching the world fly by without you as if you didn’t exist had a sort of darkness to it.

“Can I help?”

Your eyes moved to look at Charles, who’d crouched down to check on you, worry in his eyes. He loved you so wholeheartedly and to see you feeling this way, it hurt a part of him not knowing how to best help you.

“I don’t think so”

“Is there anything I can do…anything at all?”

A pause fell over the room as you kept your eyes on him, feeling tears begin to well back up to your lash line, the sight crushing Charles a little more, he wouldn’t wish this on anyone, especially not you.

“How about I just get comfy with you and hold you? Hmm? Would that help…?”

“M-Maybe…” you whispered back, and that was enough for Charles to quickly slip into bed next to you, pulling you in close so you could rest your head on his chest, his arms tightening around you.

Charles let you cry, never once interrupting you or shushing you, knowing how important it was to get that release no matter how much it hurt or how emotional someone could get.

Every storm has an ending, every rainstorm brought the sun, and even if you were stuck in a rut at the moment, deep down you knew there was a way to get back to that feeling of warmth and happiness. Charles was a key to that, because of him he never let you fall far, never let the ocean take you away.

“I love you, no matter how long it takes, how hard the road ahead is, or how much it rains, i’ll be here every step of the way to get you through it.”

Charles wasn’t expecting you to say anything back, but when your voice said a soft and tear filled ‘I love you more’ back to him, he knew maybe not right this second, but some time soon, you would be okay.

After all Tutte le Tempeste Hanno Una Fine.

[onlymingyus]

Tied to your Body (Patreon Exclusive Teaser)

pairing; kim mingyu x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni), fluff (somehow)

warnings; TA!Mingyu, University Student!Reader, Camboy!Mingyu, Professor Joshua Hong (that's a warning), eating/drinking, alcohol, masturbation (m & f), lots of dirty talk, masturbation on stream, pictures taken and sent of dick/pussy, talk of sexual health, aftercare, Dom!Mingyu, sub!reader, Dom/sub dynamics, color system, subspace, dumbification, praise, pet names, degradation, crying, spitting on pussy, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cum eating, some light impact play -- I think that is everything.

w/c; 13.3k and some change (1.4 k this teaser)

a/n; I love camboy love sick Mingyu. thank you to @onlyhuis for betareading this for me! a huge thank you to @onlyseokmins for making the instagram graphics for me! thank you for your patience in waiting for this one. I really needed this break.

this fic is a Patreon Exclusive subscribe to my Patreon and click here

Running the back of your pen along your bottom lip, you sigh, finally leaning back from your desk. You had been looking at the same page of your physics textbook for an hour. It felt like your brain was beginning to feel like jello. A familiar ding from your cellphone made you bite down on the end of your pen as you reached for the phone, the corners of your lips pulling up into a slight smirk. 

ariespic_46 is live

You tried not to waste your money. It was hard enough to be a college student and to share an apartment instead of living in a dorm but sometimes spoiling yourself was important. It was hard enough trying to balance a part-time job and a full-time course work schedule; you rarely found time to go to parties and the relationship pool was limited. 

You had dated during your time at the university but it had been brief and no one had ever kept your attention for longer than a month. Over time, classes became more important and you found other ways to find pleasure, even if it cost you a few extra bucks a month to indulge in. 

Opening your laptop, you find yourself entranced by the man on your screen as he smiles, leaning back in his chair. He never showed anything above his nose. You wished you could see his entire face. With as handsome as he was from the nose down, you were drooling over this camboy almost daily. 

As ariespic_46 lets out a breath, you find yourself doing the same as you lay on your side on your bed in the dark. He was dressed in some tan dress pants, a white button up that was already unbuttoned down to the top of his abs, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He looked like a dream. You couldn’t help but look over every detail that you were privy to. He had the cutest freckle on the end of his nose and sharp canines that he bit down into his bottom lip with when he was especially horny, like now. 

“Hi pups. I missed you.” 

A small squeak slips from your lips when the man finally talks. He was such a tease. He would sometimes just sit there for minutes while the chat went crazy, asking for things, just his biceps flexing as he stretched out his fingers in clear amusement at how needy the chat was. 

“Aw, you missed me too, didn’t you? That’s cute.” 

The man leans his head back and you try to move your head so you can see more of him but as usual, it's in vain. He had his camera set up for this. He didn’t want his face fully on the screen and while you could respect it, you were still curious. 

“It was a long day. You have no idea. I’m all wound up... Having to be this professional in front of others while I think about doing this later. God…” The man grins, his canines on display, as he lifts his hips, undoing his dress pants. “And then the teasing I put up with on a daily fucking basis. I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it.” 

You furrow your brows. He talked about some girl on his streams sometimes. You didn’t mind; no one seemed to. It got him even more excited to think about this girl who teased him during the day. You wondered what it would be like to be her—to be the one on his mind all day and night. The one that made him want to wrap his hand around his thick cock and stroke it until he came so hard. You imagine you are her sometimes; he makes it easy for you to, with how he talks to the stream. 

“Wanna put you on your knees in front of me for teasing me like that?" 

Watching ariespic_46 closely, your eyes follow as he kicks his pants somewhere off the screen. The man smirked, leaning back in his chair, knowing eyes were on him. He could see the viewer count and it never disappointed him. Your eyes were moving over the bit of his chest that was exposed as his fingers undid the rest of his shirt, leaving him in his dress shirt and briefs as a long, sighing groan slipped from his lips. 

“Can’t help but think how pretty you’d look if you were. So fucking pretty every day and acting so innocent like you don’t realize I’m looking at you.” 

You sigh, your bottom lip jutting out, as the man talks to the girl through you and the other viewers. You feel a bit of shame as you run your fingers along your stomach and play with the tie of your pajama pants but it’s not enough to stop you. 

Glancing at the comments, you can’t help but agree with a few of them, saying they’d never ignore him. You couldn’t imagine ignoring someone like ariespic_46, not on purpose. There was no one who went to your university who came close to looking like him. 

When the man wraps his fingers around his cock for the first time, you have to close your eyes to the sound that slips out between his pretty lips. You loved the sounds he made. He never tried to keep them quiet or to himself. He just let them be as erotic as possible and it made you drip around your fingers that were now slowly sliding through your folds. 

“Are you being a good girl for me? My pretty little pup? Are you gonna cum for me when I cum tonight?” 

Whimpering, you nod even though he can’t see you. You weren’t one who took the time to comment while he touched himself and spoke. You knew he wouldn’t recognize names from chat anyway. He did, however, acknowledge tips and that you did when you let yourself think with your pussy more than your brain. 

“Mm, thank you, Nabi.” 

Hearing part of your username on ariespic_46’s lips as he moans, pre-cum slipping over his fingers, makes you press your lips together. You hadn’t sent him much—just $30—but for a student, that was more than you should be spending on porn. 

Pressing your nose against your arm, you adjust yourself on the bed, watching the man groan louder as he got closer to his climax. You had started to be able to tell when it was going to happen. The way his mouth fell open, the way his groans got more urgent and drawn out, his fingers of his right hand gripping the arm of his chair for dear life as he stroked himself through his climax with his left. 

Most nights when you watched his streams, you would end up doing exactly what ariespic_46 wanted and cum soon after he had but other nights, like tonight, you would end up panting as your thighs pressed together out of need. You knew there was always more, even as the man on the screen laughed, stretching his fingers out to show the camera all the cum dripping from him. 

"Fuck, that was good. I have to get cleaned up. Bye, baby. See you next time.” 

The stream stated it had ended, and you find yourself on your back with your phone in one hand, waiting for what came next. Not only did you tip because it made you feel good to hear even your username on the man’s lips but also for what he would give you. A notification stating you had a direct message from ariespic_46 pop’s up at the top of your screen and you find yourself giggling like a teenager getting a message from a crush. 

ariespic_46: have a good night, nabi 🦋 thank you🖤 [picture attached] 

Staring at the message for a moment, you bite at your bottom lip before your thumbs move over the keyboard to reply. You knew you didn’t have to, and that he probably didn’t check replies but it felt important to you. 

nabi.wings: anytime, thank you for the stream ❣️

Taking a breath, you finally press down on the link for the picture, only to moan at the sight. It was one thing to see his cock and fingers covered in cum on the stream but it was another entirely to see it in a picture like this. Now was when you couldn’t help but let your fingers wander lower. Now you could let yourself let go of any shame you were feeling before and just let yourself pretend for a little while that he had cum this much for just you. 

READ THE FULL FIC ON PATREON HERE

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed

[ichigo-dream]

Pretty When You Cry

Ummmmm have some extemely self-indulgent subby Leon content bc this man has literally been rotting my brain for the last month and I don't see it stopping anytime soon. Shout out to all my cultured women who enjoy whimpering men - this one's for u.

Written with re2 Leon in mind but picture him however u want besties

-Dream

warnings: dub/con, somnophilia

Leon whimpered softly in the darkness, soft streaks of moonlight filtering through the nearby window and falling onto his glistening skin as he shifted restlessly in bed. He swallowed thickly, eyes squeezed tight shut as he tried to distract himself from the unbearable throb between his legs.

Not again.

You lay next to him, sleeping soundly, your breathing calm and deep where his was shallow and sharp. You had no idea the effect you had on him. What you were doing just by being so close to him. So many nights he had found himself awoken by you shifting in your sleep, pressing the soft curve of your ass so innocently against his cock, leaving him so awfully needy and alone. He always tried so hard to keep quiet, rutting himself desperately against a pillow so he wouldn’t cause you to stir or wake up.

Tonight was no different. He groaned quietly as he dared to palm himself through the thin fabric of his shorts with one hand, soft pillow tightly grasped in the other as he used it to try and muffle his whines. Not enough, it was never enough. Sometimes he would lie awake for hours, cheeks streaked with tears, feverish and blushing as he tried so hard to make himself cum but to no avail.

He opened his eyes to glance at your sleeping form. So sweet and peaceful. You had rolled onto your back by now, the thin fabric of your little nightdress riding up to expose the plush skin of your thighs and stomach. Leon bit down hard on his lip as he drank in the beautiful sight laid before him, fist clenching tightly around the outline of his cock whilst his gaze locked on to the baby pink underwear you had chosen to wear. Had you done it on purpose? He noticed the little satin bow sewn onto the waistband, teasing him, begging him to open the present before him. So cute. So fucking cute. He could barely take it, and the longer he stared at you the more he felt his resolve weakening.

Maybe he could touch you…just for a second…

He freed his hand from his aching cock for a moment, reaching out to drag his fingers gently across the soft skin of your upper thigh. His eyes were glazed over with pure lust, lips parted, almost salivating at the delicious heat that kissed his fingertips as he caressed your smooth, supple flesh in slow circles. You reacted to his touch, even in your sleep, sighing sweetly as you lifted your hips a fraction before settling back into the mattress, legs spread a little wider than they had been before.

Leon swallowed another groan, burying his face into the pillow he was gripping tightly. The hand on your thigh tightened, trying not to drift towards what he really wanted. Knowing you were right next to him, spread out like that…so cute and innocent, it was driving him wild.

More…he needed more.

He needed you. So bad.

Needed to feel your skin against his.

And with that, the final restraint in him snapped. He discarded the pillow and rolled onto his side, cradling your face gently in one large hand before leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. When he caught the lingering scent of your perfume his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. Oh, fuck. He couldn’t resist nuzzling into the curve of your neck, breathing you in deeply until only you surrounded him. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a low whine. He was trembling now, his other hand drifting down to tease himself through his shorts. His cock strained against the waistband, and he could feel hot precum gathering along its head and leaving a small, dark stain. He allowed his fingers to dip beneath the elastic, using his thumb to lightly tease the tip of his cock. He shuddered against you, biting down on his lip even harder than last time.

“F-fuck…baby, I need you,” He stuttered, brushing his lips against your pulse point. He began to press gentle kisses along the column of your neck, all the way up to the sweet spot just below your ear. He nipped the skin there softly as he cradled the back of your head, somehow getting even harder as he heard you moan quietly into him, still fast asleep. “J-just let me touch you for a little while, I promise- oh god, just for a little, that’s all I need.”

Soothing you with more kisses, Leon shifted his weight and angled himself over you, slotting one of his strong legs between yours. He lowered himself as much as he could without disturbing you, a string of curses slipping from his lips as he dragged his clothed cock along the inside of your bare thigh. The slight friction had him whimpering pathetically against your throat as he kissed it more desperately. Even through the thin fabric he could feel your heat, and oh fuck, if that wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for.

“Y-you’re doing so good for me, so good, my sweet girl-“ He murmured, continuing at a tortuous pace simply so he could savour what you were giving to him right now. He lowered his hips more, feeling his abdominal muscles flex with each slow back-and-forth movement.

“Oh fuck…you’re so perfect. And you belong to me… all mine, my perfect girl- Ah…!”

Greed and lust consumed him, cheeks blazing with a mixture of arousal and shame as he angled himself to press directly against your cunt this time, his hips stuttering to a halt so he could savour the feeling of your delicious warmth for a moment. His head dipped to your chest as he whined loudly, unable to keep himself quiet any longer.

“So cute,” He moaned, reaching down to press his thumb against your clothed clit, “You wear these just for me, huh? Always so pretty…”

You were reacting to him more now, your breathing more shallow and rapid as you moved your hips the tiniest bit, only managing small little circles against him in your sleepy state.

“Leon…” You sighed languidly.

The way you said his name made his jaw clench. Like you needed him.

He needed to hear you say it again.

He started moving against you again, more desperate this time, grinding against your core and moving his thumb in slow, soft circles – just how you liked it. He swore he could feel you throbbing against him and he couldn’t stop any of the shameful noises slipping from between his lips now, not even caring if you woke up to see him so pathetic and dumb between your legs. He noticed your slick begin to dampen the fabric of your underwear against his fingers, and he almost came on the spot. He started babbling like a fool, despairing pleas falling from his lips like a broken prayer.

“Haa- oh fuck, so wet for me already I, -I just need you to say my name again sweetheart, that’s all I need, please, please-“

He could feel his eyes glistening with tears and his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of scarlet in embarrassment, burying his head between the plush valley of your breasts, panting as he ground his hips against you over and over again, choking back little sobs and hiccups. He felt so ashamed, so pathetic – he had barely done anything, but he was going completely dumb and delirious from pleasure simply from teasing himself over your sweet skin and pretty cunt. The intense mixture of guilt, shame, and delight had his heart thudding wildly in his chest; he felt so dirty, like some kind of disgusting pervert as he used you to get off. Yet, it spurred him on. He whimpered and bit his lip, the thought of his sin turning him on even more.

He shouldn’t enjoy it, but he did.

As he continued to press against the little wet spot on your underwear, he noticed you begin to stir a little more, grinding softly against his hand and cock, nuzzling into your pillow as your brow furrowed and more soft, breathy moans fell from your lips. He leaned back a little to look at you, letting out a low groan. He wanted to touch you even more, to feel you with nothing in his way.

“I-I just need a little more from you, sweet girl. You’ve been s-so good, God, you’re driving me fucking c-crazy, y’know that? Fuck, can’t take it anymore-” He had finally had enough, reaching down to hook one of his fingers into the soft fabric of your thin underwear so he could pull it to the side, revealing your glistening cunt to him.

All he could do was stare.

“Oh, fuck…so pretty...Let me look at you, sweetheart.”

He kneeled before you, digging his hands into the soft meat of your thighs so he could push your legs a little further apart, spreading you open. He was in a daze, one trembling hand ghosting upwards and leaving goosebumps along your skin until he was able to drag his index finger slowly, gently, through your sensitive folds. So warm…so soft. One little touch felt like heaven to him.

He gathered some of your slick on his fingertip, still being slow and careful as he traced agonising circles against your clit.

“…S-so wet for me…and I barely did anything…You’re just like me, aren’t you angel? So needy and desperate, even in your sleep. You look so perfect like this, all spread out for me. Fuck, I bet you’d look s-so cute with my cum dripping out of your pussy, wouldn’t you?”

He let out another soft whimper, palming his cock teasingly through his boxers again. He fumbled with the waistband, pushing it down with one hand just enough until he finally freed himself. His breath caught in his throat as the cool air hit his sensitive head, now dripping with precum all the way down his aching shaft. His loose shirt was getting in the way - so he simply lifted it up and held the bottom hem between his teeth, displaying the pale skin of his toned midriff and broad chest.

He - reluctantly – removed his hand from between your thighs, smearing your wetness over the head of his cock. He let out a choked gasp, throwing his head back and letting out a muffled groan through the fabric of his shirt. He slowly began to pump his thick cock in his fist, working himself up all over again, heat spreading through his body as he grunted and whined. He stared at you through half-lidded eyes, swallowing thickly and panting as he thought about how fucking depraved he was for doing this – but he simply didn’t care anymore.

He had held himself back long enough.

After all, how was any of this fair? Poor Leon, sleep-deprived and desperate for some sort of relief, feeling so dirty and ashamed while you slept soundly next to him – blissfully unaware, and wearing that. It wasn’t fair at all. God, he could fucking die at the sight of you. He couldn’t believe it, really. An angel slept in his bed every night and he somehow resisted every urge to ruin you when you teased him like this. Part of him wanted to see how far he could go before you realised what was happening.

He eyed your underwear, pushed to the side and completely soaked.

He used one hand to tug them down your legs, slipping them off your delicate ankles before crumpling them in his fist and bringing the soft fabric up to press against his face. Oh fuck, he was disgusting. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, breathing in your sweet, heady scent deep through his nose. He nuzzled into the damp cotton, feeling the little pink satin bow tickle his skin. He rolled his thumb over the tip of his cock teasingly, shuddering. He could only imagine how obscene he looked right now, jerking himself over your sleeping body like this, your underwear pressed to his face.

He couldn’t keep himself away from you for long, though. He discarded your underwear and his shirt easily enough so he could position himself between your thighs, angling his hips so he could push forward and drag his cock slowly through your petal-soft folds. He lurched forward with a strangled groan, throwing his arm out so he could grip the headboard hard enough to see his knuckles turn white. You were soaked, staining the sheets as he moved at an agonising pace. And so warm. So warm and wet for him that he was half-delirious with pleasure, tears finally running freely down his pink cheeks.

He glanced down at you beneath him, biting his lip at the soft flush spreading across your cute face. Another needy whimper slipped from his lips as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, elbows braced on either side of your head. He could taste his own tears on your hot skin as he left desperate, open-mouthed kisses along the supple curve of skin, tilting his hips so that the head of his cock brushed against your clit with each messy thrust.

Another soft moan escaped you, right next to his ear. You shifted a little and he almost died when he felt you grinding sleepily against him, the movement pushing him deeper between your slick, silky folds.

He whined loudly and buried his face into your soft hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your favourite strawberry shampoo. Your smell, your little noises, the way you ground your hips against him, fuck, it was becoming too much for him.

“Please, please, please- Oh fuck, I love you, I love you, s-so much-“ He was sobbing now, letting out little hiccups and gasps as his movements got a little more desperate and sloppy, his pulse racing as he greedily chased his high. “F-feels so good…ah-!”

His eyes squeezed tight shut and he could taste the salt in his tears as they rolled down his cute flushed cheeks, dripping onto the soft fabric of your pillow and into your hair. All he could feel was white-hot pleasure, so intense it was almost unbearable.

He was close, so close-

Suddenly he was sent hurtling right over the edge, a high-pitched whine ripping out from his throat as he felt something finally snap inside him. He nuzzled into your neck, sobbing as he came over your pretty stomach in thick, hot spurts. He could feel it on his own skin pressed flush against yours, sticky and wet, now tangible evidence of his shameful act.

His movements began to slow as he rode out his high, his entire body trembling and slick with sweat. The hazy fog of pleasure was beginning to lift from his mind, quickly replaced by a sobering sense of clarity at what he had actually done. With an unsteady hand, he reached down to pull his boxers up, the waistband resting far too low on his hips, but he didn’t care.

He sagged against you, shifting his weight so he could curl up into your side, hugging you close, tears of guilt now welling up in his baby blue eyes. He sniffled and whimpered, wondering how he ever could have done something so disgusting to you, his sweet girl. He didn’t deserve you. He clung to you, crying now as fat tears of shame rolled down his cheeks.

Leon didn’t notice you finally begin to stir, roused by his noises and the way his weight pressed against you.

Your mind still heavy with sleep, your first thought was that your sweet boy was having another one of his nightmares. Your bare shoulder was wet with his tears, and the sounds of his broken little sobs and quiet gasps as he tried to catch his breath filled your ears.

“Leon, baby…. shhhh…it’s okay.” You lifted your hands so you could cradle his head and run your fingers through his soft blonde hair, slightly damp with sweat you noticed.

He clung to you even more, not an inch of space between you as his large hands gripped tightly onto the fabric of your nightgown, twisting it between his fingers. He trembled like a frightened lamb against you, nuzzling into your neck like he was searching for comfort.

“N-no, it’s n-not okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-!” He left desperate little tear-soaked kisses on your skin as he babbled, tripping and stumbling over his words.

Mean to…?

You were confused for a moment.

Until you felt it.

Something warm and sticky on your stomach. Cool air against your now-bare lower half. The slick between your thighs.

Ah.

You bit your lip. He thought you were mad?

So Cute.

“Oh, Leon…you made a mess all over me, didn’t you?” You cooed softly, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. You scratched his scalp gently and he shuddered against you, his broad shoulders relaxing at your touch. “Look at me, baby.”

He lifted his head, still sniffling. His eyes were wide and innocent, glittering with tears that hadn’t fallen yet. His brow was creased in distress; his lips slightly swollen – from kissing or biting, you couldn’t tell. All you could think was how beautiful he looked right now, his plump cheeks wet and flushed.

“Y-you’re…not angry with me?” He asked in a small, soft voice – the edges slightly rough from crying.

You lean forward to kiss one of his tears away, smoothing his hair away from his face lovingly.

“I could never be mad at you, sweet boy.” You were secretly delighted.

He pressed his face into your hair, almost like he was hiding from you. You could sense the shame and embarrassment he felt – it was rolling off him in waves, written all over his face and in his body language.

“Tell me I’m good…” He murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“You’re good, Leon…So good. My good boy…” You hum soothingly, your hands returning to his hair. “You have nothing to feel guilty about…I promise.”

He melts in your arms, his breathing slowing down. A quick glance at the clock by your bed told you he must have been up for hours like this. The poor thing must have been exhausted.

"Go to sleep, baby. I’ve got you.” You murmur, his soft blonde hair tickling your cheek as he settled in comfortably. He mumbled something incoherent, squeezing your hip gently. You felt his body relax into you even more as he slowly slipped away.

It didn’t take long for you to join him, soon lost in a dreamy haze.

You couldn’t wait to return the favour in the morning.

~

[elliesflower]

heyyy 😏 i wanted to come here and just say that i feel like ellie is the type to ask you about how your day went while slowly rubbing your clit. if you stutter or even just whine, she will sternly tell you to continue with what you were saying or else, she'll stop playing with your princess parts and leave you unsatisfied 🧍🏻‍♀️ that is all.

ohhhhh yes absolutely she would!!!! and i’d like to think she’d be a little sweet about it, too (bc i’m self indulgent, always)

after an especially stressful day at work, you’d come home practically in tears, straight into ellie’s strong arms, and she’d immediately be all over you—hands rubbing up and down your back, her lips pressing against your forehead, her breath tickling your ear as she spoke against the side of your head, “wassa’ matter? talk to me, angel.”

but you couldn’t, just feeling silly as you cried into her chest. but ellie wouldn’t have that, no—she’d get you right where she wants you, she needs to get into that pretty little head of yours the best way she knows how.

so that’s how you’d end up in her gaming chair, head thrown back against the little pillow as she kneeled in front of you, her thumb languidly rolling circles around your clit as you struggled to get out a coherent sentence.

“c’mon baby, lemme in that head of yours,” she’d coo, and it would only make it harder to focus on what she was asking. “i’ll make it all better, you know i will…”

and she did, oh she did—one finger slipping through your slick folds to tease at your entrance before pulling away abruptly. and you’d whine, your head snapping to meet her gaze where she looked up at you, the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead beautifully illuminated by the colored led lights in the room.

“please ellie!” you’d cry, your thighs spreading pathetically farther, and you couldn’t stop to be embarrassed at the way your slick made a mess of the leather chair beneath your ass.

“tell me about your day, and you can have whatever you want, my love,” and it was so tender, and so so cruel, the tears instantly flowing again as your brain went absolutely dumb when she kissed the inside of your thigh teasingly. you couldn’t help but to babble, letting it all out, all the tears and frustration of customers yelling at you all day, accidentally dropping an entire tray of food for a table, and your manager being a douchebag…and of course ellie was back on you in an instant, her hands making their way up your supple thighs before they reached your sensitive core.

“there’s my good girl,” she’d praise, sliding two fingers into you with ease, now that you were all relaxed and sensitive for her. you cried out as she worked her fingers into your messy pussy, the chair creaking as you writhed about.

“my poor baby…you don’t have to worry ‘bout all that anymore, angel…i got you, you know i got you…”

and she did,

have all of you.

[gigabyte-flare]

Animals

Summary: Leon comes back home to you with one thing on his mind.

Pairing: Vendetta or ID!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 889

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption. This work is not for minors, 18+ only

Warnings: breeding kink, rough sex, Leon's very aggressive in this but like the good kind of aggressive, impregnation, swearing, light choking

A/N: Decided to write up a one shot to hopefully jump start my brain so I can finish part 4 of There's No Escape. This is purely self indulgent but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! This is not proof read so please excuse any and all grammatical errors! This is lightly based on an audio by Nowhere Eternity!

It’s late in the evening, the sun just below the horizon as you stand over your kitchen sink and do the dishes from making dinner. Your boyfriend should hopefully be home soon, having just returned from some assignment for the D.S.O.. It’s been weeks since he’s last been home; you couldn’t wait to see him.

You hear him suddenly come through the door, “Babe, I’m home!”

Normally, he takes his time taking off his shoes and jacket, but you hear his heavy footsteps approach the kitchen at an alarming rate.

“There you are,” he growls, “c’mere.”

“Leon what are you--” you are suddenly cut off as his powerful arms wrap around your waist, burying his face into your neck.

“I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day,” he moans into your neck as he begins kissing up your neck.

“Leon, I’m trying to do the dishes…” you reply, still holding a pan in your hand.

“Put the fucking thing down,” Leon growls, his hands gripping onto your waist almost to the point that it was painful.

You immediately drop the pan into the sink, unsure and concerned about what on earth has gotten into Leon.

“Sweetheart.. Are you ok?” you ask hesitantly.

“I’ve decided…” Leon starts, you can hear him starting to undo his belt on his pants, “that you’re going to give me a baby.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” you reply, flabbergasted.

“I know you don’t think you���re ready, but I promise you… you are, baby.” he continues before burying his face back into your neck.

You arch your back into him, feeling his hard cock on your ass as you push yourself into him. You can hear him still undoing his belt.

“This… stupid FUCKING belt!” he growls before finally getting his belt off, “your turn, get these fucking pants down.”

Your wet fingers struggle to get your button undone on your pants when Leon’s fingers suddenly reach around, helping you get your pants undone, “there you go, baby, I got you.”

As soon as your pants are undone, he pulls them down along with your underwear. You can hear him stroking himself. He pushes you into the counter, forcing you to lean forward and push your hips back towards him as you feel his cock push against your drenched pussy. 

“Look at how wet you are, you want me to fuck a baby into you, I know you do…”

With one, hard thrust, he sheathes himself completely inside of you, causing you to yelp. You grip the counter as Leon fucks you relentlessly.

“I can’t wait to see your belly swollen with my baby inside you…” Leon purrs, his hands gripping your hips so tight that his fingers are leaving bruises on you, “you’re going to look so fucking beautiful…”

Unconsciously, you reach down to your clit and start to rub it, causing your legs to twitch as you let out soft moans. Leon’s hand grabs your wrist aggressively, pulling your hand away from your needy clit.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I want you to cum on my dick when I pump you full of my cum, sweetheart,” he growls. 

He picks up his pace, all you hear is the sound of his hips slapping against your ass along with his animalistic growls. Your eyes roll into your head as you moan his name like a prayer, begging for release. 

“Are you ready to be a mommy?” Leon asks, his right hand reaches up to grasp your throat, pulling you back towards him as he bites your ear.

“Y-Yes…!” you manage to cry out as Leon puts pressure on your throat.

“I can’t wait to kiss your growing belly…” he moans into your ear as he continues pounding into you, “on my way down to eat your pussy.”

You cry out again, tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation and raw emotion of it all. 

“Leon… I-I’m close…!”

“Cum with me baby, go ahead and rub that clit, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. You reach back down and rub circles into your aching core. After a few moments, you come completely undone in a mess of cries and moans with Leon’s name sprinkled here and there. You feel the hot sensation of Leon’s own release as he pushes himself deep inside you. You feel the head of his cock pressing into your cervix. He holds himself there, breathing heavily as his cock continues to twitch inside of you.

You start to shift your hips to have him slip out of you, but Leon stops you, “No. Let me stay inside you just a little longer…”

You both simply stand there, Leon’s arms wrapped protectively around your waist as you lean back, nuzzling into him, telling him how much you love and missed him when he was gone. Leon does eventually pull out, you can hear his seed drip out of you onto the kitchen floor. He pulls his pants back up, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“Go ahead and finish up the dishes and meet me in the bedroom, sweetheart,” Leon says as he begins to walk away.

“The bedroom?” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him as you put your own pants back on.

Leon stops, turning to you to give you a devious smirk, “Yes. The bedroom. Because we have to do it again.”

[yongbokology]

part dos of ‘don’t accidentally beat your dick to your best friend’

part one

black coded reader <3

warnings; smut

an: you asked, i delivered 🧞‍♀️

eren is a mess. a complete utter mess.

after realizing he’s been jerking it to you for the past few months, he becomes a nervous wreck around. oh it was bad.

his first encounter with you after the realization, literally happens the day after.

you were running late for work and your car was currently in the shop so you sent a rather urgent text to him with multiple crying emojis, asking him to take you to work.

without even seeing the message, he begins to panic just seeing your name pop up.

did you somehow use your woman tuition and found out he was fucking himself to you? it plagued eren’s mind for a few seconds, his hands clammy as he grasps his phone.

he lets out a sigh of relief once he reads the message and instantly responds.

‘yeah ofc, see u in a bit’

‘thx ren, you’re the best!’

oh eren feels like shit.

he felt like a pervert. like he wasn’t supposed to see you in your nakedness, pleasuring yourself for thousands to see.

“.. ren, are you okay? you’re awfully quiet today.. i’m sorry if you were busy-”

he immediately shakes his head “no! i wasn’t doing anything. i don’t mind at all.. just a bit distracted is all.” he clears his throat, eyes fixated on the road. not sparing you a single glance.

you stare at the side of his face, picking him apart in your brain. all these years the two of you had the pleasure of knowing each other, you knew eren’s mannerisms, his nervous ticks and more.

something was definitely up.

…

“god not this again. connie could you maybe not be so open about the porn you indulge in.” reiner is fed up with the porn talk, just trying to enjoy this sunday afternoon with his friends.

“okay but bro i’m telling you, this girl is fire. i’d def buy her only fans if she had one.”

eren isn’t too interested in the conversation. his head’s in the clouds. lately he’s been fantasizing about you. a lot actually.

breaking you in half. fucking your brains out in every setting possible. this was new to say the least. before, eren hadn’t had such thoughts about you.

i mean yeah he did sometimes think about what it’d be like if the two of you were together. would the two of you be good partners as you are friends? but he never thought about you in such obscene ways.

it is this next part that has eren almost falling out of his chair.

“[your user]. never heard of her?”

both jean and reiner shake their heads.

eren on the other hand feels his skin run cold, eyes bulging out his head at the username. it was your username.

connie is now pulling out his phone and eren quickly catches on that he is about to pull up your page. with frantic eyes and haste, eren waits for connie to unlock his phone and in the split second that connie rotated his screen towards the three men, eren yanks it from his grasp and dramatically let’s connie’s phone fall face down on the concrete.

“yo what the fuck man?!” connie yells, mouth ajar as he looks between eren and his phone that is definitely not working when he picks it up.

“i-i um. i’m sorry.. it slipped..”

both reiner and jean silently blink, throwing glances at each other.

“oh it fucking slipped? my five year old nephew could put on a better fucking performance.”

“i’m really sorry man. i get paid tomorrow, i’ll pay for it. i swear.”

…

“i really needed this, thanks for hanging out with me ren. karina has been more bitchy than usual.” it was no secret you hated your boss. you often ranted about her to eren, so much so that he hated her as well and doesn’t even know what she looks like.

“of course. you want some more popcorn? bowl’s almost empty.”

you nod and eren gets up from his spot on his bed and retreats to the kitchen to refill the bowl.

you shift your eyes to the tv, ‘bad boys’ currently at it’s thirty minute mark.

you feel a buzz under your butt.

with furrowed brows you shift and pull out eren’s phone that you had no idea you were sitting on.

his phone screen comes to life, him and armin in the background of the notifications that fill the screen.

there were a few from twitter and growing curious as to what eren’s twitter feed looked liked, you unlocked his phone and hit refresh.

your jaw unhinges when you pop up on his screen. fingers knuckle deep in your cunt.

you’re in shock like you literally didn’t film this a few hours ago and hit post. you just weren’t expecting to see yourself on your best friend’s timeline.

you stare at yourself, at first unsure how to react to this knowledge but then the thought of eren touching himself to you skates across your mind and suddenly you’re clenching your thighs, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

the thought arouses you.

eren comes back with the bowl filled to the brim and his smile is wiped off his face once he sees his phone in your hands.

“eren,” you start. your voice is low but sweet. “is there something you want to tell me?”

he sucks in a breath, pupils shaking as you lay the phone on the bed. he sees what you were looking at clear as day.

“y/n.. i-i can explain.”

your plump lips turn upwards into a grin. mischief writes all over them.

“come here.”

it’s a command that has him hesitantly obeying.

he sits down on the bed, farther than where he originally was.

you sigh and close the proximity by climbing into lap, the popcorn bowl being discarded to the side.

eren feels hell fire creeping up his neck. his mouth his dry and he can suddenly hear the thrumming of his blood.

“how many times have you fucked yourself to me. hm?”

his lips tremble. “a few times..” it almost comes out as a mumble.

your smirk widens at his blatant lie.

“oh eren, you and i both know that’s not true.”

you push him until his back is flat on the bed, your thighs on either side of his hips. you splay your hands on his chest and fully plant your clothes pussy on his crotch.

he could literally just cum right then and there.

“you know what i hate more than liars?”

once eren realizes you actually want him to respond he shakes his head.

you lean forward until your lips are grazing against his ear. your tits mushed against his chest.

“i hate disobedient boys,” you lean back up and eren looks dazed. aware but dazed. “are you a disobedient boy eren?”

…

needless to say, he’s not. he listens to your every command which is why he was currently whimpering, hands pressed against his chest, trying his very best not to touch you.

your mouth works wonders on his cock, it weeps in all it’s 8inch glory, precum finding it’s way onto your tongue.

you pull him out of your mouth with a lewd ‘pop’, eyeing eren as you pump his aching length. “you close?”

tears form in eren’s eyes. everything feels fuzzy. his brain is scattered but he still manages to give a slight nod. he looked so fucked out and god what a sight it was.

“you gonna cum for me pretty boy?”

the nickname makes eren whine.

“eren, answer me or you don’t get to cum.” you grit, your free hand taking hold on his throat, clenching your dainty yet powerful fingers around it.

“y-yes! yes. m’gonna c-cum.” he chokes out. his pupils becoming dilated as you speed up your hand around his cock.

you smile at this. “i want you to come in my mouth ‘kay? and you can touch me now.” your mouth is instantly on his cock after finishing your sentence.

eren props himself up on his elbows, the iron grip you still have on his neck combined with you sucking the everlasting life out of him has eren cumming in no time with a cracked moan.

“fuh-fuckkk.” tears are streaming down his face now, jaw unhinged as you lap up the messy head on his cock.

“got anymore for me?” you don’t expect him to answer, instead you squeeze on his balls and one last spurt of cum falls onto your shiny lips.

this has eren falling back flat on his back, panting heavily like he’d just finished running a marathon.

you lick at your lips and hum at the taste of him. salty, as expected but not overbearing.

“you did so good for me ren.” you smile, crawling up beside him. resting a hand on his naked chest.

eren lazily turns his head towards you, his cheeks tear stained. he looks utterly broken and it ignites something within you.

“this stays between us ‘kay?” he nods slowly at that, too tired to speak.

what in the world did he just get himself into?

.

.

.

tag list: @hellavile @animeloverzx @starlightmid @gobblethiskitty

[farfromstrange]

Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom. 

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him. 

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen. 

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin. 

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?” 

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?” 

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!” 

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before. 

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do? 

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him. 

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows. 

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp. 

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager. 

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say. 

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him. 

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly. 

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word. 

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive. 

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say. 

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself. 

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him. 

[cod-sins]

Hi! :)

Can I request könig w/ a insecure chubby s/o headcanons? (If you're okay with writing that) I read your könig headcanons and this came in my mind

Have a good day!! :33

.ೃ࿐ Format: Hcs.

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Undisclosed. Fat/chubby/plus-sized.

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW. NSFW UNDER CUT.

.ೃ࿐ Word Count: 725.

[A/N: Why not kill two birds with one stone? It's not just big girls he likes, it's big boys too! König likes 'em all. Also if this seems a little repetitive sorry my brain is fried and so is my laptop. P.S. My gay ass really likes cheek cupping so yall gon see a lot of that.]

König understands what it feels like to be insecure about your own body. He was the tallest boy in his class and always felt singled out by his fellow classmates. There were times were he absolutely dreaded going to school knowing he would be ridiculed and teased about how tall he was. To him it was one of the worse things he experienced so he would never want anyone to deal with that ESPECIALLY his partner.

You would stare at yourself in the mirror, constantly comparing yourself to other people you saw. You always felt as if you weren't good enough when it came to everyone else. You tried to ignore it but the feeling always kept crawling back. It would get to the point where you feel like you weren't even good enough for your own boyfriend. You began hiding your shape, wearing clothes that were double your size, and switched out your things for stuff you'd normally wear in the Winter/Fall.

König would start to pick up on this. Noticing that you started skipping meals or wearing clothes that weren't usually your type. He would gently pull you aside to find out what's wrong. Probably waiting until you were both lying in bed to ask, so you couldn't dodge his questions.

"Liebe," he said softly while repeatedly rubbing circles into your back. "is, everything alright with you?" He continued with pauses in his sentence. You mumbled out that you were fine but this answer didn't satisfy König. He pulls you up, rearranging y'alls position so that you were making direct eye contact with him. Even on his lap he still managed to hover over you.

He asks you once again with a more focused look in his eye. “Schatz, what's the matter with you? You have been acting so…different lately. You aren't yourself these past few days.” He says frowning.

Unable to hide it any longer you begin to cry into his arms, confessing that you don't feel worthy about being his partner. You tell him how you don't feel attractive and that you aren't comfortable with your body anymore. König pulls you into a hug, kissing your head while muttering “Oh Liebeling, can't you see how beautiful/handsome you are? You shouldn't hide or change any part of yourself. You are so perfect the way you are, that's why I fell in love with you in the first place.” He says solemnly while cupping your face.

To counter the way you're feeling König would start spoiling you with brand-new clothes, taking photos of you, and giving lots of attention to parts of your body. Don't like your stretch marks? He's tracing them up and down with his fingers smiling. Dislike your stomach/fat rolls, well he doesn't! It's natural and a sign that you're body is alive and you're well taken care of. Think your fat fingers are unappealing? He's already placing them on his face and gently kissing them.

König is going to make it his mission to make sure you feel good about yourself.

Even though his social anxiety is bad he would try and take you out places to flaunt you off. He wants you to know that you can come to him when you feel bad about yourself he's your boyfriend after all.

[A/N: That was the SFW now for me to be a horny degenerate with some once again mild (very self-indulgent) smut. Picking up from the crying part.]

The only time König wants to see you cry is when he's overstimulating you, so after he's done soothing you he starts kissing his favorite parts of your body starting from top to bottom. He kisses your cheek before moving down to your neck, sucking and lightly grazing it. Spending a considerable König continues to go lower and lower until you're on your back and his mouth is on your heat.

He'd spend hours down on you, sucking your dick/clit, eating your ass/pussy making sure you feel loved. He gets so much pleasure from watching your legs shake after giving him your third orgasm. You're vision is hazy and you have your hands buried in his hair. You could feel him slightly humping the bed for some form of relief.

By the time you're done you're covered in sweat and ripped lingerie. Bite marks, hickeys n bruises are speckled all over your body. König would savor this moment forever keeping a polaroid photo safely tucked away just in case he misses you too much on a mission. <3