#cause i was very confused about that length of time

[coolunspokenforname]

I am genuinely unsure of the moon knight timeline, but I do have a headcannon timeline (definitely wrong) of what it is that I usually use in my fics.

1987:Marc is born

1997-1999: Steven and Jake show up

2003-2005: Marc leaves to join the military (the reason I put the 16-18 years range is because, technically, it is legal to get emancipated at 16)

2005-2007: When Marc is kicked out of the military (date depends on when he joined, I'm thinking 2 years between joining and getting kicked out)

2010: After getting kicked out I'd imagine that Marc spent a few years trying to maybe live a normal life. However, since he was kicked out of the military, it was pretty much impossible for him to find a job. So, by 2010, he has become a mercenary.

2014-2015:Harrow is no longer Khonshu's avatar (I feel like there would be a very short gap between Harrow quiting and Marc becoming avatar)

2015:Marc becomes Moon knight (+Layla's dad dies)

2016:Marc Meets Layla (instead of apologizing he falls in love)

2020-2024:Marc and Layla get married

2025:The events of the show happen

As mentioned before, this is just what my mind has come up with, and I wouldn't be surprised if it is disproved by the show. However, this timeline makes a lot of sense to me, so that's what I am using.

[heyitslapis]

its times like this when i really wish i had an SO's shoulder to cry on

Because I think i factrued/sprained my foot the other day it happened wednesday but its still pretty swollen and pops when i try to walk on it without hobbling. i know i signed up for health insurance through work. i wrote down the insurance company name as Bayside and I have my personal insurance id number but the card never came in/got lost in the mail (and i already called for one replacement that never came so idk if theyll send me a third) so i cant confirm the insurance name nor call them, but i need to because ive called/visited 5 health care facilities around me and NONE of them have even heard of Bayside. So im calling the phone number that my manager provided me with telling me that was the insurance company. I keep calling the number (and mind you ive called them before to try to get a second insurance card sent to me but that was in like April) and i get that its saturday but theres no answer and the stupid automated machine wont let me leave a voicemail. the automated answering voice on the phone also says that theyre called National Benefit Plans by SafetyNet and google says the phone number im using belongs to National Benefit Plans out in San Antonio Tx (i live no where near there). I found National Benefit Plans' website on SafetyNetPlus dot com but National Benefit Plans doesnt have their own website, just through SafetyNet, and also the SafetyNet website says on a side panel that "this is NOT insurance" and instead keeps saying "health benefits" instead so idk what the fuck ive been paying for for the last 6 months tbh and im having an emotional breakdown bc i dont want to fuck my foot up for life just cause i couldnt figure out my health insurance/benefits shit

[lovegasmic]

⋆ PERIOD SEX WITH SUKUNA.

꒰ request : your period starts in the middle of the action and Sukuna decides to fuck you dumber ꒱

 ★  mdni. f!reader x real form Sukuna who does not know what a period is ◞ dumbification ◞ he talks about you going stupid on his cock but it's affectionately and with lots of praising ⋆ taglist .

“that’s my pretty girl, taking me so good in your tight little pussy, hm, yes, that’s perfect sweetheart keep tightening up” a cute little squeaky sound bubbles up from your chest, practically swimming in pleasure at the praising of your boyfriend and the way his bulbous tip glides across your needy walls.

a small gush of slick comes out of your filled hole, not paying much attention to it as you’re way too horny and soaked, dripping down to the sheet below, “oh, fuck, that’s so hot” Sukuna praises at the added lubrication around his cock, causing for a splurting sound to come from where he forces his length a bit deeper, squishing his balls against your spread folds, “you’re so wet, so ho—”

“Sukuna...?” you ask, still panting and concerned as he suddenly stopped, a very uncharacteristic thing since your boyfriend loved to push you past your limits.

one, two seconds pass, “you’re bleeding” he utters with a very stoic face, eyes glued to your cunt.

“huh?”

“i wasn’t too rough, why are you bleeding? did your pussy get tighter?”

a slap lands on his shoulder, and he doesn’t even flinch, “shut up” instead a deep chuckle comes from his mouth, the pair of hands on your thighs spreading you wide in a second, “hey, don’t!”

a bit uncomfortable since you wanted to look at the blood Sukuna was referring too, propped up on your elbows until, oh.... that was a cramp, “shit, that’s my period”

“period?” right, your... gigantic curse boyfriend was definitely not aware of what a period was, brutishly raising your legs to eye your gaping and spread pussy around his cock, not an ounce of respect.

“don’t... ugh” it was futile, “yeah, I bleed once a month, it’s a biological thing, it happens because my ovules didn’t get fertilized so they’re ‘useless’ now”

a brow raises in Sukuna’s confused face, finally looking up at you, “so you can’t get pregnant?”

“oh, I can, just not now, the ovulating phase starts later”

“hm, does it hurt?”

“um, not now”

suddenly the once puzzled expression was no longer there, replaced by a smirk, “so, can I keep going?”

“huh? do you want to keep go— hngh?!” words cut and eyes wide, your hands immediately finding purchase on his abdomen, right above the belly tongue lapping your clit, inch by inch of cock sliding inside of you once again.

he’s a bit too enthusiastic, a previous conversation when you had cramps and brushed it by saying it was normal suddenly came to his mind, so that was a period.

hands on your hips, another pair on your butt, squeezing and raising your hips to mercilessly aim for your g-spot, each thrust rough and deep, having your toes curling in no time, “Ku— ah...! haah, fu-uuck, ‘Kuna!” he’s enjoying this, knowing you’re almost in that fertile window, and how needy you get, perhaps through your period is the same, right?

before your eyes get to cross, a hand comes to cup your jaw, “look at you” his voice is deep and full of arousal, “you look so pretty like this, do you like the way i fuck you, sweetheart? the way i’m using your bleeding pussy?”

“ha-hah, d-don’t say that...!” you squeak in embarrassment, yet your gushing pussy clamps down.

he groans, deep and animalistic, “even if you deny it, your cunt is incredibly tight” each word punctuated by a thrust, one that aims so deep, so messily covering your bodies in scarlet red.

suddenly, his hips are pinning you down, grinding against your spread lips like a mounting beast getting off on your pussy, and that’s when your brain shortcuts, gasping for air with heart eyes and crescent shapes on his broad shoulders from where you grip onto.

“that’s it, look at you, so gorgeous without a single thought behind those eyes”

you can’t speak, let alone complain about the constant abuse on the spongy spot that has your eyelashes fluttering so cutely, “i love how stupid you look for me” Sukuna snickers, aware of the constant flutter of your pussy, at the way you clamp down and choke on your saliva, “keep your eyes on me, darling, look at me when you cum, look at me while I make you go stupid on this cock” his words are grunts, hips snapping rougher, deeper into you with his hands keeping you pinned down, forced to take what he gives you, to take every inch of his cock.

and just to add onto the cute expression you’re holding, a string of saliva seeps out, and Sukuna is quick to lick it and shove his tongue down your throat, purposely sucking on your choked scream as you cum all over his cock with eyes crossed and pussy convulsing.

“ah, good girl, that’s my good girl” tongue still teasing your clit through it, just like his mouth swallows your next moans and screams of incoming orgasms.

[soap-ify]

simon loves it when you aren't wearing any panties under your loose pajama shorts.

cw — mild degradation, p in v.

it was done very much intentionally at first. you just wanted to see if he’d even notice you not wearing anything under your shorts. just a little fun idea, right?

unbeknownst to you, simon had already noticed it the very minute you walked into the bedroom. he just pretended to be oblivious, enjoying your subtle yet desperate attempts to rile him up a little too much — the way you tried to spread your legs a little too much.

you were seated cross-legged in front of him on the bed, playing on your phone while his hand was lazily caressing your head, eyes fixated on the way your loose shorts were pushed a bit aside, the gap between the cloth and your thighs clearly showing a glimpse of your cunt, the subtle glisten from the light making his lips twitch up slightly. you were fucking wet.

“pretty cunt’s staring at me, love.” he said in the most nonchalant way possible, causing your attention to snap away from your phone and fall onto him, his words causing you to squeak in embarrassment. the sudden wave of shyness made you nibble on your bottom lip in confusion, since it was you who had come up with this idea in the first place.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about…” you mumbled under your breath, pretending to be dumb. maybe a bit too dumb.

“not wearin’ any panties today, eh? dirty fucking girl.” he scoffed playfully and leaned forward, his large rough hands gripping onto the soft plush of your thighs a bit tight, causing you to let out a quiet whimper.

“wanted to get your attention…”

“you always have my attention.” he mumbled more gently this time, his gruff voice causing your stomach to be flooded with butterflies while his lips pressed soft pecks on your cheek, earning bubbly giggles from you.

his callused fingers pushed your loose shorts to the side with ease, not bothering to take them off while having enough room to look at your cunt, raising his brows at the slick that was coating you.

“what got you so riled up?”

“you…” your hips twitched instinctively once you felt his fingertips grazing up and down your cunt, gathering up all the wetness before messily smearing it on your puffy folds and clit.

you could feel it getting sticky in between your legs, cheeks and ears all heated up while your chest gently rose and fell.

“you’re such a dirty little thing. s’only fair for me to make you messier, right?” he asked, earning an embarrassingly quick nod from you.

simon was quick to push you on your back, his hands gripping your legs and pushing them apart, your body shuddering once you felt the cool air caressing your sweet pussy, one hand of his reaching to tug down his sweatpants alongside his briefs, his girthy cock springing free from the clothes, already hardening up.

“look at what you do to me. flauntin’ your pussy ‘round like that. just a needy little thing.” he huffed, his breathy voice doing nothing to hide the desperation laced in his actions.

“si… i—” your words were cut short by the swollen tip of his cock rubbing against the clit gently, as if giving it pretty kisses, the soft fabric of your pushed aside shorts gently rubbing against his length, eliciting a soft moan from your lips while your hips bucked forward, seeking more friction.

“hush. gonna give you what you were looking for so badly.” a sweet grin twitched on his lips, his cock slowly pushing into your tight cunt, your walls instantly clinging onto his length and sucking him in, causing a grunt to leave his lips.

“fuck— patience, love.” his hands gently eased your legs up his shoulders, pulling you into him before he delivered a light, gentle slap on your twitchy hard clit, earning a whine from you.

“si!” your eyes started getting glossy with pleasure, feeling his cock tenderly rubbing against your spongy spots inside while he thrusted in and out of your cunt at a gentle pace, your legs trembling on his shoulders, trying not to get a cramp, your fingers clinging onto the fabric of his shirt tight.

“so pretty f’me…” he groaned in between his thrusts, his hands moving to lovingly caressing your thighs, kneading the plush, your mind fuzzy with pleasure while those familiar tight knots began forming in your stomach, indicating your impending orgasm.

the night resulted in your cunt messily dripping with his thick cum, your poor shorts being completely ruined, alongside the sheets. he better clean it all up.

[heian-era-housewife]

Sex, Smut, & Scuttlebutt

Lately I've seen a growing number of virgins, "new-cummers", and even seasoned sex vets voicing their concerns or frustrations with the unrealistic portrayal of sex within smut. Adult fictions are so fun to read and write and even more fun to act out in real life (with a trusted partner), but they are fiction. Quite often exaggeratedly so and in no way representative of what really goes on behind closed doors, or open (you do you babes).

Nevertheless these concerns and frustrations are real, they are valid, and they deserve to be acknowledged. And so, without further ado, I present to you the very real, very raw, and sometimes very unsexy side of sex.

(Though tbh nothing Ryomen Sukuna does could ever be categorized as 'unsexy')

Love to you all, no matter your experience 😘

Pairings | Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Higuruma, Toji, and of course Sukuna 💕

Content | mdni, smut, fem!reader x jjk men, piv, oral (both f-to-m and vice versa), pubes, blood, sex on period, first time, Toji eats a worm. It's fine. Don't worry about it.

Word Count | 3.3k

Gojo:

White Hair...Everywhere

You've been ignoring it for a while now. Well...trying to anyway. The faint tickle on the back of your tongue has grown into a sharp pinprick that jabs at your throat with each bob of your head. It's uncomfortable, it's distracting, and worst of all it is threatening to trigger your gag reflex.

Gojo gasps and whimpers, long fingers running through your hair, pulling you toward him as he edges closer to his climax. It's all you can do to focus on the task at hand when his sudden thrusts render the job impossible. You gag and sputter against the source of your irritation, eyes streaming as you pull away from his hungry cock. 

Confusion and poorly concealed dissapointment in his words of longing barely register as you wretch, two of your own fingers stuffed to the back of your throat. 

You turn to meet his eyes with yours still streaming as you reveal the cause for disruption. With your middle and index finger you pull a long, coiled, pure white hair from deep within your throat. 

"I think this belongs to you," you tease, wiping drool from your chin and flicking the stray pube his direction.

"Oof. My bad," he squirms, one hand sheepishly rubbing against his undercut. 

"Shall we resume?" You offer with a playful smile, making a show of patting away his snowy bristles before taking his twitching length back into your mouth.

"Phewww!" He whistled. "I thought for a second sexy time was over!"

"It wiw be ith you don' shu-up," you mocked, mouth full and voice muffled. You reached a hand around to give one of his ass cheeks an impish squeaze for good measure. Gojo laughed playfully before falling back into a steady rythm of whines and whimpers.

Geto:

Welcome to the Jungle

Unwaivering confidence was one of the things you loved so much about Suguru Geto. On a scale of 1-10 his sex appeal was an 11 and you were about to find out for yourself exactly why he was so damn self-assured.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but obsess over all your flaws and imperfections. Your outfits, those stretch marks, and was that =sniff, sniff= body odor?? 

But this was not the time to get lost in insecurity because you were perched pretty as a peach on his apartment sofa while Suguru stood, hastening to undo his belt, never once relinquishing that calm and cocky smile.

You gazed at him loftily, cheeks growing flushed, heart pounding in your ears. Your groin ached with longing as he stripped down to plain black boxer briefs and reached forward to help you down to bra and panties. Nerves and excitement churned in your core creating a volitile compound that set your heart ablaze. It was all too good to be real.

Finally, he guided your hands toward his own hips, placing them on the hem of his boxers, inviting you to remove his final garment.

Your brain buzzed with electric anticipation as you pulled downward, revealing that which, until this moment, you had only imagined. 

And there it was. 

And there you were.

Your buzzing brain cutting to standby as static filled your senses and every decision you'd ever made leading to this exact point in time sent you into a hurling spiral of doubt and regret.

Because Geto had shaved.

And you had not. 

Not now...not ever. Frankly, it hadn't even occured to you before. 

Insecurities came flooding in causing you to lose yourself entirely until the gentle touch of his strong hand on your pantyline dragged you forcefully back to your grim reality.

"NO!" You shrieked, pulling frantically from his reach. 

"Oh! Have I hurt you?" He asked with concern as you wished with every fibre of your being for a quick and painless death. 

"It's just...you're so pretty," you breathed, lip almost trembling as you spoke.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, cocky little smile returning to his perfect playboy face.

"And I'm...well..." you slipped off your own panties awkwardly, revealing a lush and uncut jungle, knowing you were already past the point of no return.

"You're.....?" Suguru prompted.

"I'm...you know...this!" You gestured to your unkempt garden.

"You're...female?" He finished, confused.

"NO!" He was missing the point. "I'm a gross unshaven mess! And you're...what? The centerfold of next month's Playgirl?"

Geto laughed, much louder than you expected, snorting as he did so. "That's what you're worried about??"

"That and a million other things...yeah!" You sulked, tears brimming your lashes as you slumped, defeated against the sofa.

"Come here," he said, pulling you close, forgetting entirely about his unclothed state. "I think you're sexy just the way you are. And, if I'm being honest, shaving is a real pain in the ass anyway."

Giggling to yourself, you watched as his impressive length grew soft and diminished as his arousal shifted to concern for you. 

"Hey!" He objected, throwing a pillow over his lap. "He was just worried about you, give him a minute," he teased.

Both of you laughed as you snuggled on the couch together, sharing doubts and insecurities, reassuring one another, and settling in for a long night. One full of love making that was sure to be genuine, sometimes awkward, but far better than any magazine.

Nanami:

Corporate Cock Block

Nanami was pent up. Not only had he been called on a particularly large number of missions this week, he'd been forced into overtime nearly every day. Now that he was home, he was desperately looking forward to nothing more than dissolving in your arms and seeing where the night might take you both.

Needless to say, he was more than thrilled when you suggested skipping dinner and going straight for dessert. That's right. You were pretty pent up yourself. And who was he to deny his pretty and incredibly patient wife what she needed?

"Thank you-hah-for being so-mhh-understanding this-hahhh-week", he breathed through passionate kisses, slipping off his suspenders and tossing his goggles to the side.

Movements punctuated by more steamy kisses, you helped him take off his tie and belt while he worked his fingers up and under your shirt to skillfully unsnap your bra.

He backed you down the hall and together you fell onto the bed, both panting in excitement as clothing fell hastily to the floor.

Just then, the phone rang. His phone. Illuminated harshly against the evening's fading light revealing none other than Satoru Gojo as the caller. Nanami went rigid.

"Hun," you said softly, "it's okay if you need to-"

"No." He asserted, cutting you off. "He's had enough of my time. I'm off the clock and I'm spending this evening with my wife."

The seriousness in his tone was all you needed to know it was case closed, so as he let it go to voicemail, the two of you resumed your game of lips and hands.

Time passed, Nanami was absolutely aching for you, and you were practically trembling in anticipation. As he lined himself up, you closed your eyes ready to melt at the feeling of him entering your throbbing core. And that's when it happened. Again. The name "Satoru Gojo" shone through the darkness as Nanami's phone lit up your room.

"I'm going to kill him," Nanami said calmly, head hanging in frustration as he imagined all the ways he could cleave his obnoxious coworker in a perfect 7:3 ratio.

"Kento..." you whispered, bringing him back to reality. "I really don't mind if you need to-"

"Absolutely not! This is our time. You and me."

"But what if he needs-"

"There is nothing he could need from me that is more important than what's right in front of me," voice dripping with sincerity.

"I love you, Ken."

"I love you too. Truly," he replied. "Shall we?"

Picking up where you left off, he gave himself a few quick strokes before plunging deep into your core. Tension and relief unraveling as he worked his strong hips passionately between your shaking legs.

***

As the love making continued, a new tension was building within both of you and Nanami could feel himself reaching his climax, breaths coming sharp and shallow as he felt his nearing release.

"Im so close," He breathed.

"Me too, baby," you gasped.

And then...

=RINGGGGGG=

Nanami cracked.

Snapping up his phone while pounding the ever-loving life out of you, you heard his voice loud and hostile as he snarled into the speaker.

"Satoru Gojo, so help me God I have half a mind to cut you down where you stand. Do you know how long I've waited to FUCK my WIFE?! How many nights this week I had to give up SEX with HER just to follow your sorry ass around chasing curses and cleaning up the FILTH of this city?! I was about to give her one SPECIAL GRADE, MIND-BLOWING ORGASM before you-" he stopped thrusting, blood draining from his face, feral sneer dropping into a hollowed out look of utter humilation.

"Principal Yaga I- of course, sir, I'm so sorry...Yes..yes..right away. I understand. Again, I'm so- no of course not. I appreciate your discretion...I'll see you soon...bye."

Your eyes widened in horror as you listened to his conversation, unsure which end was worse.

"I..uh...I have to go. I'm needed at the school," he muttered sheepishly, unable to meet your shocked gaze.

"Yeah, I gathered that," you said with a nervous laugh.

You helped him get dressed, giving him a tight hug and wiping the beading sweat off his brow as he stumbled back out the door.

"Kento!" You called as he headed in the direction of the school. He turned to look at you, defeat written in his tired features. "Come home safe, okay?"

"Of course, love," he rasped, weakly.

"You still owe me that 'special grade, mind-blowing orgasm'," you teased with a wink.

Shaking his head, you heard him laugh as he hurried toward his next mission.

Higuruma:

Erection Overruled!

Hiromi's long week has finally drawn to an end and as your tired and more-than-likely dishevelled man makes his way home to slump into his favorite chair and fall asleep, you want to make sure he gets to finish the week out properly. You've spent the afternoon hard at work yourself, cleaning up, picking just the right music, and slinking in to that silky little black robe you know he loves slipping you out of.

The mood is set, candles are lit, and as if on cue Higuruma stumbles in through the front door, dropping his briefcase, and sagging languidly into his favorite chair. You approach from behind, running fingers through his dark and unkempt hair, tipping his head back with a provocative "Welcome home," allowing him to savor the view.

Experience tells him there's not a thing beneath that robe and his eyes grow wide and hungry as he scrambles to his knees, facing backward in his chair to take you in. He burries his nose against you as he presses passionate kisses to your collarbones, moving to nip at your neck, trailing his tongue upward and landing just below your earlobe before whispering , "I've waited all week for this."

One very steamy makeout session later, you find yourselves in the bedroom, working quickly to remove each other's clothing, air thick with ravenous longing. But as you slip him out of his trousers taking his not even half-hard cock into your loving hands, things start to feel a bit off.

Nothing a few good strokes can't fix, you think to yourself, stealing a downward glance at his would-be errection-  flaccid, but hopeful.

~

Some time later there's still little change in terms of rigidity and you notice the exhaustion building behind his determined features. Knowing his pride is at stake, you start to wonder if it might just be best to let your tired man rest and resume love making another time. Opting for a mix of tact and humor, you make the judgement call.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I move to postpone today's proceedings until the defendant can get some well-deserved and very much needed rest."

Hiromi's eyes snap open. "Objection!" He barks automatically, surprising himself.

"Overruled!" You reply, tapping his tip once against his tummy as though holding a gavel. 

A moment of silence as you stare at each other seriosuly and then...

"PFFFTTT!" You both burst out laughing at the ridiculous scene. He pulls you in for more kisses and you lay together wiping tears from your eyes as the laughter continues. 

Turning on his side he offers, "Motion to reconvene tomorrow morning?"

"Motion granted!"

More laughter. A heavy sigh and then, "Thanks for understanding," he says.

"Impartiality is my job, afterall," you continue the act. 

Pulling your head to his chest he scruffles your hair until you fight him off, giggling. 

This isn't the first and probably won't be the last time your romantic pursuits as a couple are thwarted by exhaustion, but you know that with a little patience and a good night's sleep he'll be a different man come morning, when your courtship is back in session.

Choso:

Shark Week 

Choso's not just new to sex. He's new to life itself. Loving him brings you the unique opportunity of experiencing the world for the very first time through his eyes. 

The eldest of his brothers, he's already learned so much, but he still relies on you to guide him through his many firsts as both a lover and a mentor for all of life's unexpected moments- the good, the bad, and the painfully awkward. 

That is why, when you hear a sharp, panicked little gasp as he pulls out of you, dick still twitching from his orgasm just moments before, you suspect you are in for another brand new encounter.

"What's a'matter Cho?"

"Uhm..." He swallows hard, eyes trained downward. "It's...it's not there."

"What's not there?" You question, sitting up against your elbows trying to glimpse whatever it is he's staring at.

"The condom," He says weakly, mouth going dry. "It's just gone!"

"Ohh!" You reach a knowing hand between your legs. "It probably just came off inside me."

"Is that bad?!" He asks, voice thick with worry.

"Not necessarily. You can probably just pull it out if it's right there."

He slides two hesitant fingers over your entrance, feeling for the rubbery traitor that's caused him such distress. 

"Oh! I found it!" He sighs, relieved, pulling it gently from your core.

"See? Nothing to worry abou-"

"OH NO!" He cries, forcing you to sit up in alarm.

"What's wrong? Is it ripped?"

"You're bleeding! There's-" He looks as though he might pass out. "There's so much!"

"What?! I-" Realzation hits you as he holds up the stretched out condom, slick with glossy crimson. Feeling between your legs, you pull your hand away, stringy and viscous from a mix of blood and fresh arousal. 

"Oh Cho I'm sorry. I think I started my-"

"I can't believe I hurt you! I thought I was being gentle! Maybe it's my cursed technique?? No...that can't-" 

"Cho I-"

"I can fix it! Hang on let me just-"

"Choso!" He pauses his string of frantic babble to look at you. Deep lines etched across his troubled face. "Cho, I think I just started my period," You say, reaching your other hand to comfort your worried man.

"Oh. You mean 'shark week'?"

You laugh as he recalls the nickname you taught him for that notorious time of the month. "Yes hun, shark week."

"Was it...because of me?" He asks, eyes brimming with shame and guilt.

"No, my love!" You giggle at his innocence. "Just a coincidence. I'm sorry I scared you!"

A wave of relief washed over him as he clutched his chest, watching you get up and head toward the bathroom. 

"I thought maybe I broke you somehow..."

"I know, sweet boy," You called from the hall. "You did nothing wrong. But when I come back we're going to cuddle like there's no tomorrow!"

"That....sounds nice" he said with a sigh, collapsing backward on the bed, brain tired and foggy from the day's latest lesson. 

"Wait!" He called, suddenly excited. "Does this mean chocolate ice cream and movie night??"

"You really are a quick study!" You praise.

Running to grab the ice cream he calls, "I think I can get used to shark week!"

Toji:

Three's a Crowd

Toji is a lone wolf. An elusive rogue agent. He holds everyone at arm's distance, including you. That is...until recently, anyway.

What started as casual hookups in seedy bars and late-night love hotels, hell even the back of a cab once (actually maybe twice...you were rather drunk), has turned into pseudo dates and sober conversation. To be honest, you've fallen pretty hard for your man of mystery and the last thing you want to do is scare him off now. That's why, when he finally invites you to his place for the first time, you're determined not to blow it.

"It's not much, but it's home." He says, leading you through the front door of a shabby back-alley apartment. Despite his somewhat delinquent nature, his apartment is well-kept and the made-up bed you spot through an open door near the back looks far more inviting than the sleazy moth-eaten matresses and dive bar sofas where you've been spending your less-than-romantic moments.

Grabbing his hand, you practically drag him back there, excited to see where he lays his head at night, smell the cologne on his sheets. He stumbles behind, a goofy yet seductive grin stretching the scar on the corner of his lips that you're just dying to taste.

As you step into the darkened bedroom, a small sound grabs your attention. Atop the dresser something is breathing- sputtering. You pause, trying to get a look at the noise's source, realizing Toji must have a pet. Your heart skips as you imagine this macho miscreant returning home to a small, soft animal for whom he shares a rare bit of affection. Fucking adorable.

The creature, appearing only as a shapeless mound at first (is it a cat?) turns to look at you. And that's when you freeze. Because there in his room, peering at you through swollen, squinted eyes, frothy drool dribbling down its pudgy face, is a gigantic....worm???

"Toji!" You gasp, turning back to hide behind the muscular arm you're now grasping for dear life. "What the hell is that thing?!"

"Oh." He says curiously, "You can see it?"

"OF COURSE I CAN SEE IT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! THING'S FUCKIN' HUGE!"

"Heh," he chuckles, amused. "It won't hurt ya. C'mere."

Without even another glance at the demonic creature, Toji pushes you against the bed, bringing his large frame down over you, rutting his hips as he feasts hungrily on your neck. You want to lose yourself in the throes of his passion, you really do. But all you can think about is the thing on the dresser. Turning under the weight of Toji's advances to see if it's still there, you find yourself making direct eye contact with the hideous overgrown catarpillar.

You can't believe he's not distracted. Can't believe he hasn't said a single word about the little drooling monster. And as Toji makes quick work of undressing while he hovers over you, you find yourself unable to contain your inner thoughts.

"Toji...it's so...long!" You say, eyeing the thing warily.

"Mm...I know, Doll," he agrees.

"I mean like...it's gigantic!" You mewl covering your eyes in disgust.

"Hah...so I've heard," he admits, slipping off your panties from beneath your skirt.

"And it...I don't know...it looks hungry. Like...it's about to tear me apart..."

"If that's what you want, love," he growls with a forward thrust.

"Seriously, Toji, I don't know if I can do this! It's just so gross!"

"...Gross?" He looks like he's been punched in the gut.

"Yeah! Gross and purple!"

"Purple?!" Pulling out, he stares down at his cock. "Fuck you mean, purple?!" Then, following your gaze he says, "You're not still on about that damn worm, are you??"

"What did you think I was talking about?!"

"Look, if it bothers you that much, I'll get rid of it." Without another word, he gets up from the bed, crosses the room to the dresser, takes the creature in his hands before crunching it down into a tiny ball and swallowing it whole.

"Now are we gonna get freaky or what?" He huffs.

Oh, we are wayyyy past freaky, you think to yourself.

Who the hell was this mysterious man of yours? You're left with more questions than answers. But despite the horror you just witnessed one thing has you smiling...arm's distance or not, you doubt very seriously anything you do could scare him off.

Sukuna:

Thousand-Year-Old Virgin

Sukuna is a hardened, battle-ready, godlike being of prowess and prestige, decorated by time itself. Stranger to no man and no challenge, his many achievements transcend the millenia. He has seen and done things even those with rich and deeply fulfilled lives will never experience.

Let's face it, he's a thousand fucking years old. So that's why, when he mumbled something under his breath, something you thought could only be some type of strange joke, you were too stunned to laugh. And the fact that you didn't is the only reason you're still alive. That, and he's fallen rather profoundly in love with you, but he won't be admitting to that any time soon.

So when he pulls away from your lips to stare sheepishly at his bare feet criss-crossed in front of him before uttering the words you're sure you must have heard wrong, you ask him to please repeat himself.

"I've never done this before..." he gruffs, crossing both sets of arms and averting his gaze to the side with a nose-crinkling sneer.

"Done...what?" You ask, innocently.

"This! All of this!" He barks, waving his arms in frustration.

Your brain is working overtime just to read between the lines. He's acting like it's obvious, but you can't understand which "this" he's referring to.

"I don't get what-"

"SEX OKAY!" He gruffs bitterly. "I've never had sex!"

You just stare. Lips parted slightly as your jaw hangs limp, still unsure you've heard him correctly.

"And would you stop looking at me like that??" He scowls.

"'Kuna, I...I don't know what to say."

"Yeah, well...neither do I," he admits, still avoiding your gaze.

"It's just that you're...a thousand years old...I guess I just figured in that time you would have-"

"I didn't get to where I am by running around like some dog in heat," he retorts. "I spent my time getting stronger, strategizing, honing my cursed technique. Then I was sealed away for a few hundred years. When the hell would I have-"

"I never thought of it like that. But I figured Heian Era and all, the 'King of Curses' must have had concubines, right?"

"Yeah? So? I had a bunch of that old-timey shit!" He spouted. You had to stifle a laugh this time. "Doesn't mean I cared. I was...you know...a little busy conquerring the world?"

It was beginning to sink in. The King of Curses, God of the Heian Era, the Great Ryomen Sukuna sat on a shelf like a minted doll for a thousand years, completely untouched, and you- little modern nobody you- were about to take his "v-card". You felt giddy.

"'Kuna," You began, reaching out to take his face in your hands, compelling him to look at you. He hissed as you did so. "Ryomen. We don't have to do this."

"No, I want-"

"If you really want to, that's fine. Just know that it's going to be messy. Probably a little awkward. Maybe a lot awkward! Heck, I don't even know what to do about the extra set of limbs and...appendages," You laughed, giving his thigh a squeaze. He rolled his eyes. You continued earnestly, "I just want you to know it's okay not to know it all- not to get everything perfect. That's where the trust comes in...and where the memories are made."

He heaved a deep sigh, turning away again as he became lost in thought.

"Hey, Ryo?"

"What, brat?"

"Thanks for waiting for me," you wink.

"Don't flatter yourself," he grumps, a rougey glow tingeing his cheeks.

"Of course not," you smile. Then, eyeing his extra arms you continue. "So I just have one question..."

"Speak."

"Will we need one condom, or two?"

Thank you so much for reading! Likes and reblogs always appreciated, but never expected.

MDNI banner credit to @cafekitsune

Special thanks to @heian-era-househusband for always listening to my stories and for being my trusted partner 💕

[marthawrites]

A Shared Bed

Harwin Strong x Betrothed fem reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Word count: 4.2k+

About: Harwin gets into an arranged marriage to stop the rumors about him and Rhaenyra. He really likes his betrothed but he loves Rhaenyra. He tells his betrothed, "I can't choose between you and her." She says, "I don't want you to choose. I want in, the bed is large enough."

Includes: SMUT. Featuring sexual tension, reader's first experience with a woman, milf Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra likes to play a little rough, m/f/f threesome, vaginal fingering, (f) oral sex, handjob, face sitting, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is based on a request from @the-wonderland-madnesss ♥ Thank you for being my sous chef in cooking this up too! Rhaenyra is married to Laenor in this fic. She's already had Jacaerys. For plot sake (lol what plot? this is mostly porn) reader is from House Oakheart and is non-descript. Reader and Nyra are friends in this fic. I hope you enjoy it! ♥

Cross posted on ao3 too! First time ever posting there. Will I keep it up? No idea!

The day’s golden hour flooded your abode through open windows and silken curtains. The warm beams highlighted your late-summer skin and you relished its sensation. King’s Landing, with its climate and sea breeze, was pleasantly cooler than your home in the Reach. 

Sitting in front of a well-polished looking glass, you carefully dabbed another layer of color on your lips. Pretty. Feminine. The hue unquestionably brought out the best of your complexion. 

You’d already finished everything on your to-do list. Now the only thing left to do was wait for a visit from your betrothed. His visits were a favorite pastime of yours–even before the official betrothal. As it turned out… he was quite good at dice. Always in the back of your mind you wondered if he had loaded dice. A soldier of the City Watch could very well get their hands on some, right? Or learn a trick or two from gamblers… Off duty Harwin learning tricks of the trade from cut purses and pickpockets! That idea brought an amused smirk to your lips. 

You highlighted your features with a little more cosmetics.

A knock on the front door sounded. Before getting up you readjusted your bosom, making sure your gold and green dress accented your breasts to perfection. “Be right there!” you called. Once satisfied, you moved to answer the door. Opening it, you smiled in preparation for Harwin. “My, you’re early tonight, aren’t y–,” but the rest of your words were cut off by who was indeed at your door. 

The Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood an arms length away, grinning the tiniest feline smile. 

A commoner's cloak of homespun concealed her true identity from passersbys–sly. But, more surprising than the Princess at your door, was the fact she came alone. Not a single guard stood behind her or appeared to follow. Her expression twinkled as she watched you take everything in. “Lady Oakheart,” she said with quiet warmth. “Mind if I come in?”

Pleasantly surprised, you swung the door wide for her to enter. What in the name of the Seven would cause this visit? “Not at all,” you answered to your friend whom you hadn’t seen in some time. “I was not expecting this, princess. If I’d known I would have prepared better!”

“Needn’t worry,” she said with a dismissive wave. Removing her hood, she used the same looking glass to check the long braid of her silver hair. Once any stray strands were tucked away to her liking, she hung her cloak on the back of a chair. “I’m very glad you’re home at this hour. I wasn’t sure if you would be.” 

Confusion frowned your brows. Sitting upon one of your lounge settees, you turned your full attention to Rhaenyra. She looked lovely in a black and red dress. Its neat trim and accents highlighted the quality of its tailor. “I’m normally home by this hour.” You poured her a cup of water from the side table. “Excuse my brashness, princess, but what brings you here? Is something the matter?”

Rhaenyra drank as she sat beside you. Her knee brushed against yours and you tried to ignore the butterflies in your belly from her accidental touch. “There is something I wish to discuss with you, yes,” she said, a glint of something… mischievous? Behind those Targaryen eyes.

The last time you and Rhaenyra had a visit like this was at her wedding to Laenor Velaryon. You and your brother (despite his still slightly wounded feelings about his courting attempt being turned down) were invited, and you wouldn’t miss it. She truly was The Realm’s Delight! That was over a year ago, now. Since then, she and Laenor have welcomed their first child into the world–a healthy boy with a head full of black hair, Jacaerys Velaryon.

You searched her eyes for a moment before offering a slight tilt of your head. “And what might I help you with?”

“Ser Harwin has told me of the betrothal,” she answered.

You didn’t have a reason to blush. Yet, warmth bloomed beneath your cheeks. “Has he? I know you two have a… close relationship. The proposal was actually suggested by his father, Lynoel, in an attempt to–”

The Princess arched a perfectly manicured brow. “–stop the rumors of him and I?”

You nodded a little sheepishly. There were rumors before Jacaerys’ birth, yes, but afterward? Hearsay of his true father spread throughout the court like wildfire.

That tiny feline grin reappeared upon her mouth. In her eyes. She grabbed your hand. Her smooth touch caressed over yours. “He also told me something else. It nearly had my jaw on the floor.” She leaned into you slowly, deliberately, angling her head so she spoke low by your ear. “That you wish for all three of us to share a bed.”

If your face wasn’t hot before–and it was–it blazed now. You wondered if she could see your pulse thrumming at the side of your neck.  “It seems there’s little my betrothed doesn’t speak to you about,” you said as if proclaiming a secret.

Rhaenyra made a small noise of acknowledgement. Her gaze landed on your fluffed breasts and the necklace that sat upon them. Gently, she trailed the very tips of her fingers down the golden accessory. Its pendant was a polished ruby in a classic setting. She circled it; your goosebumps not escaping her attention. Her gaze found yours again, regarding you with a heavy curiousness.

“A gift,” you whispered, raspy–under her spell. “From Harwin.”

That same noise from before vibrated between her lovely lips. “I know,” she purred. “I helped him pick it out. We have similar taste in jewelry, you and I. And men, it would seem.”

Your skin hummed. Tightened. Despite your’s and Harwin’s conversation about Rhaenyra, you never thought it would happen like this. “Princess…”

“Shh,” she cooed, leaning in to you with a slight tilt of head. “Your bed is indeed big. Large enough for the three of us, easily.” 

Your lips were so close–close enough to share breath. Recognizing her silent question of consent, you gave it to her. Now it was you who leaned forward to close the remaining space between your mouths. A kiss. Light, at first. Curious. Despite your attraction to women–as well as men–you’d never explored your desires with another woman. Kissing the princess felt divine. Liquid fire spread through your body. And, when you slanted your mouth against hers, deepening the affection, she delicately cradled your jaw.

Bells chimed in your head. Forbidded. Dangerous. Exciting.

Tentatively, you moved your hands to rest upon her thighs. You gripped the fine material of her dress and squeezed; pulling her to you, and you to her. 

Rhaenyra smiled. Her tongue licked slowly into your mouth. 

Fire roared through your bloodstream–you yielded without a second thought.

And that is how Harwin found both of you. So enthralled by one another, neither of you heard his gentle knock nor the rustle of movement as he came inside. He uttered your name in delighted shock. Then, “princess?”

Meeting your betrothed’s attention, you blushed from the tips of your ears down to your collar. “Harwin,” you whispered. Panting softly you added, “I meant what I said before. You don’t have to choose. The bed is large enough.”

Ser Harwin Strong looked like he’d already cleaned up. He wore a simple neat garb–clean–and his dark curls were tossed as if freshly washed. Sometimes after serving his guard shift duties he stunk to the high Seven. And you, being his lovely, tidy lady, didn’t appreciate it much. He knew it, of course, and was happy to clean before sharing evenings with you. He gave you a knowing nod; dark eyes glittering with an array of emotions. “I never doubted your word, sweetheart.”

Rhaenyra gently turned your attention back to her. “Do you regularly entertain any other visitors after hours?”

No wonder Harwin was enchanted by her. Those eyes shone with a deep fire from within, the hue simply otherworldly, and for a moment you wondered if the princess practiced witchcraft with how mesmerized you were. Sorcery, wizardry, love spells… no, nothing like that. She was a Targaryen–blooded from both sides–and it was at that exact moment you felt the old saying: Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men. You shook your head. Your body buzzed. “No. No one else will be coming over tonight.”

“Good,” she cooed. “You are mine and Harwin’s tonight, Lady Oakheart. Let us test these new boundaries and passions properly before the official wedding, hm?”

With a thundering heart you matched her smirk. “Gladly.” You swore you could hear Harwin’s blood rush through his body, too, lightning bolting through him at a dangerous speed. Like a magnet, he was drawn to you. To the princess.

Rhaenyra’s mouth was on yours again. And, then, from behind, Harwin’s hands settled on your shoulders, the tickle of his beard on your neck making you quiver.  Anticipation vibrated through your bones. 

Oh, you were dead. They were going to murder you. It’d be a miracle if you made it through the night!

Harwin’s brown eyes glittered like dragonglass when he looked down the front of your body–your welcoming bust, the ruby necklace, the fine cut of your bodice. Then he peered at Rhaenyra from over your shoulder with nothing but the utmost admiration and love. “You’re both wearing far too many clothes,” he said against the delicate curve of your neck.

“As are you, Ser Harwin,” the princess said without missing a beat.

Your brain was currently unable to form any coherent thoughts.

Vaguely you heard a rustle of cloth behind you, followed by the cotton ‘thmp’ of your betrothed’s shirt tossed to the floor. Skilled fingers then unlaced the back of your dress. 

Harwin. Ever the gentleman. 

Once finished, he stepped with deliberativeness to Rhaenyra. He towered over her as he stood behind her and carefully opened the back of her dress. The difference in their height… their size… lust clouded your brain with each passing moment. 

The princess stood, then, that sly little grin dimpled one corner of her mouth. Despite this being your house she tilted her head in your bed’s direction. “Come,” she said. 

You took her outstretched hand and stood. Looking between her and Harwin, he gave you a similar expression followed by a proud nod. Fuck. Your insides were about to explode from nerves. 

“If at any time it becomes too much, sweetheart, all you have to do is say something and we will stop,” Harwin reassured you. 

When he spoke in that tone his voice was velvet over gravel. He could get you to do almost anything with that voice. All of your clothes were too much. Too heavy. Too restrictive on your humming skin. You wanted nothing more than to feel Harwin’s warm, hard body against yours. The scratch of his chest hair against your back, your beasts… the rasp of his powerful legs against the smooth lines of your own–between them. Even more sinful than those thoughts, however, was the yearning to feel Rhaenyra’s smooth body against yours.

The delightful darkening of both their expressions told you they knew what you were thinking. How easily they read you. How dazzled they were by your transfixion. 

“Understand?” Harwin pressed.

“Mm-hmm. I understand.”

Rhaenyra walked backwards with you until you were both at the foot of your bed. It was slightly awkward, in a humorous way, and it had both of you giggling as you tried to not step on her feet. She stepped out of her shoes before shrugging out of her dress. It pooled on the floor like a shadow. Her shift was a clean white cotton which left little to the imagination.

Harwin stood at your side and used two fingers to tilt your head to him. He kissed you. Deeply, thoroughly, slowly. He was such a good kisser. Your knees weakened where you stood, using him for support throughout the affection. You moaned softly into his mouth before he pulled away.

He moved to Rhaenyra, then, and kissed her. Soft. Tender. She had a similar reaction to you. His lips along her jaw, down her neck, and over the exposed top of her shoulder. Whereas he kissed you thoroughly, he kissed her reverently.

Part of you felt as if you should look away. But, you couldn’t. Seeing your betrothed with another woman like this had your thighs clenching. You knew you should be jealous. Should want to claw the eyes out of another woman who kissed your promised like that. Yet, it was Rhaenyra. You only wanted to be in between them. Reveling with them.

They were the most gorgeous pair you’d ever seen.

The princess, with the knight’s assistance, pulled her shift up and over her head. Finely made smallclothes were the only thing that shielded her womanhood from your eyes; as near perfect a human could be. She was all pale skin, soft lines, and pink pebbled flesh. In the waning golden hour her milk veins stood out beneath her alabaster skin; those breasts surely heavier now than they were before her son’s birth. With those eyes, and that body, she could have anything she fucking wanted. And, likely, she did.

“Your turn,” she purred to you. “Help her like you did me, yes? She’s looking a little… spellbound.” A quiet giggle escaped her as she turned and crawled up your bed, sitting at the head of it as she watched and waited.

Spellbound. The perfect word.

Harwin helped you indeed, kissing and caressing over your body as he did. Sharing sly smiles and twinkling looks, consent passed between you two again and again. ‘Yes, I’m okay with this,’ your eyes said. ‘Yes, I want this too,’ they also said. The callouses of his big warm hands scratched over your skin and shift alike; sensation arching your back into his body. Everywhere he touched, you burned. In the wake of his attention, the delicate space between your thighs matched your pulse. 

He still wore his trousers and made no move to yet take them off; arousal hot and strained beneath.  When your hand teased over his bulge he swatted it away. “Not yet,” he crooned. “Go sit between Rhaenyra’s legs.”

Now it was you who obeyed. Crawling up your mattress in much the same fashion as she, you kissed her again. 

Standing at the foot of the bed Harwin admired every fucking second of what was unfolding. His princess, his swoon to be wife… the curve of your ass and dip of your spine and shape of your legs had him impossibly hard. Your position had the wet spot of your smallclothes on perfect display and he groaned. 

“Be a good girl and rest against me,” Rhaenyra whispered.

You did. It was easy–wonderfully easy–to sit between her soft, spread thighs, with your back against her breasts. You bit your lip at the sensation of her covered cunt against the small of your back. How different it was than cuddling with Harwin. 

“Look at you listening so well,” she cooed again. “Good girls get rewards. Isn’t that right, Ser Harwin?” The tension of their eye contact had you squirming and you barely had a chance to regain yourself from the teasing praise before you gasped. Rhaenyra’s hands bushed the underswell of your breasts. Lightning shot down your spine. She played with them, teased them, circling and sliding her fingertips over your nipples. “So pretty,” she said as she squeezed one of your sensitive tits, pinching the peaked nipple of the other.

You couldn't help it. You moaned and arched your chest deeper into her touch. She kissed over your neck, your shoulder, continuing her blissful exploration of your breasts.

Harwin lowered onto the bed and laid between your legs, grinning up at you and Rhaenyra. As she continued to tease you, he kissed the insides of your thighs. One, then the other. Lips, and tongue, and teeth, he teased you as much as she was. The tickle of his beard was beautifully maddening and it didn’t take much for your thighs to be quivering beneath his mouth. “Always so responsive,” he said.

Never had you been with two people like this before. If they kept it up any longer you’d be a whining panting mess! “No more teasing, please,” you begged. 

The lovers shared a look you weren’t quite aware of. With an arched brow, Harwin asked, “let’s stop torturing the poor girl, yeah?”

Rhaenyra nodded impishly. 

Before your hazy brain realized, your betrothed was pulling your smallclothes down your legs. He spread your thighs, giving himself more room between them, and a low satisfied sound rumbled in his chest. “Look how wet she is for us, princess.” 

You throbbed. His words echoed in your head. You were fucking soaked. 

Using one hand, Harwin spread your cunt for his greedy gaze. “My, my, sweetheart. Aren’t you a needy little thing tonight?” 

“Just how I like my playthings,” Rhaenyra quipped. “Since I can’t see, will you let me feel?” She asked against the shell of your ear.

You nodded. “Yes. Please. Both of you.”

Again, the secret lovers shared a heated stare.

The princess’ hand slid down the front of your body until the tips of her fingers brushed against your slick cunny. “Oh,” she purred. “I don’t know who’s wetter, Lady Oakheart. You or I.” 

Her center was still hot against your back. You desperately wanted to explore her as she explored you. But, the position didn’t quite allow for it. You whimpered behind a bit lip.

Harwin watched as Rhaenyra began to circle your swollen clit. Women knew what women liked, and she knew just how to touch you. Circles, and slides, and flicks, she lavished your little bud with the sweetest attention until the sweetest sounds began to pour from your mouth. For a moment she thought you might come from that alone. So, she slowed her ministrations and nodded to Harwin.

As the princess continued to play with you–slowly–he eased one finger into your aching cunt. Immediately your toes curled with a gasp. “Go-ods!” You squeaked, legs flexing and hips rolling with the double stimulation. Each downward movement of your hips sent his finger deeper into you. Each upward motion sent Rhaenyra’s fingers sliding over your clit. It was the loveliest feeling you’d ever experienced. You ground against both of them. Used both of their hands for your own bliss. “Please don’t stop!” You half stammered, drunk on the pleasure they gave you. 

They each held one of your thighs open, not letting you close them. You were at their mercy. You loved it.

A second finger joined Harwin’s first, and now he pumped them in and out of you. With a flex of his wrist he crooked his fingers inside you, hitting that small, deliciously spongy spot that always had you gasping his name. Your incoherent babbles along with Rhaenyra’s soft praises had his cock aching. His mouth watered as he watched your body take his fingers again and again, as your pearl glistened beneath the princess’ touch. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He leaned forward to lick your pretty clit.

Seeing what Harwin was doing, Rhaenyra clicked her tongue and pushed his face away. “Greedy knight,” she scolded. 

Harwin glared up at her.

She smiled sweetly. 

You were too lost in your pleasure to notice what exactly happened.

“Let’s make her come and then you can put that mouth to use,” she goaded him–loving his brief moment of fury as she took away something he wanted; his own soon-to-be wife.

Working in tandem, the princess and the knight pushed you over the peak of pleasure; awed, shuddering, weightless. Your sounds a song to their ears.

They let you come down easily, kissing and caressing you throughout. If this is what it’d be like to share a bed with the princess you planned to never leave her in the dark. Ever.

After a few moments you rolled onto your back and stared up at your ceiling, smiling like a loon. “That was… wow,” you giggled.

Harwin was the first to move. Sliding off the end of the bed he stood and moved to the side of it nearest Rhaenyra. With you no longer sitting against her, he grabbed her by the legs and pulled her to the edge of it. Swift. Deliberate. Right where he wanted her. A small squeak sounded from her. “Get these out of my way,” he growled as he yanked her smallclothes down her legs with little regard to their preservation.

Rhaenyra looked down the front of her body just in time to see him kneel before her–big hands curling around her thighs, spreading them wide open. His mouth was pure magic on her eager cunt. Her head rolled to the side as she leaned back, bracing herself up with her elbows. Soon, moans and whimpers began to spill from her.

Coming out of your reprieve, you watched the secret lovers; desire stirring in your core once again. Rhaenyra, ethereal. Harwin, worshiping. They complimented each other in ways that had you weak. One of his hands rose to the little swell of fat on her belly and squeezed it adoringly. Gasping, she ground against him, seeking her high.

It was your turn to roll off the bed. Walking to the other side, you too knelt in front of Rhaenyra. Harwin smirked at you. “I wondered when you might join me,” he said. 

Despite your nervousness you were feeling bold, too. “Show me how you do it.”

He groaned somewhere low in his throat. Then, his mouth was on yours. He kissed you deeply. Rhaenyra’s taste lingered on your tongue and it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, if you were being honest with yourself.

Above, an entirely different type of pleased sound came from Rhaenyra. Seeing you two kiss between her spread legs had her going half crazy. “Have you noticed how much he likes his hair pulled yet?” She asked you innocently. Before allowing you the chance to answer, her fingers curled into his hair and she pulled him back to her center. Right where she wanted him. Harwin moaned into her cunny, licking and slurping against her obscenely. “He likes to be pulled around a little bit,” she said. Lewd. Panting.

Fuck.

Unable to resist any longer, you fumbled with the front of your betrothed’s trousers until his belt and laces were open. You tugged his pants down the firm curve of his ass, the thick trunks of his thighs, until they bunched down around his knees where he knelt. As he feasted on the princess’ cunt,  you stroked his cock. He was so hot, and thick, and hard, you wondered if it physically pained him. 

He moaned harshly. “I don’t wanna come yet,” he rasped, the muscles of his pelvis already twitching with restraint.

“No, no, not yet,” Rhaenyra agreed, breathless. “His seed needs a womb. Both of you up here, now. I have an even better idea.”

You both obeyed. Rhaenyra gestured for Harwin to lay flat on his back in the middle of the bed. Smirking like a cat she perched herself over his face. She wasted no time in sitting back against his mouth, grinding against him purely for her own pleasure. Nose, lips, bearded chin… she dragged her slick cunt back and forth. Again and again. Her fingers squeezed his firm pectorals as she used him for her gain. “Take his cock,” she told you wickedly. 

Was this truly real? You were still half dumbstruck that this was happening in the first place! Harwin’s arms looped above her thighs, holding her where he wanted her, and the sounds that were coming from both of them were obscene. Heavy breathing, slurps, smacks; you were about to peak again from simply watching them. 

You straddled over your betrothed’s waist and sunk down onto him. Fuck fuck fuck. He was so big. The stretch of your body accommodating him had you inhaling sharply. You allowed your walls to fully adjust, and while you did Rhaenyra leaned forward and crashed her mouth to yours. Tongue, lips, a tease of teeth, she kissed you like she wanted to fucking consume you. Pure lust fired through your veins and you began bouncing on Hawin’s cock.

The princess’ hands were all over your breasts again. And, now, yours on hers, too. 

That’s how you all stayed for a time. Fucking, sucking, riding, reveling in each other as bliss blindly guided you to new heights of lasciviousness.

It was impossible to know who peaked first. It might have been Rhaenyra for how she shuddered upon Harwin’s face. It might have been him for how he flexed and roared beneath both of you, cock twitching mightily as he spent himself deep inside you. It might have been you for how you simpered his name again and again like a debauched prayer.

Whatever the case might have been, slowly you all came back to your senses. Sticky flesh, sweaty skin, and bedclothes that needed to be washed, the three of you cuddled amidst the lovely aftershocks of climax.

Each of you smiled broader than the other. Eyes, somehow, out twinkling each other.

“How do you think she did, sweetheart?” Harwin asked you, his gentle touch trailing over your arm.

“If tonight was a test, the test has been surpassed,” you answered with a giggle, idly playing footsie with the princess.

She beamed. “Good,” she said. She made delicate circles below your navel as she added, “the seed is strong, Lady Oakheart. Perhaps Harwin will give you one, too.”

-

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[darylssunshine]

Mine.

Pairing: Daryl x Reader

Era: Commonwealth

Summary: Daryl indulges in one of your kinks.

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, swearing, knives, choking

Word count: 1k (ish)

A/N: This is my first time writing smut so I am very scared LOL. The first fic you post on tumblr being smut can be very nerve-wracking. Just had Daryl indulging my knife kink rattling around in my brain and I got inspired.

~~~~~

“Shut th' fuck up, slut.”

A hand was pressed down onto your mouth as a growl exited his, while the other grasped both your wrists and held them above your head. Daryl's length was moving back and forth through your walls at a dizzying pace while your eyes rolled into the back of your head in pure bliss. Though your eyes were now wide open and staring directly at the redneck on top of you because of his previous comment. Your breath hitched and you nodded your head fervently. 

The hand that was previously pressed onto your mouth moved down to squeeze your throat, all while continuing to pound into you, causing a whine to crawl out of you, your mouth still closed. 

“Tryin’ to stay quiet for me like tha'. Good fuckin’ girl.” 

The mix of degradations and praise combined with the added pressure increasing on your throat had your head spinning and a knot building in your lower stomach. “Who do you fuckin’ belong to? Who is it, huh?” Daryl purposefully leaned down to growl against your ear, knowing each and every one of your turn ons. The mix of pain and pleasure was too much for your brain to handle, not being able to think a single thought, let alone a coherent sentence. So instead of answering, you gave a high-pitched moan in response, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth and onto your chest.

He smirked. He fucking smirked, and somehow quickened the pace.

Daryl gave a raspy grunt in disapproval and gripped your chin that was previously on your throat, forcing you to look at him directly. “Didn't hear ya, slut. Who d'ya belong to?”

You snapped out of your haze, not wanting to disappoint nor disobey him. “Y- … You.” You struggled to stutter out in between your fast breaths. 

“That's.” Thrust. “Fuckin’.” Thrust. “Right.” Thrust. 

He slowed his thrusts down to a lazy pace before stopping completely, earning a dramatic whine from the depths of your soul when you felt him slip out of you. “Dar!” You dragged in an annoyed tone, Daryl already stepping off the bed and onto the carpet. He simply chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes.

“Relax. Wanna try somethin'.”

He grabbed something from off of the shared dresser you had on the other side of the room, making sure you didn't see what it was and hid it behind his back. Slowly, he walked back to the bed and got in a sitting position, making direct eye contact the whole time, building anticipation. “C'mon over and ride me, but don't face me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you did as you were told, crawling on your hands and knees to the middle of the bed where Daryl now was, and gently eased yourself back onto his cock, bouncing slowly. “What's this about, Dar?” You questioned, your breath already beginning to quicken.

“You'll see. Just keep ridin', sunshine.” Once again, albeit confused, did as you were told, already getting comfortable with the position, letting small moans slip out, all while Daryl rubbed your hip with his left hand and still holding that unknown something in his right.

Immediately after those words left your mouth, his long, sharp, hunting knife met with the base of your throat, while his other free hand gripped your hair and tilted your head back, exposing even more of the soft flesh. And he was pushing on it, increasing the pressure with every thrust. He's went out hunting with that knife before you two even met, so you had no doubt he knew what he was doing, and that thought somehow turned you on more than you already were. He swiped it slightly along your clavicle, almost drawing blood.

“You ready, baby?”

Even while you were experiencing the bliss of riding his cock over and over, that elicited a chuckle from you. Why was he being so secretive? “For what, babe?”

Your mouth went slack. No noise exited you besides your exaggerated breathing and your, frankly, embarrassing loud moans.

“There it is. You're such a fuckin’ slut. My slut. Makin' you feel so good, huh?”

All your senses were heightened. You were on cloud nine and barely even heard what he said besides registering his low, raspy, growling. Daryl was making you a wet, blubbering mess, and he only wished he could see what those eyes looked like rolled in the back of your head. So he resorted to the voice again. (He figured out about that kink the very first night you spent with each other. “You're really obvious, y'know that?”)

“Use ya words, bitch. Are you mah slut ere not?” Daryl spoke lowly but with assertion, his accent becoming more and more noticeable.

“Yes! Yes! Oh fuck, yes!” You responded emphatically, not only answering his question, but letting him know how good he's making you feel. 

“You gonna cum all over this cock for me, sunshine?”

“Fuck, yes. Yes, I will. Oh fuck…” You're surprised you even answered his question with the state you were in, but you did, albeit breathlessly. Daryl chuckled and put a bit more pressure on your throat, moving up to the middle this time. 

The knot in your lower stomach got tighter and tighter, and with a couple thrusts to your sweet spot while rasping sweet nothings in your ear, you saw white, feeling your cunt drip with Daryl's cum down onto your thighs and roll down onto his. You almost collapsed forward, but you felt a pair of strong arms grip your midsection before throwing the knife away from the two of you with a flick of his wrist.

Daryl placed gentle kisses on the side of your neck and then your temple. He hugged you from behind, his cock still buried within you.

“Hey Dar?” He slowly eased your back up against his firm chest, making it easier for him to lock eyes with you.

“Hm?” He purred.

~~~~~

“Can you do that again sometime?” You asked softly in between trying to catch your breath. He chuckled once again and punctuated it with a sweet, open-mouthed kiss to the lips.

“Hell yeah, I will.”

God. I NEED HIM.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

I just realized that we've never talked about anything like "morning wood" scene where reader wakes up first and sees her man's cock rising. (i can't choose between jason or simon)

Why not both 🧍��‍♀️

I only have strength to do character inclusive before hat man takes me. Please enjoy ❤️✨

🎩 🤺

Time Written - 9:07 p.m

The hour was early, the sun non existent in the skies just yet, but it’s presence would soon accompany the beautiful violet-tangerine clouds merging into dark, dull gray.

Your beloved still has his arm snugly wrapped around your waist, his thumb nudged just underneath the hem of your large shirt, mindlessly rubbing along soft skin. The best parts of waking up in the mornings weren’t just waking up alongside your personal body heater known as your muscly teddy bear, clutching you close like said plush toy.

Half of the time, it’s the not so subtle surprise pressed up against your lower back and rear when your mind pokes out of sleep, making it even more difficult for you to get comfortable again after being painfully aware of it.

Most of the time when it occurs, as does the ache in your lower tummy bloom; a need for him, an eager response of your body towards his.

He’s blissfully unaware of how hard his cock had gotten, too lost in the throws of sleep while clutching you close like a doll. It’s the rare occasion he slept with you a full night instead of coming home in the early hours of the morning or the middle of the night. The rare occasion where civil duties weren’t needed or expected from him, having him all to yourself.

While he appreciates coming home to a hot meal and a warm bed after a long patrol, it wasn’t enjoyable without you in the sheets with him. His body surely expressed just how much he had missed you.

You wondered what he might’ve dreamed of right this very moment. Was it an innocent, mindless walk in the park or the beach with you during a warm sunset? Or, was he living through a fantasy of burying his thick cock in between your plush thighs? Holding your head down against his own pillow while breeding your needy little cunt?

Whatever the cause, it left you quivering with a growing need to find out.

Your natural curiosity had you reach your hand behind you, brushing along bare skin of his lower torso where his tank top had ridden up, resting your fingers along his outer hip. Trailing along his lower waist, you shuffled your hips just a bit until you prod along your desired goal.

He emits a content little groan after a faint hitch in his breath, a soft sound that only lasts for a few moments. Satisfied with the result, your hand gives a soft squeeze along the pleasantly warm length, comfortably hidden from you under thick, navy fabric.

His breathing starts to slow down as soon as you start to move your fingers. Slow, teasing little squeezes just along the blunt tip, massaging down the length of his cock. How it irked you to brush your thumb along his sensitive underside, making your mouth water and your thighs slightly clench.

“Morning, hun.” His voice is hoarse, letting out a short yawn. He still keeps his arm around your middle, burying his face into your sweet hair after you settle with the startle of him waking up without your knowledge.

You turn, your loose shirt slightly twisted by your movements as you face your sweetheart, taking in his adorably tussled hair and sleepy eyes boring into yours.

His smug, little semi smirk lets you know that he might not be entirely surprised by this circumstance. He doesn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed by this either. He seems more amused than anything, especially since his favorite girl could do something about it.

You press a soft kiss against his lips, one that left him confused when he attempted to lean for more before you abruptly pull away. He whispers your name in question, lightly surprised when you kiss the corner of his mouth, down his chin, underneath his sharp, lightly stubbled jaw.

“So it’s that kind of morning, huh?” He questions, his Adam’s apple bobbing after you kiss it, his voice still raspy from sleep.

“Mhm,” you hum, your fingers eagerly slipping just underneath the hem of his sweatpants. He contentedly sighs, letting you have your fun now that he knows you’re in one of your playful little moods.

Kissing down along his chest, following the roadmap of his main scar down towards the rich, dark happy trail that peaked out of his sweatpants.

His breath hitches at the touch of your hands squeezing him through the damn fabric barrier, and he finds it’s a little bit harder to keep his cool at this stage. You can really do that to him, and it’s like nothing can ever compare.

“What’s gotten into you, sweetheart?” He amusingly murmurs, his voice still soft and husky.

Should be you, soon enough. You wanted to say back, but pursed your lips to prevent saying it. He knew; he beat you to it merely two damn seconds after he asked it.

It would be a shame to make a mess on such cool toned, dark gray silk sheets. Freshly washed, too.

He’s trying to resist as much as he can, but you’re just excitingly relentless when it comes to getting what you want. This morning, it just happens to be him.

“You tryin’ to ruin me already, aren’t you?” He chuckles, a handsome, rugged sound that shoots arousal down your spine.

“Mhmm,” You hum, starting to pull down the waistband just enough. His swollen, eager cock quickly greets you, hot and heavy in your hand, the tip practically weeping for more of your touch. A heavy, glistening bead trickles down the blunt head, perfectly caught along the tip of your tongue to taste him.

Settling perfectly snug against his legs, curled perfectly per comfort, you trail your tongue under the head, lapping along that particular spot that garnered a beautiful reaction outta him. His head tilted back against his pillow, brows scrunched from light ripples of euphoria, fists lightly clenching along blankets tossed aside.

“Shiiit… really ruinin’ me, sweetheart.”

You stop for a second, smiling a bit while rolling your thumb close to the base. “Should’ve specified.”

He lets out a soft snort, expressing his affection through amused chuckles and heart eyes through a heavy lidded gaze.

This morning is already off to a great start. He’s trying to think of a way to one-up you, but he honestly is just too tired for all of that.

You barely had just a bit of him in your mouth, providing such simple kitten licks, and he displayed such heavenly responses that bloomed your ego to wonderfully high levels.

Then again, you seem to be up and about already, so maybe he’ll have to put in some effort after you pamper him. You’ll quickly enact upon what he so eagerly desired to reenact from his dream; properly face fucking his sweetheart. Glossy lips pressed against his pelvis while bullying himself deep down your throat, further fueled by those obscenely filthy chokes he adored so much.

A well deserved throatfuck for such an adorably sassy mouth.

[that-weeb-in-ur-closet]

losing your virginity to chuuya.....that's it that's the ask I ...I bet he would be so sweet

(fem reader)

Walking into your and Chuuya's shared apartment after work is something you do every day. Sometimes, he's there. Other times, he's fighting with Mori at the Port Mafia.

Today, however, as you call out his name to check if he's there, you receive no response. Consequently, you assume he's on his way back and head to the bedroom.

Only to see your boyfriend of five months asleep on your shared bed.

With a very prominent boner.

You stare at him for a moment, head going a bit blank as you take in the sight in front of you. Messy hair is displayed over his peaceful face, work attire thrown lazily around the floor, only wearing a tank top and some gray sweats. That highlights every detail of his throbbing dick.

You set down your bag with furrowing, confused brows, kicking off your shoes as you make your way over to him, gently shaking his chest.

"Baby... Baby, please—wake up..." You mutter, head tilting when he only stirs a bit, rolling onto his back.

You don't know how to react to this. You've never had sex with him before... nor have you talked about it. It's never even been brought up. He loves you for you, the things you do, and the way you love him. He doesn't love you for your body, and he's made that clear from the get go.

But... Here he is—asleep on the bed, probably having a wet dream about you. What else are you supposed to do besides wake him up?

And that's what you do. Shaking him a bit more aggressively, he starts to open his eyes, his hands instinctively going to grab yours.

"H-hm? Baby... What time is-" he stops himself when he realizes what's going on. He immediately freezes, a shy smile spreading on his lips as he tries to get off the bed.

"I-if you excuse me, I, uh—I have something I need to take care of." He states in a rushed tone, trying to get up before you grab his shoulder, leaning in.

"Then why don't I help you with it?" You say, causing him and you to both freeze for a second. He didn't expect you to say something like that—and you didn't expect that from yourself either.

"What... What are you saying, princess?" He asks, breath hitching in his throat as he looks at you, eyes a bit wide.

"I mean..." You start, hands going to the hem of his pants slowly, looking for any signs of resistance. You see none.

"You have a problem, yeah?... Please, let me help you, Chuu." You whisper, eyes locking with his and switching between his lips and back up.

"Are you sure? You don't have to, i-if you're uncomf—"

"I'd give you the moon if it made you happy. I wanna do this, if you'll let me." You say softly, and you can practically hear how his heart melts from it. He sighs, hands falling onto yours as he helps you take off his pants. He doesn't say anything for a moment as they fall to his ankles, and then the floor, and his boxers soon following suit.

This is the first time you're seeing his dick—it's long. And thick. And the hair around it is perfectly trimmed, just beautiful. (Here I am, a lesbian talking about cocks.)

He looks away for a second, not knowing what to do—before you rip out a sudden gasp when you start to gently stroke his cock, pre-cum lubing up his length as you begin to go a bit faster, basking in the pretty sounds he's making for you, eyes closing and lips parting as he arches slightly.

You continue to stroke him, head tilting with a small grin, your free hand going to take off your shirt, quickly pulling it over your head and tossing it on the ground.

"That's it... You're being a good boy for me... Come on, don't be shy. You can be louder. Look me in the eyes."

He obeys, eyes half-lidded and eyebrows furrowing in delight, tongue sticking out slightly. "Baby, fuck–" He groans, trying desperately to hold eye contact with you.

"Tell me how you want it." You command, causing his dick to twitch and ache, hips buckling into your fist.

"I want it n-now." He says, hands reaching for the sheets as you start to pump your hand faster, causing broken and strained whimpers to leak from his mouth. As you speed up your hand, and he's about to cum, you suddenly stop, causing him to whine.

"Baby, why-" He gets cut off by you grabbing his hand and putting it on the waistband of your shorts, and he gets the hint.

Helping you to slide off your pants, his eyes widen when he sees the sight of your soaking panties, grabbing your waist and pulling up your shirt and bra.

He can only thank God for the beautiful woman he's blessed to have.

A beautiful woman who's now being slammed against the bed after getting fingered, face buried into the bed with loud and breaking moans.

"F-fuck!! Chuuya, Chuu, please!!"

You plead, not even knowing what your asking for anymore as his thick cocky bullies into your tight hole, ripping sweet and loud sounds from you. He grabs your hair when he speeds up, gently pulling on it and seeing how you squirm when he does.

"Oh, you like that, baby? That feel nice? Yeah? Huh... You're doing good, doll... Fuck, so good, it feels like heaven... Why did I wait this long to be inside you..."

The sound of skin slapping against skin is the main sound filling the room, along with his praises and your moans, grinding against your ass roughly.

Eventually, you both start to reach your peak, and he decides he'll deal with the consequences of his actions later and cums inside of you, you holding no denial to that.

After you've both had a minute to calm down, he falls down next to you, hands going to your wait lazily as he Whispersync sweet praises and thank you's.

This kinda sucks but I like it. Also don't mind the random image up their. ^

(Minors, do nit interact, it makes me uncomfortable. Do not repost, translate or slander my work, Fyodor's rats will gang up and beat the shit outta you if you try to.)

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: IV

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

Masterlist, Latibule 2.III

The fact that he was not even trying anything was what was making you be more on edge.

It had been more than three days now and he still hadn’t done anything except following you wherever you went. He turned into your very own version of a shadow, never straying more than a foot away. Despite your diminishing sight, you could see how people went out of their way to avoid your path. You surmised that it was because of the man following you closely. You didn’t have to turn to see the glare he was freely giving anyone as though he was your guard dog, or the dark energy he was emitting like a disturbed cat you used to frequently liken him to.

You were close to your breaking point. Your future laid uncertain, more so about your survival and likelihood that you would see your beautiful son once again just because his father was confusing you.

His motives confused you. If he was here to end you, why hadn’t he done so, yet? If he wanted to talk to you and ensure that you wouldn’t blab to anyone about who he truly was, about his other identity, why hadn’t he done so yet?

Why hadn’t he done anything except to follow you?

You were never a good actress, and you knew sooner rather than later that he would inadvertently notice. Honestly, you were already sick with anxiety and you didn’t know what you would do should you take this one more day. This had to stop and you needed to know why he was doing this.

And what exactly was he doing you asked?

Take for example, right now as you were trying to enjoy your meal in a small diner. His presence was unsettling and his eyes, like dark pools, seemed to follow your every move with a mix of intensity and longing that sent shivers down your spine. Not only was he eating on a booth in front of yours, but he also paid for your meal. He even went as far as threatening the waiter with his eyes to make it appear that the meal was free due to some made up celebration.

You couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all. Unicorn Day? What kind of excuse was that? What even was a unicorn day?! That did not even exist! But even as you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, a nagging question lingered in the back of your mind. Why was he going to such lengths to keep you close?

More so… why was he pitifully eating his meal alone, his gaze held a certain softness and daresay yearning in them? Why did he look so…lonely?

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his intentions.

However, it was becoming less likely now that he wanted you gone when you came home and finally found solitude. You were going through the motion for the night. Your hands were running across the table as a guide, a thing that you had learned to do when you hit yourself too many times from the edge of the table, when you felt what seemed to be a protective gear used in the corner of tables. And then all at once, you noticed all the little things that had changed without you fully noticing.

The bathroom tiles had more friction to what you were used to, the kitchen utensils lost their heaviness, and the doorknobs were now noticeably noisier than before.

And now that you were alone without his overbearing presence clouding your judgement, without him breathing down your neck that caused you to immensely fear for your life, that you started to look on the other side of your horror: did he do all of these for you?

Perhaps, you were able to tolerate it all because of the anticipation of pain you thought you’d get from him. But this softness and tenderness displaced you. Somehow, this was worse. This was something you couldn’t bear, not when you now knew who he truly was. You couldn’t take this, you couldn’t let all of this change anything – especially when you now had someone to protect. You struggled to think of what could happen should he find out that his clever deception brought someone in this world.

Sleep had greatly eluded you that night regardless of how weary you felt. Your thoughts were all over the place, consumed by worry for your son right now. You couldn’t even step out to find solace and watch the stars like you used to do when your thoughts were just too loud. What was the use, you thought, when you could no longer see their beauty?

You had your eyes closed, now accustomed to darkness and your body was even when you heard it– a miniscule creaking of the floorboard, followed by the gentle opening of the door. He was here, you surmised.

Agustd was here.

Was he here to finally do the deed? Was he here to finally end all of this chaos? Did he wait until the dead of the night so that there wouldn’t be any witness? So that the job would be easy? So that he wouldn’t have to look into your eyes as he delivered the final blow to your heart?

Despite the terrifying thoughts racing through your mind, you were still as a board. You were greatly anticipating the pain as he drew near, his familiar scent, once beloved by you so much, was now making you acutely aware of his proximity more than ever before.

You could feel the heat from his body. You could hear the gentle rustling of his coat as he moved. This was it, you thought. This was your end, and maybe it was for the best. Hoseok would take care of your son. He was evidently fond of him. You knew that multifaceted man loved your child despite who his father was. You knew it the moment you woke up when your child was only a month old and found him gone from your side only to discover Hoseok gently comforting your crying son with his ridiculous stories, his voice painting a story. You knew it the moment he patiently stood by your son’s side when he was sick. You knew it when he cried when your child took his first step. Despite what transpired that fateful night, Hoseok was good to you and your son.

You trusted him.

You felt the side of your bed dipped from Agustd’s weight, yet it was his hand that you first felt. His calloused hand tenderly caressed your face, his touch so faint that you almost wondered if this was real. His thumb softly touched your lips and it lingered there for a moment that you wondered how you were able to control your breathing. You had gone years without him, his existence merely both a nightmare and a wonderful dream only in your memories. You had put him behind, hadn’t you? You had fully squashed any hopes that you and him would be anything other than a disaster, hadn’t you? You had repeatedly told yourself that you would never again let yourself feel anything for him, hadn’t you?

So why then was your heart shattering? Why then now that he was near, now that he was touching you, did your beliefs and your resolute heart wavered?

You could take him following you around. Honestly, you would rather take him being your shadow instead of this because then you could play pretend that he was not here.

You were about to open your eyes when you felt a drop on your cheek. Then, it was as though a dam overflowed as you felt teardrops cascading down your skin and the hand touching you trembling with both grief and relief.

Perhaps, if you could see him now, you'd understand how deeply you were intertwined in each and every part of him. If only you could witness how your absence and your inability to see now broke him, then all your hesitations about him would vanish because no man whose heart was not owned by you would cry as much as he was right now. No man who loved you as hard as he did could withstand this.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone in this world, my angel. Thank you for being alive,” he whispered in the silence of the night.

Min Yoongi’s POV

You were alive and it should be enough for him.

But Min Yoongi had always been a greedy man. He was a despicable man who always craved for more and blamed it all on from his terrible childhood to his twisted parents. He knew he was greedy when he took the organization that had been in his Jin hyung’s family for decades and ventured into darker places no one dared to go. He knew he was greedy when he didn’t stop there and even took hold of the police force for himself. More so, he knew he was greedy when he found you alive and instead of being contented that you were here, that you made good on your promise and didn’t go where he couldn’t follow, he still wanted…no. He craved the warmth brought by your proximity. He wanted you so near to him that you couldn’t breathe without him knowing, that you couldn’t think without him hearing your own thoughts.

He wanted you by his side that you couldn’t leave again. He wanted you so close that no one would dare to hurt you anymore.

However, there was this part of him that was good regardless of how minuscule it was. It was the same part that you were able to reach, the one that made you believed that he was incapable of inflicting pain to others, the one that made the betrayal so much more painful to you. And now, that part was warring with the dark side of him to let you be. It was the same part that whispered that he was somehow to blame for all of this, that had he left you alone, you wouldn’t be in this mess. It was the same part that whispered that he should be happy that you were alive, and that alone should be enough. It was your second chance in life but this time, it shouldn’t be with him.

His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling into fists as he wrestled with the conflicting desires raging within him. He wanted to reach out to you, to pull you into his embrace and never let you go, but he knew he had already hurt you enough. And so, he stood there, silently battling the demons that threatened to consume him whole.

Perhaps, this was why he did nothing but to follow you and to watch you from a distance, only letting himself near you when you couldn’t know, only letting him touch you when you wouldn’t be able to push him away in disgust.

His train of thoughts and self-hatred were interrupted by his phone. Yoongi looked down at his ringing phone before bringing it to his ear, turning away from you as he answered. The street was busy but he had clear vision of you from behind, and the crosswalk hadn’t signaled yet for pedestrians to proceed.

“Yoongi-ah, where’s my niece and nephew?”

Here he goes again, Yoongi thought. He chuckled at his ridiculous question, his Jin hyung still hadn’t given up on his agenda of them having families of their own. His hyung's unwavering determination to see all of them settle down and start a family was both endearing and exasperating at times. “You won’t even ask how I am?”

Jin's response was swift and filled with characteristic enthusiasm.  “You found her. I’d say your more than okay. That is exactly why I’m expecting a nephew, preferably, within 9 to 10 months, okay? I’m buying Louis Vuitton onesies as we speak.”

Yoongi listened to his Jin hyung’s plans of buying his supposed nephew the most expensive and ridiculous clothes a newborn could have with a heavy heart. Listening to him made the situation so much heavier. Listening to him made him realize how further he was to realizing that dream…and how impossible it would be now.

“Are you really just going to let me buy him his first custom made toy gun? Really? Because your silence seems like you are agreeing-“

“She’s blind now, hyung.”

That statement alone finally made the mafia prince to cease from speaking, the weight of Yoongi’s new reality was slowly settling in. “She cannot see me. She still doesn’t know that I’m here-“

But Jin's response was unexpected, cutting through the air with a coldness that sent a shiver down Yoongi's spine. "Bring her home, Yoongi."

Yoongi's brows furrowed in disbelief, his mind reeling at Jin's insistence. "What? Didn’t you hear what I just said? I said—"

“I heard you, Yoongi-ah,” he stated with his cold voice he seldom used. “She’s blind now,” he repeated tonelessly. “But I’m telling you to bring her home. We might be able to do something. It’s not over until I, the greatest doctor to ever exist, tell that it is.”

“Hyung,” he sighed, looking down as he processed what Jin said and his poor attempt at making light of the situation. There was a possibility that he could fix you. But did you want anything to do with him now? What if you looked at him with hatred and disgust in your eyes? What if you saw him and decidedly left him again? Was he being selfish for considering the alternative? Could he even survive after that?

And for the first time in his life, he admitted that he was beside himself for terror that you might want nothing to do with him, that you would rather forever lose your sight than see him.

But before he could dwell on his fears any longer, Jin's voice cut through the turmoil, filled with frustration and exasperation. “Then make her fall in love again with you. You did it once, Yoongi. I cannot believe after all the education I all gave you, after sending all of you to the best universities and ensuring that you all would be the top of your chosen profession, you are all still idiots! This is such a simple problem that requires simple solution. For the love all of all that’s-“

Yoongi’s turned to where you were, only to find you crossing the road behind other people. He was a good foot away from you when he heard the screeching sound of tires that seemed to have spiraled out of control and horrifyingly, in its path was you.

His angel.

He moved before he could even think, his legs powered through, pushing people out of his way just to get to you. He remembered thinking to himself at that moment that he this time, he would harshly refuse losing you. This time, he would fight harder against destiny that was so hellbent on taking you from him.

And that time he swore that the universe was on his side as he reached for your arm and firmly pulled you to his chest. The screeching tires and the shocked sounds of the city faded into the background as he felt the force of the fall. With a deep grunt, he absorbed the impact, his body tensing with the weight of both of you as you collided with the ground. Despite the pain shooting through his body, his only concern was for your safety.

His arms remained a steadfast barrier, shielding you from harm as he felt the ground beneath him. The world seemed to slow down, time stretching out in that moment of crisis. The sound of your shock was drowned out by his pounding heart and the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as he held you close, shielding you from the impending danger.

As the screeching tires came to a halt, Yoongi's focus remained solely on you. He felt a surge of relief wash over him as he realized you were unharmed, safe in his arms. His heart was beating so fast brought by the sickening worry that he wouldn’t make it in time that he failed to notice the consequences of his actions.

“Are you okay, Angel? You’re not hurt…right?”

“Suga…”

Chapter V

[hoseoksluna]

CHERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi x oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk)

genre: heavy, heavy, obnoxious smut

word count: 12.7k

summary: you don't know how he does it, but hobi makes you forget about the life you led before him, using his tongue.

playlist: hobi's playlist ; hobi's the weeknd playlist 

pinterest board: cherries / taglist: join

warnings: oh my god—dd/lg but differently, businessman!hobi, dominant and emotional and fucking possessive hobi, oc is horny... a lot, praise kink, breeding kink sdflhldghfdklaxjkfghskfg, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, female and male masturbation, use of a sex toy, cum eating, ass eating, religious personification, mentions of anal sex, thigh and ass slapping fuck

note: my babies, i'm so happy to be posting PART TWO OF BERRIES for you, oh my god. i had the time of my LIFE writing this, had to take breaks every 20 mins, was horny beyond my fucking mind BECAUSE THE SMUT IN THIS? FUCK. THIS IS PURE FILTH. 12K WORDS OF FILTHY HOBI SMUT. IM DEAD. HAVE BEEN DEAD. i missed writing so much that i spewed this out in 3 days... literally how? but i'm so happy to be back. i hope you enjoy this part. make sure to let me know what you think! i'm in a severe (hehe) need of your feedback. I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

side note: this part has the entirety of my being in it. from the first word to the last. it means a lot to me. very special chapter! <3

By the time you come out of the art museum, it’s storming. A sound so cacophonous that it spreads dots of gooseflesh along the perimeter of your skin underneath your silk dress and the layer of your heavy trench coat. Loud and violent like your heart’s deep drum that stills once you see Hoseok leaning against his glossy car. Arms and legs crossed in the same fashion, clothed in the coupled shade of blackness, a mop of tousled hair swept back and rippling in the unforgiving wind that flushes his cheeks with its rosy coldness and then clouds pull in, darkening his stare fixed on you. 

A shower of sudden rain finishes its touch on his countenance. 

Eye contact broken, Hobi’s shoulders raise as he feels the iciness of the slender raindrops falling upon him, eyes flicked up to the shadowed heavens. A heartstring of yours snaps and you don’t really know who gave the command to your aching legs to run towards him with your coat suspended over your head—whether it was that weakened heart of yours or basic human decency. Emotion versus logic. 

You find soon enough the verdict of the winner. 

Because when you have to stand on your tippy toes to cover him from the rain, despite the fact you’re wearing your high-heeled boots, and Hobi takes the makeshift shield from your hands and shrouds you both from the wetness, an identical flush crawls from your left cheek, upon the column of your nose right next to your other cheek, warming you up from within. 

Emotion. The string that ruptured grows again to its full length during that fleeting moment and you’re aching to take him home. 

No rain in sight—just him in this close proximity, in this gray cocoon, smiling down at you lopsidedly, a dimmed light flickering in his inky pools, faintly, barely, only there for you to see. To catch and cling to like his patchouli scent does to you, a whiff of dainty wildflowers leaning in and enclosing around you, forcing away the thoughts that are erect in the corners of your mind, waiting for the adequate moment to strike. Thoughts of how you sense Jungkook’s life entwining around your world again; his companion perfuming the air with petrichor, the inner turmoil she must be facing the very strength that pulled those clouds in, causing a storm to stretch across the skies. You figure each beat of her confused heart must be the grumble of the thunder, but then Hobi’s outer film of softness amidst the darkness is a force way greater, because firmness broods right underneath it, and it is an energy that keeps those thoughts pressed against the walls of your mind.

He did turn you into a locked orchard—and the threat of another declared war isn’t even a wind that brushes past your fruit trees and berry bushes. 

In fact, the more you deepen your exchange of gazes and Hobi cages you in between his shirt-clothed elbows, the more you want to show him the stain of your juices upon your panties. 

You’re aroused—blooming, in need to be picked. It outweighs the past and you’re glad for it, deem your newly born sexuality more important than the doomed normalcy of your life. 

You sink your manicured nails into that newness, adamant on not letting it go, regretting that you agreed to see your ex-boyfriend later tonight, regretting that you grew soft at the hint of his own normalcy, even though you said to yourself that you wouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons why you dig your nails deeper, maximizing your closeness to Hobi—it’s done in an effort to erase your foolish moment of weakness, to better yourself like you encouraged yourself to do earlier when you had perceived that you misinterpreted him. You curl your lips under your teeth to stifle back a sigh, wishing you were as firm as him, as stable in your decisions and your way of living as him. Wishing your weakness wasn’t a putty you play with, leave your fingerprints of your bad decisions on that blemish until you hate yourself, until the paste hardens and there’s nothing left for you to do but to watch it. Watch the evidence of your failure, your brokenness and your imbecility like still life—the curse, the doom of your life, haunting you. 

It almost slinks in, threatening yet again to desiccate your orchard, the movement akin to a wave rolling in, but then Hobi speaks. And his voice sears those thoughts to nothing. Not even their shadows are left behind. 

“Did you say hi to your friend?” he murmurs, reaching behind him to open the door of the passenger side for you, the coat that’s propped on his forearm lowering until it rests back around your shoulders. 

You can merely nod, your empty mind focused on the absence of your selfishness—for once again, you want to be close to him for his sake, even more so when Hobi places his palm on the top edge of his car so you don’t hurt your head. 

A prince, an orchardist, and a gentleman. 

You’re feeding him and sucking his dick before he goes to work—you don’t care. Hope to God he fucks your brain out of your head and plants a new one; one that isn’t so stupid. 

Seated inside his car, you glimpse profoundly at the way the rain kisses the crown of his head as he rounds his vehicle, sitting right beside you and carrying inside his heavenly skin fragrance, now accentuated by the residue of petrichor that all of a sudden doesn’t have anything to do with what you just bore. No hints, no thoughts, no wars. How he does it is something you’ll never have the capability of understanding—a fracture of attention of the intimate kind and he binds you to him, erasing your still fresh past as if it never happened. 

You flex and relax your hand on your lap, a gesture that depicts that you cherish it to the point that you yearn to submit to it and remain submitted. And you will. You’ll figure out a way to stay stable, even if events appear to try and revolutionize you. A way to keep your fist clenched in his presence. 

Hobi lets the car warm up a little bit before he turns on the heating, angling his rear view mirror just right, from which two purple, plush dice swing back and forth, colliding once and never meeting again. 

How inspiring. 

And then you watch his hands. Watch them dominate the car, spur it to life as he drives through the drenched street, parting the rain like a curtain, stepping in, taking you home. 

As if he sensed your thoughts, he glances at you. “My place or yours?” 

A red light halts his control and Hobi uses it to tap on the screen of his dashboard, dousing the space in a sultry, wet ambiance as slow, calm music breaks the silence. While it was comfortable for you, now you feel even more at ease and you wiggle in your seat, sinking deeper into the leather. 

Quite useful material for the lecherous saturation of your mind; for the lustful layer of sweat lining your skin. You feel so hot. Feel the need to be ridded of your clothes right now. Feel a certain kind of vivacity that drives you to do things you wouldn’t normally do. 

You take his hand from the shift stick, cradling it with both of your own hands, a finger tracing the veins that paint a slender but a strong temple—a temple for his beauty and character, you suspect. 

“My place,” you say, yearning to make him feel at home in your space; cook for him, make him come, stuff like that.

Green light blinks and Hobi doesn’t withdraw from your hold. No, he tells you what to do, quickly. 

“Keep your hand on mine,” he instructs and you listen, sinking your fingers between his and gripping him like in an effort to grip onto stable submission. “Just like that.” 

Your stomach flips at his choice of praise and you lick your lips, tightening your hold hard enough that he peeks at you with a smirk while he shifts the gear stick with you and speeds down the road. The heat worsens and you don’t think you can take it anymore.

That alone is the most attractive thing you ever experienced with a man. 

And when he plays with your thumb, you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together. Watch him intently sneak a glance as you do so, knowing your dress has ridden up a little, exposing your tanned thighs, swathed with the brown leather of your boots. Your position also provides him the intriguing reveal of a secret—you’re wearing knee socks underneath. They were invisible to his sight this whole time and now that he sees them, his eyes linger there for a few seconds longer before he drags his teeth along his bottom lip, flicking his gaze back to the road. 

“You’re wearing knee socks under those?” he asks, his voice low and tortured. Doesn’t look at you as he does. Only shifts the gear stick again, stiffly. You imagine something else is stiff, too, and you smile, a tendril of confidence clothing you in allure and sinful, dark joy. It beckons your vivacity to drive forward. 

You move his hand to let the pads of his fingers feel the smooth fabric. His body twitches, his lungs inhaling a short, soft air, mouth parted, eyes unblinking, gloomy just like the heavens above. A thunder sounds and you feel like roaring just the same. 

“It matches my underwear,” you murmur and the thunder prolongs, echoing feebly. You drag his hand down your thigh with the intention to also make him feel the nylon material of your panties, but he halts your movement halfway, hand gripping your flesh, trembling ever so slightly, stirring your confidence. You almost moan at his brusqueness. 

“Don’t,” he scolds, brows furrowing, chest heaving in that slow manner. His lips dry and he wets them. Doesn’t spare you a glance. Turns the wheel with that one hand as he takes a left turn, his posture slouched, thighs spread, a small tent evident in between. His arousal for you grows and it only propels you to finish the job, knowing his scolding was merely a warning, not a portrayal of his discomfort. And he proves you right with his next words. “If you do that, I’ll crash this fucking car.” 

You laugh through your nose, your confidence and your own arousal fluttering in you, begging to be let out. Your favorite artist starts playing and you’re not surprised by the way your body reacts. Your thighs naturally spread and you move your pelvis forward. Feel your slick dampening your panties even more, trickling down your needy seashell just as The Weeknd begins to sing about your desire. 

“I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on…” 

You lick your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a soft moan. Hobi digs his fingernails into your skin, coaxing another one out of you and he calls you by your name in a sterner warning. You caress the edge of his hand with the thought in mind that you’ve always loved the crescent moon, so it would only be illogical for you to not want more of it imprinted on your skin. 

“You shouldn’t praise me then,” you croak out, doused in adrenaline-tinged lust, your sweat heavy upon you. You clutch your cherub necklace, needing to be touched, a habit of yours that you’ve had ever since you were a teenage girl. Your fingers graze your collarbones, lingering in the dip between them. “Besides, you’re such a good driver that I think you can handle it.” 

Hobi hums out an endearing laugh, that smirk of his reappearing on his mouth. He rubs the moons he impressed into your thigh from side to side and your hips buck, asking for that movement down low where you need him the most. 

“You have a praise kink?” he questions and you catch him bite his lip, catch him enjoying that information, sinking it into his flesh. You want to kiss it, bruise it, make it permanent for a little while. You revel in such a dirty, yet gentle conversation and you stop yourself from bucking your hips again. 

“A severe praise kink,” you correct him, emphasizing the adjective with a bit of a bratty tone to divulge to him what he does to you and how much he needs to pay for it. And before you can go on, he catches you off guard. 

“If you want me to keep praising you then rub your clit,” he negotiates with you, taking your hand and moving the gear stick, leaving it there. “And you’re wrong. I can’t handle you like this. I can’t touch you when I’m responsible for your life.” 

Daddy. The title would’ve slipped out of the tip of your tongue had a moan not been first, coating the ambience with a sultriness that makes you tug at his hand in order to do as he says, in order to be praised, to be gratified. But Hobi doesn’t budge. He tightens his grip around the shift stick, clicking his tongue. 

“No, baby. With your other hand,” he orders, his breath shaking and amidst the enveloping of his fatherliness around you, strengthening you and binding you with ropes of safety, girlishness and seductiveness, you scrunch up your brows, wanting his hand to be there when you make yourself feel good. 

And you tell him. 

“I want you to help me.” 

The rain thickens, creating a sensual background noise to the next slow song playing and Hobi sighs, disliking your attitude. Your arousal grows to highs you’ve never seen before, a sweet, pleasing darkness consuming you, sprinkling you with glitters of appetite and craze. 

All because your sexual chemistry is so good, so strong—so natural, despite the fact you just met and don’t know each other enough for it to be possible. It exceeds the laws of human connection and the feeling of it is heady, intoxicating you with wine of the ripest cherries. You even feel as though this is your first alcoholic drink. Feel as though you’re an unspoiled virgin on the cusp of her very first sin—the Virgin Mary with long hair, cherub necklace, tanned skin, knee socks and high-heeled boots. 

Hobi erases your past life. Paints a new one with watercolors; paints you anew. You know the dulcet taste of fatherliness and manliness from Jungkook and while it was what you needed at the time, sexually that is—as it wasn’t often that he used this kind of energy day-to-day, and if he did, it was to tease you—what Hobi does runs deeper. It surpasses your need; it’s not a filling that will decompose soon enough and ask for it again. It’s something else entirely. 

It’s something that falls upon you and stays. Clicks and connects with no way out. It’s another layer of skin, strands of hair growing out of your scalp, the drum of the vein upon your neck. 

It began in the museum and uncoils here. It’s not worth it to juxtapose it with what you had before—it’s laughable to do so. Hobi has established his fatherliness the moment he held your coat as a heathen in a church, not taking his gaze off of your intimate prayers for even a split second. Unkinked it with his honesty and by expressing his responsibility over you, listening to the murmur of the sea of your sexual need but not diving head-first into it, knowing better. And now it is ready to bloom with flowerets, with fruits, with leaves to accompany you. 

“It’s this or nothing,” Hobi decides, squeezing his fingers against yours to also emphasize the gravity of his words and you purse your lips in response, finding the ultimatum so attractive. “You live thirty minutes away, so you either rub your clit on your own or you wait. It’s up to you.” 

It’s mind blowing to you how he went from being timid to now ordering you to pleasure yourself. You’re sweltering beneath your clothes and Hobi notices, looking at your body through his rear view mirror. He turns the heating up and you laugh, blush deepening, eyes crinkling at the corners. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. 

“Why didn’t you put your seatbelt on?” he mutters, letting go of your hand and giving you a mean look that makes your walls clench and your throat let out a low, almost soundless moan. 

You never put a seatbelt on. As dangerous as it, you hate the way it chokes you due to your small stature and you tell him. “It chokes me, Hobi, I don’t really like it.” 

Hobi doesn’t respond. He reaches over and drags down the seatbelt adjuster without taking his eyes off of the road, driving steadily. His patchouli scent hits your nostrils and you nuzzle your nose into his bicep, fingers curling around his arm, smelling him in a simple, comfortable manner. Hobi gives you a quick smile and you hear the sound of him pulling on the seatbelt, but then a pedestrian runs across the previously empty crosswalk, forcing him to stomp on the brake abruptly and your heart nearly skips out of your chest. Almost flying forward, Hobi holds you in place with his strong arm, which you cradle against your quickening chest. 

Exchanging a look, you both pant in tandem and Hobi shakes his head at you. Panic lines his dark eyelashes and he immediately grabs the seatbelt and, tugging harshly, he sinks it into the buckle, placing the belt behind your back. He doesn’t acknowledge the pedestrian lifting his palm in apology and neither do you, too preoccupied with the fact he just saved your life. 

“You wear a seatbelt in my car. No buts. Understand?” 

Too shocked by the twist of events and too touched by the gesture and the sternness of his words, you nod. He pats your thigh, the one he marked, fondling the skin with his thumb, and it drives you to say something. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I’ll wear the seatbelt from now on.” 

You mean it. This has never happened to you before as you usually take the public transport, but you do understand now how dangerous it is to not wear one. Your heartbeat calms and the aftershocks of the adrenaline come to the surface, scattering along your figure. Numbness melts and your arousal returns at full speed. 

Hobi nods, smiling gently, pleased with your apology, and you feel so peculiarly gratified that you managed to do something like that to him. He sinks his fingers under your thigh and you marvel at the size of his hand because his thumb still remains there on the top of the flesh, even as he wraps his digits around you like that. Kneading just once before he lifts them and begins to tap on his screen again, shifting the energy with the voice of your favorite artist. He moves the gear, accelerating. 

“Why you rushing me, baby? It’s only us, alone,” The Weeknd sings and you sigh, your body loosening up. You hike the seatbelt around your hips higher, curling lower on the leather, thighs parting until your knee taps his hand. You miss his touch and you long for it again, finding its warm ghost on your skin not enough. 

“You like The Weeknd, don’t you?” Hobi says, his pinky finger brushing along your sock-clad knee, causing you to almost twitch. 

You smile, relishing in the love you have for the singer. “I’ve spent ten years of my life loving him.” 

Liking your answer, Hobi skims his fingers along the side of your inner thigh until he finds yours, intertwining them—this time his palm closed over the back of your hand, placing it to its former position on the stick. It’s warmed by him and you love it so much that you search for his thumb, playing with it. 

“I could tell,” he breathes, his tone deepened by a heartfelt emotion that moves through you. You raise your brows in curiosity and question, wondering how that has come to be. Glancing at you to see your reaction, Hobi laughs softly, his heart evident in the sound, coated with it entirely, and you catch his thumb, holding it, on the verge of bursting. “I saw what you did when I put him on.” 

You round the tip of your tongue along your top lip, recollecting well what you did when you heard him. “What did I do?” 

A beat of silence between you and him, he lets the singer sing his elegy. Then, his index finger traces your manicured nail on the same digit. “You spread your legs. Made such a pretty sound that I almost stopped this fucking car and fucked you until the whole city could heard it.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you’re too late to halt the moan from slipping out, a fire coursing down from the top of your head to your toes. You want a taste of his desire so bad that you’ll do anything for it. Even let the seatbelt choke you to death. 

Hobi gives you a look, one that chills your blood this time. But it feels absolutely exhilarating.

He calls your name. “Don’t do that to me. Not here.” 

Your breath trembles as you scurry to regain your composure, sliding up in your seat. Hobi, too, stops that movement by cradling your thigh, putting it back to the stick once you get the message. 

Why does this feel better than if he gave in? 

“What if I want to?” you challenge and Hobi rubs his eyes, slapping his hand back onto the steering wheel. Frustration, it looks so good on him. “What if I want you to fuck me here?” 

He shakes his head, just once, biting his lip, reddening the pillow. “No, I don’t share.” 

Fuck. 

This is a point of no return. You will never be the same after what he said and you feel your attachment melting into his chest, dissolving there into leaves from your fruit trees. Your imaginary wings flit, aroused from his possessiveness. 

“You know what to do,” he adds without looking at you, turning up the volume as if to subdue your incoming moans. 

A cherry on the top of the fucking cake. 

You don’t waste a precious second. Lifting the hem of your dress, you expose your drenched panties, a large wet spot in the center darkening the black fabric. Hobi doesn’t spare you a glance. No, he takes your intertwined hands and fixes his rear view mirror, tipping it down. Dangerous, but smart. Responsible. 

It’s those glimmering flecks of his character that drive your fingers to pull your panties to the side, but Hobi, once again, stops you. 

With words, this time. 

“Do you want me to die?” he rasps, tortured—horribly tortured and you cup your femininity, coaxing a groan out of him. “Do it over your panties, baby. Please.” 

He begged. You don’t think you ever heard that word come out of a man’s mouth in your life and you break, whimpering, pulling your panties back in their place over your pussy, dragging the tip of your middle finger up and down your dripping slit, sighing. Adding your index, you put pressure to the sides of your clit as you slide your digits in the same direction, over and over, teasing yourself, breathing out little moans that make him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. 

Hobi glances once at what you’re doing and swears. “Fuck, rub your clit. Don’t tease yourself, baby. Make yourself feel good.” 

With a mewl, you stick your fingers together and begin a series of circles, doing as he says. Your eyes roll back, head knocking back into the leather, satisfaction seizing your body and sweetening it. The material of your panties is so flimsy that it feels as though your fingers are stroking your bare flesh and when you tug the fabric to your hole to wet it and rub your clit harder, your moans gain volume, mingling with The Weeknd’s poetry seamlessly and magnificently, dethroning the rain. 

And then Hobi shifts the gear stick with your hand and drives so fast that your pleasure deepens, thrill rushing in your veins. You match your circles to that speed, your sounds becoming obnoxious, whiny squeaks when you look at him to see his jaw clenched, chest heaving and the tent in his pants larger than you last checked it. 

Hobi skims his fingers along your forearm, back and forth, cradling it. Senses your stare and reciprocates it, catching you at your best when you find your spot and buck your hips, furrowing your brows. He moans, clutching your thigh. 

“So good. Such a good girl, rubbing her clit for me to get praised. Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.” 

You lift your fingers in order not to come, the aftershocks of your ripped away orgasm quivering throughout your whole body and you squeeze his hand, letting go—wrapping it around his tent, instead. You figure he deserves it for praising you like that. 

He finds your lidded, mischievous eyes in the rear view mirror and he flattens his lips, a brutal expression on his face that should make you scared, but it doesn’t. It only spurs you on. You graze your palm on him, causing his breath to quicken, and you whimper when you search and search for the tip of his cock. He’s slender, but big and your mouth dries. 

“You almost made me come with what you said,” you say, truthfully, retracing your path down his length, his breath, now hardened, wafting over you. You love the way he focuses on the road with every fiber of his being as you’re toying with him. Love watching him grit his teeth, narrow his eyes; love watching sweat adorn his flushed chest and neck. You ache to bite him there. 

And you would—had he not buckled you in place. 

You don’t notice you’ve arrived at your apartment until he stops the car and turns to face you, leaning his elbow on the center console. Nobody could gaslight you into believing that ride took thirty minutes. Nobody. 

Hobi made that fifteen. Ferally. For you. 

You can see it in his shining face—his need for you, his desire, the fact he sped down the road because you’re so horny. And you ache to kiss him. 

“You really do have a praise kink,” he says, mutedly. Must be thinking the same because his gaze flicks to your lips. You lick them for him, encouraging him to do it. “Almost coming from me praising you. Such a good girl.” 

You hiss, the drum in your clit returning, stealing your attention. Hoseok grins, pleased to be proven right, pleased that you make it so easy for him. You squeeze his length and he makes the same sound, gritting his teeth briefly before he pouts. 

“What’s this?” he asks, speaking of your hand placement. “When did I allow you to do this?” 

You breathe heavily, descending your fingers to his full balls, feeling them perfectly due to the silky fabric of his dress pants. You knead them and he moans, the sound traveling right to your yet again needy bundle of nerves. Your hand automatically flies to it, rubbing it, and Hobi curses, eyes narrowing, fixed on the movement of your fingers. 

“It’s asking for me, isn’t it?” you murmur, sliding your hand back to his manhood and his pools almost go cross, head tilting back. Your pleasure from your motions expands, your nerve endings burning. 

“I’m so hard for you,” he agrees, his hand clasping over yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with great difficulty, the column of his throat such a thing of beauty for you that it forces you to unclip your seatbelt. You’re about to crawl onto his lap, but one darkened look from him makes you decide against it. “Show me that pussy, baby.” 

Your moan has a certain elation to it, giddy at the fact you get to expose such an intimate part of you to him, giddy that he’s taking this to another level. 

You slide your drenched panties to the side and at the sight of your glistening pussy Hobi groans deeply.

“Lean against the door,” he commands, wiping at his mouth and you tremble all over, more than delighted that he’s reacting to you this way. 

You swivel, propping your back against the leather of his door and Hobi lifts your legs, spreading them. You hook one of them around the back of his headrest while the other dangles in his hold. His gaze zeroes in on your pussy and as he bites his lip, he acknowledges himself with her by tracing the flesh with his thumb. Your clit, your lips before he circles your gushing hole, groaning, bettering the song you barely can hear. Your confidence and your allure skyrockets and you follow his digit, riding it, begging for more of his touch. He plays chase with you until both of you and him can’t take it anymore and when his thumb is completely soaked, he lifts it to your mouth—only to fuck with you, though, because he plunges it inside his, leaving your own parted for nothing. 

You’re embarrassed, but he likes it. Whimpers around his finger. Pushes your knee to your shoulders and dives right in. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of his hair as he licks over your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking until your eyes roll back, until all your still parted mouth knows is his name and your thick heel digs into his shoulder. 

But you moan the wrong variation and he’s quick to correct you with a dripping chin, his hands on either side of you, face merely inches away from yours. “That’s Hoseok for you, not Hobi.” 

Red all over, you can only moan in response, gripping his hair until he hisses in pain. He strums your clit without breaking eye contact, so slippery and swollen from his attack. The orchard in you grows, brims with fruit that is on the cusp of bursting, the berries in you big and full. His eyes narrow furthermore, pupils dilated, causing his gaze to darken in ways you’ve never thought could be possible. 

“Moan my name, baby. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The wrong variation slips again, all due to the mind numbing pleasure he’s giving you. He adds more pressure to his fingers for a second before he withdraws and slaps your thigh. And slaps it again. 

“I can’t praise you if you don’t learn well, can I?” he mutters and you whine so loudly that his eyes round, body growing boneless. “Fuck, baby, if you keep making sounds like that I’m gonna come in my pants.” 

You scramble your words, find it the most difficult thing in the world. And he doesn’t help you. Not when he sinks a long finger inside your heat, fucking you slowly until you can take him. You lose your mind altogether. 

“You’re making me feel too-too good,” you breathe out, hiccuping as he adds a second finger in, silencing you when he gives you long strokes. You follow his gaze down and perceive that he’s watching you soak his digits. He twists them, moaning, a litany of mad, mad curses falling out of his mouth in a hushed tone. 

“So wet just from me praising you, oh my God,” Hobi comments and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he begins to pound you to the hilt, his arm bulging, his whole body moving. “Eyes on me. What do you call me when I make you feel this good, hm? I already told you. Just remember.” 

You know which variation he means and wants to hear, but your tongue curls, aching to utter a different name that he deserves to be called by. 

And you say it, opening your eyes and boring them into his. “Daddy.” 

And you don’t stop saying it. Not when he closes his eyes for a split second, agonized by such saccharinity. Not when he undoes the button of his pants and pulls himself out while thumbing your clit. You gasp, legs quivering, what you touched brought to reality and your orgasm nears, especially when he fist-fucks his length. 

Hoseok draws back down to your clit, licking it over, nuzzling his face in it as he drinks your nectar right from the source, his wet fingers from you making squeaky sounds around his girth, causing you to scream, the intensity of the moment running so deep and you’re too weak to take it, overwhelmed by his arousal. 

He lifts his head for a moment. “I want you to call me Daddy when you come on my tongue,” he rasps amidst his growls, never stopping the movement around his cock, and you nod your head, vehemently, willing to do anything for him.

“I’m so close.” 

Hoseok pouts. “That’s so good, baby. You know what to do?” 

You swallow. “I’m gonna call you Daddy when I come.” 

He grins at you and the expression breaks when he fucks his tip, his brows casting a shadow on his face. You break along with it, shuddering—pleasured from watching him pleasure himself. And you break again when he praises you for your good answer. “Such a good girl. You’re gonna come hard for me?” 

You don’t get to say your yes because when he sucks your clit into his mouth and groans against it as he flicks it with his tongue, he’s a witness to it himself. The fruits in your orchard explode and he drinks their juices, running the muscle all over your pussy, his mouth smacking, enjoying every drop. You squeal the title, forcing pleased growls out of him that deepen when you swear, repeating the name over and over again until your orgasm smooths down the perimeters of your body, slowly dwindling away.  

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t see. White dots flood your vision and the only thing that grounds you is Hobi taking your hand in his. The dots swim away, revealing him on the verge of his own orgasm as he tugs on his length, rapidly now. 

“That was so good, baby. You came so well for me. Called me Daddy like I wanted. Good girl,” he praises and your moans are an endless stream, enveloping around his cock, which he guides your hand towards. The weight of it, his warmth, the protruding veins, you could come again just from the feel of him. “Jerk off your Daddy. He’s close, too, from the way you came for him.” 

The third person, fuck. You bite your lip, focusing on his tip as you grip him, twisting your wrist. His skin is sticky from your nectar and you spit onto your hand, earning a praise from him that makes your mind spin, even though you heard those two words plenty of times throughout your sinful date. 

It will never get old—it will only make your femininity wetter for him. 

And his growls, the same could be applied to them. They propel you to fuck him faster while your fingers sneak over to your sensitive clit that he provokes, rubbing circles that cloud your vision with a mist, painting him to be an angel—like the one you saw in the museum. 

And when he comes, he grows a pair of glorious wings. Black, with hints of rose gold and pinks. His body doubles over, hands propped on the dashboard and the passenger seat as he spills for you, ropes of cum painting your stomach in that eternal ivory color that serves as skin for those sculptures. In a way you become them once he praises you for making him come, his breaths a legato rivulet that gives you life, his hips snapping, fucking your hand. 

He smears his cum on your tanned stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties to discover a lighter shade of skin, marveling at the difference. Light passes through his eyes before he covers your pussy with the fabric, opening the glove department to fetch some tissues, cleaning you up, dragging down your dress and helping you sit up.

It’s at this moment, as he’s kneeling—towering over you and you’re sitting on your bum with your hands folded on your lap like the good girl he made you into, that he clutches the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours, moving it against you with such strength and vigor that you struggle to devour him in the same manner. It causes you to claw at his sides, to long to see his body in its full, bare beauty. His imaginary wings wrap around you, sealing the resplendence of your orgasm profoundly inside your skin and when he tastes you, his growls traveling down your throat are the raindrops that the orchard inside you needs in order to grow. You help him by moaning back, the aftertaste of you the sunlight. 

Piercing his gaze into yours, he caresses your hair, messes up your diligently fixed updo. Catches your ribbon as it falls, wrapping it around his hand, the wisps dangling from his fingers like your leg was just a few moments ago. 

You’re so satisfied that you could cry. 

You don’t even understand what just happened and how it came to be. Don’t remember what occurred before you sat down in his car—Hobi has completely and wholly erased it. 

And it’s him who notices that your hand still carries the remnants of him. You don’t care to look—you can’t rip your gaze away from the shine on his face, from the gratification smoothing out his features, from the pink flush decorating the perfect redness of his swollen lips. But Hobi forces you to, in the tenderest of ways. Looks lovingly at your palm, cooing, shooting that look into your eyes, where it unfolds, creates something new that you never experienced before. And when he grins, your stomach flips, winged creatures intoxicated with madness inside. 

“You see what you did?” he whispers, the love in his eyes expanding, growing warmer, burning you faintly. “I want you to lick it up. You deserve every drop.” The breath you let out causes him to tremble and you cradle the fabric of his shirt in your fist. Hobi kisses your fingers, looking at you through them, his smile quivering. “Stick out your tongue for me, baby.” 

You do and he slides your palm over it, his salty nectar the sea that swam against your body a week ago in your healing time and you moan, devouring his taste like he devoured your mouth, licking it up, collecting it until there’s nothing left. You show him your tongue, then, and Hobi plays with it, using his thumb, your ribbon wrapped around his hand tickling your chin. He rubs it on the muscle, playing chase with you again until he tells you to suck it. And the sound that descends from his lips once you do makes you squeeze your thighs together, your own wetness dripping out of you. 

To end it, Hobi kisses your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds longer. Caresses your mouth, tracing each line, tracing your cupid’s bow, making you glisten with your own saliva. A shining, lively angel—just like him. You whimper. 

“Swallow it, baby.” 

You do, showing him the evidence that you obeyed after. 

“Good girl.” 

You take the underside of him, semi hard, into your hand, giggling, heart thumping. “You just made me horny all over again.”

Hobi hums, brushing his ribbon-clad fingers through your hair from the crown of your head. You want him to do that once you suck him off. “And you’re gonna make me hard all over again if you touch me like that.” 

You mimic the noise he made, squeezing him. Hobi curses, delighting you. “Let’s go inside. I owe you that breakfast, don’t I?” 

He kisses you, softly, with a hint of harshness that causes your nipples to harden painfully against your bra. You almost rub your clit again, so fucking out of it, crazed. 

“You do, baby.” 

You got everything you wanted in such a small amount of time that your vision twirls. Hobi is holding your hand as you’re leading him to your apartment, your ribbon still hanging from yours and his intertwinement, and your heart hasn’t stopped beating feverishly in your chest. Not even once. 

You’re facing the inevitable as you watch Hobi unlace his dress shoes on his knee, his cock stiff and uncomfortable in his pants. You’re brazenly falling for him. You know your hormones swirling your system from the lustfulness you indulged in aren’t to blame—if there’s anyone to blame, then it’s Hobi himself. You consider him to be such a beautiful person that you would be absolutely stupid, blind and deaf not to fall for him. And what’s more, you sense your decline to be safe. Stable. A leverage that won’t ever break. A ribbon that won’t fray. 

It’s as strange as it is inviting and your submission comes naturally to you. And this time, you don’t fear it won’t last. Don’t fear you’ll let up. There’s a sense vibrating in you that assures you that Hobi will take care of it. Put it back where it belongs if it ever strays. You don’t have to monitor it. You don’t have to do shit. 

You were wrong about one more thing. Hobi isn’t Daddy. 

He’s Father. 

It’s this thought that drives you to take off your dress and leave it in the middle of the floor that leads to your kitchen. You’re barren down to your soaked underwear, bra and knee socks, your feet basking in the way they don’t have to ache in your boots anymore. Pulling a plate of eggs out of the refrigerator, you set it on the counter, preparing a pan by oiling it on the stove. You hear Hobi’s feet pad on the floor as you pop some bread in the toaster and you turn your head, seeing only his dark silhouette standing behind you, your dress and your ribbon in his hands. 

Your heart quickens, abnormally. 

“How do you like your eggs?” you ask, resuming your cooking as you break the shell of an egg on the lip of the pan, spilling the delight into the bubbling oil. 

Hobi crosses the distance and you can only feel the softness of your ribbon when he places his hands on your hips, letting them travel until they stumble across the pooch of your lower belly. He groans, holding you there, pressing his hard, silk-clad cock against your nearly bare bum. 

Self-consciousness creeps in as he kneads one of your insecurities and you quiver, clasping your hand over his, your confidence wavering. 

“However you like them is how I like them,” Hobi flirts and you laugh through your nose, shaking your head, waiting for the egg white to fade into that milky color he painted your stomach with. 

Sunny side up it is. 

“Hobi, your game is out of this world,” you flirt back, sliding your spatula under the egg to check if it’s done before you can flip it. 

Hobi lowers himself onto his knees and you gasp, soundlessly. He begins to scatter violent kisses along the dots upon the flesh of your bum, sucking it into his mouth as if it were an orange he was sinking his teeth into. You have to grip the counter in order not to fall over, willing strength into your weakened legs. 

He bites the supple roundness of your ass cheek, smoothing out the pain with a flick of his tongue and kisses, gentle ones this time around. Hums. “Is it?” 

He glides his nose along the inner of your thigh, rooting right in the center of your pussy, burying his face there. You turn around halfway, arching your back, latching onto his hair that you’ve ruined, egg long forgotten. 

“Your thighs are wet again, fuck,” he whispers, mouthing your clit before he descends once again to them, licking them over, drinking your nectar that he’s created. Trails his tongue back up and, sliding your panties to the side, he takes you into his mouth, growling as he sucks onto your lips, playing with them using his tongue, hands spreading your ass cheeks, so he can have more space to make you absolutely lose yourself in him. 

And it’s working. Even more so when he begins to swirl his tongue around that other, tiny hole, causing your eyes to go cross before they roll back. Your head dips into a dreamy daze, where time doesn’t exist as he switches between flicking your clit and eating your ass and it isn’t until a certain burning smell suffuses your nostrils that you snap out of it. 

You’ve burned his egg, its edges black like the feathers of his imaginary wings, and you yelp, turning off the stove, pushing the pan away. 

“Hobi, I burned your egg,” you exclaim and he bends you over the counter while still remaining on his knees for you, sucking your clit with all the strength he possesses. Your climax pinches you in warning, lovingly, promising to melt over you like rain soon, so very soon. 

Hobi doesn’t give a fuck about his egg, it seems. 

“Just a little more, please,” he begs, moving his flat tongue from side to side on your bud, hands descending down your wet thighs until he reaches your knee socks, stopping there. Whimpers. 

That would’ve thrown you over the edge had he not pulled away, fingers wrapping around your knees. 

You turn around and the sight of him on his knees with his glazed nose, mouth and chin, with his cock pitifully erect in his pants, creating a print that makes you salivate, absolutely and irrevocably breaks you. You can still hear his plea ring in your mind, begging you to give him a few more seconds of your pussy, and your brain malfunctions. Numbness tightens around your fingers when you cradle his face and it feels so real when you do so—the fact that you’re wanted, desired; the fact that Hobi is the one in submission to you, dominant yet attentive to you to the point that he would never want do anything you wouldn’t. He listens to you, carves his life around you… and he hasn’t even known you for a month. 

You messed up his hair—and when you run your fingers through his strands, you feel your powerful ruination sifting through them, feel your seduction and your confidence, alive and breathing in that thick, dark brown mop of his. And now you crave to mess up his skin. Bruise it. Stain it with the pinks you can see in his imaginary wings. Watch them turn yellow like the rose gold in their flecks over the following days. 

You’re not letting go of him. 

Not when he looks at you like you’re Virgin Mary and he’s a sinner. 

You pull him up by the collars of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric, adding to the ruination, and it’s electrifying. He’s the cleanest sinner you’ve ever had the grace to see and you want to stain him. Beyond the stickiness of your juices. And when he towers over you and cages you in between his buff body and the counter, hands on either side of you upon the marble, his patchouli scent making you bloodthirsty, you don’t kiss him. No, you go straight for his neck. 

He didn’t expect it, groaning when you lick a stripe over his vein, sucking the skin inside your mouth. Over and over again until the sucking noises make him twitch and fist the ends of your hair, pressing his cock against your stomach. You’re feral, you’re inhuman, scattering kisses along that column like you’ve never had a man in your hands before. And it’s true. You never have. It was always you who had been in men’s hands. Never the other way around. 

Your fingers gain feeling when you undo the buttons of his shirt, ripping some of them, secretly preventing him from going to work after you’re finished with him. Unless you plaster your correcting concealers on him, he really can’t step a foot outside. The bruise you left on his column is huge, purply red, and the only thing it’s missing is bite marks. A joy rotates in you, rooting from the fact that you’re changing his plans, that you have an effect on him, and you unfold that emotion when you tug that shirt down his broad shoulders and press a kiss in the middle of his chest. 

But then Hobi grips your hair on the crown on your head, making you look at him. 

And you can’t explain it to yourself, why you like being manhandled like that, despite the freedom you just experienced. Like a child, whose father let her run free before he scolded her and told her to stop, for she ran for too long and it’s getting cold. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, lowly, and the tone etches itself onto your own throat because your answer is ready on the tip of your tongue, unabashed, dirty, throbbing.

“I need you to fuck me.” 

Hobi blinks, his brows rising, a light like a comet shooting past his irises before an unbounded, starless night shrouds them. 

You’ve done it. You’ve stained him. Now he needs to come all over you. Make a mess. Paint you again. 

He slackens his hold on your hair. Runs his hand down the length. “If I fuck you, I’ll breed you.” Curls his hand around your throat, where those words form a new necklace, plated with that rose gold. Your mouth parts, a moan falling past, your nectar in tandem, mind dizzy from the idea of being stuffed full of his cum. He flattens his palm over your sternum, hooks his fingers over the band of your bra in the middle of your breasts. You hope he chisels the lines of his hand into your skin. You want to wear him. “Are you on birth control?” 

You stopped taking it the moment you were broken up with. Didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Didn’t think you’d have a man in your life again, let alone sleep with him. 

Your body desires to please Hoseok so resolutely that a wisp of your regret swathes around his wrist—regret that you threw away those pills that are the driving force in his sexuality. He might have been okay with not taking this any further, but you’re not. You’re far, far from okay. 

You want to be bred. You want to be bred so much that you could cry. 

Your mouth pouts, but your sadness doesn’t touch your seduction. It merely heightens it. 

“You have a breeding kink?” you ask, mimicking his former words, causing him to drag his tongue over his lips slowly, divulging his arousal. It’s another tree that begins to grow in your orchard, planted by your bare hands. A cherry tree, its pink flowerets the flush that spreads across his prominent pecs. You want to make them shiny with your tongue. 

And you do. 

You place wet kisses over the underside of his left pec, nibbling on the skin, your small stature making it easy for you. Hobi inhales a sharp breath, sneaking his fingers under the cup of your bra, grasping your breast, squeezing until you whimper. 

“A severe breeding kink,” Hoseok corrects you, just like you did in his car. He pulls down your bra straps, his hand quick to undo the clasp on your back, disposing you of the undergarment, dropping it onto the ground. Gooseflesh spreads across your skin and you let him feel it, let him feel the effect he has on you by pressing yourself against him, twisting your arms around his torso. 

A tender hug, in the middle of a bonding moment. You’d be so happy, you’d laugh, you’d skip, if you had never thrown away those pills.

You wonder if he feels the drum of your heart, if he feels how it’s creating a brand new music that no human, no celestial being has ever heard before. 

“I stopped taking birth control several weeks ago, Hobi,” you say, your regret and your sadness lowering your tone. Hobi coos and it makes you want to sob. “Did you bring a condom?” 

He caresses your bare back, your hair a stream of a waterfall that he parts with his hand. “No, I didn’t expect this to happen.” 

You do the same for him, burying your face deeper into his chest, perceiving that you’re embracing a pure angel. You engrave patterns into his skin, feathers of wings that are dripping with the fire of stars. Even though you’re dying to get fucked, this tenderness is, little by little, appeasing your darkness in a way you don’t really understand. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I can make you come with my mouth again,” Hobi says, drifting his nails along the perimeter of your shoulder blade while his other hand grips your waist. The memory of the moons to the sky you paint on his back.

You lift your head. Meet the gray clouds in his eyes. “You want to breed me that bad?” 

A smile curls one end of his mouth. “It’s what you deserve.” 

The same smile finds a way to your mouth, then blossoms into a grin, your heart a heavy music, and you press it into the middle of his chest. Bite him there, his growls another instrument in the song. He clutches the hair at the nape of your neck, coaxing out a similar sound, your darkness a wave that ebbs to and fro. 

“Put it in my ass, then.” 

Hobi calls you by your name, sternly. 

“What?” 

He sighs. “You want to get fucked in your ass on the first date?” 

You don’t know what part of his sentence makes you hiccup. Whether it’s his purity, the fact that such an angel voiced out that lewd desire of yours and didn’t jump head-first into its sea—or whether he acknowledged, once again, that this is a date. Hobi laughs, endearingly, and you blush. He kisses your cheek, lifting your chin, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips and you could die right now and know you’ll be entering the pearly gates. He’s saved a spot for you there, negotiated with God that you’ll spend your eternity there like the businessman he is. 

It’s what propels you to get on your knees. 

“Baby.” 

And it’s him stopping you each time you want more that makes you fall for him harder. 

“You’re so good to me, Hoseok, I can’t help it. I want to give back to you as much as I can.” 

He utters a low, deep curse, tipping up his chin as he cradles your face in both hands. Helps you stand to your feet, kisses you with something that doesn’t resemble the chastity of before and you moan into his mouth, digging moons into his back. You press your pelvis against his thighs, frustrated that you can’t reach his manhood and Hobi hears you, lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, grinding your femininity against his manliness, squeaking the same curses down his throat. 

“Fuck, baby, grind that pussy on me like that. Just like that, yes. You learn well, don’t you? You’re such a good girl, you just need to get fucked, don’t you, baby?” 

You agree with every word, your expression of pleasure saying the words for you, and Hobi moans, pushing your hips down on him while he meets you each time. 

“Where’s your bedroom, baby?” 

“Down the hall. First door to the right.” 

You suck on his neck as he takes you there, plopping you down onto the edge of your bed. You watch your hands undo the button of his pants, but then he accidentally kicks into something and you know exactly what it is. 

An orange Nike box filled with the two toys you own. 

And Hobi wouldn’t have crouched to get it had you not started giggling. 

How thrilling it is—to see him holding something so private, something no one has ever seen before. 

He palms his cock once he discovers what’s inside, rolling his eyes back. He throws the box next to you on the mattress, pushing you back and ripping your panties out of your body in a split second. Your giggles die, replaced by whimpers, replaced by the beat of your clit and his vulgarities as he pins your knees down, gazing, lovingly, at the way your nectar trickles down to your other hole. He bends to lick it up and you die, too. 

“Naughty fucking girl. How can you be so naughty and so good at the same time? You’re making me lose my mind,” Hobi snarls, putting his entire weight into the back of your knees and you gush for him, gasping, not able to take his praise, your hips instinctually raising for more of his tongue, which he slaps your thigh for. Once, twice, three times, four times until you whimper so loudly that there’s nothing else left for him to do but let up, grab your pink hitachi and lay down on his back, guide you to sit on his face. 

It’s now that he takes the time to ogle your body. His night-tinged eyes glide along your tan lines, his fingers tracing them, making you shudder and rotate your hips above his mouth that he wets and keeps wetting as if it’s not enough to quench his thirst. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he chokes out, brushing the pads of his fingers along your stiffened nipples. Fireworks shoot out above your orchard, casting a rainbow of colors upon the trees and bushes. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you to have you like this. You belong to that museum, baby, but I’d die if someone were to look at you in my place.” 

His possessiveness coated with so much affection and admiration for you elongate your imaginary wings. And you can’t halt the rounding of your mouth, the pool of tears that line your eyes, the cracking of your heart as you take in his precious words. You feel like flying; you feel like soaring free with the knowledge that with the two beats of his own wings he’ll catch up to you, fly with you like two doves. 

You want to kiss him. Pay your gratitude that way and when you begin to crawl down his body, he stops you by grabbing your waist, immobilizing you above his face. 

“Stay where you are. You’re not sitting on my cock until you come on my tongue. Is that what you want? Ride Daddy’s cock until he covers you with his cum?” 

You can’t take it anymore. You simply can’t. 

Hobi turns the vibrator to life and its buzzing sound makes you quiver. You lower yourself onto his mouth that he quickly opens for you, darting out his tongue. He lets you ride the muscle, guiding your hips to twirl in circles, and you hold onto your breasts for emotional support as you sense yourself slowly disappearing in him, in the pleasure he gives you, in his warm, dark aura. 

Your mouth has no lock, no force to stop it from speaking. 

“I was wrong, Hoseok,” you start, changing the direction—swinging your hips back and forth as you grab onto his hair with one hand while the other stimulates your nipple, making you pant, whine and so terribly out of it. “It’s not your game that’s out of this world. It’s your fucking dirty talk.” 

Hobi hums, flicking your hand away and pinching your nipple, causing you to tip your head back and pour more vigor into your movement, his mouth too busy to respond. 

“If you ever talk to anyone like this that’s not me, I’ll kill her, you hear me? She won’t live to see the next day.” 

It’s Hobi now that can’t seem to take it anymore. 

Holding you steady by the waist, he sits up, sucking on your clit with so much strength that you scream, your body shuttering so violently that you completely lose yourself. He throws you onto your pillows, raises your hips until they’re at level with his mouth and finishes his fucking job. Alternates between sucking and licking, stars flooding your vision, the ones you traced on his beautiful, broad back. 

You come and you don’t stop. 

Hobi spits on your clit and presses down the hitachi on it, moving it from side to side, your orgasm prolonging, reaching highs beyond the heavenly kind and all you can see is him, doused in colors that glimmer and his name, the right variation of it this time, falls from your lips like a prayer. Right variation, right prayer. 

Virgin Mary that is looking at her God. 

Setting the toy and your bum on the bed, he takes both of your hands into his fist as you’re still convulsing, in the middle of your undying orgasm. He lines his cock at your entrance, changes his mind last minute, and glides it along your sensitive pussy, holding himself at the base. Back and forth, the ebb and the flow of the sea. The sight does anything but calm you down. It supports the continuation of your orgasm. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers, lowering your hands to his manhood until they wrap around him. “This cock has been yours the moment you came out of this fucking building to meet me outside. Every ridge, every fucking vein is yours.” He squeezes your hold against him, moving it up and down in an agonizing way that makes him shudder just the same. God at a very breaking point. “And these—” He groans as he uses your hands to cup his balls. “These fucking kids are all yours. Yours to swallow. Yours to decorate this beautiful body with. Yours to stuff your little hole with.” Your chest doesn’t rise with any inhalation of breath. You’re motionless, bloodless, paralyzed through and through. Scorching to the touch. Horny beyond your senses. Hobi pins your hands above your head, lining himself up, at last, at your entrance. Sinks inside you in one swift, but vigorous motion until he’s buried in deep to the hilt and he consumes your scream, kissing you so hard that he sucks every last drop of life you had in you. Then, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing its tip as well. “So don’t think for a second that these eyes are for anyone else but you.” A brutal thrust. A yelp. A loss of time and surroundings. “I’m yours, pup. I’m fucking yours.” A mad, mad laughter. “I’ve known you for a week. Ate your pussy first before I kissed you. And you touched yourself in my fucking car because you got horny from the way I praised you in that museum. How could I not be yours?”

The pet name, the magnificence of his sonnet, the stillness of his cock as you clench around him—the very cozy feeling of him being at home, being at the mountain of Athos that you blessed. You feel so small beneath him, so taken care of—and you’re at loss for words, though only one remains in your otherwise erased vocabulary, and from the top of your lungs, you utter it.

“Daddy.” 

His imaginary wings flutter, the pink swelling over the black, and he growls, letting go of your hands and folding you in half, leaning his weight on the back of your thighs. Props an overlapped pillow beneath your bum, so you’re at the perfect level for him to start fucking you properly.

And he does, coaxing out your screams, causing your legs to shake on either side of his shoulders. 

“That’s right, pup. I’m your Daddy. You’re doing so good, screaming for me the way I like it.” 

Hobi pounds into you, giving you a half of his length that’s more than enough. Bends at the waist to scatter wet kisses along the back of your thigh, filling you to the hilt as he does so, your juices squelching around him, making such a serene, glorious sound that forces him to bite down hard onto your flesh. No alleviation after, just long and ruthless strokes while he stares down at you, eating you with his eyes. The ghost of the pain lingers, adding to the experience, adding volume to your whiny noises. 

“You’re taking it so well. You’re a good pup, aren’t you?” 

You sob, the pressure gyrating deep in your lower tummy, the pet name the thing that will throw you over the edge if he calls you by it again. “Yes, Daddy. I love it when you call me that.” 

A hum. “Oh, yeah?” 

There he fucking goes again. 

A dam rushes to break and you’re defenseless.

“Yeah, I love it so much that it’s gonna make me come.” 

Hobi sucks in a breath. “Tell me you’re my good little pup and I’ll let you come.” The same breath he inhaled lodges in your throat and you watch him with a blurry vision reach over for your hitachi and turn up the intensity until the vibrations are so loud that you hear them echoing within your headspace.

He fucks you faster, ridding you of any chance to speak. Teases you with the toy by placing it, barely, on your stiffened nipple, leaning over to moisten it with his tongue before doing it again. And you can’t stop it and neither can he, the way your orgasm overtakes your whole being. It’s at this moment, when he thrusts become sloppy, that you manage to croak out the words he wanted you to say. 

“I’m your good little pup, Hoseok, oh fuck, yes, yes,” you whisper, your sentence blending into an efflux of legato moans—and this, this is his very undoing. 

And Hobi does something you didn’t expect him to do. 

As colors burst in your perspective and your orgasm drags you under, he stimulates your clit with the toy, pulling out of you and pressing his tip against its vibrating side, growling so deeply that it forces your juices out of you, sprinkling him with its iridescent drops as he tugs at his length. He paints your stomach, paints the hitachi, his nectar so enormous that it lands upon your breasts, even as far as on your neck. His body glistens in sweat and now your essence—and looking at him with your hazy vision, another orgasm rolls in. 

You thrash your body so hard he has to pin you down, ripping the pillow out from behind you, laying down his weight on you. He kisses you and the lip lock lasts, seemingly, for a century. He moves his mouth against yours, basking in the feel of your puffy mouth as he alters between kissing you harshly and kissing you gently, getting to know you this way. 

And when he lets up to breathe, he brushes your hair away, flings the vibrator out until it falls off the bed. 

“Say it again,” Hobi says, affection flashing in his now rounded eyes, its warmth thumping. “Louder, for me.” 

Your throat is dry, but you manage to do it with a sleepy smile. Think you would do anything to please him. “I’m your good little pup.” 

Cupping your face, he kisses you with such tenderness that you begin to cry. Your tears soak his cheeks and he whimpers into your mouth, moved just the same by the depth, the vibrancy of the energy thickening between you. 

And when he looks at you, his own tears rush in his waterline. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, pausing for a second. “What have you done to me?”

When afternoon rolls in, Hobi is still tangled up in your sheets. You brought him breakfast to bed, one you didn’t burn this time, while he rested, naked and gratified, still flushed in pink, but clean from your shower. His patchouli scent intermingled with your body wash, cinnamon and lemon, concocting something intoxicating in you that made you see him with a halo above his head. He became a saint by giving in to his desires, by coming so hard that you still feel his hot ropes of cum singeing all those sensitive, intimate parts of your body. Hobi took his time tracing and smearing each and every drop, rubbing it deep in you as if he was digging a grave for your past. And you watched him do it, with tear-stained cheeks, acknowledging yourself, just as intimately, with the information that this is something Hobi likes to do.

You plan to put that into practice the next time you get to touch him. 

He’s grazing his fingers along your arm as you’re laying halfway on your side, halfway on him, your leg in between his. Seems to be lost in thought, seems to be searching for his words when he widens his travel across your body, going as far as to the peaks of your shoulder blades before returning back. You feel an inkling to help him, feel like it’s the least you can do. 

“What are you thinking about?” you try, dragging a finger across his collarbone. Hobi sighs, so terribly reactive to your touch, your head lifting in such a calming manner as he breathes in and out. 

“Did I scare you with what I said?”

His heart under your ear begins to hammer and right away you understand the gravity of his question. He’s lost himself in a flashback of today’s sinful events, but stumbled across a high, overpowering mountain of his bared emotions—the blessed mountain of Athos. And it seems as though he’s forgotten the way back, the trees around him growing dense, the trees of panic that whisper to him that, maybe, he made a mistake. 

You hope, with every fiber of your being, that he doesn’t regret those words of beauty that have come to live under your skin like planets in the universe that you and he have created. 

That would ruin you. That would break you—and not in the pleasant kind that you like. That universe would drop upon you and you don’t think you’re strong enough to pick up your own half of your creation, shake it off and learn to live again. 

You straddle him and he covers you with your duvet. Not your naked breasts, but your torso, inviting you into that island. You thought he did to prevent distraction from weakening his focus, but he doesn’t regard your body like that—doesn’t regard it as an instrument of lust. Something about that moves you, enough for you to take his hands, your thumbs in the middle of his palms, and spatter your soft kisses on them. On his fingers, his knuckles. And when you reach the back of his hand, you halt, boring your gaze into his, catching that comet flying past his eyes again and staying this time, staying in the glint that appears as his brown pools wet. 

“Your words mean a lot to me. I carry them in my heart. You know that poem?” 

Hobi shakes his head, flattening his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

You don’t mind. You’re delighted to enlighten him. 

“I carry your heart with me,” you recite, keeping the heel of his palm against your lips. “I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling,” you finish the first stanza of the poem that has not left your bloodstream ever since you were a teenage girl. Sharing that with him brings out a sea of feelings you remember your past self invariably longed to swim in. Tenderness, closeness, passion. Having it now feels as though you’ve passed a milestone. Hobi’s halo flashes with a rosy pink hue and your softened heart constricts. “The things you said were my doing, Hobi.” 

He caresses your side, starting from your armpit, going down the side of your breast, your waist until he arrives at the fleshy part of your hip, which he grasps. His chin quivers as he opens his mouth to speak and a lump forms in your throat. 

“You’re a poem, pup,” he whispers, circling his thumb over your tummy. “You don’t mind that I said those things?” 

You kiss his hands again, upon the same places to make your affection last longer on his skin. Your clit awakens at the pet name and naturally, you scooch over until you’re sat on his soft manhood over the duvet and you begin to move your hips back and forth. Hobi hisses, but doesn’t stop you this time. Lets you do what you want in the safety you conjured around him. 

“Say them again.” 

You speed up your movement. 

Hobi moans. Pauses. Swallows. Thinks. “I’m yours.” 

You grind harder in reward, moaning with him, feeling him stiffen under your clit, feeling him comprehend that you love those declarations. 

“My cock is yours,” he breathes out, his other hand joining the other and gripping your hip, digging in his nails. Another half moons, another beauty, intensifying the pleasure. You lick your fingertips and pinch your nipples. Hobi shudders, visibly, underneath you. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to cancel my work meeting.” 

You laugh, meekly but seductively, prolonging your thrusts, slowing them down, coaxing pained groans out of him. A delight. “Who said I wanted you to go?” 

Hobi curses, switching places with you on a whim that surprises you, bends you over, arches your back by lifting your bum in the air. The duvet falls, sadly, off of the mattress—and your soul, for him, falls equivalently. 

He slaps the side of your thigh. One, twice, thrice. “Who’s pussy is this?” 

You long to see him, your soul begs for it. Whispers to you to grab your phone and you do, swiping your finger on the screen and angling it so your camera has a blissful view of him. Of him fixed, darkly, on your ass and your femininity in the middle. 

Curious to know what’s taking you so long to answer, his brows rise as he discovers what you’re doing and he bites his lip, pulls on your legs to straighten them and you plop down on the mattress with a loosened breath. He gets in the same position. Licks over the swell of your ass cheek. 

“Film it. Film yourself telling me who’s pussy this is,” Hoseok commands and in a millisecond, without a thought spared, you click on the red button, excitement tingling your nerves. 

“My pussy is yours, Hoseok.” 

His eyes flick to the camera, meeting your stare, and your breath hitches, the view so attractive as he mouths that skin, marking it. He sneaks a hand to your clit, lifting his body a little, and spanks the spot he bruised. You gasp, elated, humming in a high-pitched tone, causing him to smirk. 

“Ride my hand. Whose pussy is this, baby, hm?” 

You snap your hips, furrowing your brows at the faint pleasure, at the desperation that courses through your veins. 

“Yours, Hoseok, ah, fuck. I want you inside me, please.” 

And he takes you, right there on camera, from behind—immortalizing your inside joke as you and him mention it and laugh about it together, immortalizing the way he paints your wings that ivory color and the way he rubs it in, sinking it deep within its membrane. 

And when you’re so spent that you can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi is drifting his mouth over your breasts, he tells you to send it to him. And with one cracked open, you do. 

It’s later in the evening that you find out that it wasn’t Hobi you sent that video to and your blood freezes. 

Your phone rings and Jungkook’s picture fills the screen. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah, @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ part one

[whenlilyfallsinlove]

jolene part 2

(aka remus having a fat crush on you) (basically part 1 from remus's perspective)

part 1

james potter x reader -> remus lupin x reader

@mishi-with-jazz you requested this, hope everyone enjoys :)

remus lupin prided himself on being smart. sure, he wouldn't go round bragging about it, but he knew he was clever. he was a good student, always achieving Os, and constantly top of the class (alongside lily). although recently, he didn't feel smart at all. that's because he had made a mistake. a big one. he had a massive crush on you. his best friend's girlfriend.

he hated himself for it. what kind of friend does that? but he couldn't help it. and anyway he had liked you first! way before james did, ever since third year. he felt selfish, thinking that, but it was the truth. james claimed he had liked you for ages, but remus knew that was nothing compared to the length of time he himself harboured feelings for you.

"hello darling." remus was broke from his thoughts by james' voice, and saw you had sat down next to james, across from him. across from him!!

you were beautiful, he couldn't help thinking when he saw you cheekily poked your tongue out at sirius. you had always been kind to him, ever since you sat next to each other in your very first year. potions, if he remembered correctly.

in fact, you even knew about his "furry little problem" as your boyfriend liked to call it. you found out in fourth year, and you were nothing but helpful to him. you promised not to tell anyone and hadn't treated him any differently. he was eternally grateful.

remus had not noticed he'd been gazing at you till you gave him a smile causing his cheeks to warm up and smile back, quickly looking away. he'd been caught staring. that was embarrassing. what if you thought he was a weirdo? what if james had noticed and forbid him from speaking to you? even worse.. what if james stopped being friends with him for fancying his girlfriend?

his panics stopped when he saw lily evans approach the table. he listened to you talk to her, thanking her, and then he noticed james' face. long before you had. before sirius aand peter had. he was blushing. was he serious? james was one of his best friends, don't get him wrong, but he had a girlfriend. it made it worse his girlfriend was you.

remus bit down on his marmalade toast, hard. he was angry for you.

"james are you okay?" he heard you ask curiously, causing him to feel a pang of sympathy for you.

he heard james brush you off, and suddenly it was like nothing had even happened. everyone seemed to have moved on. remus wasn't even sure that padfoot and wormtail had even noticed james' reaction to seeing lily.

he knew you had, though. you were quieter than usual. you looked.. sad.

he shot you a comforting smile, which you returned weakly.

at least you're smiling, even if it was forced.

sometime passed until you spoke up again

"i need to go to the library, does anyone want to come with?" you asked, looking hopefully at james.

"sorry love, got quidditch practice in ten minutes." james said with a sympathetic smile.

"it's fine." remus heard you mutter, you sounded a bit dejected.

"i'll go. i need to anyway, i need a book for the history of magic homework." remus surprised himself, not even processing what he had actually just said.

"thanks remus." you smile softly, and he follows you out of the hall.

you both walk in silence to the library, until remus decides to speak up.

"are you okay?" he asks, looking at your face.

"i'm fine, thanks though.." you said unconvincingly.

"are you sure? you look upset." he responds, giving you a worried smile.

"it's just... james. he's confusing." you sigh.

remus heart stopped. a small part of him hoped you'd tell him that you were planning to break up with james. he knew that was unlikely.

he gives you a nod to continue speaking and you smile in return.

"sometimes i think he still likes lily." you say, avoiding eye contact.

as much as remus wanted to tell you yes!! yes james still likes lily, but here i am and i like you a lot!! he knew he couldn't.

"don't be silly y/n." remus chuckles "james likes you, not lily. she's old news." he gives you a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"really?" you look at remus with such hopefulness, it made him hope what he was saying was true.

"really." he confirms. "james is crazy about you."

you smile at him, looking reassured.

"thanks remus." you say. "you're a great friend."

remus felt himself tense. friend. but of course that's all he was.. you had a boyfriend for godric's sake. he decided, however, he would like being your friend if it made you smile.

"it's no problem, really." he smiles at you and you carry on your journey to the library.

since that talk, you immediately felt closer to remus. you talked more and you both considered each other best friends.

weeks later, you were brought together again.

"you don't usually go to parties, do you remus?" you ask remus, who was holding up a drunk james.

gryffindor had just had a party to celebrate their quidditch win against slytherin and james, being captain of course, was drunk out of his mind.

he was touched you had noticed he didn't usually attend the parties. you were right. he didn't. but james and sirius were on the quidditch team, and he wanted to celebrate their win with them.

"n-no i don't, just wanted to support my friends." he decides to respond, and he knows what he said was apparently correct judging by the smile on you face.

he watched you talk to james comfortingly. merlin he wished you spoke to him like that. you were one of the nicest people he knew.

he zoned out a second but then sees your face, which instantly snaps him out of his daze.

"i'm not lily." he saw you grit your teeth. "would you rather have her take care of you?"

noticing your hurt words, he's quick to comfort you.

"don't worry y/n, he's drunk, he doesn't know any better." he tries to reassure you.

you nod back, but then collapse on a chair.

you looked sad. devastated. remus wanted nothing more to cheer you up.

"look.. y/n, i'll take him up to bed. do you want me to come back down so you can talk.. or do you want some space?" he asks.

"talk." you notice your abruptness and you feel your cheeks warm. "that'd be nice." you add on the end.

remus smiles at you and takes james up to their dorm, where sirius is left to deal with him.

"why's he such a lightweight?" sirius chuckles.

"i know. weakling." remus snorts. "he's fucked up though."

"he has?" sirius responds, with some surprise.

"yeah he's upset y/n." remus responds, frowning.

"prick." sirius rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to james.

"i'll be back.. soon." remus leaves his dorm, and goes back to where you're sat trying to regain yourself.

"hey.." you mutter when you see him, and he takes the seat next to you.

"talk to me." he smiles, sympathetically.

"it's james. again. you heard him. he's always thinking about lily! i'm his girlfriend, not her." a tear rolls down your face.

"oh y/n, don't cry." remus reaches out and brushes the tear away.

"sorry.. i'm pathetic. i just don't know what to do." you groan.

"look.. do you want my honest advice." remus scans your face.

you nod.

"talk to him about it tomorrow, if he doesn't take accountability for it. dump him. and i'm saying that as one of his best friends."

remus feels your gaze on him and feels his cheeks warm.

"oh remus." you lay your head on his shoulder, causing him to freeze up. he knew you weren't drunk but you were still a little tipsy.

he lets you lay there, you look tired.

"i wish james was more like you..." you mutter, drifting off.

remus's breath hitched. although this wasn't reliable at all (you weren't sober), this was progress.

looking at you with a small smile, he just couldn't help but love you.

[sillysowa]

NEEDY

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER

GENRE: SMUT

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

WARNINGS: FINGERING, ORAL (FEM RECEIVING), SLIGHT CHOKING, COCKWARMING

SYNOPSIS: HOBIE HELPS HIS OVULATING GIRLFRIEND

—

Hobie was a very observant lover, and he liked to know everything about you—including your menstrual cycle. He likes to have your preferred blood collection items handy incase you need an extra, he likes to know when he should be extra careful on how he treats you when you’re PMS-ing, taking you ever so slightly sweeter—but above all, he likes to know when you’re ovulating…so he can fuck your soul out without you even having to ask.

You were currently cuddled up to him with your head on his chest, watching a random movie in your bed while Hobie toyed with your hair absentmindedly. He was caught up thinking about how you were often very talkative when you’d watch movies, but you were rather quiet today. You kept balling his shirt up under your fist or pinching his clothes between your fingers—or more importantly, softly grinding on his thigh. Hobie knew you were ovulating right now, and he knew that made you incredibly horny all the time, but it also made you so damn fun to mess with.

“What’s on your mind, love?” Hobie’s deep velvety voice penetrated your thoughts as he stared down at the way your fingers traced over his covered chest. His large hand rested on the juncture above your slightly moving hip, holding you close while you hummed,

“Mmm~ Nothing.” You answered quickly, cheek squished against his pec and eyes clouded over.

“I don’t know if I believe you.” Hobie says dismissively, rubbing his hand on your waist, smirking when that slightly catches your attention, your eyes locked on his through your lashes,

“Yeah? And why is that?” You ask, genuinely lost in your fantasy world. You had been daydreaming of Hobie’s cock pumping inside you with his lips on your neck. You craved the feeling of his bare skin, warm and soft on your longing body. You’d kill to pull his boxers down and kiss up and down his length right now, but you felt so strangely nervous.

“Cause you’ve been weakly humping my leg for about 15 minutes now.” He whispers, voice dropping an octave and making your insides squeeze. Your face instantly felt warm—you didn’t realize that in your daydreaming you had started to dry hump your boyfriend. You turned your face fully into his chest and hid it, while he pulled you unbelievably closer,

“Don’t get all shy on me, sweets. If you want me you know you only have to say the word.” He teased, bringing his hand to your chin and gently turning your face up towards his. The soft look in your eyes and steady desperate movement of your hips on his thigh drove him crazy. You whined, glossy eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes,

“Hobie~”

“Yeah I know baby.” He murmurs, leaning down and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He kisses you with passion, grunting and helping you onto your back. One of his hands reaches up to hold onto the headboard while the other holds your jaw, deepening the kiss with your legs opening for him. Hobie breaks the kiss, his large ring covered fingers wandering down towards your neck,

“Is my girl ovulating? Extra needy these past few days.” Hobie smirks, hardening at the sight of your confusion,

“W-How did you know?” You ask through half lidded eyes and pinched brows. Your feet lazily kick on the bed, heels dragging up and down the sheets in desperation. Your pussy throbs.

“I like to know what’s going on with this pretty body of yours.” He says casually, kissing your forehead before he starts removing your shorts. He slides them down your legs and tosses them, fingers exploring your soaked cunt. He moans at the feeling of your arousal, sucking two of his fingers into his mouth before sliding them into you. You moan out desperately, and Hobie instantly notices how tight you feel. He thrusts his fingers at a steady pace, a white ring instantly forming at the base of his fingers where his silver jewelry resides. You’re way more reactive than he’s used to seeing, arching off the bed and clutching at the sheets. His dick is painfully hard in his boxers, but he refuses to pay it any mind until he’s made you cum. He quickens his pace, deep eyes boring into yours from between your legs and forcing your thighs to stay open with his large palm. Your face feels like it’s on fire, and you’re embarrassed to admit that you feel like your about to cum already,

“Hobie~ Ah! H-I’m close~ Mm~”

“Come on love, just like that cum for me, let it out baby, good girl~” Hobie praises with a rasp in his voice. He watches you as you orgasm, bliss coating your features and your fun dripping down from your pussy. He can’t help himself as he leans in, sucking it all up. He lets out a surprised and muffled groan when he feels your hands on his head, pushing his face hard against your cunt. His beautiful eyes flutter closed as he lets you use his warm mouth.

You uncontrollably moan at the sight of your lover’s face pressed against your pussy, only his eyes visible as they roll into the back of his head at your taste. You fuck his face like your life depends on it, crying at the friction of his lips, tongue and nose on your throbbing sex. You momentarily wonder if he can breathe, but all of your worries go out the window when his lips lock around your clit, sucking it like a candy. He grabs your inner thighs, pushing them open and pinning them down while he eats you like he’s been starved of your taste his entire life. Your cries of his name, hands on the back of his head, and broken sounding moans fuel him and his tongue moved faster than you’ve ever felt.

“Hobie~ Hobie! Ah~ Oh yes~ yesyesyesyes-“ You mumble and whine, your fingers gripping onto his hair as you near your unexpected second orgasm. Hobie just grunts and whines at the feeling of being used, his hips grinding into the bed while you moan. He eats you out with passion right up until you cum, when your hands desperately pull him off of you in overstimulation. His face is glistening, mouth parted and chest rising. He smiled,

“Feelin’ good?” He kissed your thigh, locking his fingers in yours. You nodded with your parted lips and pretty fucked-out face—Hobie couldn’t get over how gorgeous you looked…so desperate and needy for him. He loved that his fingers and face could make you feel that good, caught on the way you leaked with your own thick cum,

“I know you’ve cum twice now, love, but you can give me another one cant you?” Hobie asked through his thick accent, eyes half lidded while he talked to you but stared at your leaking cunt, gently running his fingers over it and eating up the way you whimper for him.

“Yes, Hobie…just…give me your cock please~ Please fuck me~” You beg, pussy throbbing and eyes watering. You felt horribly empty without Hobie filling you up, and your mouth watered at the bulge in his boxers. He chuckled darkly before reaching down and pulling his long, hard, cock out of his boxers. He wasted no time, stripping nude for you, spreading your legs wide, and lining himself up with your entrance.

“Scream for me, love.” Is all you get before he thrusts into you in one motion, and oh do you scream. Hobie’s dick filling you up punches the air out of your lungs and a noise that comes out you didn’t even know you could possibly make. You clawed at his back, cried out his name, and your cunt squeezed around his cock. You knew sex felt better when you were ovulating, and Hobie knew just as well,

“You like that? You fuckin’ like that? Mmm of course you do—so fucking needy f’me isn’t that right?” He grunts, thrusting his hips against yours like a madman, horny and desperate at the look of his girl so helpless and overstimulated under him. Hobie loved to see you a wreck for him, he’d kill for it if he had to—the sight of your wet cunt sucking him in, the sound of the bed creaking and your skin slapping—it was music to his ears.

He gives your neck a couple squeezes, right in that sweet spot that makes you feel dizzy but oh so good, his other hand on your hip for leverage as he destroys your insides. Hobie slows down for a moment, thrusts hard but slow to hear your pleased whimpers and bask in them,

“Hobie please!~ Im so close! Please! Faster~ Mmm~ You feel so good inside me, Hobie!” You cried, tears brimming down your cheeks as he thrusted into you, hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. You could have sworn you saw the pearly gates from the drag of his cock in you, the sight of his beautiful body on top of you, and the absolute filth that he whispered in your ear as you neared your orgasm,

“I know, love, I know. Cum for me, I know you can.” He grunts in your ear, kissing at your neck and fisting his hands tight into the pillow under your head as he fucks into you with fervor, dying to feel you cum around his cock. You hold him close, ankles locked around him and nails dragging down his back as your walls clench and you orgasm. He brings you to cloud nine and back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while you cry and mumble about how good it feels. He delivers a couple more messy thrusts in you before he cums, his cock twitching and moans spilling from his lips. He looks beautiful and feels like a dream. Hobie looks down at you as he starts to pull out, the glossy look in your eyes a tell-tale sign that you’re still deep in sub-space and needy for him,

“Hobie don’t leave~” You whine, pulling him closer and feeling his cock push impossibly deeper inside you as he relaxes and eases onto his side next to you. Hobie smiles at your words,

“I wasn’t going anywhere!” A chuckle leaves his lips,

“You know what I mean Hobie, I want you to keep it in.” You confess, holding him close, that shyness from earlier back. He just smirks devilishly, not opposed to the idea at all,

“I’ve got no problem with that, love, just don’t be too shocked if I get a sudden cravin’ for a round two.”

Spoiler alert, there was way more than a round two.

[lizdive]

saw ur inbox is open so i jumped right into the opportunity 🤭 just recently discovered ur blog and AUGH i love your writing!! the lack of platonic stuff is a CRIME.. 💔

could i request something with aventurine being an older (adoptive) brother to teen reader? if you want some extra lore, the ipc basically found the reader and wanted to use their powers for themselves cuz theyre like- crazy op- 😭 (reincarnation of an aeon typa shit) so they placed the reader into aventurine's care bcuz he was the only person they weren't hostile towards-

SORRY THIS GOT A LITTLE LONG ?! you don't need to use the extra lore if you dont want to btw! i just put it there :3

can be either hcs or a oneshot/drabble, u can choose!! >_<

please and thank u!!!! (ゝω・´★)

YOU’RE SO SWEET YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME ILUSM ☹️🩷🤍 Aventurine is my everything I love when people send me reqs about him he’s never left my team since I’ve gotten him 😭 ALSO I LOVE THE EXTRA LORE I LOVE UR BRAIN LEMME KISS IT MWAH 💋 tysm for requesting <33 if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo this 🫶

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" + "they/them" used to refer to the reader ,, reader is a teenager but is implied to be ancient ,, reader is implied to be a part of tayzzyronth — aeon of the propagation — and can be up for interpretation, however they do have swarm abilities ,, i did some research on tayzzyronth however there may be things that are not accurate or do not align with canon as tayzzyronth and the swarm is very confusing ,, reader grows a hatred for qlipoth — aeon of the preservation and their followers aka the ipc ,, platonic relationships ,, ipc activities as usual ,, penacony mission at the end ,, i feel like i derived from og request i’m sososo sorry ,, ending is cringe ngl ,, this is not proofread so ignore typos

Bugs, insects, flies — you do not know what these creatures are referred to as. You do not know of their origin, and you do not know if you are one of them taking a different form. They treat you as if you are one of them and protect you like you are their ruler.

The planet you reside on is dark. There is no other being except for these creatures that swarm you like you are their creator and their savior. You rarely move. Your cheek has grown accustomed to the cracked grounds of this wasteland as you slumber for periods of time you know not the length of. It is gray, yet you sometimes spot the colorful liquid that leaves their bodies as they succumb to the eternal slumber you sometimes seek.

There is no coldness and there is no hotness — you are always warm. They blanket you with their wings and speak to you in a language you have learned to understand.

"The followers of Qlipoth are coming!" they would say, and yet you did not know who they spoke of. The concept of beings existing that are not you or the insects that flutter about bringing you sustenance and company is foreign, and your young mind cannot comprehend it without physical proof. You assume they jest as they always do to try and humor you, and so you do not acknowledge their warnings.

"The followers of Qlipoth have come, you must leave!" And yet you chose to remain on the cracked grounds that have filled your sight for the many years you have lived. You chose to remain under their wings which shielded you as they fought against Qlipoth’s devout to keep them away from your form.

They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hear the shrieks of your swarm. They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hear the loud explosions which cause the frail floors to crack more and more. They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hold a baby bug in your arms like a toy to sooth the bubbling feeling of fear which is so foreign to you.

They are not weak, you realize, as you feel their hands pull at you from beneath the pile of dead creatures, doing their best to fight off the hallucinations from their wings.

These people — the followers of Qlipoth — are enemies. They do not deserve what the insects would call 'mercy'. The chains which cling to some of your joints barely hold you back as you scream at them in what sounds to them like gibberish. Your body is weak from the lack of movement, yet what you consider weakness is considered as strength that was once unattainable to them.

"If I didn’t know of the swarm I’d assume they were an abomination of the abundance," a woman speaks, yet her words mean nothing to you for you cannot understand them. You do not know who spoke, and you do not care. They are all enemies, and this 'Qlipoth' that they follow will be struck down by your own hands one day. They follow this being and therefor this being is the one to order them to do such horrendous acts.

You make an attempt to flutter the thin wings that decorate your back but they feel heavy. You look back and find them to be hidden away and chained. You do not feel the pain, but perhaps it is just the adrenaline rushing through you.

"Did you really have to cover them up like that?" "The workers said that they were hallucinating, we couldn’t risk it."

A gloved hand is placed in front of you. There is nothing in it. The golden rings shine under the lighting of the room you are in. The shimmer is new to your eyes and makes you squint from the reflecting light. You are used to the dullness of your 'home' planet, so when you look up to properly face the man who seems innocent enough, you recoil at the brightness off his appearance.

The many layers of clothes he adorns makes you curious. You do not wear much, only enough to properly cover you. The insects would keep you warm. Yet he wears so much — so many layers of attire made from materials you didn’t even know existed.

Your rage and hostility is pacified with curiosity, and that makes his smile a bit more genuine. He brings a hand to your head, and you’re ready to tear him to shreds should he try anything, but he only pets you gently. It reminds you of when the insects would nudge your head whenever they wanted you to wake up.

The sense of familiarity makes your eyes water but you do not shed the tears. You don’t like how they blind your sight and you blink rapidly to make them go away. The man clad in bright colors says something, but you once again can’t understand him.

But when the suffocating chains no longer cling to your tender skin, you understand that he is safe like those that cared for you and he is trying to comfort you. It works.

The man is named Aventurine — he repeated it constantly until you finally said it, albeit with the accent of a toddler. Still, he praised you. When he smiled and pat your head, you felt happy. It was a good thing.

You follow Aventurine around. He is the only one you have familiarized yourself with. He gets frightened by the swarm that follows you, so you scold them whenever they show themselves unannounced. You do not want him to leave you — you’ve noticed it happens a lot as you are exposed to human beings. He tells you he won’t leave you, how you’re his responsibility now.

You only understand a little bit of what he speaks, but you want to learn more to get more head pats and praise. The language they use is very foreign and requires much more effort to sound out the words as well as memorizing the symbols they write with. It is a lot of effort, but Aventurine is very encouraging.

Aventurine is nice. He is patient. He is understanding. He is helpful. You have been told that the one who has given you your strength was born from loneliness, but if that was the case, them shouldn’t your abilities be gone by now? Because with Aventurine, you do not feel lonely.

You want to tell him this, and one day you will. But for now, you’ll sit in his office, dressed in the nice clothing he has bought for you, and continue to practice your speech and writing.

You do not like leaving his office, because Qlipoth’s devout will then try to talk to you. You have tried many times to send your swarm after them, and you have succeeded many times, but Aventurine always scolds you. You do not like it when he scolds you. It’s a bad thing.

He tries to get you accustomed to human society. It is hard, especially because the human society he tries to make you interact with is filled with Qlipoth’s followers, but for him, you will try.

For him, you will listen to them as they order you to send your swarm to terrorize planets littered with precious material. For him, you will listen to them as blood stains your hands — blood which is not yours. For him, you will allow others to call you a monster which he reassures you that you aren’t.

For him, you will let yourself become the tool Qlipoth’s devout want you to become.

Something you have noticed and have been taught about human society is the concept that is family. You have heard the term many times, especially on this planet called Penacony. The main heads of this big hotel are called The Family. The head of The Family is the brother of his sister. You make sure to remember that.

Aventurine tells you to keep your features hidden as well as your little swarm bug which you brought with you, and you do not protest. The hotel is big, perfect for your insect friend to flutter about freely. Your hand clings to Aventurine’s coat, a habit you have picked up on. When you cling to him, people talk to him first. You don’t know why, but you do not care because it has yet to fail you.

You do not pay attention to the woman at the front desk. She speaks too fast for you to properly comprehend her words, anyways. You take note of the people around. There is nobody adorning the familiar uniform of Qlipoth’s followers, much to your relief. You tug on Aventurine’s coat, looking at him.

He hums, and looks at you while the woman looks the both of you up to check for the reservation. "Finish?" You ask quietly. "Almost. You can sit if you want," he replies, pinching your cheek playfully. You frown and shake your head.

"Alright, It seems you both have reservations. Here are the keys for your rooms. We hope you and your younger sibling enjoy your stay in penacony." The woman smiles and slides the cards on the counter. Aventurine thanks her and motions for you to follow, which you do without hesitance.

The walk is silent, and once the two of you are in the elevator, you decide to speak once more. "We are like Sunday and Robin."

Aventurine blinks at your declaration and turns so his body is facing you, leaning on the support bars of the elevator. "Is that a statement or a question?" He asks, but you don’t directly answer his question, only explaining your words.

"I am younger sibling, you are older sibling." It is then that Aventurine realizes you had paid attention to the woman’s words, or at least her send off ones. He didn’t think much of it, it wasn’t the first time people had assumed you both as siblings. Then again, you had yet to learn the concept of family and the various titles during those encounters.

Still, Aventurine smiles, chuckling lightly as the fuzzy feeling in his chest grows. "Yeah.. You’re the younger sibling, I’m older sibling." The elevator grows silent once more as you both wait for the doors to open.

He’ll need to finish those custody papers once this mission is over.

[reareaotaku]

Enemies 2 Friends to Something More

Summary: When a girl in his class corrects him, Ford decides that he will go through any lengths to one her up like she seems to do so often to him. Tw: Slight NSFW [Would anyone even read NSFW work of him?]

Linktree 4 the People of Palestine

Ford had never been corrected before, because he's never been wrong. So, when he was sitting in class one day and had gone to answer a question, only for a h/c haired girl to correct him. Ford wasn't necessarily mad, more so confused, because he thought he was right. Though, when he went back and checked his numbers, he realized the girl was right. That was fine. Sometimes people were wrong and he's at college to learn, so maybe it's good that there's someone with the same level as intelligence as him.

But then... It happened again. It was a little more embarrassing for it to happen again, but he tried not to think to much about it. That was UNTIL it happened for a third time. That time he was annoyed.

He looked back at you as you smirked down at him. You took joy in his embarrassment, that's what he believed, and it bugged him to his very core. He had to get you back. He wasn't sure how, but he would.

---

Ford stayed up late last night, having finally crafted the perfect question that he knew would stump you. Instead of bringing it up in class, he wanted to talk to you personally, because the question was made for you, no one else.

So, after class, Ford made sure to call you back, having learned your name from his roommate, Fiddleford.

"Y/n!"

You looked back at the sound of your name to; Only to be surprised when seeing it was Stanford Pines.

"Stanford?"

"Call me Ford."

You sigh, looking him up and down. "Okay, F-o-r-d," You stretch out the letters of his name. "What is it you want?"

"Can I not talk to a fellow classmate?"

"Oh, Ford, don't be silly. I know you want something. I see how angry you get when you get something wrong. You clearly want something from me."

He holds his ands up in surrender. "You caught me. I actually... wanted to discuss a-" He tsks. "theory- Question if you will. If you're willing to occupy my company."

"I do like intelligent conversation and you're the most intelligent guy here, so I guess I can give you some time."

He smirks, happy that the trap had been set.

---

He pulls out multiple papers, putting them on the table, before looking up at you. You looked at him confused why he would have so many papers.

He goes on and on about the theory of life and what the purpose of all living things are. While you were confused on the topic, since he wasn't asking for your opinion, you were amazed by his passion on the topic. It seemed he wanted to prove something to you- Prove that he was a genius.

It wasn't like you didn't know that. Everyone that knew Ford or interacted with him knew he was genius, so you were confused why he felt the need to prove it to you.

You thought he was kind of cute. Going on and on. You kind of wanted to fuck him. Your face turned a light pink when the thought entered your mind.

"What do you think?"

"What?" You were caught off guard, since your mind was occupied.

"About life."

"I- uh, never really think about that stuff?"

"You have no opinions about it?"

"Uh, I mean, you've said every thought that I have." You lean in, a stupid smile overtaking your face.

"Yeah?" Ford's face turned a light pink when having your face close to his. He could almost kiss you... Almost... He wanted to- I mean, he admired how intelligent you were, and he felt you were one of the only people he could have a real conversation with without dumbing himself down. He would have kissed you if a book wasn't slammed down at the end of the table, causing Ford to glare at the person, Fiddleford.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

You sit back in your seat and smile, "No. Uh, no. I was going to go anyway. I'm sure my roommate is waiting for me." You turn to Ford, "I'll see you... later?"

"Yeah. I'll see you."

---

Ford stared at his ceiling, his alarm clock the only light in the room. He couldn't keep his mind off of you. He wished he had kissed you or something. It would have been the perfect moment. So, why didn't he?

He could feel his body heat up as his thoughts got more intense. He pulled one of his pillows out from under him, before slamming it against his face, hoping to rid himself of the thoughts. God, how was he supposed to see you again knowing what he felt?

[luvyeni]

YOUR ANIMAL INTERRUPTS 𖹭 라이즈 ( text reaction ) !

genre smut 𖹭 warning pairing — OT7 x fem reader | back to library .

— your animals interrupting you when you're trying to have sex...

request. can i request a "your animal interrupts" with riize

「 authors note 𖹭 」 here you go ! hope you like it i used different animals 🩵

﹙ 𐙚 : shotaro ﹚ .ᐟ

sex with taro most of the time is pretty soft and carefree — neither one of you taking it too lightly, his cock stretching you out deliciously; smiling brightly as he whispered praises in your ear. "fuck baby you feel good , taking my cock like a good girl." he nuzzled his nose against your neck , making you giggle a bit; turning into a moan. "fuck taro." both of you caught up in each other you don't notice you dog pushing the cracked door open , hoping on the bed nonchalant letting out a stretch — which finally gains your attention. both of you looking at the dog who just turned a few times before laying down. your boyfriend turning back to you , before you both burst out into laughter.

"i guess next time we have to make sure the door is locked babygirl."

﹙ 𐙚 : eunseok ﹚ .ᐟ

eunseok didn't like that damn ferret , always going missing and popping up at the worst times — like now as he's actively fucking you. "oh shit." he cursed as he felt you tightening around him. "so fucking tight." he threw his head back , your warm cunt sucking him in. "shit seok about to cum." both of you about to reach his peak when he felt a hip at his toe. "oh fuck!" he cursed your little furry animal emerging from the covers , he must've been laying flat sleeping. "dumb fucking— hey don't talk about him like that." he picked the animal up; getting out of the bed, putting him in his cage. he got back into bed, pushing you back down. "you seriously want to finish?" he scoffed.

"your little rodent isn't gonna stop me from cumming."

﹙ 𐙚 : sungchan ﹚ .ᐟ

you told him to let the cat out the room, but he was already far gone , his lips on your neck as he slid his cock inside you; both of you moaning out as he held your legs thrusting in and out of your cunt. "of fuck chan faster!" he grunted above you , fucking into you much faster; deeper. "fuck baby you feel so good." he moaned. "so-so fucking tight— fuck! " his loud groans caused a very dramatic reaction from your sleeping animal. the frightened animal ran across the floor scaring him , which scared you , now all three of you are staring at each other eye wide, the mood ruined.

"fuck next time im letting that damn cat out."

﹙ 𐙚 : wonbin ﹚ .ᐟ

to be fair you both were fucking on the floor of your living room , not even bothering to go your bed room , ridding yourselves of your clothes. taking his hard cock into your hand , stroking it as you sunk down to his length. "fuuuuuuuck." he cursed as you rocked your hips back and forth , his hands coming up to squeeze your boobs. "so tight." he groaned. "keep moving , so good." now he knew you had a pet bunny; he also knew you let your bunny hop around your apartment — specifically your living room. "oh wait fuck." you giggled, confusing the boy as your chest fell flat against his. "wh-whats wrong?" he said , now he's smiling because even though he's hard inside your warm cunt , you're still cute.

"the bunny is just sitting there above your head , watching."

﹙ 𐙚 : seunghan ﹚ .ᐟ

going down on you was his favorite thing in the world; the way you gripped at his hair, pushing his head further into your pussy; using his face to basically get off. "fuck hannie." you moaned, his tongue lapping at your folds, his face covered in your essence, moaning against your folds. "fuck seung, i'm gonna cum." you tugged at his hair. "cum for me baby." he brushed his nose against your clit — before you could even reach your peak, the squawking of your bird ruined the entire mood.

"you just had to get the loudest animal baby."

﹙ 𐙚 : sohee ﹚ .ᐟ

he will not give a fuck I'm sorry , if your mouth is on his cock , bobbing your head up and down on his length — he couldn't care less that your cat is literally sitting by his head on the couch. "fuck." he moaned guiding your head. "fuck your mouth feels so good." he tried to keep his hips from bucking up. "shit." he threw his head back as you took him all the way down your throat , his head falling right next to the cat — which she didn't take it well , hissing before she swiping her paw across his face. "ow fuck!" he shot up , holding his eye. "are you okay?" your voice is still raw.

"that damned cat."

﹙ 𐙚 : anton ﹚ .ᐟ

having sex with anton in the morning before getting up for the day was always soft, his arms wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing your neck as the waking sun bled into the room. "a-anton." you sighed as he pushed your shorts to the side, holding your legs as he slid inside your warm hole. "fuck." he sighed. "you feel so nice." his hands cupping your boobs. "fuck i love your pussy so much." he groaned , your soft moans filling up the room. "t-ton fuck!" the sound of the automatic cat feeder outside the room going off , your cat jumping from it's sleeping place , running over to the door scratching at it meowing loudly , making anton stop, he sighed groaning. "the cat is ready to start her day." he pulled out of you his cock still hard. "fuck."

"open the door and let her out , i can't go the entire morning with a hard on."

©️LUVYENI