#closing my fist around him like stress ball

[nitroish]

thank you very much for the blob

[borathae]

↳ Full Art

"You run in on Yoongi touching himself in the shower and he begs you to punish him because of it. Hard."

Pairing: Yoongi x n.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, masochist!Yoongi, rough Dom!Reader, he is naked and wet, CBT, cock slapping, safe ball busting with a knee, leaky cocks, dirty talk, degradation, he wants to be called dirty/bad slut, hair pulling, subby boy tears, drool, praise, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), Yoongi has a kink for being manhandled, male masturbation in shower, nipple sucking, cuddly aftercare, he's just a cute lil masochist who wants his balls busted and get hugs after <3

Wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: okay so, I'm trying trying the new format. istfg besties, Patreon is so stressful I might actually cry. idk how to do it so I'll like it 😭 okay so, my idea is that i'll post the story and a very cropped art preview (as seen on the header) here on Tumblr and if anyone wants to check out the full art to the story, they have to go to my Patreon. Engagement as far as stories is concerened is very bad on Patreon *glares* and I really miss yelling about the stories with you guys. So for my own peace of mind, i'll keep the stories on Tumblr and give all my true connoisseurs something extra spicy to thirst over on Patreon hehe <3 thank you for being patient with me. I promise to keep drawing and improving and to feed y'all thirsty hoes (affectionately) as much as I can 💜 also lmao those are long a/n fjajsdf have fun besties sorry it took a lil longer today, i tried to figure out how i wanna do sexy art of the month from now on fajdjfs

The bathroom is fogged up and smells heavily like Yoongi’s soap. Masculine, clean and expensive. You find yourself hazy because of it. What truly seals the state of you, however, is the view. Mirrors misted up, air milky from steam and right there in his expensive walk-in shower, Yoongi is having his throbbing cock in his tight fist. The water is turned off right now, but his body is still wet. His dark hair is slicked back, his silky skin is glistening and his head is tilted back in bliss as soft sighs slip past his pouty lips. 

You walked in on him touching himself. You really didn’t plan on doing so, but can’t seem to get yourself to leave. Or to stop staring for that matter.

He has a languid rhythm going. Slow, but clearly skilled. His long fingers are wrapped tightly around his veiny cock. His thumb is drawing circles on his flushed tip and pretty frenulum. He is sensitive there, likes it especially when someone is being gentle with it. His dark nipples are hard and the pale skin around them is flushed as if he had played with them moments before. Knowing Yoongi, he did. He is such a slut for nipple play. He is so fucking tender there. 

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out breathily, gliding his left hand up his own torso as he fucks his cock slowly. 

He is tensing and relaxing his stomach, broadening his stance as his knees wobble. He furrows his brows, biting down on his lower lip as small mewls leave him repeatedly. His long fingers close around his own biceps, giving it a needy squeeze. Look at the marks he leaves, look at how he is tensing his muscles.

You find yourself gulping and taking heavy breaths at the view.

What made him so goddamn needy? 

One thing Yoongi rarely does, is to jerk off. He sees it as something useless because if he gets horny, he has you to take the burden off his shoulders. He also rarely gets horny without you in the first place, so there is that. So to have him so incredibly lost in masturbation is rare and therefore insanely addicting.

What made him so needy? Was it a memory? A fantasy? A picture or video? Was it nothing of that sorts and he merely touched his cock wrong as he cleaned himself? Did the water hit the right spot and trap him in the delicious sensation of its wet massage? 

What did it to him?

“___”, Yoongi moans loudly, leaking onto the floor.

Your stomach clenches. Holy fuck. You did it to him. You did. The thought of you, the memory of your touch and the image of you did it to him. You let out a small gasp at the realisation.

Yoongi startles at the sound and opens his eyes. He stops, tenses up. You freeze, holding your breath. The air between you and him is tense and electric. He blinks at you, mouthing your name quietly.

“I uhm”, you begin, clearing your throat loudly.

He drops his hand from his biceps, tightening his fingers around his cock. He can’t seem to leave his trance of shock. The only indicator that the view of you is turning him on, is his increasing breathing and how needily his long fingers still hold his cock.

“I uhm, sorry. I wasn’t staring, I mean, I was but I- sorry, I uhm, I’m gonna leave now”, you stutter and turn to leave.

“Help me.” 

You halt, wobbling slightly because he is making your knees buckle. You turn around, dancing your eyes over his body.

“Sorry?” 

“Help me. Please”, he begs and tugs at his cock weakly, biting down on his lower lip as he does. Look at the needy kitten eyes he is making at you. 

“Really?” you get out, feeling dizzy at the view. You want to ruin this man. You really do.

He nods his head, lowering his eyes at you. He is taunting you as much as he is begging you.

You do not bother to take off your clothes, he only has to nod his head twice and then you are already in the shower, eating him up with just your eyes. 

Yoongi cups your face and kisses you. He mewls needily as he does it, sucking on your lips and tongue more than he actually kisses you. It is so lazy, so slow and yet so intensely passionate. He is so lost in you, so entirely addicted to your taste that he is solely running on it. Whatever he fantasised about before really did it to him. You feel up his torso hungrily, moaning at the delicious taste of him.

He is shivering with each touch, chasing the feeling of you with wiggles of his hips which force his cock to grind against your clothed stomach. The fabric of your hoodie feels rough against his sensitive tip. He craves the silkiness of your skin like plants crave sunlight.

He breaks the kiss with a sigh of your name, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I was bad”, he breathes.

“You were?” you are kneading his waist, staring at his flushed face with hazy eyes.

“Yeah. Thought of you ‘til I got needy”, he rasps and mewls quietly, mouthing at the tip of your nose, “touched myself to you.”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Punish me.” 

“Punish you?” 

“Please.”

You step back and pick up his cock so you could slap his tip. Gently for now, to test the waters. 

Yoongi moans loudly, squeezing your cheeks softly. His knees buckle slightly.

“Like this, mhm?” you ask, slapping him again. Soft. Careful. Get him used to it. Or needy for more. You are fine with both options as long as it ends in your boyfriend panting and needy.

He scrunches his face in pleasure, letting out a shaky “mh-hm” before he follows it up with a breathy, “don’t stop please.” 

“Fuck Yoongi, you’re driving me insane. You’re so hot.”

“I’m a bad slut”, he croaks.

“Yeah, the fucking worst. Bad slut, such a bad slut”, you growl, giving him harsh spanks. Now that you know he wants it, you are so happy to give it to him.

He takes each of your spanks with a blissed moan and a twitch of his cock. His pink tip got so much pinker ever since you started playing with him. His chest is flushed as well, looking so untouched.

You take his heavy cock between your fingers and pick up his favourite rhythm. Then you step closer to litter his chest with kisses. Wet and sloppy. You need to mark his skin as yours and taste him in the process.

Yoongi arches his back, dropping his head against the glass behind him. Your name slips past his lips, his hands grab your waist and squeeze. 

“You’re a bad slut, Yoongi love, but you’re such a pretty slut at that”, you rasp and take his left nipple between your teeth. You tug on it, making him moan. You suck on it, making him mewl. You lick it, making him sigh your name.

He is tender there. Just as you said.

And as you give him heaven with just your mouth, your hands are busy feeling him up. Your right hand fucks his cock like it deserves to be fucked, while your left hand feels up his waist and hips. He fits so perfectly between your fingers. It is like he is made to be touched by you and only you. His skin is so soft and warm, leaving behind wetness on your fingertips from the previous shower. His cock is twitching so cutely in your hold.

You lift your lips from his right nipple after worshiping it as well, tilting your head so you are looking at his pretty face. You cup his pink cheek.

“Look at me.”

Yoongi obeys, fluttering his lashes at you. He is breathing so heavily, gazing at you as if you were his fucking everything.

“You’re a pretty slut. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods his head, choking out a shy “yeah.”

“You do. Good. Don’t forget it, kitten”, you order and slow your hand around his tip. It sits between your fingers. You increase the pressure slightly and move your hand again. Just a little, just enough that he’s getting fucked so good.

Yoongi gasps, widening his eyes for just a second before rolling them back.

“No, no look at me.”

Yoongi obeys with a mewl of your name.

“That’s better. I wanna look at your pretty eyes.”

“I have to cum”, he moans.

“Cause you’re looking at me?”

He nods his head, leaking all over your palm, “can’t hold it…like…this.”

“God, you lovedrunk slut, you”, you tease, giving his favourite spot a good rub.

“Please”, he begs, “please, can I cum?”

“Mhhm, don’t know. Do you deserve it?”

“Please I, mghm, I’ll give you head later”, he bargains with the prettiest kitten eyes.

“Obviously, you’re gonna do that anyways. Do better, Yoongi slut”, you warn, slowing down dangerously.

“Please”, he begs louder and thrusts his hips into your fist. 

It earns him a harsh spank, “behave.”

“Fuck please. I-I’ll cockwarm you, promise I, I won’t move. Please.” 

“But Yoongi, where is the fun in that? I’ll do that anyways. You know that bad, dirty jerk off sluts get cockwarmed”, you coo as your skilled fingers torture his flushed tip. He is burning up, smearing his precum all over your digits. 

“I have to cum so bad”, he croaks and spills tears, “please can I cum? I’ll be so good please.” 

“Fine. You can cum”, you say calmly even if your hand is giving his cock such a good fuck. He didn’t convince you, you just simply have a better way to ruin him how he so clearly craves.

“___”, he moans and closes his eyes sensually. Moments later, his swollen cock releases all over your hand. His knees buckle, he finds support by grabbing your shoulders and arching his back. His moan is loud and drawn-out.

“Look at you”, you moan with him, speeding up your hand now that he is giving you such a good show, “good slut, cum for me. That’s my good slut.”

Yoongi is shaking and trembling in bliss, but soon begins shaking and trembling for other reasons. You aren’t slowing down. His balls are empty, his cock so overstimulated, but you aren’t slowing down. You jerk off his cock as if it has a debt to pay, giving him burning heaven in the process. 

He finally realises what he signed up for and that your sweet words were nothing but deception. He didn’t convince you. You aren’t done with him. One wasn’t enough. 

“Please, please, pl-please”, he begs, trying to flee you as much as chases you. 

“One more, kitten. Give me one more.” 

“I can’t. Oh god, I can’t”, he mewls and stumbles as he tries to flee.

You grab him and pin him against the glass harshly, knocking a weak gasp out of him. His knees buckle, his teary eyes gaze at you with all the devotion he can muster. He loves when you’re rough with him, when you show him that he is yours to manhandle.

“Give me more”, you growl, speeding up around his cock.

“No please”, Yoongi mewls and tries to wiggle away just so you can put him back in his place. He parts his legs, hoping that you take the silent hint.

You do. Of course you do. You lift your knee against his balls hard enough that it hurts. Yoongi folds into himself with a pained moan, grabbing your waist. He is already so fucking hard again, throbbing in your hand as if he never released before. 

“Stop fleeing me”, you growl and knee him again, twisting your hand around his burning tip at the same time. 

Yoongi sobs, burying his face in your shoulder. It hurts so much. He has never been so fucking high on pleasure before. It feels so good. Yoongi swears every second is the best second he ever experienced.

“Understood? You do not flee me”, you give his tender balls one last harsh nudge with your knee, then grab his hair to pull his head back. 

He coughs out a sob, spilling tears and drool all down his pretty face. He can barely even keep his eyes open, let alone stop them from crossing. 

He is so pretty. 

“What’s with that pretty face?” you challenge, pumping his overstimulated cock quickly as you grind your knee against his balls at the same time. 

“Yours”, he croaks.

“That’s right. Mine. My pretty slut.”

“You’re making me cum.” 

“See? I knew you could give me more. Don’t hold back, slut.”

“Knee. Please.” 

You knee him a fourth time. Yoongi wails up, folding into himself in both pain and pleasure before spilling all over your hoodie and his stomach. So his balls weren’t empty yet. Of course they weren’t. You are proving to him how much of a slut he actually is.

He melts into you, shaking on your knee as your name leaves him like his prayer of bliss.

“Good slut, give me everything. Such a good slut. That’s so much better, I knew one wasn’t enough. Your pretty balls are never empty after only one. That’s it. Good slut”, you talk him through it, holding him safely as your hand milks him dry.

Soon Yoongi slacks into you, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements.

“No more.”

You don’t listen just to tease him, giving his burning tip a tight massage. He trembles and writhes, squeezing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You are going to stop, but first you need to tease him just a little more. A few more squeezes and rubs, a little pump and tug.

“Please”, he begs breathily, wiggling his hips away from you.

“You’re so cute”, you coo and finally drop his ruined cock.

“Thank you”, he sighs and sinks into you, hugging you tightly as he recovers.

You hug him back, tracing his spine.

“How was that, mhm?” you ask him, speaking in a soft voice.

He nods his head slowly, humming. 

“Yeah? Was it good for you?” 

“Was perfect”, he lulls and purrs contently, “thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh god, I need to lie down now”, he says and chuckles, “my balls are so fucking tender.”

“I can imagine. I kicked them really hard. Are you okay? Should I get something for the pain?”

He shakes his head, “you did it so right. Thank you so much.”

You smile, “that’s good to hear. You’re such a good boy.”

Yoongi nuzzles his nose against your neck and purrs softly, melting under your praise. You know exactly how to love him.

“I love you so much”, he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

“I actually wanna lie down though.”

You chuckle, “okay, okay let’s get you cleaned up and cozy. You’re gonna get back scratches in bed”, you say as you lead him to the shower head.

“And ear rubs.”

“And ear rubs. As my prince wishes”, you say and turn on the water to wash away the mess he left. Yes, you will change into different clothes, “how’s the temperature, love?”

“Good. Nice.”

“Yeah? Is it good how I’m touching you?” you ask as you clean his cock and balls with gentle fingers.

He nods his head, “hm.”

“Good. God, Yoongi love, you’re so handsome.” 

Yoongi blushes, lowering his eyes shyly. Yeah, you definitely know how to love him.

[fairy-hub]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮/ 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: softest hint of brat reader, begging, overstimulation, cleaning his cum off him, thigh riding, jerkin off, teasing, daddy/princess, pussy drunk, mating press, established relationship, heavy praise, some praising degradation, suguru moves the sofa with his thrusts, light cock sucking, some riding

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐲: i needed to take a little writing break from that gang bang fic im fighting writer's block and it's giving me a stress headache. So i'm taking a few day's break from the fic, that and suguru man-spreading in episode two has me feeling some type of way.

The tired, disappointed look on your husband’s face does little to quell the throbbing between your legs. It feeds at your festering guilt for snapping at him earlier. Pleading with him,

"Please Daddy I'm sorry." Suguru tilts his head to the side, his long bangs drifting closer to his kissable lips. Shiny with your lip gloss.

"I don't think you are. That's too bad, your beautiful drooling cunt looks so needy." You glance down between his muscular thighs parted to show his heavy thick balls on the sofa. And how he is stroking his cock your aching to give attention to. Whining at the sweet slick sounds of Suguru fisting his lubed-up cock.

"I'm sorry, I should have calmly told you how I was feeling instead of bottling it up and snapping. I had no reason to be a brat." Suguru strokes his thick, cock. The two veins underneath occasionally pulse. "Please Daddy!"

Moaning when he glides his hand up thick pre-cum pearls on his fat head. "I'll do better! Please forgive me daddy!" You want to trace the ridge yet soft line of his cockhead with your tongue. Taste him, feel cock throb in your mouth as you take him deeper.

Suguru groans, "Your cries are so beautiful. Are you that turned on by watching me jerk off?" Stroking hiscock faster. Opening his mouth, groaning your name. "So fucking close." Whining, leaning forward, sticking your tongue out. Suguru's large body tenses, his abs, and thighs flexing.

He tilts his head back, grabbing a handful of his hair. Jerking his cock a couple more times, thick white cum spurting onto his abs and trickling onto his fist. You can feel your heartbeat in your soaking cunt.

Without thinking you lean forward, wrap your lips around his head, and swirl your tongue around him. Suguru leans forward, sliding his hand down to the base so you can take more of him into your mouth.

"Shit! Fuckin' suck my cock so well! Princess too much, don't stop showing me how sorry you are." Suguru's cock and cum in your mouth turning you on as much as a big, strong, dominating man tremble.

Slipping his cock out with a pop, kissing down his length, licking the cum off his hand. "I'm sorry Daddy, I'll do better next time. Let me clean you up like a good slut." Gently prying his hand, jerking his cock off to keep him from softening. Whilst you lick his hand clean quickly, sucking on his fingers.

Line him up with your pucker lips. Swiping his overly sensitive head on your lips. "You're so beautiful Daddy." His cheeks flush pink, lips curving into a hazy, pleasure-drunken smile.

"You're breathtaking princess, so gorgeous with your kissable, tempting soft lips. You can be such a good girl. Why don't you let Daddy see the pretty face you make when you cum?" Standing up, your knees aching and wobbly from kneeling for so long.

He grabs your hips, pulling you into his lap. Settling yourself, lining Suguru up with your soaking cunt. "Are you sure my pussy won't be too much for you to handle?" Sinking yourself down, taking him in one easy, fluid motion. The wet squelch music to your ears.

Suguru digs in his nails, his eyes roll back, "Ohhhhhfuccck!" His jaw drops. When he can finally look at you, the pussy drunk look in his eyes could make you cum on the spot. Clenching his throbbing, veiny cock he whines,

"Too tight! Princess fuck your so damn-nnn." You can't fight against the pace Suguru sets. Helping you meet his brutal harsh desperate thrusts. "Gonna fuck you stupid, break your pussy, stuff her full." Dragging your nails down his chest, smearing some cum on his abs.

Grabbing his arms, feeling them tense and flex whilst he bounces you on his cock. "Gonna fuck my princess till her pussy can't handle anymore. Make you hold my cum afterward, and not a let a single drop trickle out of your sore cunt. Whilst I keep playing with your puffy clit." Your loudly moaning as his thick, long cock stretches your cunt, reaching deep inside you.

Keeping his cock in you, Suguru pins you onto the sofa, grabbing your thighs and spreading you in a mating press. Using his weight to press you into the squishy sofa, so you don't bounce away from his harsh thrusts.

Filling your living room is the sounds of skin slapping, your cunt sqeuchling overlaps Suguru and Your's groans. When you hear the sofa scrab, moving with Suguru's rough thrust. "You're so beautiful, I love you, love your squishy cunt that takes my cock so well. Whose pretty cunt is this?" He strokes your clit.

It's too much, you haven't even cummed yet and every overly-rough thrust from his too-hard cock is more than you can handle. And you it all, to drown in the intensity of the pleasure.

"I love you Daddy! Love how you're too much, please Daddy you always spoil my pussy. Fuck me till I can't walk. Please break your pussy Daddy! It's yours!" The sofa is slowly moving across the floor, scratching it. It shouldn't turn you on this much that his hips could have so much strength. Matched only by his stamina.

strawberry brat all works

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Waiting for You ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Nakahara Chūya

a/n: hiiii everyone!! first, i wanna say thank u all sm for all ur support! this fic is a follow up to a thought that crossed my mind one day after work lol. i didn't expect that one post to have as many likes/reblogs as it ended up having, so here's a continuation of that little scenario for my fellow chūya stans. i hope i did ok!

genre: f!reader who's a lil bit bratty; nasty with a sprinkle of fluff cuz it's established relationship!

content warning: MDNI! cunnilingus (he is pussydrunk omg😭), fingering, unprotected sex + he cums inside (she is on birth control), lots and lots of praise and pet names (babe, baby, doll), he says "fuck" like 1 billion times in this (this is canon tho and you can't change my mind about it BAHAHA) and uhhh and he gets a bit rough and overstimulates you (and himself) at the end as well hehe!

summary: after a tough day at work, there's nothing you want more than to be dicked down by your boyfriend, chūya ♡

from just outside your bedroom, you hear a ‘click’ of metal as the front door closes. the sound is followed by a familiar voice grumbling incoherent complaints and a quiet shuffling of shoes. it could only mean one thing: chūya is back from work.

hurriedly throwing on your house slippers, you rush out your room to greet him in the foyer of his apartment, singing his name excitedly for no reason other than the mere joy of seeing your boyfriend after a day spent apart. he chuckles at your liveliness, catching you as you throw your arms around him. you’re always a breath of fresh air after the grueling day-to-day work that is being a port mafia executive. his body, tense from being on-guard all day, relaxes into your touch slowly as he lets his defenses fall for you. pressing his lips to your hair, chūya relishes in the scent of your mint shampoo as you nuzzle into his chest.

“'missed you, doll.”

you had been waiting on your boyfriend for a little over two hours since your shift ended, but the short span of time felt like forever… and you knew exactly why.

you had spent one hour just laying in his king-sized bed. that one hour, you spent thinking, staring up at the ornate ceiling, tracing the details of each unique tile in your mind.

the next hour, you spent laying in that same bed, staring up at nothing, tracing the details of chūya in your mind –

that auburn hair that falls into his eyes, those curls that descend down the base of his neck,

the expensive cologne that lingers on his shoulder, that telling smile on his lips that speaks only your name;

those slender fingers that grasp your neck ever so slightly while your nails rake down his naked back...

the mattress creaking under your bodies as he fucks you –

the thought made you ache.

“ugh, work was such shit today. you’ll never believe who decided to stop by again.” chūya scoffs, snapping you out of your little fantasy. his hand brushes past your waist as he snakes past you to hang his hat up by the door. you feel your body become uncomfortably warm at his innocent touch. you're embarrassed at how flustered you get, your cheeks reddening as another dirty thought enters your mind. oh god… chūya can be so oblivious sometimes. honestly, wasn’t it obvious from the way you jumped at him that you want him to make a move right now? for a man who could be so aggressive with others, he could be awfully passive with you.

“that mackerel dazai is always trying to screw me over… i’ll show him.” he grits his teeth, balling his hand into a fist as he mumbles about work again.

on most days, you would listen to chūya completely. you’d let him talk your ear off, in fact. chūya knew you were his #1 supporter –

but today was different. today has been an exceptionally stressful day at work for you, too.

it started with a power outage at your apartment, which led you to miss not one but two trains at work and consequently, being bitched at by your boss in front of the company president for tardiness… as if being shortchanged on a daily basis wasn’t enough to have you always in a foul mood. in other words, you weren’t feeling up to exchanging pleasantries with chūya today.

now, “sorry, chū~” is all you could muster as you loop your finger on chūya’s waistband, pulling him closer to you by the hips. “work’s not over yet… i need you in the bedroom, now.”

for a moment, your boyfriend just stares at you in disbelief, blinking. that mouth of yours never fails to disappoint – you can be so unassuming at times. a faint blush appears on his face as he looks away in embarrassment, surprised at your directness. there’s that cute face of his, you think to yourself. then, a flash of confidence spreads across his face and his lips curve into a knowing smirk. "i didn't realize my girl would be so needy today," he whispers in your ear in a low voice, suddenly unconcerned about work. guiding your hands, he moves them lower until you're groping him through his pants. "come, i'll give you exactly what you want."

in the bedroom, he’s gentle, loving. trailing his lips down your neck, he pampers you with soft, kitten kisses, undressing you carefully as he pulls the tank top you’ve changed into over your head and slips you out of the fuzzy shorts you’ve left at his apartment for sleepovers. what you really want for him to do right now, though, is to bend you over and manhandle you – but your boyfriend has a habit of treating you like you’re fragile, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s holding back.

unbuttoning his vest and shirt, you discard his clothes in a pile on the floor as he closes in on you, laying you down gently on the edge of the bed and smoothing his hands down your stomach. fingers play with the waistband of your cotton panties as his lips trail down your navel. "you waited so patiently for me... i oughtta reward you for being so good..." he teases.

you whine, feeling arousal collecting between your thighs as his hands inch lower but never touch you where you want him most. you throw your head back in a tantrum, grabbing at his hair. "c'mon chuuuu, just get on with it already," you complain at him. "don't bullshit anymore, please?"

yup, you’re his girl, alright –

“oy–!" he snaps at you scoldingly, rolling his eyes. "honestly, you’re so impatient–”

then, just as you’re about to protest again, you feel that sweet, overwhelming wetness – the heat of his mouth enfolding you as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. he moans into you and you forget all your qualms as he grabs you, holding you still as you spasm. “c-chūya… oh, god…” his name spills out of your lips and you gasp in pleasure, your hands getting tangled in his hair as he delves his tongue between your folds. his movements are skillful; he teases you with long licks and flicks of his tongue, exploring your taste as his slender fingers gather the arousal inside of you and rub circles at your clit.

“fuck, babe… you’re so fucking wet right now… this all for me?”

“all for you, chū~” you moan shamelessly in response, stealing a peek at him in between shaky breaths. there’s this wicked grin that's snuck its way onto his lips, a hunger in his eyes as he laps up your wetness, soaking in the stunning sight of your writhing under him. diving back in between your thighs, you hear him groan lowly against your bare skin:

“tastes so fucking sweet, babe… better cum for me…”

and you need so much more of it.

burying your hands in his hair, you force his face deeper into you, as if he can burrow himself into your body. you plead for more, desperately grinding yourself against his tongue, crying out his name as he holds you in firmly against his eager mouth. “chūya, please… please, chūya…”

then, just like he promised he would, chūya gives you exactly what you want —

he eats you like he’s starved, unrelenting, until heat sears through your entire body and your mind mind goes completely blank. your orgasm comes in waves. you convulse beneath him, his name spurting from out from your lips, your insides clenching the fingers that are still buried inside you.

“fuck, you’re hot.” — you hear him groan under his breath.

the sight of you so desperate and needy for him, gagging for him to fuck you dumb, has flipped a switch in him. he’s far from finished with you. “you’re still on the pill, right?” he asks, out of breath, and you nod.

stripping, chūya frees himself from his boxers. you lick your lips at him seductively, looking up at him with these lustful eyes that are waiting to return the favor. he's hard from watching you come undone and leaking with his own pre-cum. for a moment, he considers having you suck him first – but the desire to be buried deep in your heat is just so overwhelming. he needs to be inside of you right now.

“i’m just gonna put it in this time, fuck it,” he swallows, grabbing your hips and positioning you in front of him. “be a good girl for me, alright, doll?”

“always am, chū~” you quip, reaching for him as you blink your eyes at him innocently, this playful grin on your face. all he can do in response is smirk at you and shake his head at your persistent teasing, all too aware of the the fact that you have him wrapped around your finger. as you guide him inside you, you hear him inhale sharply, then you look up to see the long column of his neck as he sighs and throws his head back, sinking himself inside of you.

"damn, you feel good... if i knew you'd be treating me tonight... 'woulda come home sooner..." his fingers caress your cheek, his thumb circling around your lips as he glances back down to see how your body meets his. your slickness is sucking him right in – you're so warm and so, so very wet that it's taking no time for you to adjust to him tonight. as he pushes your thighs apart until you're on full display for him, his eyes wander down your body intently. his gaze is hot and full of nothing but pure admiration as he takes in the view of you desperately waiting to be fucked. "can't believe you're all mine too," he mumbles adoringly, stroking your hair with his hand, the strands slipping through his fingers as he grinds his hips slowly against yours. then, he starts moving, thrusting into you steadily until you're crying out his name again, begging for more.

“feels… s’good chū~ please… harder… chū, please… go harder…”

picking up the pace, he throws your legs over his shoulders and snaps his hips into yours faster, faster, faster. your mind is flooded with nothing but thoughts of chūya – being filled by him completely, his name overflowing from your lips, and the sound of your skin against his drowning out your moans. you feel his fingers squeeze the sides of your neck, then his hand wraps around a cluster of your hair and he pulls your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes once more as you gasp for breath.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty right now. do you even have any idea how sexy you are?" he's panting wildly, this insatiable look glistening in his gray irises as he fucks you brainless. that damn look of pure bliss on your face, those filthy moans of yours, and your bouncing breasts are all driving him insane. "god, kiss me–" he growls, crashing his lips into yours. teeth collide with teeth as your noses bump together; you feel his saliva mix with yours and your tongues intertwine. "turn around for me, babe. lemme get behind you."

you nod, and he tosses you on your knees recklessly, then pulls you back against him fast and hard. you feel a firm slap to your ass and you yelp out his name. "fuck, babe, i'm not gonna last much longer. i'm gonna cum inside–"

“faster chū… faster… cum inside me... i want you to…”

"oh shit... fuck, baby–" he twitches inside of you, grabbing your breasts roughly as he empties hot spurts of cum inside you. you think he's finished with you – but then he buries his fingers into your hips again and starts fucking into you harder, nearly collapsing as he slams into you. you tangle your hands into his hair from behind, sobbing out his name as you shove your hips back against his, helping him ride out the last moments of his high.

“oh my god, chū… feels fucking good…”

finally, you feel him pull out, leaving your core throbbing and your legs trembling as his hot seed leaks down your thighs.

"jesus, i made a mess." there's some irritation in his voice as he catches his breath, raking a hand through the beads of sweat in his hair. "i guess new sheets are coming out of my next paycheck," he mutters. then, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as chūya pulls you tight against his chest. "c'mon doll. let me run a bath for us."

…

sitting between chūya's legs in the bathtub, you scrub shampoo bubbles through his hair as your boyfriend pours out another glass of expensive wine. "oy – don't get carried away. you know you're a lightweight," you tease.

"–am not!” he mutters defensively, rolling his eyes at you. then, bringing the glass to your lips, he parts your mouth with his thumb. "taste it, you'll like this one."

taking a sip, you savor the flavor on your tongue before passing the glass back to chūya. "oh, yeah, you said you had a bad day at work, right? what happened?"

"honestly, i can't even remember now," he sighs, putting the glass down and pressing a kiss to your temple. "how ‘bout you, doll? how was your day?"

you think for a moment, then scrunch up your nose in disgust as you recall the day's events. "don't even get me started–!"

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[mydearesthrry]

right back home to you - h.s.

a/n: had a hard time deciding if i wanted to put this out since im not too happy with the outcome but i wanted to feed u guys. in the future ill probably go back in and edit it but for now i hope you all enjoy this little angsty girl xx im also working on part 2 of love in secret !!!!!!!!!! she should be out fairly soon <3

wc: 4.8k

warnings: none, angst, fluff, flight anxiety

“Hello? ‘M home,” Harry shouted into the cold house. Not that he would even notice, but the air was dull and the atmosphere was still, hues in the normally vibrant house now gray and lifeless. “Baby?” 

“Oh, hi Harry,” A dulcet smile was on her face as she walked around the corner with sweatpants and a baggy hoodie on, a baseball cap on top of her head. She had her dirty and beat up air forces on her feet that Harry loved to make fun of, small dollops of paint on the soles of the shoe. She also had a pair of sunnies that lay stagnant on the dark blue visor, a tell tale sign for Harry that she was going out. “I didn’t hear you come home.” 

Harry hummed, holding his arms out for her to walk into. She did, but only embraced him with half of her body, one arm curling around his waist loosely while the other stayed swaying by her side. In both of their opinions, it was way too short to even be considered a hug, not even close to being an embrace, but Y/N did it purposely. Harry frowned, feeling a twinge of hurt at her unusual lack of affection. “Um… Are y- are y’going out?” 

She laughed falsely, shaking her head and turning her body to face the large windows in their apartment. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

Harry was still confused. “What d’you mean?” 

It’s now or never, Y/N thought, and mustered her bravest smile as she pivot turned to face him again. “I’m leaving, Harry. I’m going up to New York to stay with Eliza. I don’t know when I’ll be home, but I’ll be sure to let you know in advance, is that okay?” 

A few beats pass, Harry staring at her in disbelief. “What the fuck? No, no, s’not okay! Why- why are y’leaving? Y’didn’t even tell me? When were you planning on telling me y’were leaving?” 

“I’ve been planning on leaving for a long time, Harry. I was actually meant to leave before you even got home, really, but you’re early.” She sighed, rubbing at her temple and knowing the fight that was about to ensue. 

“Why are y’leaving?” Harry’s voice started to grow in volume, becoming harder and harsher as he tightened his hands into balled fists, trying to channel his feelings in another way rather than yelling at his girlfriend. 

“I’m leaving because I can’t do this anymore, Harry. I cant keep arguing with you every day, it’s just not fair to me. And it’s not fair to you either, really, so I’m just… taking the stress off of the both of us and making the bold decision to leave.” She explains, moving to grab her suitcases from the hallway and roll them into the living room. 

“That’s wha’ this is about? The fight we had last night?” He asks, eyes widening and mouth drying at the sight of her multiple suitcases. 

“Um— not entirely, I guess. I’ve meant to go up to visit Eliza, if you remember, we were going to but you had um— a party, that you needed to attend. So I just decided to book a flight last night after you went to sleep.” She's as quiet as a mouse, her words not staggering but it was physically obvious that she was nervous. 

“So what now? Is that it? You’re just… throwing away four years of my- of our fucking life?” Harry spat. She’d started to shrink into herself quite a bit, sweaty palms running over the now warm black handle of her small suitcase. 

“I’m not throwing away anything, Harry. We had a fight, you and I both said some nasty things, and I’m just going up to my sister's house for a little bit to clear my head. Like I said, I was meaning to go up anyway. This isn’t really about you, Harry, as much as you think it might be. I’ve been miserable here all alone and all I want is to be with someone who I know can provide me with love and attention right now, which is what I need. You need it too.” She tried to hold her ground but the tremble in her soft voice made her feel weak. 

She and Harry had gotten into a multitude of arguments within the past weeks that he had been off tour. It started from little things, like a sock being thrown over the laundry basket and not inside of it, or one of them leaving their dirty tea mugs on the counter when the sink was right there! But as small and insignificant as these things were, they also grew into arguments about bigger issues. One of the more nasty arguments had pushed her to pack her bags and book a plane ride up to her sister’s house in New York. 

The argument on the table this time around was that whenever Harry was home after an elongated amount of time on the road, he would treat Y/N as if she was his friend and not girlfriend of three years. She’d had a problem with this seeing as all she ever wanted him to do was love her and take care of her, and for some reason she couldn’t help but feel he found that hard. 

“Bullshit. I know y’leaving ‘cause your feelings got hurt or whatever, but you know y’don’t have to leave, pup. We can resolve this, don’t we always?” He grumbles, taking a few small steps forward to meet her where she stood by the door. 

“It’s entirely different this time, Harry.” She sighed, bending down to sit on the floor since she knew they’d probably be there for a while. 

“How?! How could this be any fuckin’ different? We’re jus’ arguin’ are we not?” Harry runs a stressed hand through his hair, trying to channel his energy away from his voice. Though he tried to refrain from allowing his anger to seep its way into his voice, his girlfriend could still pick up on the edge that lined his vocal chords. 

“No, baby. We aren’t just arguing. This is me trying to tell you how I feel, and you keep pushing it aside. So this isn’t just us arguing anymore, I guess I’m surrendering. I’m tired of doing this with you whenever you’re home, Harry. I’m alone every day, 24/7, and then you come home and it’s like nothing has changed. Which I love, I love how we can just bounce back, but sometimes I need more love or attention when you come back, and I just…” She starts to gnaw on her lips, trying to word her next thought carefully. “I’m tired of being treated like your friend rather than your girlfriend.” 

“What?” 

“Mhm. Besides me being alone all the time, whenever I do have you— or people around, you only ever want to keep me at arms length. The whole world knows we’re together, Harry. You’ve posted on my birthday and it’s no secret to anyone anymore. I… I just can’t understand why you do that, really. It makes me feel like I’m just your friend and not your lover.” She pauses, inhaling a sharp breath of air and willing her tears away. 

“What do you— what do you even mean? I’m always with you whenever I’m home, I bring y’everywhere w’me?” His anger just kept growing and growing, but this time he noticed that the weight of guilt that was sitting on his heart had gotten heavier with every breath he took, the weight of the pull almost being able to bring him to his knees.

She lets out a wet laugh, shaking her head before dropping it in defeat. “Harry… I hate to bring it up but— you’ve been home for what, three weeks now? We haven’t had sex, we barely have cuddled, you don’t put your arm around me in public or kiss my cheek. I— I feel like I’m losing you. It’s so hard to love you when you won’t let me. I’ve tried to be understanding and just trying to accept the fact that you’re readjusting to our normal life but… I miss you. The only time we talk for longer than a few minutes is when we fight, and that’s not okay. You know how much you mean to me, but I just can’t keep trying to love someone you aren’t anymore. It’s just too destructive to me and I just can’t. I’m sorry, Harry. I hope you can understand, and I’ll be back whenever we’re ready.” 

Harry’s now shaking with sobs. Uncontrollable, messy, heartbreaking sobs. Her words were finally making sense to him. All of the arguments had finally made sense. She was arguing with him just so he would talk to her. He thought he could die with the amount of guilt squeezing his heart right now. 

“I love you, isn’t that enough?” He whispered. 

“I don’t think it is anymore, Harry.” Lifting herself up to her feet, she rolls her suitcase to stand behind her, taking a few small steps to be inches away from her Harry. “I’ll be back, H. I promise.” 

Placing a kiss to his wet cheek, he watched her walk away with a damp smile, and against his will, engrained the image of her leaving to his mind. 

This wasn’t how he imagined they would end. 

He didn’t even entertain the thought of them ever ending; but now he feels like he just lost every single atom of his being in the quickest of moments. 

—

It was hell. 

Harry could say with full conviction that it was absolute hell to be in that house, that big house on the beach, alone. 

Nothing felt right. From the second he woke up in the morning, to the minute he slid his legs under the covers at night, he almost felt nauseous because of how unusual he felt. How unusual everything felt. 

And it was all his fault. 

Picking up his phone, he goes to text his sweet girl again when he decides to scroll up to find the reprieve of gray amongst the sea of blue. 

Harry: Please text me when you land. 

Harry: I love you, please don’t forget that. 

Harry: Take all the time you need, Angel. I’m here if you need me. I’m so sorry.

Harry: I’ll be waiting for you when you get home. Just say the word and I’ll get you a ticket. 

Harry: Take your time though, please be safe. I love you.

Harry: Again

Y/N: just landed. kinda busy rn, talk to you later bug

Harry: That’s okay, be safe. ❤️

Y/N loved this message

Harry: I love you 

Y/N: yeah love you too h

Allowing his head to drop onto the back of the sofa, his arm fell limp onto his thigh, his green eyes scanned the interior of the living room, twinges of pain and guilt panting in his chest whenever he’d land his gaze on something that was proprietarily hers. 

Her growing orchids in a handmade pot that they’d painted together on their first Valentine’s Day as a couple. 

The godawful mirror she thrifted from a random corner store back in her hometown that she begged Harry to put up. 

A small canvas filled with tiny paintings of inside jokes and memorable dates that she gifted to him last Christmas. He allowed himself to trace over that painting for a little longer than the rest of the small things placed among their living room. 

11/29/19. The first time they met. 

1/16/21. When Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. 

4/07/21. The first time they said I love you. 

12/25/22. When Harry surprised Y/N on Christmas with a down payment on a house. The one he was now residing in, alone. 

A red convertible figurine, the car they first kissed in. 

A coffee cup and a teacup, symbolizing the first date they went on, where he learned she hates tea and preferred coffee, which led to an argument on whether coffee or tea was better. 

A small tulip, representing the first bouquet of flowers he ever bought her. 

And a small pearl ring, an exact replica of the promise ring Harry had given her on their 3 year anniversary. 

He didn’t even notice the streaks of tears beginning to run down his face until he felt a teardrop fall onto his inner wrist, making him look down. 

But as he canvassed the room once more, he perked up at the sight of a small snow globe that she brought him back from New York, and that was when he got an idea. He knew it was dramatic, and a bit of a stretch, but who said he wouldn’t go to extreme lengths to get his soulmate back?

Yeah, no one ever. 

To: Eliza

Harry: Hey Liz, got a sec?

—

Harry hated flying alone. 

Since he was a teenager and stepped foot on his first plane, he was anxious even being next to someone he barely knew even though his friends were two seats away. Though he would claim that he’s always been a bit anxious and just chalking it up to flight anxiety, he knew that the real reason why he hated flying alone was because he always feared that something bad would happen on the ground when he was in the air and vice versa, and that was always his greatest vice. 

His hands began to tremble nervously as he looked out the window of the airplane, seeing nothing but fluffy white on the exterior and the soft red light of the aircraft’s wings blinking every so often. His headphones were placed over his head, smushing his curls down flat onto his head, a mask covering the bottom half of his face. His hood was pulled up as well, trying to conceal himself as much as possible. He hadn’t brought much, just a little carry on and a small tote to shove under the seat in front of him. It was wishful thinking that he wouldn’t be there for a long while, but he brought the keys to his apartment in New York anyway. 

He kept his head hung in nausea, the speed of his shaking hands increasing tenfold. The pit in his stomach grew and he had to beg his own body to allow his eyes to not stray to the window next to him. Sure, he could close it, but he feared if it was too dark he would become more anxious than he was right now. The mask covering the bottom half of his face now felt constricting— as if he was being suffocated by the thin layer of fabric. The light douse of perfume that danced around the sunflower print of the mask couldn’t even distract him, and it only pained him more that his senses were fully encompassed by her. He bit down on his lip to distract himself by the whirling feeling of nausea that now swirled around in his throat, willing away the sick that begged to come out.

The rest of the flight was the same, his anxiety only decreasing when he allowed himself to take a small nap. However, when he woke up, his nerves had heightened when he flickered his gaze from the window to the screen in front of him, reading only 20 minutes until he was set to touch down. Grasping his phone from his hoodie pocket, he aligned it to his face then rolling his eyes when he remembered he had a mask on. Lowering his phone he typed in his password— Y/N’s birthday— and pulled up their messages again. 

Harry: Good morning baby. I love you. I hope you have a good day today!! 

Y/N: thanks h love you

He couldn’t lie and say that her being short with him didn’t hurt his feelings, because it did. He wasn’t going to avoid the fact, but that didn’t mean that he liked it regardless. He felt like a fool checking his phone so often, especially when he knew that she wouldn’t be making an effort to reach out first, but he could be hopeful, right? 

At least that’s what he’s telling himself. 

The plane landed safely, nerves rolling off of his back in waves and he was more than happy to leave his flight anxiety on the floor of the plane, relieved to not be miles high in the air. There was a lull that was obvious to Harry, and he felt himself switch to function in autopilot, waiting mindlessly to enter the aisle to retrieve his bag from the overhead compartment. 

The nippy New York air was the first thing to snap Harry out of his trance. Looking down at his phone, he felt a soft buzz and soon after felt his heart beat almost fast enough to eject from his chest. 

Y/N: saw this in a store earlier, thought of u

Y/N: Attachment: 1 Image 

Eliza: waiting near terminal b for you, lmk when you get outside 

Harry: I’m outside, can you see me?

Eliza: yep. be there in a sec

Swiping out of Y/N’s sisters messages, he went to click on Y/N’s before a black car stopped in front of him, averting his attention from his device to the car that just screeched to a halt. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he trudged forward and grabbed onto the door handle, prying it open and avoiding Eliza’s deathly stare. “Um- hiiii.” 

She scoffed. “Hi, H.” 

He throws his tote to his feet, awkwardly buckling himself in and turned in his seat, avoiding eye contact but making sure she knew that conversation was open if she’d wanted to make it. “How— um… How are you?”

Silence follows his words for a few seconds, making him heat up in embarrassment. “Good.” 

“Oh- that’s good… I, um— haven't seen y’in quite a while, Lizzy,” He says softly, guilt evident in his voice. “I missed you.” 

Eliza was basically Gemma’s best friend. They were attached at the hip the first time they met, bonding over being the eldest sisters, and shared secrets. Y/N and Harry’s family had always been interconnected, close with each other even if Y/N and Harry lacked that communication. 

They were basically soul tied in every sense of the phrase. 

“Yeah, I missed you too, H. But,” Eliza starts. “You’ve been a right dick to my sister.” 

“I know,” He whispers. 

“Do you? Fuck, H, my fucking baby sister came to me crying because of you. And you know how much I love you, truly, you know I do, but I love her more. So, I just have to ask,” She pauses, gnawing on her lip and clicking her blinker on to signal her turn. “What the hell happened?” 

“I,” He sniffs, trying to contain his emotions already begging to come out. “I don’t know.” 

Eliza snorts. “Bullshit.” 

“I— I really don’t, Lizzy. I guess I was really in m’head about… well, everything. I lo- love her so much,” Harry’s voice cracks, his facade shattering into more microscopic pieces than the most delicate sheet of glass ever could. 

“I know you do, H. That’s why this is so confusing to me. To Gems. And most importantly, to Y/N. What happened, Curly? How’d we lose you?” She begs, trying to get him to explain where he was mentally. She loved him as she would Y/N, which was the hardest part. It hurt her as much as it hurt him to confront him about the issue. 

“I don’t want her to hate me! Okay?” Harry sobs, chin falling to his chest in weakness. “I don’t want her t’hate me for being away all the time, and I’m so fucking scared. ‘M scared because the press is doing nothing but talking bad about me and I don’t know if I can equally protect her as much as she does me when this happens. When it happens t’me I jus’ ignore it, but I know she can’t do that. I know it, Lizzy, and so d’you.” 

“I know, H. I know.” She whispers. 

“I jus’ wanted to keep her as far away as I could so that if she did decide she didn’t want me anymore, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” He murmurs so quietly, he himself even doubts if he said it out loud. 

Silence followed the rest of the car ride, the only sound filling the space of the vehicle being the soft splatter of rain on the glass windows and windshield, paired with the crackly static of the stereo. The sun even seemed to be hiding away, the sky dark with clouds, little to no light making an appearance to greet Harry’s arrival. 

Pulling up to her driveway, Eliza parked the car, keeping her ignition on so she could drive away after Harry got into the house. Turning to Harry, she chewed on her bottom lip as she traced his side profile with her eyes. “You need to tell her exactly what you told me. Word for word, Harry. You can’t keep her in the dark. She doesn’t even know I went to pick you up. So, just promise me that you’ll tell her exactly what you told me.” 

“I promise.” Harry’s voice cracked in a broken whisper, vocal cords thrumming against each other as if they were rusted. “Love you, Lizzy. Thank you.”

Stepping out of the car, he knocked on the door thrice, and tapped softly on the doorbell for good measure. His hands had gone cold with anxiousness, but he wrote it off as the stark cold weather of New York. 

“Harry? Oh my god, baby, get inside,” Y/N pulled him in immediately, pushing his thick puffer jacket off of him that was shiny with rainwater, hands coming up to pull his baby blue beanie from his hair, revealing his soft curls. They shared no words as she pulled him to the living room, where she sat the both of them down and covered the length of their torsos and legs with a big fluffy blanket. Y/N didn’t waste a second before she threw her legs over his thighs, grabbing his hands and rubbing over the cold and cracked red skin, trying to exude as much warmth from her own as much as she could. 

She’s always been warm. 

Her hands have always been graced with heat and more significantly, she always tended to carry around an aura as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug with her wherever she went. Bringing their hands up to his lips, he presses kisses all over the back of hers, kissing her knuckles and fingertips that moved erratically over his own. She could feel the dry chap of his lips on her hands and down to her wrists but she didn’t care. She didn’t mind one bit. She would rather commit the feeling of his lips on her hands to memory rather than not know what they felt like at all. 

“What’re you doing here, baby?” She asks, concern etched in her face as she lifts her head to look at him, her movements on his hands not staggering or slowing. 

“Came t’see you,” He whispers weakly. “Couldn’t bear it. I need t’see you, hold y’again… Fuck, do jus’ about anything to be near y’again.” 

Her heart twisted with the most intense emotion that she could only describe as heartbreak. “You— you got on a plane by yourself just to come see me?” 

“Would do jus’ about anything f’you, sweet girl. Of course I would go on a plane jus’ by myself if it meant I could hold you.” He admitted. He avoided eye contact with her, keeping his eyes trained on their conjoined hands that now lay stagnant on the soft fabric of the blanket. 

“Harry,” She whispers. “Why are you here, my love?” 

“I felt too guilty t’let you leave like that,” He says, gnawing on his bottom lip to will away the tears begging to escape. “I couldn’t let y’go without telling y’I loved you. And I didn’t…” He pauses, struggling for air as he over explained. “I didn’t even explain m’self. I didn’t tell you I loved you. I didn’t kiss y’back. I didn’t even tell y’to be safe.” 

He’s fully sobbing now, Y/N tracing his side profile with his eyes, jittering with fear and anxiety. “It’s okay, hey, baby, listen,” Grabbing his chin with the tips of her fingers, she turns his head to hers, resting his forehead atop of hers. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I just needed time to think and I didn’t want to lash out on you because I didn’t have time to. We’re okay, baby. I promise.” 

He shook his head while she spoke, tears falling on the fluff of the blanket with every movement. His eyes were clenched as if he was in pain, and uneven erratic breaths fell from his mouth. “Nonono. I should— should’ve listened to you. I did- didn’t mean t’treat y’like tha’,” Harry’s accent had gotten heavier with how much emotion he was feeling, stumbling over his words as if he was drunk. 

“And I should’ve explained myself more. It’s not your fault, H. Please baby, breathe,” She begged, tightening her grip on his hands as she pleaded with her nose slotted next to his, every whispered beg pushing her lips forward to lightly brush against his raw-bitten ones. “There, that’s it.” 

His breaths began to even out, just the slightest bit. His hands still shook dramatically, veins in his neck that once protruded from the force of his cries now retracting. “I’m sorry.” 

“Harry, stop apolog-“ 

“No. I have t’say this before I leave because if I don’t, I don’t think I ever will. I— I didn’t mean t’push y’away. I was trying to protect m’self but I didn’t see that it was hurting y’too. It wasn’t my intention, and now I realize it wasn’t the right thing t’do.” He sniffles, pulling back from her face to hold eye contact for the utmost emphasis on his words. 

“I tried to keep you far away because if you ended up resenting me for being away all the time it would hurt less if you decided to leave me. Paired with everything that’s being said in the media about m’right now, I tried t’keep y’as far away as I could so that if everything came crashing down on me, I would’ve had to cope with losing y’less than everything else. And I kept picking fights with y’so that if— or when y’got too fed up w’me, you’d leave me yourself instead of something else forcing y’to leave me. I think it was all subconscious, seeing how I freaked out on y’when y’told me you were leaving. I guess I didn’t really prepare myself for when it was really going t’happen. I’m really, really sorry, Angel. I really do hope y’can forgive me.” 

She’s silent. It scares him, he can’t lie. He takes her silence as an answer and pulls his hands from her grasp and moves her legs softly off of his thighs, standing up and brushing off his pants in an attempt to stall. She’s still mute, and he takes it as his cue to go. There’s still tears streaming down his face, but they’re silent. Like he doesn’t even want to acknowledge that they’re falling at all. 

“I love you.” He whispers, before turning and walking to the door. Placing his hand on the knob, he turns it, and his heart follows the motion with a sharp twist that he thinks he feels in his entire body. He’s gnawing in his lip to avoid breaking down in front of her, even though she’s arguably seen him at his worst and most vulnerable times. Opening the door, he’s greeted with the harsh cold air, biting at his skin so aggressively he feels like his tears have now frozen to his face. Bearing the pain, he forced himself to take the step out the doorway and onto the porch, on autopilot as he let his feet decide his motions. 

“Harry, wait,” Y/N pleaded, running out behind him, meeting him in the middle of the driveway in nothing but tiny shorts and a stolen crewneck of his that she'd haphazardly stuffed into her luggage. “I love you. I love you more than I could probably ever explain, and I— I just need you to know that. If you’re done with me or done with this, that’s okay, I just need you to know that I love you.” 

“I love you. Always.” He whispers, lips trembling with sadness. 

“You know I always will, right?” She asks, placing a warm hand onto his wet and cold cheek.

“I know, baby. I do.” He says. 

“I’m here whenever you want me. I promise.” She pleads, coming up to reach his lips, placing a soft kiss to his cold ones. 

“Come home, please.” 

“Always, H. I’ll always come right back home to you.”

[kisscara]

am i sinking or swimming? [scaramouche x gn!reader] ⎯⎯ fatui!scaramouche, angst, no comfort, toxic relationship, blood

songfic based off of late night drive home's song stress relief

his words shook you to your core.

this wasn't kunikuzushi. where did you go wrong? you stood by his side and felt his pain every time he lost a close one to him and yet he chose to turn into this... this monster. he was never home and whenever he was, he acted as if you didn't exist. he acted as if you were there for, what, emotional support?

scaramouche talked to you when he felt like it. when he felt like he was about to lose it, his mind flooding with the heart wrenching memories of them. it's always been them, but never you. why can't he see you? he says something along these lines during these moments. "(name), what do i do? i can't do this anymore."

were you his lover, or his therapist?

you gnaw down on your bottom lip, restraining pained sobs as you soothe your husband from behind him with your hands comfortingly rubbing his shoulders. "it's okay, kunikuzushi. you're okay, because i'm going to be here with you," you reassure him, planting a kiss against his tear stained face.

scaramouche's fist ball up the sheets of the bed as tears continue to pour from his eyes. without looking at you, he turns around and holds you in his embrace. "you won't leave me, right?" his voice is small and full of sorrow. one would think he was manipulating you in this situation and in this case, maybe he was.

your eyes widen. oh, oh no, what were you thinking? your poor lover was just in a hard place at the moment, so of course he holds mutual feelings for you, he's just feeling down! it's your job to help him find his happiness again and he'll go back to his old loving self.

his loving self...

it's stress relief from everything.

what exactly is his happiness? right, letting him take out his anger on you. after that, he'll definitely apologize and go back to loving you. he says the most hurtful things and his words slice like a blade. you could say that if his phrases were physically harming you, you'd be six feet under.

it's okay, because this is his way of coping. it's not the healthiest way, sure, but would you rather have the only important person to you feeling sad and lonely? no. no one would want that. you went through his mental abuse in a state of being completely lovesick with the man.

it will strengthen your bond with him and show him that you're never leaving, that he can finally put his trust in you and see you as his spouse. how much can you take though?

your friends always tell you stories about their spouse, from how they cook, to the type of plans they make for dates... it's endless. and whenever the conversation puts you on the spotlight, you're speechless. what would you tell them about your beloved kunikuzushi?

"he's sweet like usual..."

they would playfully laugh at your comment.

"that's what you said last time, (name)! come on, anything new? are you guys going on a date sometime?"

you simply shake your head and direct the topic of the conversation elsewhere.

tell me, tell me you love me.

you're on your knees of the living room in your shared house with scaramouche, hands against the floor as broken sobs break past your lips. how long have you been holding this in? how long... has he been holding back the urge to hurt you?

scaramouche blankly stares at the hand that roughly grabbed your arm before moving his gaze to your figure. his nails had dug deep into your flawless skin, creating bloody crescent marks. hesitant, he moves towards you with one step, and then two...

"sorry, (name), but i have to go back to my fatui duties."

of course. you'd expect nothing less of your loving husband. "is that all, kunikuzushi?" you croak out, voice scratchy from your cries. scaramouche narrows his eyes. "you were willing to take this head-on, weren't you? so take what you bargained for." his gaze lingers upon you for a few moments before he leaves the house.

you cry out in anguish. you aren't sure whether it's because of the pain he inflicted upon you, or the feeling of your heart being torn apart by his ruthless hands. you stagger to the kitchen, hastily running your wound beneath cold water and wincing at the sting. you wrap it with bandages and heave large breaths.

"i can't... i can't do this anymore!" you groan and wipe at your tears but they just kept on coming like an endless waterfall. "i've done all that i can for you, but i can't do this, kunikuzushi."

you were right all along. you're a toy to him. a toy to satisfy his greedy needs and wants as he lulled you into staying by triggering your guilt with his hypnotizing voice and solemn cries. you're a toy that he never cared for. but if that toy were to be taken from him, would he contemplate the way he treated it then?

come back, come back to haunt me.

scaramouche returned home with bandages. he just couldn't find the person he needed to put the bandages on. he wandered around the house for quite a while, thinking nothing of it. he brushes it off; you probably went down to inazuma city to see your friends.

he goes into the kitchen to put the bandages away, but finds an empty roll of bandages on the counter. oh. 'i guess they won't be needing this anymore then,' scaramouche thought to himself, putting the bandages into the cabinet and tossing the roll aside.

scaramouche goes back outside and decides to wait for you. he hopefully removes his hat from his head so you could see his face first thing when he caught you in sight.

soon enough, night falls. he rubs his eye with one hand, the other one sore and aching from holding his heavy hat. he won't go back inside until he's seen you. like any other dilemma the two of you had, he'll apologize and console you with his words as you fall asleep in his arms.

that day would never come for him, not again.

won't you, won't you let me be myself?

"have you seen..." his voice trails off when he realizes the looks of disgust your friends give him. his eyes go dark as they continue to whisper, acting as if he wasn't there.

"i feel bad for them but seriously, a harbinger?"

"it's fine, we should look after them. i'm glad they finally told us about him, it's no wonder they were so off lately."

scaramouche's shoulders sink. "s-so, you know where they are, right? can you please tell me, i just want to talk-" he's stammering in between gasps, not even realizing he's on the verge of bursting into tears. one of them grimaces at his look of agony. "leave them alone, you've done enough damage to them."

if scaramouche, had a heart, he swore it would have skipped a beat in that moment. "damage? no, no, you must be mistaken! i love them!" scaramouche's temper began to rise. who were they to tell him how you felt for him?

"stop it, please. they told us to tell you that they don't want to carry on with this relationship."

"archons, they were right, he really would chase after them. what a psycho..."

scaramouche felt the air knock out of his lungs almost instantly. 'they've got it all wrong, we're going to be okay, (name). i love you, i love you, i love you-' he stands there, watching your friends leave him heartbroken and in pain.

i was holding on but you didn't see my shots baby.

"i'm going to make it up to you, but i don't want to sleep alone." scaramouche whimpers to himself, curling into a pathetic position on the cold bed. his hands cover his ears as he shudders, startling from the booming noise of thunder and the creaking of the house.

his eyes are tightly shut, scared that if he opened them, he would see a horrid figure in the dark. what a child...

he blindly reaches around for your hand like he usually did, to tightly squeeze it to reassure him that you were there; you would keep him safe from any dangers within the night. you even said it yourself. "i may not have your strength, but i'm good at handling the night, alright? whatever scares you, i'll take care of you."

"take care of me, (name)... stay with me..."

all the times that I couldn't speak my thoughts well maybe.

at the tsaritsa's palace, scaramouche's fatui subordinates would be lying if they said the balladeer wasn't different. his eyes clearly showed signs of exhaustion and he was much too tired to even shout at them for a change. they thought he was a total ghost.

always moping around, mumbling your name and writing what seemed to be countless letters. it went from asking you about your day, to telling you about his day, to him writing paragraphs of apologies and so, so many 'i love you's.

whenever one of the fatui subordinates were in his office, he'd suddenly smile with empty eyes and ask, "do you have a partner or a spouse, perhaps?" scaramouche would lean back in his chair and add, "i have my own spouse. you see, they're very special because they love me even though i messed up a lot."

"i love them more than they love me. do you agree?" scaramouche would tilt his head and his aura sent shivers down the subordinate's spine. say no, he dares them.

for now, he hasn't chosen to send out a search party for you because he wanted to prove that he wasn't a psycho like your rude friend said. but still, the pain was eating away at him. every sleepless night and the guilt that was weighing him down was catching up to his mental health.

well this is what i wanted please don't feel so bad.

give him another chance. he's laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, mindlessly muttering, "our anniversary is soon. we can go anywhere you like. i have a special surprise too, so you better look forward to it and tonight, i can stay home. the tsaritsa told me to go on a break for today since..."

scaramouche turns on his side and closes his eyes. "i don't really know, but it's fine. we can have a date and i'll show all of your friends that i'm much more better than their spouses. or maybe, we can stay home and i'll cook for you. you never tasted my cooking before, but it's good, i promise you."

little conversations with no one. he hates the reality of his life and he wants nothing more than to be with you. he wouldn't care if you shouted at him or hurt him; seeing you was more than enough.

"you didn't like it when i talked about them, right? i'll talk about you, and only you this time, i promise..."

in love with a ghost please won't you come back...

© kisscara

[undercoverpena]

ii. sync up our calendars

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. smut. frankie gets a blowjob.

an: thank you to my smut specialist, @psychedelic-ink for giving me the belief that my writing wasn't trash.

wordcount: 3.5k

You wake to still-warm sheets, but an empty bed.

Lashes fluttering, fingers sliding over soft cotton as your nose is immediately greeted with the scent of him, last night and your washing powder. A concoction, you realise (very quickly) that you want to bottle.

So much so, it makes your heart heavy, but also full.

A contrast you're not sure how to feel about.

Your mind trying to process it—the entanglement of feelings you’ve managed to keep stuffed down inside of you, that are now free, floating, fluttering.

Deep down, you know you should try and unpiece, but you’re not sure what you’ll find when you do. What will be left. What will happen if you pull on the earth-green thread that’s woven itself around every part of your life since the moment he shyly introduced himself.

Instead, your fingers just trace where he was the last time when your eyes were open. Something working itself into in your bones, digging, spreading. Unsure if it’s best labelled as disappointment or as realisation, because—

He wouldn’t just leave, surely?

Eyes stinging, burning. Blinking them away as you close your fingers into a fist. Rolling your eyes, sighing if only to yourself—hand coming across your forehead.

Because, of course, he would. Last night was…An arrangement.

An excuse.

A stress relief.

Yet, deep down, you’d hoped that for all the tests your friendship had undertaken, it wouldn’t be this thing that had him leaving before you woke. Not after the things the two of you have lived through, coped through—worked through layer by layer until movie nights and being close was all easy again, no lingering worries and knotted, balled-up unspoken secrets.

Sitting up, you pull the sheets up, staring at the doorway—hopelessly wishing. Imagining, sliding yourself into a fairytale where he walks back through the door, something in hand—a coffee, maybe?—wearing a smile, hair all at odd ends, curls still prevalent (even after all the tugging you had done). Your heart sinking, descending, falling.

Because all you’ve done is hopelessly wish.

Then, it happens. The fairytale becomes reality, flowing out, as if it’s painting itself in real time—a living, moving, walking tapestry coming to life that you realise isn’t manufactured or dreamt. But real.

“Made you coffee.”

You shouldn’t let it, but your heart skips a beat.

The sight of him alone conjuring it because Frankie’s found one of his tees in your drawer—likely from the collection of his clothing slotted between all of yours. The sweats you’d been wearing last night now on his hips, all loose, hanging, all untied and easy to drag down his thick thighs and—

The memory of last night hits you. Makes your throat dry and heat floods through you.

For a moment, you just sit in it, staring—the moment. Desperately trying to ignore the way your heart does a lurch, even if it knows it shouldn’t; your body settling, calming, even if you know this isn’t what your mind is concocting and running away with.

He’s your friend—with added stress relief. That’s it.

An agreement between kisses and exploration. A promise made between naked bodies and gentle moans.

“Hey?”

You drag your eyes up, finding brown—watching him placing the mug in your hand, wrapping his index and thumb around your wrist as he lifts it. It’s then that the bubble bursts, the one you’d begun stitching together at the idea of having him, having him call you his all over again.

His touch spreading sparks down your wrist, along your fingers, the pads of them pulsing, twitching—

“We should… talk.”

Blinking, you shift your face—rearranging emotions, haphazardly placing a smirk, smearing your lips in coffee before you know your throat can say the words that are needed to be spoken.

“About what?”

Frankie tilts his head. Gives you a look—one that says ‘don’t be like that’—one that makes you almost splutter coffee all over him, and the bed, as he sits down next to you. The mattress dipping, his thigh close to your knee, body twisting to you, fully focused, tenacious.

He takes a breath. So you begin—wanting to put him at ease. A thing inside of you that always thrums, a need to calm, to make it better.

“I had fun, Frankie.”

His eyes widen, words quick to follow: “Me too! Yeah, me too.”

Swallowing, you take a look at him.

He’s so handsome. To the point, you’re not even sure he sees it—has ever seen it. He doesn’t realise how beautiful his eyes are, how much you want to fall into them, coat yourself in the distinct Frankie-brown that you had pictured when he didn’t respond to your messages. The eyes you worried you’d never see when the trip lasted longer than he’d said.

“I would like… I’d want to..”

Smiling, you place a hand on his knee. “Me too. But, I just… I don’t want us to, I don’t—“

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

A part of you relaxes, while the rest of you sighs. Something beating normally, everything settling—not quite sure when the anxiousness had bled in, or it had tried to cling to you until it lessens and fades away.

“You’re… you’re the best thing about my life.” He says it in a tone that’s far more commanding than you’re used to—as though attempting to stamp it in. Ensure you know it, understand it, believe it. “Which is why when it begins to change *us—*what the two of us have—we stop. Alright?”

It’s easy to agree, to let the okay slip out when still holding his knee.

“So, we don’t tell anyone, alright? Not Ben. Not Will.”

He spits the latter with intent. Something there. A prickling, a loose tile of sorts on an otherwise perfect roof.

“Agreed,” you say.

Because it’s not the time or the place.

Your skin is bare under the sheets, not wanting to get into whatever the tone was when you couldn’t comfortably cage him in somewhere to tell you the truth. Because he does that—Frankie—he protects, also likes to make things easy, simple. To the point sometimes he hides himself from you, fearing he’s making things worse, complicating your otherwise normal life.

A rehash of the rules is evidence of it. A verbal contract, an assurance there’s no regret.

As if you could ever regret him; ever regret last night. The two of you.

“And you don’t want me buying you wine?” You shake your head. “You can’t cook me food—if we need it, we order.”

“Agreed. And… I’m not staying over at yours.”

His eyes narrow, but the rest of his face remains unreadable. “Okay?”

Shrugging, you take another sip, coffee spurring you on. It corrodes away any shyness, giving you the confidence, the strength. “It just gets complicated. Like I end up with things at yours, and then y’know, where does this,” you gesture between you, “end, and our friendship begins.”

If he disagrees, he doesn’t show it. Although, the air around him thickens, tightening quickly around the two of you as his head tilts, processing it—your words. His hand reaches up, scratching at his beard before he flicks his eyes up at you—warming your skin and making your ears burn.

“Okay, yeah. I get you.”

“Good.”

Then, the air dissolves, relaxed. Him reaching forward as he takes your mug, playfully winking as he takes a sip—not cowering under your gaze as he places it back, wrapping your fingers around it. Fingers lingering, desperately clutching you, as though needing you for one last time.

“Guess for this to work, y’need to give me your phone—so we can sync calendars.”

Arching your brow, you move, grabbing it from the bedside table, taking a sip as you hand it to him. Noticing how his eyes drag over you, forcing your hand to shift the sheet.

“Didn’t think you’d know how to do that, Morales.”

Snorting, he quickly smirks. “Don’t sound so surprised, querida.”

That name—it shoots fire through you. Something from last night, a thing he’s only ever let slip when he’s more booze than brains. It has the same effect then, as it does now. If not more.

Your skin warms, almost scorching against your bones. Even as his eyes drop to your phone, unlocking it, trying to fight it widening as he asks if yours is up to date—whether there’s anything missing from it.

“Looks like we’re both free in a week.”

Rolling your lips, you drip feed the heavy breath. Disguise it in your mug, a poor attempt at settling the effects he has on you.

“In a week it is.”

Then his eyes are back on you, attentive, all full of focus, as though he needs to snap a photo of you like this. Keep you framed somewhere on a ledge in his mind.

“I should get… you know, going.”

Nodding. Even though a part of you wants to pull him back down to the sheets. Tire yourself out, fuck out the worries over whether fucking him in scheduled appointments is a bad idea. Especially when…

It’s him.

It’s Frankie.

His lips find your cheek, fingers searing on your shoulder as he lingers. The scent of the two of you enveloping—almost smothering in a way you hope it never leaves.

“I’m… I’m glad it’s you.”

“What? Being your fuck buddy?”

Shaking his head, he drags his hand down his face. “I don’t like the term, but yeah.”

Smirking, you lick your lips, unable to fight a grin. “Do you prefer best friend with an unlocked benefit, Morales?”

Laughing, he shakes his head—taking your mug, draining the last bit. “Need it for the road.”

“Oh, how come? Heavy night?”

Shaking his head, he stands. “Stress relieving, I’ll say that. Text me—still. Like…”

“Normal?” you offer, earning a nod. “I will. Don’t worry, this is a perk to our friendship. Not all that it is.”

Frankie has to give it to you, you’re punctual.

Knuckles on his door, thudding away—even if you have a key.

The reason was blurred as to why the two of you swapped them, to begin with. It having been more a requirement from him to have yours, than for you to have his. But, he had been more than happy you had one when he stepped through the door that day after landing from the events in Colombia. His body having been heavy, grief hanging from every part of him that it could, the flight not easing it, the drive not soothing it, but the sight of you stepping out of his bedroom—face puffy from crying, his clothes adorning your body—

“Took you long enough to answer.”

Not a hello, not a greeting of any kind.

Frankie flexes his hand at his side.

“You could’ve used your key,” he retorts.

But, you’re smirking. Stepping in, him allowing you entry into his place as though you’ve never been here before—as though you haven’t slept on his sofa or on his bed. As though you haven’t rocked up with a thousand things to share, only to ask if you can stay just for the night.

“Do you… want a drink?”

He watches as your hands come across your front, fingers playing with fingers, nerves swirling with his.

It was easier last time. All unplanned. Almost uncoordinated—even if your bodies moved as though they knew the dance the entire time.

This was new. Unchartered waters—a high risk of drowning, spluttering, making a mess—

“Water. Please,” you say, a slight clear of your voice you try to bury, shrugging yourself from your jacket.

Frankie takes the chance to admire you.

You’re in a T-shirt, jeans. A normal outfit—one he sees you in all the time. It’s one you wear to the bar when the group is together; one you’ve picked him up in when the two of you went to run errands. But, none of those times has he been able to peel the layers from you—to unwrap you, have you splayed out on a surface in his home.

“You’re gawking.”

“Well, you’re a sight to look at.”

You just smirk. Face shifting, hiding any—if there is any—effect his words have. “Shut up, Morales. Get me my drink.”

It’s there, the semblance of normal. It thrummed, all intact, not yet ruined.

He wonders if this is a thing.

Briefly remembering that you were getting water when he’d caged you in the kitchen. Suddenly aware he can feel you close, a risk of turning around and being blocked in—an UNO-reverse.

“So,” you say, voice shaky, “H-how’s your week been?”

He swallows, filling the glass. Turning to find you loitering, hanging at the end of the counter—two steps, not quite three, away from him.

“S’alright. Just had to do a few intense lessons for a trip this couple has coming up,” he explains, your hand brushing his, sparks shooting up his arms as you take the glass.

“Do you prefer giving lessons now or?”

Frankie isn’t such what he prefers.

His mind addled, broken. It crumbles at the edges and works its way in—because he’s not sure if he can see the peaks of your nipples through your shirt. Not sure if the water droplets on your lips will ever dry without his tongue brushing over them.

A want in him to kiss you, to test if your lips are as soft a second time, a third. Whether you make the same noises, or if he can unlock more from you this time—whether there are levels to you, achievements.

You’ve always been a puzzle, an unexplainable thing. Not there one second, then there forever another. The best part of his days, the thing he thinks of when he’s knees deep in mud, sand in his eyes and coated in so much rain he isn’t sure whether he begins and the weather starts. A person he craves being close to, taking whatever he’ll get. Grateful for the thigh against thigh in small booths, that you grip his arm when you laugh at his sarcasm—when you curl into him on the sofa during a movie you’d rather stop watching.

Then there’s the times he’s made your eyes fill with water. The time he made your eyes mist up, filling with a different kind of tears when you’d collided into him after Colombia, murmuring into his shoulder that you’d been worried, oh so worried—but, neither of you had unpacked that. Never daring, never wishing to.

There’s a lot the two of you don’t unpack. Stuffing it down silently, placing it in a box the two of you tape up together and pretend to ignore.

Now, you’re standing next to him, eyes glazed over, sparkling—inviting. Your lips curling into your cheek, all mischievous, unreadable.

“What’re you thinking, querida?”

“That I’ve had a shit day—week, actually—and I want you to fuck my throat.”

He’s stunned. Feeling his eyes widen, his throat dry, chest tighten. All at once. The time to think on it doesn’t arrive, not when your hand is dragging his lips to yours—not that he wants to protest. His hold tightening to say as much, driving you on—your kisses growing more intense, bolder. The pressure increases as Frankie willingly parts his lips, mouth doused with mint—that same taste he knows from the gum you always have in your car.

Your name escapes his lips, more of a moan—whispered, swallowed. Smothered quickly by your smiling mouth as you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip.

“Let me taste you, Frankie.”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. The request flowing from your mouth all easy, silky, almost velvety.

You repeat the sentiment as you stare up at him, getting down onto your knees—but this time you ask. Falling like silk: Can I taste you, Frankie? Will you fill my throat?

A part of him is distinctly aware of his legs being exposed to the air, fabric falling down to his calves. The rest of him is focused on the way you’re looking at him—like he moves mountains for you, like he’s everything. A look he’s sure he’s seen in glimpses, but now is swallowing him whole. 

And he likes it, almost lo—

“Never got to tell you,” you whisper, dragging his attention to you, fingers hooked in his underwear, dragging it down, freeing him, “You have such a pretty cock, Frankie. So big.” 

Your fingers digging into his thighs, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against the throbbing vein on the side of his length. 

He hisses when you finally wrap your lips around him, your mouth warm, all inviting. Tongue swirling around the head of his cock, the tip sliding over the slit as his hand cups the back of your head firmer, seeing your eyes flick up—a glimmer in your eyes that makes his heart do a double take. More so when you swallow to take more of him, jaw slack, prepared, ready.

“Shit, querida.”

You keep him pinned, feet planted, hand on the wall to the side of him and the other on the back of your neck. Taking him, as much as you can, your hand working the part you can’t yet fit. All heat, your tongue dragging along, swirling—and fuck he feels good, warmth stretching out through his thighs, embers biting at his lower stomach, all frantic to dance up his spine.

Then, your lips—all plush, slick with spit and him—glide down him, teeth lightly grazing down his shaft as you do.

And the moan he emits rips from him so quickly, he’s sure it leaves a mark in his throat. One which only further deepens when he hears you moaning around him, seeing you trying to shift on the floor, desperate for friction, for something, anything.

It makes his hips move, shifting with you, trying not to—not wanting to push, to have you spluttering, not when you look so good, so perfect, all mouth stretched around him.

“Y’so good, baby. Tan perfecta.”

You whimper at the praise. A thing he’s learnt about you—a thing he wants nothing more than to continue giving to you until nothing else lives in your head except his praise. His fingers sliding down the neck of your t-shirt, lightly massaging, gripping—

It forces itself out, another groan. Punching the air, yanking itself up from his throat as he wipes a tear from your cheek—him aiding, guiding himself down your throat, taking him much easier, better. It’s clear you’ve gone past your limits, swallowing him—desperately so—all enveloped and welcomed by the expanse of your throat.

“Doing so well,” he tells you, watching you, not able to take his fucking eyes from you.

How could he? When you’re such a vision.

Frankie admires the way you look up at him, lashes all tacky, cheeks shimmering with how much you want to do this. It makes a part of him want to pull you up from the floor, place you on any given surface and ruin you. The thought pushing him on, the noises you’d made under him, on top of him, in front of him, all coming back, immersing him.

Nothing exists, nothing mattering.

“So good—so good for me, baby.”

All he can feel is how he twitches against your tongue, how good your mouth is, how close he is—how much he wants nothing more than to coat your throat. Somehow claim you, even if you’re not his.

A thought he has to banish. Rid himself off.

Reminding himself that the small slot in your two’s calendar says otherwise, as he bucks into your mouth.

Your name falls feverishly from his lips, over and over until it’s swallowed by a groan—your tongue lapping up everything he’s giving you. The sight of you like this forces the fire to do more than dance or lick up his spine, it twists, it climbs—all purposeful in its ascent. Coating him in flames only you seem to make grow, an inferno, an intoxicating concoction he wants to bottle and brand in your name.

The sounds hitting the air are a mix of moans, groans and a wet sound as you work him, as you own him, consume him—trace your name into his cock. Something which makes him smug, pulling a smirk half-heartedly over his parted mouth. His whole body lit up, illuminated, so close, so near to filling your throat with him.

Another swirl. Another graze. The feel of him hitting the back of your throat—it’s too much, unable to stop himself, to hold himself in this moment, too close, so close—

Gone.

Pleasure floods him. Scratches its way through him. Bursts from somewhere deep and flows out, ripples—distantly aware he’s flooding your mouth, twitching in your throat, pulsing.

Opening his eyes, Frankie immediately casts his sight down to see his spend leaking from the edges of your mouth as you try to swallow as much of him as you can. Your name leaves his mouth raw, scratchy, gravelly, just as the warm space of your mouth is gone, thumb tracing your bottom lip, staring up at him as you swipe any remnants away with your tongue.

Still on your knees, eyes wide, dutifully waiting for further instruction—all for him.

He banishes away what a bad idea it is, helping you up off the floor, crashing his lips to yours—tasting salt mixed with mint. Fingers spreading over your lower back, balling up fabric, keeping you flush against him.

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” you agree.

And he smirks, right against your mouth, before sliding his tongue in—hoping he can earn another moan, hoping it’ll be enough to blanket the thought that he doesn’t want this to end.

CHAPTER THREE ->

[forlorn-crows]

@kkaisarion: #it's like they're kissing across someone's cock i mean mic i mean cock i mean m–

how do we feel about sliding copia's cock right in between there?

𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒖𝒎 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒎

explicit. 589 words.

⛧

EDIT: @jimothybarnes commissioned @foxybouquet for a companion piece to this and i--

Read on AO3 here!

Know you’re stressed. Us too. 

Let us take the edge off. 

And that’s how Copia eventually found himself thrust between the lips of his two guitarists; biting into his knuckles to stifle the unbecoming sounds falling from his lips, a haze of weed smoke pleasantly clouding his anxious mind, and sunk deep into a plush (miraculous for a hotel) armchair that the two ghouls unceremoniously plopped him into after they started pawing at him over his clothes. 

What a sight they are together. Poised just like they are sometimes onstage, leaning in close for backup vocals, but instead of a microphone, their lips close the distance to kiss across his cock, messily making out along the shaft. It’s sloppy, full of saliva and tongue. Full of sidelong glances through droopy eyes, lazy smirks shared between the two that make his balls twitch. 

Dew kneads at his thigh. “Could fuck you, if you wanted.” The suggestion sends a zing of dizzy pleasure up Copia’s spine, and he almost draws blood from his fist. The fire ghoul noses into the close cropped hair at the base of his cock, looking up at him with a siren stare of molten copper. Alluring. Striking confidence despite the warmth on his face from the weed. Copia’s also struck with the amusing image of a wide-eyed cat stalking its prey. 

“Or,” Aether pipes up, moving to kiss the slender head of his cock. His hand sneaks out to Dew’s ass, wrapping around the base of his tail and tugging. Copia watches his eyes roll back as he moans into his groin, arching into the quint ghoul’s touch. “Could give you a little show.” He pets down the length of Dew’s ashen hair, pulls at the ends. “If you wanted.” 

“Hah–shit,” he gasps, nearly bucking into the warmth of Aether’s mouth. Dew slides his lips down to his balls, and he has to hide his face in his hands lest he cum just from the sight of him sucking them in. 

“Let us see,” he whines in protest, reaching up to tug weakly at Copia’s elbow. 

Aether hums in agreement. “Don’t hide, Papa.”

He wheezes out a laugh, delirious and wholly out of his mind. “You two will be the fucking death of me,” he groans. 

“Gonna cum like this, huh?”

“Cazzo, ti prego,” he groans. 

“Think that means yes, please, Aether, shove my cock down your throat so I can cum in it,” Dew mumbles into the seam of his balls. Bastard of a ghoul. Copia silently curses his brother posthumously for always picking the pretty, silver-tongued ones. 

“Always so mean to your Papa–ah!” He can’t finish his chiding, because Aether, indeed, swallows down most of his cock in one go, his nose just brushing against Dew’s where they meet at the base. The smaller ghoul trills and rubs the tips of them together, fluttering his lashes up at the anti-pope. All at once he feels like a mouse trapped in a corner by two fanged beasts ready to pounce. Already easy to feel that way with his ghouls in a half-glamoured state, but the way they look at him at this moment makes his stomach burn too deliciously. 

Aether starts to suck, hollowing out his cheeks to take him base to tip, over and over. Snaking his hand into Dew’s hair to press him right into Copia’s taint.

“C’mon, Papa, we’ve got you,” Aether slurs around his tip. Dew moans his agreement, vibrations from his voice causing his thighs to jump. “Just let go.”

please consider reblogging ♡

[brailsthesmolgurl]

WHY HIM?

I have been writing daily and I think the next few days updates would be a bit more chill as I would be prepping for the Zayne angst series. If you're my follower, you would know what I am talking about ;)

A oneshot featuring you, choosing another guy over him. The songs were curated according to what the boys are probably thinking, just in the form of songs. Accompanied with the boys' POV.

Warnings: Angst, no comfort for the boys because mc is a bitch in this

Zayne - SNOW WHITE

'SHE WAS SNOW, SNOW LIKE THE WHITE LIES'

"Any excuses on why you had to reschedule for your last health checkup?" Zayne spoke, eyes never leaving the health report, studying the numbers and facts running through his mind like a vision.

"I just had to tend to work at the very last minute." She replied, tucking her brunette strand behind her ear. Clearly a lie. Zayne knew her well and long enough to tell the bad habits she has whenever she is lying.

The doctor chuckled softly under his breath. "Sure." Seeing right through her white lies. "Your heart seems to be functioning well. Keep up the good work." His praise raised a smile on her face. A sight he shall never forget.

"I remember you talked about a dessert shop not far from here. How about we head there after I am done with my next consultation?" Zayne asked, the report placed onto the wooden desk of his, fingers intertwined into a combined fist and he looked up. It was rare for Zayne to suddenly ask for a casual hang out just like this. He is always either too busy or too tired to go for any social sessions after he was done for the day.

'COLD LIKE THE NIGHT SHE LET ME GO'

His shift ended and once the last patient was checked out, he swiftly packed his briefcase and headed out of his office, not wanting to spare another minute. A nurse approached him mid-way, asking him to check through the files of a patient prior to submission to the report but Zayne kindly rejected with, "I shall review it tomorrow. Please leave it on my desk."

His response left the nurse bamboozled. He is the last doctor she expected to reject looking into a report for a patient. Guess there is a first for everything. "Sure, Dr.Zayne." She followed him with her gaze, seeing the figure quickly dissipated amongst the crowd of people within the hospital's lobby.

Zayne's excitement immediately died out. There she stood, basked under the dim lighting of the street lamps. Casting an overhead shadow of her, and another individual standing next to her. Zayne could not make out what they were talking about but he could tell she looked happy. Head thrown back, hands covering her mouth to mask her loud laughters. The guy stood in front of her reached his hand up to pat her head in a loving gesture.

'WAS IT THE FROSTBITE OR JUST THE ICE INSIDE HER SOUL? I DON'T KNOW'

Zayne winced, a jolting pain shot up his right arm. A searing pain that he knew was a direct reflection of his heart. If being with her hurts him, being away from her probably hurts him just as much, or perhaps, worse. He gritted his teeth, jaw tightened and his right fist curled tightly into a ball, trying his best to be in control of the pain.

The torture continues as he desperately wanted to intervene, to walk up to her side and introduce himself to the guy. But he stood still, unable to do anything as he watched her expressions closely. Joy, bashful, meek. But whenever she is with him, it would be the opposite effect. Nervous, hesitant, awkward. Was that what he really wanted from her? Of course not.

'I USED TO MELT IN HER ARMS NOW IM FALLIN' APART LIKE THE SNOW'

There were times she would pay him surprise visits in between his schedule, to bring him something to eat or to just spend time with him. But he would dismiss her, stating that it is not necessary for her to be around as it might cause a distraction. But he secretly liked the distraction. He liked watching her looking stressed as she tried to type out her report, looking at him every once in a while, using his face as a medium to recall her memories during the fight with Wanderers.

He also secretly likes it when she brings him desserts, tempting him forcefully by blackmailing him. No floss, no desserts. And he would not comply, purposely saying he has to catch a surgery, only to come back and see the dessert box being left on his table, with a packet of floss and a note that says '𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓼!'

He blames himself, it is probably his coldness that drove her away, his indefinite display of love for her an opposing language towards her approach. His cold demeanour being a reality check for the curse that he has to succumb to, but fails terribly when he noticed the way his heart gravitates towards her.

'NEVER KNEW LOVE SO BRIGHT COULD EVER GET THIS COLD'

Zayne's phone vibrated in the pocket of his slacks and he unlocked it with his fingertip, reading the short message that was sent by her. <𝖧𝖾𝗒 𝖹𝖺𝗒𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉.> A rejection clear as day within the enveloping darkness of the night.

Lies. Her face faded back into the darkness and a motion showcased her shoving her phone back into her jeans. The purple haired guy beside her snakes an arm around her waist comfortably and they both trudged down the streets together, an echo of their laughter carried by the wind. Zayne wished he could give up on everything to be in Rafayel's spot now.

─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Xavier - FLOORBOARDS

'BURY ME UNDER THE FLOORBOARDS'

Xavier woke up, dreary and wilted. Contrary to the sun that is exploding sun rays into everyone's houses, Xavier's house remained dark, with the sun-free curtains drawn closed for the past few days. It has been a few days since he had last heard from his partner, ever since that day he nearly got her killed due to his carelessness.

Xavier and his partner were deployed onto a mission involving a dangerous underground society named Onichynus. But their cover was blown when one of their moles ended up betraying both of the deepspace hunters, given Xavier has a bounty on his head.

During combat, Xavier managed to eliminate everyone who were trying to decapitate him but he failed to remember that his partner is not exactly the most durable fighter and that got her into a life threatening situation. Laying in her own pool of blood, she was suffocating because of the multiple lodged bullets in her torso.

"Y/N!" Xavier rushed over, skidding past dead bodies to reach to her, holding her up and pulling her into his arms effortlessly. "Help is already on its way. Don't worry about it. I am sorry." He spoke, everything a blur to him because his vision was only narrowed down to the girl in his arms. The girl that made him tear off his own clothes to press it against her bullet wounds to stop the bleeding, the girl that made his work life enjoyable and the girl that gave him a meaning to live, to live FOR HER.

'HIDE AWAY WITH THE LOVE YOU LEFT BEFORE'

Xavier made his way to the kitchen, feet dragged against the flooring, as if he had ankle weights that are too heavy for him to lift up with his legs. Passing by the kitchen isle, he noticed a book sat on it. The same exact book she had given him a few days prior to the accident. Small strips of sticky notes peeking out from the side of the book, an indication for the notes she would like him to be aware of.

Xavier's constant memory loss for deepspace hunter's rules and regulations resulted in the book having to be highlighted and lent to him. Her constant nagging about him needing to be constantly following the protocols used to be a pain in his ass but now he misses it so much. Holding up the thick book in his hand, a sigh ran past his lips and he tossed the book into the thrash can that sat right beside the isle.

'WASTE OF A HEART IF IT'S NOT YOURS'

Almost every night, he sat at the benches outside of Akso Hospital, awaiting for calls from the hospital. Hoping for a report on her wellbeing, or an autopsy if there were any. It was agonizing even for someone as strong-willed as him. Days went by in silence, drowning him further into his own misery.

During his wait for her return, work goes on, with him getting paired up with other deepspace hunters whom are females. Their admiration towards him a one-sided experience for them. There was only missions and home. It shall no longer be missions, then a good meal, then home. Without her, the routine shall only ever part between missions and home.

'STRANGERS AGAIN AND I'M NOT SURE WHAT YOU LEFT FOR'

His phone's ringtone jolted him to his wake, snatching the phone off of his nightstand and the news about her finally came. Within matter of seconds, he is already on his bike, riding at full speed, heading towards Akso Hospital. The low rumble of his engine coming to a full stop when he parked his motorbike at the allocated parking for bikes and he ran in.

His sneakers screeched against the cool tiled floors, making his way past people and up the flights of stairs rather than using the elevator. He could not wait to see her again, not only to give her a proper apology, but to give her a hug as well and to confess to her his true feelings.

After running up more than enough stairs to last a normie for a lifetime of workouts, he came to the floor where patients are housed. He approached the nurses at the oval table and asked for her room. "May I know what's your relationship with the patient?" The nurse asked, fingers flying across the space in front of her, pulling up the requested patient's records with holographic images.

"Boyfriend." He replied and she appointed the room to him.

'LOVE ME LESS, I'LL NEVER FORGET YOU'

He peeked his head in and spotted her from the door, her body lounging under the warmth of the sunlight. When her eyes caught his, she mimicked his expression, eyes widened and seemingly acknowledging his existence.

"How are you doing?" He walked in, closing the door behind him and taking a seat next to her. "I came by as soon as the hospital called me. Are you alright?" His cerulean blues eyeing her from top to bottom in the least sexual way, just wanting to know if she was doing alright physically. The last he met her, she was wrapped tightly like a cocoon, the once white sheets turned red at the amount of blood she had lost.

"Wait." She does not sound shocked nor happy, she sounded curious. "Who are you again?"

'I CAN'T STAND TO SEE YOU WITH SOMEONE ELSE'

Xavier stood outside of the door, silent tears invisible as he watched nurses holding her down as she screamed bloody murder, mistaking Xavier as to be one of the Onychinus. A tall man, with broad shoulders and dark hair walked past Xavier, two men accompanying behind him. Xavier caught the name tag on the man, Zayne. Stepping aside, he watched on as Dr. Zayne---who did not even spare the blond guy a stare---went into the room and he heard her cried out.

"They came for me Zayne! THEY CAME FOR ME!" She was on her wits end, grabbing hold onto Zayne's arms once he took his place beside her. "Please save me." Tears of fear a constant theme for her since she started crying and when Xavier evicted himself out of her personal space.

"It's alright, y/n." Zayne beckoned for everyone to leave the room and they all formed a trail, stepping out of the room one by one.

'WITH SOMEONE ELSE'

"Nobody is going to hurt you when I am here." Xavier caught sight of Zayne hugging her close to him, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead. It made Xavier's eye twitch unwillingly, his breath hitching in his throat, making it super uncomfortable for him to breathe.

Xavier chose to leave, he had decided that his love for her shall only be kept to himself. Furthermore, she deserves someone who could take better care of her. Both physically and mentally. A trait Xavier strongly believes he could excel in, only if she could remember him.

─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Rafayel - IRIS

'AND ALL I CAN TASTE IS THIS MOMENT'

Fingers came up to run past her brunette curls, Rafayel pulled a sakura petal out of her hair. "Even if you have hair colour like this sakura pink, I think it would be a good match to mine. Since they are both from the same spectrum." He chuckled, an invigorating smile on his handsome features. "Mixing paints to get the right swatch would not be so much of a pain in the ass anymore."

"You're funny Rafayel." She replied, eyes connected to his, her words sincere like his feelings for her.

"As so I was told. Most of the time." He then slowly leaned in and they both shared a tender kiss, under the shadows of the sakura trees, children laughters and people's chatting voices framing as background music for their ears.

'AND ALL I CAN BREATHE IS YOUR LIFE'

Rafayel laid in bed next to her, studying her features closely. Her eyes closed, soft breaths circulating in and out of her nose, her cherry red lips glossed under the soft lighting present within his room, making them look extra kissable.

His fingers skimmed past her soft cheeks, causing her to stir ever so slightly but dozed right back off into her dreamland. She had gotten herself so drunk at his event just a while before. But he never knew the reason behind the willingness of her wanting to drink all of a sudden.

But there she laid, within his touch, well asleep. "How I wish you could have just told me what was bothering you rather than keeping it to yourself." His hushed voice seemingly causing no disturbance to her sleep, but it made its way into her dreamland, with him appearing in her dreams, telling her what was told in reality.

'AND SOONER OR LATER ITS OVER, I JUST DONT WANNA MISS YOU TONIGHT'

"Im sorry." Rafayel looked down at the girl in front of him, the bouquet of roses he had prepared for her being returned back to him. Her face displaying nothing but repudiation. "I can't take this. Im sorry."

"Why?" Rafayel looked at the roses. The carmine red standing out from the pristine white of the bouquet wrapper. "Are these flowers not what you like? I can go back to the florist to get different ones, the ones you may-"

"No. Rafayel, no." Her voice barely tepid. "I don't think we should meet each other anymore. I..." Her fingers toying with one another. "I fell in love with someone else." And she walked away, Rafayel's figure slowly shrunk further into the distance.

'AND I DON'T WANT THE WORLD TO SEE ME'

Rafayel holed himself up in his room, artworks all completed way before it was supposed to be done, but Thomas is not allowed anywhere near his house. He did not want to deal with anymore distractions when his mind is already in aberration.

His every stroke messy and not thought through, unalike his usual perfectionist attitude. His pupils were dull, just like the colours shown on his paintings. "It needs more black." He turned to his pots of paints, everything in shades of dark. The colour black itself, has its own palette of tones, although to the naked eyes, it looks black.

'CAUSE I DON'T THINK THAT THEY'LL UNDERSTAND'

He attended events in a timely fashion as well, arriving in his sports car and getting photographed in public. A smile as fake as his belief in love. He used to think that his life hangs in the balance for his relationship, but now it turns out his relationship is what hangs in the balance for his life.

"Is there anything you have to say about your recent change in tones, a drastic change from colourful pastels to gloomy dark shades?" One of the exhibition attendees asked, their eyes blazed with passion as they awaited for his brilliant answer.

"I don't have much to say. But I do have a context to give." He took a deep breath in, calming his nerves. "Paintings are like museums too, they are pieces of memory that one can't touch nor relive." And he left the exhibition right then and there.

'WHEN EVERYTHING'S MEANT TO BE BROKEN'

Rafayel took a walk by the boardwalk near the ocean he always visits. The sky bloomed in blue, the moon hung up high in the cloudless skies like a static mobile. A bonfire set in the distance puffing smokes out into the distance. The smokes carrying hints of red but soon blended in within the skies of blue.

Two figures sat a few feet apart from the bonfire, mashing into one under the blanket to gather warmth. Their shadows elongated behind them, a dark veil against the sands on the ground. As Rafayel got closer, he started regretting it more. There she is, within the arms of another man.

The man she was leaning up against had features like the stars in the sky, with pale complexion and striking blue eyes, with hair colour that matches the theoretically coloured stars. So, that is the guy that Rafayel was in a competition with, not that Rafayel knew to begin with. But the night she got drunk, and the following days after she stopped showing up at his house, the thought surfaced in his head. But it further confirmed it now.

'I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW WHO I AM'

Rafayel stayed behind a huge rock that shields him away from the merry couple, eyes watching, heart longing for a love like theirs. The bride of his from his past life no longer related to him. He stared out towards the ocean, his vision incapable of taking in the full view of the waters.

He slowly descended into the waters, feeling the seas crawled onto his body bit by bit. He had always loved the ocean even if it tried to kill him. But losing the love of his life only meant that he looses his life as well, as his body devolved into bubbles and off he floated off the surface of the waters and taking his place within the infinite skies.

─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Another angst to get by another day my lovelies, I am so happy with the amount of love I am getting from all of you so I hope that this gives you guys the right amount of heart ache you guys had requested for ;)

Behind the scenes: The songs I had curated for the boys are the songs I listen to on a weekly basis if I am having mood swings, I hope this may help you to discover these underrated songs and singers :)

But ofc, the hard part for me was to think up scenarios that may match the boys' personality as always, but it also has to rhyme with the songs I am writing with. That itself put me into a writer's block and took a while to get this uploaded. But I hope it is still satisfactory for you all <3

Have a good day my loves!

[horanghater]

Hi babe.

Could I get your thoughts on my baby Mingyu and orgasm denial? Him receiving because he is a good whiny puppy.

Thank you, I love you.

▸ Pairing: Mingyu x F!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / pwp / established relationship

If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: sub!Gyu, soft dom reader, light bondage, some begging, orgasm denial

▸ Word Count: 968

▸ A/N: I went insane writing this actually so 🥴🥴🥴 Impeccable taste for requesting this, ty Mars ilu. Thank you and also sorry to @shuadotcom who seems unwell after beta reading this. 🙏

Mingyu is such a good puppy. So good, in fact, that you often feel the need to torture him. It sounds like a punishment, but for Mingyu it’s simply the leadup to some of the hardest orgasms he’s ever had. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say it’s torture for you; you’re always soaked within minutes and have to remind yourself not to cum twice as often as you remind him.

Tonight is particularly difficult for you. Mingyu’s been stressed lately, so he’s especially eager to be tied to a chair and submit to your will. He’s naked, a twinkling sheen of sweat adorning tight muscle as his cock stands up, curving deliciously toward his stomach. A layer of precum covers him from the tip of his dick down to his balls, each vein on his aching shaft glistening in the dim light of your shared bedroom. You’ve been working him up for 30 minutes now and like the obedient boy he is, he hasn’t cum yet. 

Seated on the floor between his open legs, you run your fingertips along his thighs, grinning as Mingyu exhales shakily above you. “You’re wetter than I am, puppy. All this is for me?”

“Mmhmm!” Mingyu hums immediately, hoping that he’ll be rewarded for answering as he’s been trained. 

For his troubles, you lean in and place your slick lips around just the head of cock, tongue swirling around to capture the seemingly endless pre leaking from the tip. Mingyu’s entire body lurches against his restraints as he practically wails; if not for the rope tethering him to his seat, he’d be at the back of your throat. You hold him in your mouth like that for only a few seconds, but that’s all it takes for the pitch of Mingyu's whines to change. They’re high and desperate, signaling just how close he is to completion. 

You pull away before he gets there, mouth slightly open so a thread of your saliva mixed with his essence can hang between his tip and your bottom lip. Looking up at him through your eyelashes like this is delightfully obscene and Mingyu tells you this by keening loudly when his gaze meets your eyes. The thread finally snaps when you smile up at him and praise him for being so good. 

Taking a moment for your own arousal to subside, you go back to feather-light touches, skimming over Mingyu’s balls and then his stomach and legs – everywhere but where he needs you most. Mingyu’s gotten a bit squirmy now, panting through every second of contact as if an electric current runs from you to him. It’s not until you can’t take anymore that you offer him real relief.

“Wanna cum?” you ask, resettling on your knees as you squeeze your thighs together, arousal spreading between them.

“Yes!” Mingyu shouts accidentally, too keyed up to hold himself together anymore. He corrects himself immediately, though, tucking his chin into his chest in appeasement. “Y-yes, sorry, yes. Please. Yes, I want to cum.”

Mingyu often trips over his own words when he’s flustered, but he takes things to a whole new level when he’s looking for release. It’s cute and you tell him so, giggling over the embarrassed pout he tries to hide even as you close both hands into tight fists around his length. 

There’s no need for teasing anymore – not when you’re both this needy. You put your shoulders into it, working Mingyu’s cock with so much vigor that you’re sure he can tell you’re just as desperate for him to cum as he is. Minyu’s entire body stiffens as the ropes bind him in place and a broken sob tumbles from his lips. 

“Mingyu,” you call. It falls on deaf ears at first – on another day, that’s definitely punishable – so you have to add more bass to your voice as you slow down to bring him back to you. “Mingyu, baby.”

The sound that bubbles up from Mingyu’s throat is something between a growl and a moan. He has to force himself to focus on you and not the pleasure that’s threatening to send him to another dimension. Even then, the most he can muster in response is, “Huh?”

“Is puppy ready to cum?” Your tone is patient, though the situation between your legs is dire. 

You already know what his answer is and close your fingers around him even tighter, almost painfully as you start to work him again. The glide of your soft palms on his cock is heavenly and more importantly, inescapable.

Mingyu’s “yes” that follows has a trail of “s”s before he starts outright babbling, “Yes, yes, yes please, yes, please, yes, please, please, please, yes, PLEASE!” The last one is somehow both a shout, yet breathless as Mingyu finally cums, thick ropes of white painting stomach.

After what feels like an eternity, Mingyu’s form goes lax in the chair, sated. He hums appreciatively feeling you lightly squeeze at the muscles of his legs, then his arms, then as your fingers splay across his chest as you lean up to kiss him tenderly.

“Feel good, pup?” you whisper when you pull away to rest your forehead against his. “So good,” he whispers back. “Thank you.” He closes his eyes as he basks in the joint warmth of you and afterglow. 

You sit there like that, enjoying each other as your heart rates come down together. When you start to move, Mingyu figures it’s to untie him so you can cuddle. But then he feels dainty fingers scooping the cooling spunk off his abs and opens his eyes to catch you spreading it on your drenched pussy before taking some more to start pumping his dick back to full mast. 

“Won’t you be a good puppy and make me feel good, too?”

[atinystraynstay]

Lover - Choi Jongho

Synopsis: "I thought a love like yours could never be experienced."

Pairing: Choi Jongho x reader

Genre: so much fluff! can't help it when it comes to imagining what domesticated life with Jongho could be like

Word Count: 1.5k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

"Sweetheart? Do you want honey in your tea?" Jongho called out from the kitchen. "Yes, please!"

You were currently situated in the living room, a throw blanket over your lap. Your mother had just sent you photos from your childhood that she found extras of. You asked her to send them to you because you wanted to give Jongho a glimpse of your childhood. You had them in a small pile for the two of you to look through.

You overheard the clinking of what you assume to be a spoon against the cups. Jongho was the type of guy that never overlooked any detail. He liked to be precise, especially when it comes to you. His greatest pride was his ability to look after you.

Glancing up at him, you watched him slowly move into the room. You couldn't help but giggle as he looked nervous that he might slip some of the tea into his head. To help him, you moved the photos to beside you so you could stand up to take one of the mugs from him.

He silently thanked you before setting his mug on the coffee table. Jongho always preferred to let the tea cool down slightly, so he wouldn't burn his tongue. "So how old are some of these pictures?" He asked curiously. "I think some of them are from when I was just 3 or 4, so I was pretty young, so you've been warned."

Jongho rolled his eyes playfully before leaning over to press a lingering kiss into your head. "Would you please stop talking bad about the love of my life, hmm? I quite love how she looks," he murmured into your skin.

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, letting his fingers run up and down your forearm comfortingly. You nodded your head, accepting Jongho's request. You just weren't the biggest fan of your more awkward stages of life.

However, if it was one thing about Jongho, he would always be there to affirm your worth. Your confidence has only grown since getting together. But maybe that was because he quite literally was everything you wished for when you were younger. Setting the photo album in your lap, you opened the first page. There was a photo of you, maybe less than an hour old. It was the photograph of you right after your birth. You were red in the face, probably from all the crying you did being so new to the world. Your hands were closed in tiny fists, eyes squeezed shuts. You cringed slightly seeing your newborn self. Jongho, on the other hand, was in awe to see the beginning of your life.

The next few pages were filled with photos before you entered school. They were photos of you dressed in Halloween costumes, like the one where your grandmother insisted you and your cousins should be pumpkins together when you were 3. Or your favorite when you were 2, the duck costume.

"Mom told me that I basically lived in that costume for the rest of the year," you laughed.

Jongho laughed along with you. He loved seeing the joy on your young face. In nearly every photo, you had a wide smile on your face. You were innocent, not exposed to the stresses of life. All that concerned you was being able to wear that fluffy duck Halloween costume,

As you go through the pages, you were introduced the the versions of yourself you seemed to have forgotten about. There were several photos of you playing different sports - soccer, taekwondo, swimming, and even a summer playing t-ball. Some of the photos were taken by your father at the sporting events, while others were photos taken by a professional photographer to mark the season.

"I always knew my girl was outgoing," Jongho commented. He leaned over to kiss your cheek lingeringly. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but it didn't hide the smile curling on your lips.

Flipping to the next page, you noticed your are entering the school photos. You groaned at the photos from kindergarten and 1st grade, especially. You felt like you were an awkward kid. Your mom cut your hair short when you were younger because you refused to let her help you brush it. You also began to wear glasses. Not to mention the braces that would come on later. A trifecta.

There were of course good memories from your childhood. But you wished to forget these more awkward moments. You were bullied quite a bit in your younger years which took a toll on your mental health well into your adult years.

"Have you ever considered cutting your hair short again?" Jongho asked.

You quickly looked at him, frowning. You pulled your now long hair over the front of your shoulder, looking down at you. That was part of the reason you were so hesitant about getting a haircut now and then. You were afraid of too many inches being taken off and not feeling confident. Your long hair was opposite from what it was when you felt like you were at your lowest. "Do you not like my hair now?" You whispered.

This time, Jongho looked at you. A frown was evident on his lips. He honestly could care less how long or how short your hair was. He thought you were adorable as a child. From just looking at the photos, he could see the bold color of your eyes. That was the first thing he fell for when it came to you.

"No, sweet girl, I love your hair now. But I also like the short hair on you when you were younger. It showed your gorgeous face off to the whole world," he explained. His voice was gentle. He was trying to put the pieces together for your reaction. The last thing Jongho ever wanted to do was upset you.

"Yeah right, Jongho," you sighed as you went to go flip to the next page.

However, he stopped you. His hand rested on top of yours, fingers gently caressing the back of your hand. "I mean it, pretty baby. You were adorable then, you're adorable now. It's amazing to see your journey through photos of how you've grown into the person you are today." His free hand ran over one of the photos.

"You're too good to me, honey," you sighed. Your head rested on his head on your shoulder. "It's the truth," he pouted. "Why don't you believe me?"

You peered up to see Jongho looking at you. You sat up the moment you could tell he was genuinely upset. You furrowed your eyebrows as you turned your body towards him, so you could have a proper conversation. Your left foot was tucked underneath your right which was dangling over the edge of the couch. Your gaze fixated on your hands as you fiddled with them a bit, your anxiety starting to increase.

"I guess I just never saw my worth as a kid, you know? I had people telling me that I wasn't good enough, that I wasn't beautiful. It was hard growing up in my small town where it seemed everyone fit in except me," you explained. "Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I never fit into the mold, but it was still hard."

Jongho gently reached over to hold your hands in his. He lifted them up, kissing your knuckles lingeringly before setting your joined hands in between your bodies. His thumbs gently caressed the back of your hands to try to ease any negative emotions stirring inside of you.

"My sweet girl, my love," he cooed. "Believe me when I say this. You were beautiful then, you are beautiful now. I'm honestly jealous of the people who got to grow up with you because they were lucky. But I guess I'm the lucky one that gets to experience your present and future."

Your heart swelled at his sentiment. You still kept your gaze locked on your interlocked hands. Noticing, Jongho squeezed them which caused you to finally meet his eyes. Your lover was smiling at you with endearment.

"Why don't we stop looking back at the past for a moment? Hmm? We can focus on our future, talk about everything you want to accomplishment and do in this life because I'm not going anywhere," he teased teasingly.

You nodded at his suggestion. Leaning forward, you pressed a lingering kiss into the side of his face. A soft "thank you" was whispered into his skin which caused his cheeks to heat up. Even after all this time, he still blushed like he did on the first date. If anything, the emotions he felt towards you were stronger than ever before.

That night, the two of you cuddled up on the couch. You talked about your goals for the next five, next ten years. While you were uncertain of the obstacles you might encounter, there was a reassuring aspect knowing Jongho was in it for the long haul.

He was devoted to you. He was in love with all parts of you - past, present, and future. And he would spend the rest of his days reminding you of that.

That's what he wanted, at least - to be your lover unconditionally.

[tteokdoroki]

Thirst: sleepy sex turns to falling asleep with his dick in your mouf

i have much to say about this !! tw for slight!somnophilia + mdni.

yeah yeah cause imagine giving college!katsuki head after he’s had a real stressful exam— the vibes are cosy, you’re in his dorm in his hockey practice shirt and lapping at his tip while he holds your hair from your face or like cups your cheek, brushing a thumb over it affectionately.

“you gonna milk me baby, be my good girl?” he’ll ask you, hissing when you run your cheeky little tongue up the length of the milky slit on his mushroomed tip before sucking him into the heat of your mouth— letting katsuki’s cock bulge against the soft inner flesh of your cheek.

you let out a quiet ‘mhm’, taking him deeper down your throat to the point where you can swallow around him— bakugou groaning at the sight of his girth bulging in your pretty throat. you keep him there a few seconds, blinking up at him with hazy, bambi eyes and wet cheeks from fighting your gag reflex until you need to come up for air and pull off of him.

precum paints the swell of your lips like a layer of your favourite gloss, spit and strings of it connecting your tongue and the roof of your mouth to katsuki even when you free his cock from the blistering cavern of your mouth. his cheeks are flushed a cute pink, sleep and adoration laced with the dark brown flecks in his ruby gem eyes as he watches you.

“y-you know i love you, right?” bakugou bites on his lower lip, patting your baby fat cheek affectionately— while his lustful gaze hones in on the way your hand moves to jerk him off, barely fitting around his chubby, wet shaft, squeezing his heavy balls from time to time. “love my baby s’much. love when you treat me so good, suck me off. best sight in the fuckin’ world,” the blonde sings your praises, running a hand through his sweaty locks as they mat down against his forehead. “comin’ third to your cute cunt on my face, and your face when you cum f’me.”

with his hips arching off of the bed and into your soft, closed fist— acting as a makeshift pussy. you let out a quiet, kissing katsuki’s messy tip every time it peeks out from your precum stained fingers. “i love too, kats. so, so much,” you coo, grinning at how your boyfriend twitches in your grip when you confess your love for him.

“‘m gonna cum,” he states, voice strained and eyes rolling back into his skull. “wanna—c-can i be in your mouth when i cum, baby? wanna see you swallow it.” he’s desperate now, the knot in katsuki’s stomach tangling and untangling, bursts of sex crazed hormones shooting across his brain and through his blood stream, bringing him closer as he fucks your fist with the last of today’s energy. “please, please can i put it in?”

you don’t bother to give your verbal agreement, mouth back on your boyfriend’s dick before the end of his second ‘please’, letting bakugou thrust into your mouth shallowly until his seed floods your mouth in thick waves, a salty taste painting your tongue and he fills the room with curses, and darling murmurs of your name. he cums so hard, so much so that it seeps from the corners of your swollen lips.

bakugou uses a thumb to sweetly wipe your mouth, that same thumb pulling down your bottom lip so that you open up for him. “show,” he commands you, rasping as your mouth falls open to show him the white that coats your tongue. “swallow.” you do as he says, throat bobbing before you show him again. “fuck, aren’t you my good girl? love you.”

“c’mere, lemme clean us up and then we can watch one of yer fuckin’ crime docs or somethin’—“ he starts before you shake your head, missing your mouth being so full. “no? but’cha look so tired, baby.”

you shake your head no again, kissing katsuki’s inner thighs, feeling the exhaustion of the day taking over you. “‘m okay down here, s’comfy… besides, i-i kinda wanna sleep with your dick in my mouth?”

“you’re fuckin’ adorable,” bakugou chuckles fondly, squishing your cheeks together when you pout at your reaction and leans down to press a kiss to your lips— moaning at the taste of his release on them. “ai’ght,” he sucks air in between his teeth, pushing his cock into your mouth and brushing the back of your head soothingly. “y’tap my thighs if you ever wanna come up here ‘n cuddle, kay princess?”

‘mhm,’ you moan around him, sleep taking over you, nestled between your boyfriend’s thighs— feeling safe and warm.

[fairy-hub]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐔𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐡𝐚

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sugar daddy! Madara, maid outfit, overstimulation, iimpact play, cockwarming

Oreo: my fingers slipped, oops

Sugar daddy!Madara who loves cockwarming after a stressful day. You can tell Madara is pissed from his clenched jaw, balled up fist, and the way he glares past you. The warm, wet softness of your cunt sinking down on him gets unraveling.

He rants about his day, sometimes in detail other times keeping it vague. Squishing your thighs, stomach, and ass mostly. After a while he can’t help want you to lean back, look him in the eyes and listen to him while he plays with your clit. He will stop if you break eye contact. - “You’re soft cunt gripping me tighter, you’re getting so close aren’t you? That’s too bad, not yet, you should earn it.”

Sugar daddy!Madara who loves impact play from his large rough hand, belt to a crop, to paddle and if you want it a cat tail whip. Which does leave you bleed afterwards.

With you Madara is becoming partial to his a mix of hand and belt. He loves feeling your soft squishy ass in between the spanking you. If you let him slap your cunt he will loose it mentally.

Sugar daddy!madara who gets on his knees to eat you out for his pleasure. He’s a very giving but selfish man, eating you out for his own pleasure getting off on being able to make you squirt with his tongue.

He wants to overstimulate you with just his mouth. Then he can break you with his cock, make sure you need him to carry you around afterward. You always sleep well afterward due to the intense exhaustion. And so does he.

Sugar daddy!Madara who doesn’t like you begging without the command to be a needy brat. Every needy plead is taken as a demand. - “Keep begging for my cock like that and I’ll jerk off over your face and cum. Be a good slut keep your legs spread apart so I can watch your cunt make a mess.”

Mostly love to hear you beg when you’re about to cum on his cock. If you don’t beg well enough he pulls out ruining your high with glee.

Sugar daddy!Madara who gets off on seeing you in slutty maid outfits cleaning up. He will slip a vibrator in you, edge you or overstimulate you based off his mood. He loves watching you struggle to walk, pick things up and focus on your task.

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Restraints 18+ Ft: Hanma, Izana, Taiju & Sanzu WC:1.5k+ Masterlist Resident: @enchantedforest-network TW: restraints, tying up, bondage, penetration, oral sex, sex toys, ass smacking, pet names, being manhandled, TR men doms, breast sucking, masturbation, size kink, suggestive language.

Hanma

“Not too tight nghh” Just when the words finished coming from your lips, he did one last strap tightening. “Don’t want you to get loose on me,” Shuji smirked as he got off the bed to get a better view of you.  “Just when I thought the cuffs were satisfying seeing you all tied up in these leather restraints mmm, it just hit it differently.”

The leather straps that laced your arms pinning behind your back bound your ankles together. The only thing you had on were the straps. It was hard to keep your balance as you sat up on the bed. You could see his hardened erection in his hand as he began to stroke himself. Letting out a shallow moan. Shuji saw the way you watched him stroke himself. “You wanna have a little taste?” the playful seductive tone coming from the lanky man. Walking towards you with his hand still holding his stiff cock.  His hands reach for the back of your head “Open that pretty little mouth of yours.” following his orders you couldn’t help but follow him. Your lips wrapped around his cock while his hand gripped a fist full of your hair. He began to move his pelvis into you more as you were taking more of his cock in your mouth. You knew you had to control your breathing since you wouldn’t be able to move away if it was becoming too much for you. The outer corner of your eyes began to tear up. Hamna was getting caught up in the moment how your mouth was feeling around his cock he threw his head back letting out a moan. “All these slutty ideas of yours I fucking love it.”  he let out a sinister chuckle. He had more ideas he wanted to do while you were tied up. 

He could feel the drool trickling down to his balls. Your eyes were shut trying to breathe through your nose. He slowed down his pace before removing his cock your mouth. You took a deep breath, drool was falling from your bottom lip to your chin. Your eyes were a bit watery when you looked at you. He saw you so vulnerable but that twinge of your being turned on at the same time. His hand reaches for your chin to whip off the drool. “I will let you pick the first position since you took care of my cock without complaining.”  At that point, he was making you choke on his cock. you squint your eyes at him. “I couldn’t complain when my mouth is full.” You hissed a bit pouting at him. “Exactly a mouth full of my cock.” he smirked. “On second thought I know what I want to try with you first” he reached for your ankles which caused you to lay back on the bed.

 Izana

“I told you this is what happens when you don’t behave like you're supposed to.” he tied your hands pinned to the headboard of the bed. His purple orbs looked at your body, his fingers caressing your bare abdomen which was soft.  “Tell me why you must act up when I’m doing something important?” “I just wanted your attention for a bit.” He let out a shallow breath as his fingertips gently caressed your abdomen as they traveled up caressing your breast. He wasn’t complaining at the time when you were under his desk giving him a bit of a stress reliever from the conference call he was on. 

“It could have waited when I got off the call baby girl.” his finger rubbed your nipple. “Did you realize how hard it is to contain my composure when you mess with me like that?”  Izana at that time wanted to close his laptop when it was becoming too much for him. To be fair he did give you looks and those looks were for you to discontinue your actions. But you ignored them and continued. “Well, you have my attention now. Why don’t I give you the same treatment?” He gave his signature smile. Seeing your nipple his lips latching on your nippled as you felt his tongue swirl around it. His long fingers roam lower and lower down your body. Finding your aching bud. He began to stimulate your clit causing you to tense up a bit. “Babe.” you felt your eyes roll back. Izana being skillful with his hands could feel other fingers rubbing your wet folds. Your juices coating his fingers. He slid two of his fingers inside of your pussy. “You always tend to make such a mess by the little touches I do to you.” pumping his fingers inside faster. “But it's rather flattering.”

He continued to finger you for a few more minutes and slid his fingers out of you. Your body was coated with a thin layer of sweat. He brought his finger to his lips, getting a taste of your sweet nectar. “Declible as always..” 

Izana began to lower himself more and more and he settled between your legs pushing them apart. Your juice on the sheets below you spread your lips apart slightly, his tongue slid between your slit. You arch your back he keeps your legs apart as he buried his face in your pussy enjoying your taste. You could hear him slurping your pussy up. 

Taiju

He sat in his large chair, a few pieces of his stuck to his face before he pushed. Looking at your quivering body. You laid on your stomach and your hands were bound to your thighs.  Your upper arm is bound close to your body. The more you move the more loose the ropes become. But you couldn’t help yourself. Taiju placed a vibrator inside you. He loved seeing you vulnerable, unable to remove the sex toy that was inside of you. It wasn’t your intention for the ropes to become loose. 

 Getting up from the chair you heard him walking to the bed. You heard him let out an annoyed sigh. When you felt the rope that was loose became tight once more “Trying to get loose are we?” he spoke with a stern tone.

 "N-no " you stutter as you try to speak. Getting caught up in the euphoric pleasure of the vibrator inside of you. 

  He lifted your ass a bit as your face was still planted on the bed. His finger slid into your pussy pulling the vibrator out. He saw your swollen pussy lips glistening with your juices. The devoted Christian man who prayed to god, found himself becoming hard with all the lustful sins he indulged in with you. Like a wolf stalking its prey “You enjoyed that device more than my cock?” he leaned against your body he spoke close to your ear.  

“No!” you quickly said. “That didn’t sound too convincing... I’m gonna ask you again but in a different way. What do you want right now my cock?” you felt the tip of his cock rubbing your entrance “or the vibrator?” 

“Your cock Taiju.” letting out a hollow breath. “Good answer.” without warning or letting you adjust to his length he did one sharp thrust into your swollen pussy. Taiju could feel your soft warm wet walls suffocating his cock. “Take me all baby girl. Remember I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.” 

Sanzu 

The chains hanging from the ceiling, the cuffs wrapped around your hands holding them up. Looked at the table to see rope, blindfolds, and a variety of sex toys. "Be gentle Saznu," you said to him. Sanzu being the eccentric person he always is, he enjoys spicing things up in any way he can.

With an amused chuckle "Oh my sweet girl when you agreed to this you knew deep down I wasn't going to be gentle." his hand reaching as he touched the cold metal chains, his hand trailing down as he touched your arm going down your collar bone to the bustier you were wearing. Seeing the top of your breast slightly bulging out.  "Never knew how fucken hot you would look.. being chained up like this." he was becoming turned on and excited. 

"Haru.." you pause as you feel his hand grasping your throat but you are still able to breathe.

He leaned forward, his lips were inches from yours, and you could smell the liquor on his breath.      "The only thing I want to hear right now from you is the screams of pleasure. Can you do that to me?" his hand going to the hem of your panties removing them. He crumpled them up in his fist. "Open your mouth,"  he said. Following his commands he shoves the pair of panties in your mouth. Reaching for the blindfold placing it over your eyes. “They say removing one of your scenes like eyesight can heighten your arousal.” he leaned in closer “because you will never know what will happen next.” sending chills down your spine. 

His hand squeezing your ass cheeks before giving it a smack. With your mouth still full of your panties your moans were muffled. He was standing behind you now he moved your hair to one side tilting your neck you could feel the nibbles from his teeth before his lips began to suck on the nape of your neck. You felt your knees become a bit weak but the chains were holding you up. 

Tags: @the-haitani-baton, @satanlovesusall666, @galactict3a, @ratlovecat, @niko-ash, @iluv-ace, @captainmycaptainn, @strawberrychrome, @missgab, @anxious-chick, @livefromraleigh, @kei-b-gurlll, @spookiisopium, @bontensbabygirl, @txna04, @intheafterall, @stygianoir, @kira-rrh Interested in joining the taglist please fill out the form below to get a notification of your favorite characters when they are being posted! Link here ->taglist

[blueberry-pride]

Referring to this~

OMG! I read the Q&A but IS IT TRUE? Im so excited 😳👉👈 Ummmm may i req then? Not for the event, but just a general req 😌 A scenario/hcs of Leona with fem!s/o where s/o needs comfort & gets spoiled cz she's having burnout due to all of the incidents on NRC~ I hope this is not too much, if u want to change the plot it's ok, thank u & have a nice day 😳✨

I See Right Through You...

Leona x FEM! S/O

warnings: leaning on to very angsty, cursing, personal issues

Berry: I'M FINALLY BACK AA-💀 just wrapped up some things and you should have some of the requests from the events roll around within the month or so 😣 I changed a bit of it but the overall theme is the same just something that hits a little too close to home ;=; Special Thanks to my lovely friends Len and Luna who helped me out with this one ❤️❤️

"This isn't me wanting some semblance of pity, You can keep it for all I care- I'm so goddamn tired but did I ever ask to be in Twisted Wonderland? Oh don't get me started..." "Did I ask to be Crowley's clean up crew? Did I ask to be in the middle of every. fucking. issue?"

"Sometimes I'd like to be the damsel-but sevens forbid the woman wanting to be saved from all the stupid stress of this world."

"Well I'm so sorry for complaining over a job I didn't ask for but hey- we're in a magical school full fun and dreams, cuz that's sure to make up for ALL the unnecessary emotional and physical labor!" Your voice cracked as you forced a cheery smile.

Leona wasn't expecting you to snap at him when he wanted to mess with you for just a little bit. He had observed you from afar for quite some time now. And most importantly, he wasn't a stranger to people putting up a face for other's sake.

His emerald gaze would glint over your figure as he studies the creases in your eyes from all the work you've been doing. He'd always wondered how much you could take, often times giving you snarky or witty advices in hopes to get you out of your doormat cycle.

He admitted what the Head-mage was doing is a bit too far. He was kinda impressed on how you pushed on with that fiery and stubborn heart of yours.

A sadistic part of him wanted to see when you'll break

He wanted to see you bite back

He anticipated it even more when multiple students come to you for help increased by the day;

You nodded along as Ace and Deuce were once again asking help in doing their chores back at Heartslabyul, you laughed it off as one of their usual antics.

You happily agreed when Kalim invited you to one of his many celebrations despite just finished with your cleanup at Ramshackle, your smile didn't reach you. Those glassy eyes of yours, shifting downwards to hide the reluctance.

It was an asshole move of him in all honesty.

Not lending out a helping a hand but he knew you were capable. For fuck's sake you got him AND his dorm to help you out during Azul's little "tantrum".

He wanted you to overcome this on your own. However, he had an oversight on how much you can take on the world alongside his bullshit attempt of support.

Leona had happened to pass by a class with the door wide open, his lions ears perked at the ongoing conversation.

"Phyn, you're in our group." One student spoke up. "Oh hell yeah, thanks dude!" Another cheered, followed by the sound of a high-five.

"-And I guess that's everyone.. Oh (Y/N)..hmm I guess you and Grim would be a duo, every other's group is already filled up." "Uh.." You chuckled with a loppy smile. "No worries, at least I get to stay in my dorm this time." The class chuckled at your comment and nodded along. As the groups filed out chatting amongst each other, he took lighter steps walking closely behind you.

It wasn't until you reached the entrance of Ramshackle is when you finally noticed him. Which led to the situation right now. "Why the long face herbivore, where's the can-do attitude I know and adore~?"

Your hands balled into fists, shaking as tears were running down your eyes.

"This isn't me wanting some semblance of pity, You can keep it for all I care- I'm so goddamn tired but did I ever ask to be in Twisted Wonderland? Oh don't get me started..." "Did I ask to be Crowley's clean up crew? Did I ask to be in the middle of every. fucking. issue?"

'Shit...' He said mentally.

"Let's...do this inside. We don't want anyone gawking at ya like this." He laid a hand behind your back inside and joined you not before he scanned the area for any curious on-lookers.

He leaned against the side of the wall of the living room, listening to your continued rant. Throwing hands and even had the strength to throw away the innocent coffee table in the middle, Its legs breaking into splinters as soon as it hit impact onto the cold hard floor. "-WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME WHO HAS TO FIX THINGS?" You exclaimed towards the pillow you threw towards the ground.

"Helping fix things is nice and all.." You sniffled. "But is it really so wrong to want that shit in return?"

He knew it was bad but he wanted to see how far you're flames would burn him. He wanted it to hurt-what you've been going through, he knows he can take it.

"You're ranting to the wrong person, go off on Crowley, yell at your classmates for ignoring ya. Tell that red-head and blue-haired friend of yours to fuck off and do their own stupid chores." "Be fucking selfish for once herbivore, Treat yourself to a nice nap-"

"-Oh what? like you? I'm not you Leona." You retorted back. "For fuck sakes you were born here-you were supposed to exist in this plane of existence while I got chucked out of mine." "You say I exist here but I'm one of the least wanted given my 'cheery' attitude. At the very least I know when to stand my guard." You huffed as you sat on the couch, tears still spilling from your eyes. "Is this your way of helping me? because I could clearly feel the love right now..." Leona let out a dry chuckle as he walked over to you. His imposing figure casts a shadow over you but as you gaze at his eyes, there was a lingering feeling of warmth. "Dont be like me." He shook his head. "Sevens, I hope you don't end up like me, but what I'm trying to say is..." His voiced trailed as he looked at your shaking form.

A memory sliced through him for a second. For a brief moment he saw his little self all those years ago in the visage of you. "In a campus full of these jackasses in NRC-including myself sometimes, I... I see right through you." He awkwardly patted your back. "I know it sucks but don't do that shit to yourself where you thought 'hey, I know who to look for if I'm in a room full of folks I adore, but who would look for me?'" Leona had a distant look as he stared at the broken table in the middle of the dorm. "Look for yourself first, look for that little corner of your room to be selfish with what you want to do. Worry about the details later." You cleared your throat as you steal a soft glance at him "You may not be the best and most unlikely to look for advice." The air seemed to change as the both of you share a soft laugh. "But you get right to the point...even though you could've done something much earlier." "What's the fun in that?" He raised an eyebrow. "Besides, You don't need a king's help in chess, a queen...has all the moves she needs."

Leona was surprised to hear your melodic laughter, belting out through your still falling tears at his small comment. "Oh my God Leona you did not just-" You wiped a tear as you smiled at him. He felt a flutter in his chest from the way you're looking at him now. "Well you did just say, I'm not the best." He smirked.

The tense feeling in his shoulder now dissipated as he settled himself on the couch strangely close to you, a tiny voice inside him wondered why. Seeing you smile even though you just murdered the poor coffee table not too long ago is a sign to him he did his job.

It's certainly weird but it's you. People may not look for you or choose you in a room full other characters from their lives, but you can trust that there's always a lion beastman just out in hallway, willing to stand with you through it all.

[trash-magics-blog]

John Price head canons + Blurb (NSFW)

This is more Price stuff cause I love him and I needed to write like, something cause my other Price thing has been halted for a bit.

HeadCanons

1. He doesn't like to fully choke you but have a nice hold on your neck as he rails you

2. Daddy kink!! He loves when you come up behind him and whisper in his ear calling him daddy while he is at his desk or reading in his chair (using this for the blurb)

3. He prefers to be the dominating one, but there are time where sometimes he just wants you to use him like your toy

4. When he is being more submissive, he likes to be tied up and over stimulated to where he can only think of you cause its also a stress relief, ride him and he will treat you so good after

5. He will leave hickies EVERYWHERE. Whether it be on your neck for others to know your his or in your thighs for him to see later and get a ego boost

6. When you give him head, he wraps your hair around his fist and is pretty vocal, calls you is good girl and princess. He grunts and takes deep breathes more than whining or whimpering. When he gives you head, he LOVES when you sit on his face and basically ride his face, and if you grip his hair he will actually moan so prettily into your cunt. Uses the mouth finger combo like a PROFESSIONAL.

Blurb<3 (long blurb)

John had been in his office for awhile now, and you were needy, and you knew just the thing to make him pay more attention to you. “Enter” John said as you knocked on his office door, he had his nose in some files that you didn't pay much attention too. “Hey John, are you almost done” you asked stepping behind his chair leaning on it slightly, he just responded with a ‘Mhm and didn't even look up at you, which had you less than amused so you decided to make your move. “C’mon daddy, let's have some fun pleaseee” you begged in his ear causing him to drop his pin and slump back in his chair, but it did turn him on, a lot. He groaned as his dick was straining against his pants, he needed you. “Come sit on my lap princess” he reached out and grabbed you hand as you sat down and that's when he realised you were only wearing one of his shirts and only one of his shirts. “fuckin hell… naughty naughty girl of mine ain'tcha” he said while rubbing your thighs, he started to kiss your neck, sucking dark marks along the way. As he did so, you let out gentle moans and started to rock your hips causing his to breathing to get heavier and his grip on you to tighten. “Ah.. Daddy please, I need you” you mewled into his chest, you felt his hands travel up your legs to your ass as he gave it a firm squeeze. He took one of his hands away to unzip his pants and free his cock already dripping with pre-cum. You wasted no time with prep or anything and quickly sank yourself down on him, putting his entire length in you at one time. He grunted and started to move his hips, thrusting up into you while you bounced at met his hips, you were both lost in the moment, you were a moaning mess and he had a grip on your ass that was gonna leave marks for awhile after, you both needed this so bad. John could tell you were getting close as your movements got a little sloppy and your cunt was clenching around his dick in a way that brought him even closer to the edge too, but he wasn't gonna stop till you came. He made sure you always finished before him so you felt that pleasure first. “Oh god Princess… yes, use my cock, Atta girl” he kissed your neck and continued to plow into you. You were to gone to make a sentence but hearing that was just the encouragement you needed to release all over him and coat his balls in your cum with a louder moan. The feeling of you all over him caused him to groan and fill you up with so much of his seed, some of it pooled over his cock cause it was to much. Your body was hot and shaking so you clung to John and rested your head on his shoulder panting. “was that enough fun for right now love? ” John chuckled, he zipped his pants back up and decided to carry you bridal style to your guys bed and set you down. “Just about, thank you” you said closing your eyes and dozing off, you were tired out. John had changed into some grey sweatpants with no shirt, he liked to sleep like that so be could feel your skin against his, it calmed him. As he laid down beside you he pulled you close and gave you a gentle kiss, “I love you beautiful” he whispered and closed his eyes. You guys slept for a good while that day.

A/N: thanks for reading! I wanna do more like this I just need to find time and also get out of the awful writers block😩