#grips the sink and stares into the mirror......... Who Am I

[sgtjamesrogers]

Been Too Unkind

Rated: T | roy x jamie | post episode: 0308: We'll Never Have Paris [also on ao3]

Roy’s alarm goes off at 3:40 am the Monday after their Sunday match right on schedule, and when he rolls over to his nightstand and switches it off, the next notification is a reminder from his calendar. 

After his eyes adjust he sees ‘PHOEBE DAY’ in all caps, with three swords emojis and a snake emoji after it. Roy had let her pick out the emojis. 

“Fuck.” He sits up out of bed in the dark, fiddling thick-fingered through his phone to press Jamie Tartt’s contact and then ‘call’. It occurs to him, his brain slowly waking up as he listens to the line ring, that he could have sent a text. Jamie is always awake and ready to go now when Roy shows up for training, these days. 

Too late, Jamie’s already picking up before Roy can think too hard about it. 

“...Coach?” He yawns into the phone from the other end. “You’re like, forty minutes early. And calling me. You don’t call me. Did you get hit by a car on your way? Nah, no you didn’t. You’d still show up, wouldn’t you, holding someone’s bumper and saying summat like ‘Move your ass Tartt, I have some new weight training for you to do’.” 

He sounds sleep-raspy but still manages to tip some more gravel into his voice for his Roy impression. Tragically, it’s not half bad. 

“Was that supposed to be me?”, is what Roy says out loud. “You made me sound like Eeyore.” 

“Ain’t that you?” Jamie responds breezily, the sound of a tap running water into a glass somewhere in the background. “Anyway, what’s going on? I haven’t even mixed my pre-workout yet.” 

“Oh, right,” Roy says, and then continues gruffly, “I’ve got my niece today, she’s off school. We’ll have to cut training short.” 

“Can’t you just strap her into a baby bjorn and we’ll take her with?” Jamie asks, the clatter of his blender bottle like a cup full of Yahtzee dice. “She’s like, two, isn’t she? How much could a toddler weigh? Two stone at max, I bet.” 

“No?” Roy says, making a face. “Add five years to that. She’d hate it, and her legs are too long.” He shoves his sheets off, his free hand automatically feeling out the muscles above his knee like he’s making sure he has enough gas in the tank of his car. They feel loose enough, so he hefts himself out of bed.  

There’s a long pause before Jamie smacks his lips into the phone receiver, the prick. Roy can almost smell the neon green sour whatever of his pre-workout. “Hold on, I might have something else.” 

---

Fair is fair: the pedicab driver is easier to bribe than Roy expected. 

Or perhaps ‘easy’ isn’t exactly the correct term, seeing as Jamie’s pocket ended up roughly five hundred pounds lighter by the time the driver seemed satisfied enough to hand over the cab to them, followed by a warning that he had a GPS marker tacked on, so ‘no funny business!’ 

“What funny business would we do with a cycle rickshaw anyway?” Jamie asks, turning to put his words over one shoulder.

The little shit’s not even out of breath yet; pedaling with his elbows propped lazily on the handlebars as he prepares to make a righthand turn at the next intersection. 

“Oh, I dunno, scamming tourists hundreds of pounds for fucking taxi rides while playing whatever this is—” The inlaid speakers on the passenger wagon are vibrating faintly as they play a hellacious club remix of Karma Cameleon. “—at top volume with stupid flashing lights and feather boa trim, that sounds like funny business to me, fucking HELL!” 

The wagon of the pedicab lists dangerously to the left side as Jamie takes the corner too quickly, the shiny silver Jaguar behind them honking repeatedly and at length. As soon as Roy feels like he’s not going to slide right out of the cab and go rolling across the pavement like he’s an extra in John Wick, he twists around to give the Jag’s driver the finger. 

“If you get me killed, I’m killing you next,” Roy says shortly, checking his phone. A quarter to nine. “Take a left up here.” 

Unfortunately for Roy, Phoebe is just as ecstatic as he thought she might be when they pulled up. 

“Uncle Roy! I always wanted to ride in one of these, Mum always says they’re not for us, they’re for fleecing tourists.” She hops up into the wagon of the pedicab next to Roy, bouncing a little with excitement on the seat. 

“That’s exactly what they’re for,” Roy says. “Tartt’s gonna pedal us around as part of his training, then we’ll get late breakfast at McDonald’s. Sound good?” 

Turning around on his bicycle seat, Jamie gives her a jaunty little salute and a grin. “I’ll be your driver for today, miss. Any musical requests or sights you wanna see, you just let me know.” 

Phoebe looks from Roy to Jamie skeptically and back again. Roy helplessly remembers every time he’s complained about Jamie Fucking Tartt while utilizing every curse under the sun, as well as making up some of his own curse words. Like a deranged Looney Tune. He gives her a wincing sort of smile in return. 

Roy’s niece turns primly back toward Jamie. 

“Do y’have any Little Mix or Jorja Smith?” 

---

They make it through the DNA album and get partway into Salute before Roy takes pity on Jamie and has him stop in front of the McDonald’s on Eden. It’s not quite mid-morning and there’s a shambling group of uni students already queued up inside, looking so violently hungover for a Monday at 10 am that even Roy feels a little nauseously sympathetic. 

Roy sends Jamie inside and attempts to send his card with him, but Jamie waves him off with a roll of his eyes. 

“Put that away old man, I’m good for three McMuffins,” he laughs before heading inside to join the crowd. Roy doesn’t realize until after Jamie’s walked off that he didn’t even try to fight him on it. There’s something a little discomfiting about that, but Roy can’t exactly put his finger on why. 

“Is he your new Keeley?” 

Roy whips around to look at Phoebe so quickly that he feels a crick in his neck. She’s looking up at him with a squinting expression, not quite unimpressed so much as mystified. 

“No one could replace Keeley,” he says quickly, something like a little minnow of panic swimming through his guts while he looks at her. 

Even the fucking abstract concept of Keeley brought up unexpected is calling to mind standing in the Nelson Road car park and feeling words rolling out of his mouth like vomit while he asked for details he did not need, because he’d let himself think that assuaging his own culpability was more important than her privacy. If he hadn’t deserved her before, he certainly didn’t now.  

Roy takes as deep a breath as he can, and rights himself. He looks at Phoebe sideways. She deserves to have a Keeley, even if he doesn’t. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” Just like Jamie, she rolls her eyes at him. 

“That’s not what I mean. Mum says old people don’t really use ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’.” Her expression goes a little disapproving. “Boys can like boys, Uncle Roy. Don’t be silly on purpose.” 

Roy puts his hands up in exasperated surrender. “I know that boys can like boys. Girls can like girls, for that matter.” 

Phoebe crosses her arms. “Obviously. Keeley and Jack took me to the Science Museum last weekend. Her new Uncle Roy,” she adds, confidentially. 

Closing his eyes, Roy counts to ten. Considers praying. “You didn’t call her that, did you?” 

Worryingly, Phoebe doesn’t address that question. Instead, she looks inside the McDonald’s, and Roy follows her gaze. Jamie’s waiting for their food, and while Roy and Phoebe look on he visibly checks their order number on the ticket in his hand and compares it with the orders on the overhead screen. They watch him do it three more times in the next minute, as if he’s concerned he might have forgotten their number. 

“See! You’re smiling!” Phoebe accuses him before he can look away. He looks down at her and resists the urge to clap a hand over his own mouth. 

“I’m allowed to fucking smile,” Roy grumbles. 

She crosses her arms, her earlier prim expression returning. It reminds him of Keeley when she knows she’s one hundred percent correct and is being horribly polite about it while she waits for Roy to figure it out. 

“He’s different than you said,” she hedges. “He hasn’t been a selfish moronic cunt or a shallow fucking idiot this entire time.” She pauses. “There was one more you used to call him a lot, but I can’t remember it. It was really good, too.” 

“You should probably forget the first two as well,” Roy says ruefully with a sigh. “...alright, he is different than he used to be. I’ll give you that.” It’s something that Roy knows in an abstract sort of way, but having his niece call it to his attention brings back that discomfited feeling from earlier. 

Before he can get any more words out, Jamie’s back and distributing wrapped sandwiches. He pauses when he hands one off to Roy, tilting his head. 

“Why’re you looking at me like I just shot your dog?” He shoots a horrified look at Phoebe as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “I mean—” Jamie attempts a smile as he reaches back into the bag and offers her a bottle of Tropicana. “Orange juice?” 

“I like this one,” Phoebe says decisively to Roy, nodding at Jamie as she accepts it. 

After breakfast, they head to the park and give the pedicab a rest. Phoebe sprawls on the grass reading The Phantom Tollbooth while Roy has Jamie run drills in the springtime overcast sunlight, and Roy feels prickly with awareness in a way he hadn’t before. 

It’s as if his eyes are independent of his brain, and they just keep noticing. The bunch of Jamie’s shoulders. The tendons that leap out at the back of his hands as they flex. The wrinkle of his nose as he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe his face. 

Roy’s not quite angry that he’s noticing all of this, but perhaps it’s frustration that it’s happening now. He’s had all the time in the world—from their shared locker room to now—to see these things and now his brain is treating them like an I Spy sort of puzzle book. 

“Show me that one again,” Roy says after he’s sat next to Phoebe to check in on her reading, “It needs to be quicker.” 

“And I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Coach,” Jamie tosses out with a grin, but dutifully runs through it as directed. 

Roy wishes he wasn’t paying attention. 

---

“Alright, what do you say to Tartt, then?” Roy prompts as she exits the pedicab and starts hopping up Roy’s front steps. The midday sun is high overhead as the clouds part for a few minutes, and Roy figures he ought to make her lunch from home after having fast food breakfast. 

“Thank you Jamie for pedaling us around and also for the McDonald’s,” she sing songs. Her clear plastic backpack clunks against her back as she waits for him at the door, hopping on the balls of her feet. 

Jamie grins as he gives her the same cheeky salute from this morning. Roy tries not to look at him too hard where he’s sprawled across the handlebars again. “You are very welcome, a girl with good music taste is always welcome in my cab.” 

“You don’t have a cab,” Roy grouses as he follows after her. “You half-borrowed, half-stole this one.” He’s halfway up the steps and expecting a joke, a retort, even a goodbye—anything but a hand on his elbow, halting his movement. 

Roy looks back at Jamie. Down at the hand on him like it’s a wet tentacle wrapping around his arm. Back up at Jamie. 

He’s not even bothered, the fucker. He just points down at Roy’s shoes. 

“Laces are undone. You can’t afford a fall, grandad. That’s when they all start going, you know. Real dark ‘beginning of the end’ business.” Jamie lets him go, and Roy relaxes. He’s in the clear. 

Jamie takes a knee at Roy’s feet. Bending forward, he grasps Roy’s dirty shoelaces and makes them into bunny ears before he ties them neatly and double knots them. 

While he’s bent over, Roy can’t stop staring at the tiny short hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck, at the barely there tan line from a necklace, at the faded roots of his highlights where they’re grown out from the crown of his head. 

Roy’s hands flex at his sides. 

After neatly and unnecessarily retying Roy’s other shoe, he looks up at Roy with a grin that crinkles his eyes. Roy feels like only weeks ago (months ago?), the sight of it made his blood boil and made him assign Jamie adjectives like ‘conceited’ or ‘arrogant wanker’.

Now he sees it spreading over Jamie’s lips and feels like he’s missed a step walking down the stairs. 

“There, all safe now.” 

Roy has never felt less safe, somehow. 

[nicepersondisorder]

ive been having a 3 days long identity crisis and im pretty sure its gonna be even longer </3

[finniestoncrane]

HELLO I'm in love with the way you write for Cooper 😩👏💝fix idea: I was thinking he's DEFINITELY somebody who doesn't care who he looks anymore, but is still aware that he's got that CHARM yano, but maybe the reader is just "wow your eyes are so pretty" and he fuckin BLUSHES (Mr cooper Howard aka Mr ghoul cowpoke absolutely keels over cus somebody said he was puuuurrtty) 💥💥💥🔫 just all "shut your pie hole girlie" and shes 😏😏😏 ok handsome

Can Ghouls Blush?

Cooper Howard x GN!Reader, word count: 1k aaaaah thank you ;-; also i love this, i love the idea of flustering that horrible boy omg 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some threats (imean it's cooper), guns, mostly fluff though!

“I know time means very little to someone who has been around for two hundred years, but how much longer are you gonna be?”

Cooper’s voice echoed out from the main room of the abandoned building you had slept in. From the bathroom, you could hear the frustration, despite his attempts to soften it up. He had no time for fun, no time for relaxing. It was survival and sweating, or nothing at all. But you could tell he had tried to soften it up a little, just for you. His irritation was still so obvious however, even as he offered you a playful roll as he approached the door, catching your eye in the reflection of the cracked mirror.

“Just a sec, then we can head out.”

The old hairbrush you had found by the sink was a well-received miracle. A little bit of normality, a chance to tidy yourself up somewhat.

“I just think it’s a waste of time is all. Preening for the Wasteland. I mean, who are you trying to impress out there? You already got the best catch.”

He flicked the brim of his hat with his gloved fingers, grinning wide, yellowed teeth bared at you as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“That’s exactly the problem. I have to make sure I look good to keep up with you, handsome.”

Your hand stroked along his cheek, a brief moment of eye contact as you walked past him towards the door of the bathroom and back out to the front of your temporary shelter.

“Handsome, huh?”

His voice seemed so much lighter now, more so than you had ever really heard before. And as you turned, you noticed the slight smile on his weathered lips, cheeks pulling up at the corners, eyes glinting as he stared straight back at you.

“Uh… yeah. You’re a very handsome guy, Coop.”

You almost had your fingers on the door knob, ready to leave for the start of your day, when you realised that you couldn’t feel Cooper’s presence behind you. Turning to see what was holding him up, you caught something in his eyes. A look of confusion, almost. Surprise. Disbelief. And a little bit of what you could swear was embarrassment. All this time together. Sleeping in each other’s arms, protecting each other from danger. Had you really never expressed to him your attraction? You had just assumed he knew. You spent long enough staring lustfully at him, it was surely a given. So you worried there was something else to it.

“What’s wrong, Cooper?”

“Nothing, I just… I was used to being called handsome, long time ago… not so much these days.”

As you stepped back towards him, closing the short distance, you could make out his expression much better, realising how astute your previous observation had been.

“Oh my god… Coop, are you blushing?”

He raised one finger, narrowing his brows as he tried to hide the endearing glee, offering you a forced stern look as he spoke.

“Don’t start playin’ stupid with me, you know I am not.”

Biting your lip, a mischievous smile forming, you gripped the lapels of his duster, teasing him as you stroked your thumb along one of his ridged, warm cheeks.

“Why, I didn’t even know big tough cowboys could blush, especially not the more ghoulish ones.” Can they blush? I'll need a closer look."

His fingers were tight around your wrist, gripping you fast and firm. He was trying so hard to maintain his tough exterior, but you could tell there was something softer in there that longed to come out, or at the very least, was desperate for someone to notice it. It was so obvious, even as he lowered his voice and growled at you.

“You turn around right now and start walkin’ out that door.”

Cooper took a step forwards, an attempt to regain his control of the situation, to push you towards doing his will, but you brought your hand up and laid your palm against his chest.

“Wait, just a second…”

It was nice to see him in this light. His confidence was always the dominant feature in his peronality, and it rarely wavered, if at all. But to know there were aspects of himself that he wasn't as sure of, and to know you could render him a little flustered just by complimenting them, made you smile. A grin that was returned by Cooper as you gazed into his warm, brown eyes.

"What is it you're lookin' for now, huh? You find it?"

"Yeah... turns out they can blush."

You turned quickly from him, practically skipping back towards the door of your temporary shelter, ready for another day of survival, this time tinted with a little more joy than usual. Your smile only grew wider as you heard Cooper, catching up with you, still trying to cover his embarrassment with the strained, empty aggressive threat that he chased you with.

"Now I will shoot you, you know that? You're pushing your luck today and we ain't even done anythin' yet."

But when he was certain you weren’t going to turn back around, he let himself smile a little. A soft glow in his eyes as he allowed himself to remember who he was, really. The kind of man that resided deep down inside, buried by years of solitude in the deep, dark ground, of struggling to adjust to the world. And struggling to adjust to himself. Even just a tiny reminder that, despite his charms and the charisma that tended to pull people in, that there was a bit of his old self left. That despite everything, despite who he had become, both physically and emotionally, someone might look at him with something other than fear first. With kindess, or lust. Or even love. That was enough to help him cling to the memories and look to the future with just the tiniest bit of hope, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“You comin’, handsome?”

He smiled, biting his lip to curtail the spread of the easy grin.

“You bet.”

[shaisuki]

Can you do (separate scenarios of course <3)Bachira, Nagi, Chigiri, and whoever else you’d like to add in a scenario where their chubby and soft girlfriend tries her hardest not to be insecure about her body but the insecurity really sneaks up on her a lot? So like, when the bfs find out, not only do they comfort her, but they show her just how much they love and adore her body if you catch my drift <3 Thank you so much!!

ENDLESS ADORATION

ft. bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, barou shoei

content warnings ─── body insecurities, self-loathing, body dysphoria, smut, mean barou, implied fingering, degradation.

notes. i'm so sorry it took so long nonnie. it wasn't deleted or anything but i hope you like it, nonnie. thank you for requesting!

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ don't ever let them catch you being insecure about your body, they had plenty of ways to show you how much they adore your body and you.

BACHIRA MEGURU

“you could be so mean to me, baby.” he whispers. his hands roaming all over to the expanse of your soft body. his bright yellow eyes glowing more than ever at its reflection in the mirror.

he got you trapped from his grip. his arms snaking to your soft middle while his jaw rests on your shoulder. caught in the middle of you criticizing yourself and bachira wouldn't allow that. “how selfish.” he mutters. his teeth grazing at the shell of your ear and it sends the slightest of tremors throughout your body.

you can't help but to tear up a bit. “h—how am i selfish, megu?” you stammer. avoiding your reflection at the large mirror in front of you. you don't want to see yourself nor catch him staring at you with those round eyes of his. so full of life, enthusiasm. confidence. a thing that you will never attain.

“you're selfish for hating, keeping this body that is mine. who gave you that idea, hmm? it's not your place to judge this body that i dearly love and its owner.” he hums, chuckling that it reverberates to your skin and to your aching core. his palm gliding through your stomach lifting the pesky clothing to reveal the stomach that's far from being leaned nor toned. it is round, the excess fat protruding giving you the impression of a pouch but bachira could careless about it. his fingers sinking to the soft flesh, like paws of cat kneading and pressing the fleshiness of your skin.

“what if this cute stomach of yours is flat? i couldn't hold it. what i am going to do with my hands...” he mutters, pinching your stomach then his fingers glides through the skin of your thighs. “this thighs of yours, how is it going to crush me if this isn't that thick, warm me even. so selfish.” prying your thighs open and his hand settles to the mound between them. slender and nimble fingers brushing through your panties. rubbing your slit and a huge grin plastered in his face when the wetness of your fat pussy began to drench your panties.

“don't be mean to this body of mine, baby. perhaps i'll show you what i'm capable of to make those silly ideas forming in your head disappear.” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your round cheek.

“i hope you can take me cause i ain't stopping.” bachira's eyes glowing more than ever and you know what it means when he get this riled up. his grin wider and you braced yourself. you know it all too well and you accepted it.

those thoughts of yours wouldn't be visiting you anytime soon after bachira had fucked you into oblivion.

NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi isn't insecure.

the word is foreign to him and the feeling of it. he's lazy, unmotivated and such unwanted thoughts isn't welcome and worth worrying over. why would he bother with such thing when in the first he didn't care. that's what he thought until he met you.

his soft, chubby girlfriend who had been nothing but loving and supporting to him. nagi didn't quite the gist when he caught you staring at yourself in the mirror with a frown in your lips. he only looks at you briefly before going back to his console. paying it no mind since when did nagi felt of being insecure.

then it began to affect him and yours. mostly yours. when you began to push his affections.

“seishiro, not now please.” your voice coming in a low whisper. gently pushing your white haired boyfriend in his head. shifting into more of a comfortable position in your bed. nagi groans, lips curling into a frown. a rare occurrence of him. he doesn't get upset since he don't like giving things the benefit of his time when he can give it to something more important.

he doesn't stop though. his huge build hovering above yours before putting his whole weight to yours. “sei!” you scolded him but nagi didn't listen burying his face in to your neck. nuzzling like a cat, he's almost purring from it.

he shakes his head. interlocking his fingers with yours. placing it beside yours and you were left powerless against your boyfriend's overwhelming strength. his lips finding refuge in your neck, tongue moving to lick the soft spot of your neck.

this isn't nagi who would make an effort to go down in you. well, at times when he's feeling it. the need to show you how much he loves you.

“pretty.” he murmurs. his hand now holding your thigh even though his large palm engulfs the majority of your thigh it wasn't enough to cover how big it was. placing it beside his torso grind his bulge to your cunt. “i always need you, want you.” he says. pressing a sloppy, lazy kiss to your lips.

nagi isn't good at words but he's willing to try for his soft, chubby girlfriend. it would be troublesome if he can't get his girl out of those thoughts of hers.

CHIGIRI HYOMA

chigiri's blessed with his looks that every people that within his eyesight cranes their neck to marvel at his looks. it didn't matter that he was rather feminine than other girls and he gets teased a lot by the guys around him. he just take after his mother.

there's no time to feel inadequate at things let alone how he perceive himself. he couldn't remember when the last time he felt insecure or been really insecure about himself and then he fell in love with you or it is that how being in love is. he have you and he was contented at that and being with you. he has to fight the battles that dwells inside you and chigiri isn't good at it. comforting another human being even it is his significant other.

so he tries. sees your eyes brimming with tears whenever he calls you pretty and he's confused.

“i'm not chigiri! look at you, you're beautiful and i'm not, you're lying.” he was taken aback at your outburst at him but he is quick to wipe your tears away while he whispers the very words that comforts you.

his sweet, crybaby.

“so, i am but you will always be my pretty baby.” brushing the loose strands of his reddish pink hair to see you better. he kisses you desperately like you were the air to fill his lungs to breathe again and you both stared at each other. he smirks when he sees you're already in a daze. mind spinning and only you can think is him.

his nimble fingers working through the garment of your panties. toying with hem before pulling at it downward to show that pretty pussy he's deprived of.

so he pumps his finger full in in your sopping hole. watch as it drips with slick coating his fingers. hear that delicious squelch while he stretches you. his ego inflating the more he hears you moan, call his name in the same breathy way that got you begging from him. all your insecurities dissipating like bubbles from the way his fingers stretches you out. he could do this forever.

wait until he fucks you dumb. you will forget those stupid insecurities along with your name.

BAROU SHOEI

barou doesn't play nice nor comfort you with those silly, sweet words that one needs to hear when in a struggle of battling with themselves. he simply doesn't need to play nice and comfort you and what only to question it again.

his actions says otherwise. he got you on all fours, your ass raised in a position you never knew you could. his hands gripping your round stomach so tight while he pounds you from the back. it is relentless. the groans and the moans mixing with one another while you hold tightly in his muscular arms his other hand cupping your jaw. forcing you to look in the mirror.

“you are nothing but my cocksleeve.” he says in between grunts. his red eyes glimmering, peering at his girlfriend who is currently sobbing, moaning like a broken record while tears streamed down at her round face. you whimper at what he just called you.

“you are. there's no denial in that. look at you, crying a baby and yet your pussy squeezing me like a whore.” the words stung and he spoke it the way he means it and barou isn't known to lie. his tongue made of barbed wires that is meant to hurt, talk about how awful everyone and you believed it that you are his own for him to use. your cries a little louder and thick droplets of your tears falling from your eyes.

it's funny how his words hurt you and it works like magic forgetting your earlier dilemma of hating yourself, of hating the body you live with.

you let him. bruise your body with his thrusts, with his touch. if this is the only way to forget everything so be it.

and so he did. he breathes in your cheek. growling at the way your cunt clenches tightly around him. you did feel so good to him. he cups your jaw harder, squishing it with much strength that you can't speak. your body reeling in sensitivity that you failed to notice how he pays attention to your soft bits. particularly to the parts where it leaves you frowning and he loves every part of you.

that's why he gives them the love, the care that you will never bother to give but available to scrutinize and he's filling out that so one day, you'll stop looking at them that they've wronged you and barou isn't the one to get mushy. he is still the hotheaded, competitive, bulky man that would not admit he loves you but his actions tells another story.

with the tight squeeze of your cunt around him, he finally reaches his high. yours and his orgasm hurling at you both that he can't help but to bite your shoulder and you — only a broken moan that music to his ears.

if this is the only way to shut you up and comfort, he'll do it over and over again until you can't speak no more and your eyes are brimmed with tears.

[sofs16]

let you break my heart again — 3

series link ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ @1655clean @uuzhanggggggg @cmleitora @annie115 @valntynebaby @mrosales16 @d3kstar @stopeatread

charles couldn’t believe it. oxford.

he obviously knew she wanted to be a writer or journalist but oxford? he felt a pang in his chest when it dawned on him, he really hadn’t been updated with her.

every time he was out with her, she would ask any updates on him.

he opens the letter, against his better judgement, and feels proud.

“I am glad to inform you that the department of english has provisionally agreed to admit you” he whispers the words to himself, glancing at her house.

he runs inside his house to seal the envelope again and slips it under her door with a small smile.

over the course of 3 months, charles, again, has a new girlfriend. yn hasn’t told anyone but her family about oxford. though to others, something has shifted in her. charles thinks it’s because her she can stop worrying about not getting into college.

it’s a warm summer night when the yln’s and leclerc’s are all gathered. yn tells the leclerc’s she’s going to leave soon, except charles, who is no where to be found until he enters the house with his girlfriend on his arm.

this had never happened; charles introducing a girl to his family

they all looked at each other

“ah! everyone, meet my girlfriend, cindy” charles shuts the door as the brunette girl with red lips smiles, introducing herself to her and his family.

yn’s stomach sinks, her breathing slows down, and she inhales sharply. cindy was jaw droppingly gorgeous and seemingly sweet.

“you must be yn, charles’ best friend!” she reaches yn at the end of the table and offers her a hug, yn awkwardly accepts. a bit of putting alcohol on the wound.

she sits back down for a while, staring at her empty plate while lorenzo and kylie make eye contact.

“excuse me” she pushes her chair and goes to the kitchen, stumbling into the dark pantry, and she shuts the door

she grips on one of the shelves to steady herself before she covers her mouth, tears falling helplessly on her new sundress.

she shakes as silent sobs escape her mouth and the pantry door opens. she winces as she looks up to see lorenzo switching the light on. he looks behind him to see charles smiling with his family and cindy before lorenzo embraces yn. no words are exchanged, but a quiet understanding.

they pull away and she tiptoes out the backdoor to make her way back to her room. she wipes her tears, glancing at the mirror for a second before retouching her makeup. eventually she makes it back to the table hearing about charles’ girlfriend and her accomplishments.

she folds her arm and clutches the other as she feels her eyes wander towards charles’ light touches on cindy.

yn’s lips remained still that night, muttering a few words here and there.

and just like that september night, charles makes his way to her room a little past midnight.

“what is your problem with her?” he barges in “who?” “cindy!” “what did i do to her, charles” she scoffs “she was nice and you just left!” “nothing is wrong with her, charles. she’s kind”

“arrête de mentir! stop lying!” he raises his voice “Je mens pas! iQu'est ce qui te ferais penser ça? !i’m not lying! what would make you think that?!”

“because you are hiding things from me!” “comme quoi, charles! like what!” how dare he accu-

“Comme quand tu as déposé une candidature à Oxford et que tu as été prise. like how you applied to oxford and got in” the silence was too loud for both of them. “Je pensais qu'on était meilleurs amis et qu'on se disait tout. I thought we were best friends and we tell each other everything” he adds

“i am sorry for not telling you, but that’s just it, charles! I will always be the best friend and i know it won’t change but i’m sick and tired of being here when i don’t even see my purpose here anymore!”

“why would you want to change being best frien- oh”

“do you know how it felt to be there? too in love with you whilst you introduced ‘the girl you will marry’ to your family, whom i consider my own?” the tears were starting to fall down her face

“it hurts charles knowing that you will never see me the same way i see you. and i can’t even blame you because it’s not your fault!

somewhere in between our friendship i fell in love with you and it’s my fault that i couldn’t control it”

her heart was bursting with pain and relief.

charles stood there frozen. how was he supposed to act to his best friend being in love with him? it was not even a little crush. charles would always admit that she was pretty, charming, smart, hardworking, respectful, maybe a little blunt and stubborn sometimes, but he did not think of her in that way.

he felt the unsettling need to run away and take a moment to absorb everything, yn could clearly see that.

“you don’t need to say anything, you can go” she whispered and he nodded. for the first time, he shut the door without looking back, staring at the stair case. on the other side of the door, yn already felt warm liquid flowing down her face uncontrollably. she promised this would be the last time she would cry over a man.

Enzo Lec.

Hi, Yn. How are you holding up? 🙂

Yn

Hi, Enzo:) As good as I can be? I’m not really sure… How is he?

Enzo Lec.

Quiet and different. When are you leaving?

Yn

Next week I’m not entirely confident I can say bye to him

Enzo Lec.

You can’t just leave without saying bye, Yn. What happens when you come back?

Yn

You and I both know I’m not coming back, Enzo🫤 And besides, he’ll probably be in F2 or F1 by then, traveling more

Enzo Lec.

Just because he doesn’t love you the way you do yet doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you

Yn

That’s the part that hurts the most

Sorry but I don’t really want to talk about it anymore

Enzo Lec.

Alright, but at least try to say bye, okay? And to me and the others 😅

Yn

Of course Aren’t you dropping me off the airport?

Enzo Lec.

I was just double checking 🤪

Yn

Haaaa Haaaa Very funny *gets stranded in house with no ride* [ Enzo Lec reacted with 🤣] Night enzo, thanks:)

Enzo Lec.

Good night, Yn:) We’re all proud of you

[ Yn reacted with ❤️]

the week was met with silence between the two. everyone knew yn was leaving.

pascale, the first to show up in her room and help her pack while chatting. arthur, to come over her room and steal things she didn’t need. hervé, to wish her a good luck in her new chapter. lorenzo, to maybe get her to talk to charles. but charles never came.

it was the day before she left when she knew they weren’t going to see each other. she took matters i to her own hands and started writing.

one thing about yn was she wasn’t the best at verbally communicating. but writing down letters was much easier to her.

lorenzo had driven yn to the nice airport with pascale. charles’ location unknown, and her family was busy supporting kylie with her booming business.

she wanted it like this though, a quiet send off with people she considered her family.

her things were all out of the car and hugs were exchanged. she bit her lip before pulling out a scarlet envelope from her handbag. “see to it he gets it, okay?” yn hands it to lorenzo as he nods with a smile.

charles arrives home and his heart speeds as he sees the whole y/l/n household in pitch black.

he rushes inside his home to a quiet dinner. he makes his way to the table “where is she?” he runs his hand though his hair. lorenzo hands him the envelope.

“she’s gone?” he whispers as he looks at the envelope and they all look at each other

he walks outside, glancing at the empty house beside him. he lets his fingers glide over the ink ‘charles’ outside the envelope before opening it.

dearest charles,

i’m sorry about the way we left things, i really am. even more so that i could not bring myself to talk to you face to face.

but tomorrow i leave for london (today if you’ve read it as i planned). you’ve probably already heard that but for my peace of mind, i am writing you this letter.

you are extraordinary. every part of you is special charles, on and off track. all your kindness, thoughtfulness, talent, determination, patience, love, and more. i hope you never lose that in you.

this setback will never mean i won’t support you from a far; because i will. i heard you got into the drivers academy and i am so so proud of you. i never doubted you. i’m sorry i wasn’t there to celebrate with you.

i know things will never be the same as they were and for that, i am sorry. but i’ll never be sorry for loving you the way i did even if i, or we, ended up in pain; loving you is never a mistake. never let anyone make you think that.

it hurt too much to see you with other girls and quarrel over it and i promised myself i wouldn’t cry over you again. if i saw you with cindy again, i’d be breaking that promise.

maybe not my place to say but please don’t let girls get in your current relationship’s way:) there’s so much more left unsaid but i think this is enough for now. i wish you always the best. i wish you the happiness and success you deserve. don’t let anything define you but yourself

love,

yn

he lets out the breath he was holding once he finishes it. his lips quiver and his eyes gloss as he walks back inside the house. they all look at him.

“she is gone?” he whispers again and lorenzo nods. as it sinks in, his head starts to nod softly and he looks down at the letter. drops of tears falling onto the cream envelope.

“i think she was the one. the one even if i can not realize it now” he licks his lips and places his hand under his chin.

pascale stands up and embraces him, leading him to his room. “let‘s get you resting, hm?” charles mumbles something and he falls asleep that night, holding that letter, gripping onto every word.

he has to make it in f1, for you.

yn.yln.16 posted an instagram story!

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oxford, oxfordshire

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yn.yln.16 new chapter. bring it on!!!

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classmate1 AAA CONGRATS YN!!🤍🤍

pascale_leclerc 😍😍❤️

lorenzotl Oxford is lucky to have you!

kylie_yln 🥹❤️

charles_leclerc Congrats, yn! :)

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Charlie ❤️

Hello, Y/n/n :) I received your letter… I made a big mistake letting you go. I am stupid for realizing it too late. Can I call you?

[ Yn did not receive this message.]

[ooshu]

(sequel to pt. 1)

-

“you’re not going anywhere.”

haechan pulls you inside the quarters of his dorm. you tried resisting but he was too strong. he closed the door behind you and took both of your wrists to soothe them.

“i’m sorry.”, haechan pleaded. he was trying to find your eyes as your face remain looking on the ground. you did not want to see him. no—you did not want him to see you like this. “did i hurt you?”

“please let me go.”

“no.”

“please, haech.”

“you’re doing this to me again.”, he whispered. “you’re leaving me again.”

“you’ll be fine.”

“what?”

“you have to.”, you finally faced him. you can see how confusion is traced on haechan’s face. “you’ll be fine.”

“no, no, no-”, haechan shook his head. “what do you mean?”

“i can’t be your friend anymore.”

ever since he left you in your own apartment, you haven’t heard from haechan in weeks. hell, it was even a month or two.

and you already played the scenario in your head; stuck like a loop; preparing your heart for how it will break when you finally meet the woman whom he had prayed for to come into his life.

“i think i might be in love.”, haechan told you as you both lay on the rooftop of your college building four months ago. he liked going to places that he knows are out of reach. “no, i am in love.”

you kept staring at the stars that are gradually revealing themselves to you. and you couldn’t wonder why haechan wouldn’t see you like you see them one by one.

you practiced your smile in front of the mirror, like a tomfoolery who desperately needs to conceal their feelings. you needed to cope; you needed to let go; you needed to face the truth. but receiving a deadline was much worse than confronting it. it crept up to you like a madman. your tears flowed like there was no tomorrow. oh, how cruel you must be, haechan lee. how cruel it is to be struck by cupid who does not know how to aim.

and seeing him after a month as you retrieve your things from your old roommate, it put you right back where you belong—as if fate wanted you to hurt more—square one. now, here you are, pulled by the person whom you craved to be touched here and there, and mend your broken heart as he’s the only person who could only do so.

but haechan, oh, my dearest; my greatest despair;

my love;

i don’t love you no more;

i don’t love you no more;

i don’t love you no more;

i don’t love you-

“you can't leave."

“i have to.”

“why?”

“because i love you, haechan lee.”

haechan’s gaze softens.

“and you’ll be fine.”

“stop saying that.”

“you will be, haech.”

haechan tightens the grip on your wrist and eventually found his way to interlock his fingers with yours. “how would you know i’d be fine, huh? how would you know how i’d feel-”

“because i’m sure you already are when you left me, haechan.”

just like that, haechan’s world stopped. he needed time to think how he would tell you how he truly feels—because damn sure what he did was irrational and illogical. he liked going to places that he knows are out of reach. but when it comes to you, he was terrified to cross the line.

“i love you.”

but for haechan, it was now or never.

“i know.”, and it felt like a thousand lies encapsulated into three words.

“i meant it when i said i love you.”, he pulled you into an embrace, and your body sinks into his touch. “how can i make you believe that i do?”

“i don’t think you know what you say sometimes, haech.”, you chuckled in disbelief. your voice, quite muffled as your face is buried in his chest. but you made you clearer as ever, and fuck, every utterance tasted like venom to your tongue—“it’s because you love her.”

“i don’t, i don’t, i don’t-”, haechan hugged you tighter. he slightly rocked you back and forth; he kissed the crown of your head and rested his chin on it. “oh, god. i don’t.”, you heard him clearing his throat as his voice falter. haechan was already sobbing.

“please let me go, haech.”, you grew weary; tired of understanding and thinking, and fucking things up—and your voice has voiced out emptiness; “you’ve hurt me enough.”

a minute of silence passed by. as seconds turned 30 to 50, you were counting down with the clock. these were the last minutes before you leave. and you have to unlearn so many different things, all things haechan lee, like this: you love how he smelled and how perfect is it your face on his chest, just like your bodies were meant for each other to be linked for eternity; such warm and comfort it gives. such a shame, such a shame. you were my home. such a shame.

“i would never hurt you.”, haechan broke the silence. “yet here i have. i’m so sorry.”

you chuckled, “you’re stupid sometimes, haech.”

haech, haech, haech—the endearment you can only call him. such a sweet, angelic voice—it lures him to sleep; it keeps him awake at night because he couldn’t wait until the morning to hear it again.

“i am.”, haechan agreed. “i tried loving her because i was so terrified of losing you.”

your eyes, formerly closed as you try to savor the last moments, slowly opened as you were being aware of what he is saying.

“fuck, i was already ready to see you in twenty years, hand in hand with a man who isn’t me. but i’m willing to endure that even if it means not losing you by my side.”, he continued. “and every day i wake up missing you terribly even though you’re sleeping in my bed because of the future i have to face;

and i pray a single day to heaven to give me such a strong heart so i couldn’t risk losing you.

but in the end,” he sighed. “no matter what i do, i’ve gone put you through a lot.”

with your mouth ajar, you were speechless.

“and she wasn’t you. fuck, she will never be. i tried seeing you in her but you were just… you. i decided to call it off, i was selfish having to try to love someone when i’m in love with you-”

you pulled out from his embrace and punched his chest. he didn’t flinch. you did it again and again and again, until tears pricked your eyes.

“you’re so”, you hit his chest once more, “fucking stupid, haechan!”

“i know.”, and all he could do is to take the hits; he deserves it, he thought.

then suddenly, he said—“i love you.”

it took you aback when he said those three words; i love you. it felt different and it sounds… genuine; so real. sure haechan has a way with his words, but he meant every syllable when he told you he’d make you believe. no more buts, no more excuses—for once and for all, haechan had crossed the line he thought he’d never risk stepping in, but the risk is worth the universe, as long as he would get you on his side forevermore.

“you’re so, so stupid, haechan lee.” you muttered.

the boy in front of you grinning like a fool, and sure did it make your heart flutter and stitched all way back to make it whole.

“so fucking stupid.”

[fuckmyskywalker]

anakin corruption kink

Please understand — Anakin Skywalker.

— cw: smut! 18+, minors DNI. Mildly dubious content, minor violence towards Reader. Anakin is a bit harsh, definitely desperate and absolutely in love. PiV, this is MY take on corruption kink so I'm sorry if it's not what you expected lol.

— a/n: Ok! I did what I could with the idea I had in mind. I redid this like three times, so sorry in advance. I hope you like it anyways. I really liked it, not that anyone cares.

His lips taste like darkness and lust.

His voice sounds like a cruel lullaby, that rocks you into that very same darkness he is drowning in.

"I thought I lost you" Anakin shakily whispers against your lips.

His hands grip your hips harshly, pushing you against the walls of the room you hid in. You gasp at his brusque manner, so uncharacteristic of him.

"Anakin" You speak, but he quickly hushes you smashing his lips against you desperately.

He smells like ashes, leather and…

And blood.

Panic blossoms inside your chest, something happened. Something was wrong.

You push him gently away from you, gripping his shoulders firmly. You call him again, your eyes locking onto his.

Your heart drops.

Golden rivers of lava stare at you, and you realize Anakin is no longer himself.

"What… what have you done?" You ask, one hand leaving his shoulder to cup his cheek. "Anakin, your eyes…"

"I did it for you" He states, grabbing your hand and holding it with such force your fingers crack. "I did it for us"

Before you can even muster a reply, his lips crash against yours. His force cages you against the wall, and it's easy for him to gain control over you. Your limbs suddenly are made of jelly, and your knees buckle. You can hear the faint sound of what appears to be screams, blasters, chaos.

His hands travel up and down your sides, eager to feel any sort of contact. His tongue invades your mouth exploring it at his will. Anakin sighs against your mouth when his hands find the hem of your shirt, sliding inside and caressing your soft skin.

"I did it for us" He repeats when he pulls away.

"No" You cry, shaking your head. "No, Anakin. This wasn't supposed to happen"

Something snaps inside of him, something that seemed to mirror the chaos happening outside the room. His leather hand grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking it.

"Why can't you see I did it for us?!" He yells.

He wants you to understand, he needs you to understand.

Instead of waiting for a reply he pulls again, forcing you to the floor. Your body collides with the harsh carpets of the room, and in a blink of an eye Anakin is on top of you, kissing you again.

His large frame cuts every movement, leaving you motionless under him. His lips trace your jaw, as the darkness he is surrounded by begins to creep into your body.

"This was the only way" He whispers, his tongue tracing your cheek slowly. "Please understand my angel, please"

Doubt clouds your mind. He did it. He really did it for you.

"Anakin" You moan when his teeth sink in your skin.

But was it worth it?

"You are so beautiful" He says in a sweet tone that melts your heart. "You are mine"

"I would kill for you" Anakin whispers, but to your ears it sounds like a promise.

Although he already did, for you.

Your mind begins to wonder; You love Anakin more than anything. You belong to him, mind, body and soul. But if this isn't the Anakin you learned to love, cherish and hold… then what can you do?

Anakin reads the doubt in your eyes, and he thrives on it. "I love you" He continues, pushing further to that hole he wants you to fall into. "I am who I am because of you. My beautiful angel… you are every reason, every hope"

His hands undo your belt, sneaking slowly into your pants. You pant to push him away, to scream, cry and sob. Beg for him to gain some clarity of mind.

It's too late for that, you both know it.

"You're every dream I've ever had" Anakin's golden orbs swell with tears, he has no idea why he is crying, when he usually rejects his own tears with disgust.

"No matter what happens to us in the future— I will always belong to you" His fingers hook on the edge of your pants, dragging them down.

His voice calms you, while the end of the world you grew up in, crumbles into pieces just outside the room. Every single thing you believed in, begins to cloud into a dense smoke.

Your mind feels… empty.

Oddly empty.

Anakin's tears fall on your face, bringing you back to reality. He looks absolutely beautiful, like one of those statues you saw in an art museum.

"Please" His expression is broken, and the vulnerability he shows you allures you. You want to fix him.

When in reality Anakin is breaking you.

His touch over your body feels warm and familiar, as he eases your mind into a deep state of numbness. He is right. How could you be so blind?

He did this for you.

Anakin's gentle hands solidify the intention surrounding him, there's love, there has always been love between you two. Every inch he touches feels on fire, as if the sun was dancing in across your skin.

"I do" You reply breathlessly, as he pushes his hard length inside of you. "I do" You gasp with every kiss, every caress.

The embrace was maddening, beguiling, unreal. Every sway of his hips against you sends you into a spiral of new emotions. Anakin has never felt more alive. He felt complete, for once in his miserable life.

He can read it in your eyes, as they mirror the same darkness he is swimming in. No longer drowning, because you are his lifeboat. You are everything.

Anakin has been haunted since the day he met you, trapped in a love that was forbidden and caged in a prison of his own insecurities and impediments.

Not now.

Not ever again.

"Together— Together, my love" He pants over your face, his dirty blonde curls framing his face, almost giving him a bright halo. "Together we will rule and take what's ours. No one will tell us we can't be together"

Sweet like honey, soft as silk, there's a beauty in destruction. Anakin's hand wraps around your throat, pushing your head against the cold carpets. He groans loudly, the sounds of your moans and cries edging him further. The skin to skin contact and noises are too much. Anakin knows you are close, he knows you like the back of his hand.

"Come on angel" He haunts you, squeezing your throat harder. "Come on, be mine" He says through gritted teeth, holding back by pure seconds. "Please, please my love"

You throw your head back, a strained sob of ecstasy ripping from your throat. Anakin watches amazed how you unwrap under him, opening your soul and mind in a form of an orgasm, and that's when he realizes he did it.

He follows you seconds after, filling you up not only with his hot and sticky release, but with sweet promises.

He can hear hurried steps outside the room, and he knows everything is going according to plan. Once Order 66 is completed, he will be able to spend the rest of this new opportunity of a fresh beginning with you.

When he kisses you again, his lips no longer taste like darkness, they taste like an apocalypse.

"I love you" Anakin breathes, smiling fondly.

"I love you" You stare back at him, your precious golden eyes glowing with tears and love.

Finally, you understood it.

He did it for us.

[ghostykapi]

Lunch

kim dahyun & fem!reader

:3 spice so kids scram

dahyun isn’t sure that this is a good idea

the cameras are rolling though, so the production staff thinks it is a good idea

twice has been booked and busy with schedules. any time to rest seems like just enough to have some sleep, so any free time for dahyun to properly spend with you is through mundane tasks and in between schedules

normally this wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but today is different.

yesterday morning she woke up to you rummaging through the drawers, only in a sports bra and shorts after a morning run. the problem of her neediness starting from there.

lunch at her favorite restaurant wasn’t any better, your y2k inspired outfit providing her eyes a feast. the fit crop top and the low rise jeans proved to be a dangerous combo. her hands wouldn’t leave your waist even during practice later that afternoon

the late dinner back at home made her frustration grew. your choice to wear only a oversized shirt making her fight the air. your innocent smile and your sleepy demeanor preventing her from pouncing on you at all

now she sits and looks at the mirror with a stoic face, trying to keep it together as her eyes wander to you. the sports bra and baggy sweat pants combo isn’t a wow eye popping combo to anyone, but when she sees the way it highlights your abs and arms and your oh so bitable neck she kinda loses it

she’s barely even listening, save for the important key phrases she heard from the choreographer, so much so that when a quick 15 minute break is in session, she’s still breathing deeply and staring at you, wondering if you’re thinking the things she wants to do to you

the cameras sitting inside of the room also like the view, with you always interacting with it, telling silly things to once that will only be heard once the comeback is in full swing

“guys” you’re whispering to the camera, so sure that the others won’t hear “dahyun looks so pretty today but i won’t tell her that, so instead i’m going to bother her”

you smile, with your sharp teeth and all, before bouncing away from the camera and to dahyun, who’s hands immediately cover you up with her jacket that she brought

“i can’t believe you” she’s barely even mad, she’s just pretending to scold you so she doesn’t get distracted

“but” you pout “you like this outfit”

“i do” her voice lowers, and it gets you thinking into something “but i don’t like sharing remember?”

“i do” dahyun barely notices it, but you’ve managed to lead her outside of the practice room and into a convenient ‘out of order’ comfort room “i just wanna look good for mommy”

that short circuits her brain, the panic visibly shown on her face and it makes you giggle. it’s then that you lock the door, push her to sit on the marble sink and kiss her, hands gripping on whatever clothing that it can hold

“baby” she’s trying to push you away, but she knows if she continues any longer than this she will not be able to focus at all in practice “baby please”

her hands, are now scratching your exposed skin, not enough to leave any marks but enough for you to whimper while kissing her

“can’t keep your hands to yourself mommy?” you’re voice is her favorite sound, but when it’s raspy and needy for her it makes her lose her very composure “i know what will help”

she tries so hard, she really does, but when you lips kiss her neck, she lets out a moan that she is quick to cut off, remembering where they are

“shhh you don’t want the others to hear you don’t you?” dahyun must be under a spell, because now you’re hand has manage to pull down her sweatpants and underwear, leaving for you to use your fingers to part her lips, simply teasing her even further “unless of course you like that mommy. you want them to see how much of a good girl i am for taking care of you hm?”

you’re evil, laughing as you get on your knees and make a show of making a one slow lick from bottom to top

dahyun prays to god for the strength she needs to stay absolutely quiet

“we don’t have time” despite how evil you can be, you know when to not push your luck today. so get to work and start eating her out, a finger teasing her entrance while you do

it doesn’t take long, your enthusiasm and dahyun’s neediness, your now pumping in two fingers at a respectable fast pace, all while you’re eating her out like you’ve been starving for days

“that’s it” with this rate of your fingers moving and your tongue, dahyun wishes she can be a bit more louder, but she settles with deep breaths and holding your hand “so good baby, you’re so good at fucking me”

you’re sure to make her weak to even practice for the next hour, because your nails are digging on her thighs, said thighs are crushing your head and her hands are desperately grasping anything other than your hair and the white marble counter to get a grip

she’s so close, the peak is right there. just within one’s grasp. she just needs to hear you say the words

“cum for me”

dahyun’s moan is cut off, the only sound both of you can hear is your own mouth on her pussy, sucking and lapping any of her cum that’s dripping out of her. she can barely breathe, and yet when she looks down at you, looking up at her with doe eyes and a lopsided smile, scattering kisses all over her thighs, her brain goes a bit overdrive

in the nick of time you manage to clean her up and help her get back her reigns, promising to give her some of your energy bar and your sports drink to keep her energy up through the day. her body leaning towards you as you both finally move to leave the ‘pit of order’ comfort room

“you want to continue that tonight?” you can’t wait for tonight, can’t wait for her to get back at you and claim what’s hers

“tonight” you let her kiss you again to seal the deal “i’ll get back at you tonight”

the thing is, as you both emerge from the ‘out of order’ comfort room, both mina and momo also emerge from the supply closet just a couple of steps down

dahyun and mina both stare at each other, faces red at the realization of the implication

you and momo simply smile at each other, happy to get a early lunch

[viaoverthemoon]

Can't Wait <3

Leon x Fem!Reader

I am bored yet again. Time to write about my husband! ;)

Summary: You and your husband Leon can't seem to wait until after dinner to get each other alone. <3

18+!! MDNI!! Sexual themes ahead!!

Tw: Smut, PUBLIC smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (Don't be silly, wrap your willy), quickie, swearing.

Enjoy! :)

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

"Ya'know, you've always looked so sexy in red."

You smile softly, fixing your earrings in the mirror one last time before turning toward where he was seated on the bed.

His gaze is already on you, filled with so much desire and love that your panties almost drop. You forgot how good he looks in a suit. Hair slicked back and the first two buttons of his black dress shirt undone. Not to mention his ass looked wonderful in those black slacks. Under any other circumstance, you would've had him laid in the bed immediately. But you hold it together.

Leon watches you walk to him, hypnotized by the sway of your hips and the confidence of your walk in those damn heels.

God, he wanted those red bottoms in the air. Sitting pretty on each side of his head as he fucked you.

You can see the way his thoughts are headed by the way the blue in his eyes seem to darken.

"No. Leon, you promised." You playfully grabbed his cheeks and gave them a soft pinch. "You said we wouldn't miss this reservation. You swore. I got the shit on camera. We are not missing this dinner."

Leon cursed under his breath. He doesn't regret the promise.

After all, you two had been trying to find the perfect day to have a date. But with Leon so busy escaping death, and you busy with running your newly successful company, there were hardly any days where the both of you could make time for each other.

Except for today. And you were not missing this opportunity.

"I know, sweetheart... Fuck, who bought you that dress? I might just kiss them."

"Well, I'm done using the bathroom if you need a minute with the mirror." You giggled as Leon rolled his eyes, standing from the bed and offering you an arm.

"I'm guessing that means you're ready, angel?"

You smile softly at him and rise on your tiptoes to plant a small kiss on his lips.

"Only if you are handsome."

☆

You should have taken Leon's offer.

The whole dinner, you're forced to stare ahead of you at this chiseled, muscular, sex god.

You don't have to worry about Leon, who remains on his best behavior. You have to worry about yourself.

You try, you really try, to listen to Leon as he cracks joke after joke about his countless traumatic experiences. But you can't ignore the sticky wetness in your panties and the continuous throbs of your clit.

Leon seems unaware of your distress, laughing out at his own jokes and wiping away invisible tears.

The heat gets so unbearable to the point to where you're one push away from ending this date early. And that push finally happens when Leon looks up at you and flashes the overconfident smirk you fell in love with all those years ago.

You need this man right now.

Carefully slipping off one of your red bottoms, you raise a foot, hesitantly running it up Leon's leg.

He cuts himself off with a slight flinch before looking at you, his eyes widened in surprise.

You bite your lip and peek at him through your lashes, hiking your leg up high enough to rub along his inner thigh.

His face becomes bright red and he clears his throat, straightening up and looking around in embarrassment.

"Sweetheart? What are you doing...?"

You don't answer him immediately, letting your leg graze his semi-bulge that protrudes from his slacks. He lets out a soft grunt, trying to cover it up by swiping a hand down his face.

You lick your lips, red lipstick staining your tongue.

"I kinda have to use the restroom, Lee..."

☆

The grip you have on this sink honestly could have broken the thing.

You stare into the mirror in front of you, watching your husband's face as he fucks you from behind.

He'd lifted the back of your dress to rest right above your ass and slipped his cock out of his slacks for easy access before bending you over the restroom sink of the restaurant.

You both have a hard time keeping quiet. You muffle your moans and whimpers by biting your arms, nails uselessly scratching at the porcelain material of the sink as you hold onto it for dear life.

Leon however, doesn't care much for quietness as he groans low without restraint, pounding into you with so much fervor that a loud slapping sound resounds around the small room. Your and his skin contacting with each hard and deep thrust, leaving red marks on your ass.

He stares at you through the mirror, cooing at how adorable you look.

"Oh, look at you angel. You love it so much you're drooling all over that pretty dress. Making such a mess, pussy so drenched it's getting my pants wet. Oh no- Don't cry, sweetheart. You're doing so good for me. You can take it for a little longer, can't you?"

God, he makes you such a fucking mess.

Your body's on fire, drool and tears are drenching your dress, your pussy feels so worn and stretched it may never recover, and you're covered in sweat.

Yet you can't be bothered to care because your husband, Leon Scott Kennedy, is rocking your fucking world right now.

You feel yourself getting close and are reduced to nothing but a desperate, babbling mess. You beg him, demand him, tell him you'll do anything if he'll just give you that sweet release you've been waiting for.

And when his hands grip your hips tighter and his thrusts become sloppy, you know he's about to give you exactly what you want.

And so he does. He cums with you and inside of you, throwing his head back. His voice cracks as a loud moan is released from deep within him. His entire body shudders and he takes a moment to catch his breath.

And you do too, spent and slumped on the clean restroom sink, drool and tears drying all over your face and dress.

You're pretty sure he just slutted you out.

There's silence as he pulls out of you, his release dripping from your poor hole.

The two of you make brief eye contact before bursting into quieted laughter.

"What the hell happened to having a 'proper date', hun?" Leon asks, cleaning you up and fixing your dress for you. "I mean, not that I'm complaining-"

Before he can finish his sentence, the sound of banging startled you both.

"Hey! Whoever is in there needs to come out right now! You're both officially banned from this establishment!"

You and Leon both look at each other.

"Well, shiet."

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

I'm a little down bad...

[red-riding-wood]

Hii! 💓 I saw your post about drabbles/one shot requests and I’d like to send in the following angsty/dark prompt for Tommy: ‘I'm here to end what I started.’

Bang Bang

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: a bit of spice but no smut, violence, angst

WC: 978

Took some loose inspiration from Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) by Nancy Sinatra.

I'm sorry this is so, so late, Daisy! I'm finally back from many hiatuses and am getting my act together with writing. Hope you enjoy because I quite like how this one turned out. <3

Your hand trembled around the revolver, bitterly cold in the winter air of Birmingham, next to the canals where snaking tendrils of mist wrapped around the foundations of the stone bridge. But it was not the cold that sent a shiver along your skin, that blurred the edges of your vision with unshed tears. It was the man who approached, your heart beating wilder with each step he took, your finger feeling less assured against the trigger.

“I’m here to end what I started,” you told him down the barrel of the revolver, a quiver betraying the biting determination of your tone. Were you saying it to convince him, or yourself?

A sliver of moonlight caught the bright of his eyes as they met yours, latching their icy talons round your soul. Like a ghost, he was silent yet slow with his stride, the only indication that he was indeed corporeal being the press of his chest to the barrel, in acceptance or challenge you could tell not.

“So am I,” a low, husky voice met your ears, and before his gaze could drop to your parted lips, you caught the eerie warmth of your own longing mirrored in the ice of his eyes.

As he pressed closer to you, your hand lowering the gun but still holding it loosely to his stomach, that warmth came to you in silk ribbons, in soft brushes against your skin that reminded you of long nights in the Garrison, of stolen dances in lavish clubs, of Arrow House’s hearth as Tommy wrapped a blanket round your shivering shoulders. You could still taste the whiskey he’d handed you on his lips, as if it were yesterday, as his nose tickled yours and the fire of his breath consumed you. His hands, worried not about the gun you held to his stomach, but aching to finally acquaint themselves with every part of you, ran up your thighs and squeezed your waist, pulled you closer to him and drew a soft yelp from your tongue.

He breathed heavy around the muzzle buried in his waistcoat, not letting it stop him from feeling your body against his, from demonstrating just how much he needed you with his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and calloused fingers – so rough in contrast to the softness of his mouth – dragging against the line of your jaw.

Tommy’s grip tightened as you pulled back, possessive and needy, yet he thumbed gently at your flushed cheek as he stared back at you. One of your hands had come up to his chest, nails sinking into the light fabric of his shirt and palm resting over the strong beating of his heart. You were scarcely aware now of the gun you held, your world becoming him and only him as a fracture formed in the ice of his eyes and a few messy strands of dark hair fell over his forehead, his cap forsaken and his entire soul and being bared to you in this moment that made your heart clench so cruelly against your ribs, for you ached for nothing more than to devour him, to let the scent of cologne and cigarettes carry you to a kinder memory, a better place.

A tear streaked across your lips as you tugged at his shirt; you were certain he could taste the bitterness and despair on you as you kissed him again, sadder and softer this time, as if to tell him,

I’m sorry.

And you flinched as the sound of the gunshot ripped through the still air, the sound of your fevered breaths muffled by the ringing in your ears, the ice-blue of his eyes shattering now into hundreds of pieces. Your souls, severed, cold washing over your body once more and your breath hitching in your chest. No longer did his warmth creep into your aching bones; no longer did his fingers send shivers along your flesh. Numbness seeped into every pore, and time seemed to cruelly slow, the thuds of your heart coming fewer against your ribs. Your lips, wet with tears and blood.

Tommy’s thumb swept across your dampened cheek one last time, as if to cast away your sadness, to reassure you that it was okay, and the only warmth you felt now was the stickiness of the fabric between you, pooling at your sternum. Your lips parted in a cry, but no sound came out, and your lungs burned. The revolver clattered to the stone ground.

The icy gaze of death never left you as your legs grew weak beneath you, blood freckling his beautiful face as you sputtered around the whelming surge in your throat, and on his lips formed the words,

“In the bleak midwinter…”

Clawing now at the blood that stained your dress a darker red, you turned, wild and blurry-eyed, to make out the shadow of a wide hat below the light of the streetlamp that undulated in your vision, the lumbering stride and broad shoulders that were all too familiar, the cane that clicked like the tick of a clock against the stone.

Solomons, the last threads of your thought provided. Wisps of smoke dispersed into the fog from the barrel of the man’s pistol, but you barely had the chance to regard your former business partner as gravity pulled you to the earth, as if the Devil were dragging you to Hell.

You never should have trusted him. You never should have trusted either of them.

But Tommy made your fall gentle, cradling you in his arms. A tortured breath fanned your cheeks as his forehead was brought to yours, and it swallowed the light of the streetlamps; it swallowed everything, darkness spilling from the corners of your vision until nothing existed in the world but him, as he personally delivered your soul to the gates of the underworld.

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife

[here2bbtstrash]

heartless (explicit)

genre: pwp, smut, exes hooking up - a part of the jeju shore collab !

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: after a wild summer at the shore where he made more than a few mistakes, jungkook is ready to remind you why you always take him back.

word count: 7.4k

other works in this collab: You DTF? by @haliiimede and Himbo Hours by @gimmethatagustd

contains: explicit sexual content!!! set in 2009, member POV, established relationship (exes), mentions of infidelity, mentions of alcohol and drug use, jk blows a stranger (definitely not anyone we know 👀) in a bar bathroom, some good ol' fashioned 2009 biphobia lmao, EXCESSIVE use of petnames (kookie and jagi) like it's really too much, cunnilingus, fingering, a lot of pussy appreciation bc of who i am as a person, they make a sex tape 🎥 (reader films jk going down on her), hot tub sex, jk makes reader come with a hot tub jet, unprotected sex (smh 😔), nothing in this fic is sexually healthy pls do not replicate, multiple orgasms/overstim, a lil bit of marking, jk is toxic and i kind of love him oops, don't fight me for the ending

A/N: it's here it's here it's here!!!!! happy jeju shore day 🥰 i'm so excited to share this one with y'all, it really was supposed to be a joke thing like ~sammi and ron vibes~ yknow and then idk.... this fic ran away with me,, like tell me why i ship kookie and jagi lowkey 🥺 over here like maybe one day they'll work it out 🥺 ANYWAY uhhh heed the warnings, this one's a doozy, have fun, stay hydrated 💦 and make sure you check out jai and hali's fics toooooo for your full ~weekend at the shore~ !!!! love you babes, thank you as always for reading 😘💜

read on AO3 !

“Shit, gonna come.”

Thank god, Jungkook thinks to himself. This guy has some impressive stamina, which he’d normally appreciate, but he’s in a bad mood tonight. Getting his throat fucked hasn’t helped like he thought it might.

Even though the guy is cute, with a big body and a sweet set of dimples, Jungkook is just going through the motions. He’s annoyed by the way the bathroom floor is digging into his knees, the way his jaw is starting to lock up with how long he’s been at this.

He shuts his eyes, remembers to breathe through his nose, and then a hand presses hard to the back of his head and his mouth starts to fill, bitter and heady. Careful not to spill a drop, Jungkook keeps his suction tight through the cock-twitches of this guy’s— he didn’t get his name, because he really doesn’t care to know it— orgasm, until he finally feels the fingers in his hair release.

Jungkook gets to his feet and stumbles to the sink, gripping the porcelain edge while he spits out the glossy strings of a stranger’s load. He’s not a swallower, because he’s not gay. He’s just good at sucking dick— and Jungkook likes doing things he’s good at.

“Appreciate it!” The stranger’s voice echoes over his shoulder, followed by the sound of the bathroom door swinging on its hinges and slamming shut, leaving him alone with a sink full of cum.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Jungkook stares himself down in the mirror, runs a hand over his hair to make sure it didn’t get fucked up from that guy’s truly obscenely large hand. Thankfully his extra-hold gel seems to be doing its job.

At the realization that his teeth are grinding together, he presses a knuckle into the hinge of his jaw, trying to encourage it to relax. He’s been clenching all night, and he’s not sure if he should blame the six redbull vodkas he’s thrown back or the keybumps of something he did off the bar: it was either coke or molly.

Coke, he thinks. He’s on edge.

He can’t shake this feeling, like he’s a wild animal trapped in a cage, as he pushes the bathroom door open and presses his way back into the mass of bodies in the club. He’s gone out every night this week looking for something, but he can’t find it. It’s not at the bottom of a bottle or in white powder snorted through a rolled-up hundred. And it’s certainly not in any of the random strangers he’s taken in the bathroom or the back alley or on the hood of his car in the parking lot.

He misses you.

It’s been almost three weeks since you last came around, and even then, it was only to scream at him while you dug your clothes out of his dresser and threw your spare toothbrush in the trash can. All because someone left you that stupid fucking note detailing the night Jungkook went blackout, where the last thing he remembers is Jimin convincing him to switch to Malibu.

If what Jungkook’s been told is the truth, he apparently started a bar fight and had a foursome that night— just, unfortunately, with three people who weren’t you. He kind of wishes he could remember at least one of those.

Fuck this, he thinks to himself, surrounded by trashed club-goers on all sides, bodies slick with sweat and tanning oil, the floor sticky from spilled drinks and probably a few other things. Jungkook knows exactly where he wants to be, and it’s between your thighs, not at one of the seven shitty clubs he and his hyungs have been rotating through all summer.

Figuring Taehyung and Jimin are fine to handle their own shit, he shoves through the crowd a little more aggressively than he needs to, and definitely knocks one drunk girl flat on her ass without bothering to look back.

The slight chill in the air when he steps outside is a welcome relief from the stale heat of the club. It’s the last weekend before everyone packs up and heads for the mainland, which means he’s running out of chances to see you, to try and convince you to get the fuck over this latest bump in the road and take him back.

Jungkook knows he loves you, he’s sure of it. He wants to marry you someday, get a little house in the suburbs, pop out a few kids, all that shit. But right now he’s young, and he just wants to party and have fun. He doesn’t understand why you care so much.

Driving home with the windows down, going a cool 80 in a 40, he grips the wheel with one hand while the other digs his Razr phone out of the pocket of his ripped jeans. He hits the first speed dial where your number is saved and has to call three times before you finally answer. The fact that you picked up at all means he has a chance tonight.

“What, Kookie?!”

Probably the greeting he should’ve anticipated, but his stomach still flips at the nickname. You’re the only one allowed to use it: he’s strictly Jungkook to most, JK to his hyungs.

He fidgets absentmindedly with the car lights, the AC, the button for the windows. This is always the hard part, talking about feelings and shit. But it’s what you want, so he’ll do it for you.

“Wanna see you,” he murmurs into the phone, as if he needs to keep his voice down so he won’t get caught being soft.

“Fuck off,” you snap instantly, but you don’t hang up.

Jungkook’s played this game enough times to know what it means: he’s got a rapidly shrinking window of opportunity to say the right thing. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, trying to buy himself some time. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” You huff.

Stopped at a red light, Jungkook tips his head back against the car seat and shuts his eyes for a second, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts. “Don’t be mean to me. I already told you I’m sorry, it’s not fair for you to hold this shit over my head.”

“I’m not holding anything over your head, Kookie, you fucking cheated—“

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he has to hold himself back from stomping too hard on the gas pedal when the light changes. “Yeah, I fucking know, okay? But it’s the last weekend. Is this really how you want to leave it?”

The silence on the other end of the line is more than enough to answer his question.

“Just… come over. Let me see you. Please?” Jungkook grimaces, embarrassed to be begging. He wouldn’t do it for anybody else.

Gravel crunches under the tires of his car as he pulls into the driveway, and he’s only sure the call didn’t disconnect when he hears the way you sigh softly on the other end. It’s a sigh he knows well.

“Fine.”

You don’t say anything else, and neither does Jungkook. He doesn’t know what else there is to say, or why any of this has to be such a big fucking deal. But he waits, until finally you hang up, and then he flips his phone shut. Girls.

Once inside, he makes quick work of getting everything together: sweeping the empty beer cans on the kitchen counter into the trash, spraying on a little more Hugo Boss, a mouthwash rinse to rid himself of the lingering taste of cum. The place you rented for the summer is just down the road, so it’s as he’s spitting in the sink for the second time tonight that he hears you bang loudly on the front door.

Time to turn on the charm, Jungkook thinks to himself, and then he exits the bathroom and reaches a hand between his shoulder-blades to pull his shirt off over his head. He drops it to the floor of his bedroom before heading down the hallway to let you in.

Jungkook swings the door wide and leans one arm on the frame as he takes you in. You’re standing on his stoop, arms crossed angrily over your pink crop top, belly button piercing glinting in the porch light. He smiles fondly, remembering the summer you got it done, the way you squeezed his hand so tight when the needle went through that he nearly lost feeling.

It was nice then, the way you acted like you really needed him. You used to be so sweet. He wonders when that changed.

It’s been too long. “Hi, jagi,” he says, and it comes out softer than he would’ve liked. It makes him sound weak.

“Fuck off. Answering the fucking door shirtless. You did that on purpose.” You roll your eyes as you brush past him to walk inside.

He turns sideways, purposefully taking up most of the doorway so you have to squeeze through, and when you do, his fingers hook in the belt-loops of your jeans to pull you closer.

“Just like you wore these?” There’s no way you don’t know what those white low-rise jeans do to him. Jungkook always tells you they make your ass look so fat, and even though you complain every time, he means it as an honest compliment.

Clearly still trying to act pissed off, you pop your gum at him, but he knows better than to believe that you’re really mad. If you were, you wouldn’t have come here. And you certainly wouldn’t be looping your arms around his neck and tilting your head up like that, moving so close that he can feel the heat of your breath ghosting over him.

“Maybe. What are you gonna do about it?” You purr, like you don’t already know the answer.

Jungkook’s lips find yours at the same time his hands slide around your hips, fingers sinking into the denim stretched tight over your ass. You squeak a little at how hard he grabs, and he takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue into your mouth, deftly retrieving the wad of gum from between your teeth. He pulls back with a cocky grin and spits it halfway across the yard.

“How about you come inside and find out?”

“Jesus.” You make a face when you step in first, leaving your Gucci flip flops in the front hall, and Jungkook turns back to shut the door behind him as he follows you. “You guys trashed this fuckin’ place.”

He frowns at your utter disregard for his cleaning efforts, but he follows your gaze and, well, you’re not wrong. He probably could’ve done something about all the half-empty liquor bottles, the overflowing ashtrays, the sink full of dishes. But right now he really doesn’t give a shit.

Jungkook closes the distance between you again, arms slipping around your waist from behind, head ducking down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, to make you squirm the way he likes. “This is the bachelor life. We need a woman’s touch,” he murmurs against your skin, and you scoff a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook protests. He pauses to suck a mark into your skin, only stopping when he manages to coax a soft whimper out of you. “Why don’t you and I get a place together next summer? I’ll tell Jimin and Tae they’re on their own.”

You hum softly, in the way that tells him you want that, too. But you’re still playing coy, even as your hands slide over his arms locked tight around you. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”

“Maybe I should do some convincing,” Jungkook’s lips brush over the shell of your ear, and you wriggle out of his grasp, crossing into the living room and tossing your purse on the couch before dropping down unceremoniously next to it.

The wild animal feeling hasn’t dissipated— when he follows after you, Jungkook can’t help but feel like a predator stalking his prey.

It’s probably fucked up, but he likes the chase.

Leaning back on your hands, you gaze up at him, jeans sunk low enough for Jungkook to see the pink straps of your thong that peek out over the curve of your hip. The visual makes his own pants start to feel tight.

You tilt your head expectantly. “I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t gonna talk,” he admits with a smirk, standing over you, one leg teasing your thighs apart.

You reach forward to trail a hand down the defined lines of his stomach— the gym has been good to him this summer— and blink your long lashes innocently. “Will you at least use your mouth?”

“Well, now I know what you came over for,” Jungkook growls. His hands drop to brace on the back of the couch behind you, arm muscles flexing as he cages you in, and he leans down to capture you in a heady kiss. He missed it all: the way you smell, how soft your lips are, the way you still taste like spearmint. Your needy little noises when he licks his tongue into your mouth and the way you suck so diligently on it. You’re always so good for him, always so pretty when you come back.

“Take your pants off, jagi,” he breathes into your mouth, shifting to grip your neck with one hand as he kisses you again. He can feel a soft whine in your throat under his palm when you do as you’re told.

Jungkook pulls back once your jeans are kicked all the way off, knees digging into the carpet as he settles between your legs. His biceps wrap under your thighs and he tugs your bare ass to the edge of the couch, pausing to slip a finger under the thin string of your thong and gently snap it against your skin.

You spread your legs wider for him, leaning back against the cushion. “Don’t tease,” you huff. The desperation in your voice just turns him on more.

“Impatient,” Jungkook notes with a smirk. “And I haven’t even told you what I want yet.”

“What you want?” Your attempt at sass is undercut by the moan Jungkook works out of you when he sucks another hickey into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He pulls back with a final lick over the mark that sends a shiver rippling through you, makes your nipples stiffen against the thin fabric of your crop top and your hips tilt up instinctively for more.

His eyes find yours again. “Let’s make a movie.”

“Kookie,” you whine, and Jungkook cups a hand over the front of your panties, rubbing circles into the thin material, then gently squeezing your pussy lips together to help argue his case. He can feel the muscles in your thighs twitch in response— always so sensitive.

“Come on,” he murmurs, pushy. “I know you have that camera in your bag.” You take your Sony digital camera with you everywhere, like it’s a third limb, like you believe nothing really happens unless it’s documented on Facebook.

Jungkook reaches for the strap of your Coach purse and drops it between your spread thighs. “I want you to film me while I go down on you. That way you can watch it back when you need to remember why you keep me around.” He punctuates the request with a wink, because he knows you can’t say no to him. That fact is made evident by how quickly you dig in to retrieve the little pink camera before tossing your bag aside again.

“I don’t watch porn, Kookie,” you scoff, already turning it on and fiddling with the settings. “I’m not nasty like you.”

“You’ll watch this one,” Jungkook corrects, hands pressing on your thighs to encourage them to spread further. Your skin is smooth and warm under his touch as he slides his fingertips back up to the line of your panties. “Now shhh. The only thing I wanna hear talk is this pussy.”

When the telltale beep indicates you’ve started recording, Jungkook stares pointedly into the camera with a cocky smirk. “Missed you, jagi,” he says, both to the you on the other side of the camera and the you who will watch this in the future, when you inevitably get mad about some dumb shit and break up with him again. As if you could ever really stay away.

His eye contact doesn’t falter as he licks a long, slow stripe up the front of your panties, taking his time, tongue laid flat to fully soak through the fabric. When he leans back, one hand snakes between your thighs to tug the damp material to the side, tattooed fingers pressing into a V to spread your folds apart. It always makes you squirm, but he loves to admire you like this. He’s not ashamed to like pussy.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, reaching the hand that isn’t parting your pussy lips up to beckon for the camera. “Let me film. Won’t get your face in it.”

You hand it over silently, clearly already too turned on to make a big show of protesting. Jungkook turns the lens on your pussy, holds it up close as he traces two fingers over your folds, keeping the pressure light enough that you squirm and flutter cutely beneath it.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs when he teases his touch down to your entrance. There’s already enough slickness there to earn him an audible wet noise as he goes, his pattern a slow, lazy circle. He presses a finger in just to drag it back out, and a thin, glossy string of arousal comes with it. “Your pussy loves me too much. That’s why you can’t stay mad.”

Jungkook paints the wetness he pulled out of you up to stroke over the hood of your clit, and it’s enough to edge your breathing with shy sounds. You bring your palm up to your mouth, clearly trying to keep quiet, and it only encourages him to dip back in for more. He uses two fingers this time, slipping past your entrance into the tight velvet heat of your cunt, always so warm and willing for him.

You sigh at the loss when he pulls back, more arousal drooling out of you to chase after his fingers. Jungkook loves to play with you like this: you squeak when he squishes the whole of your cunt up in his hand, reveling in the noise of your slick folds pressing together, in the way your pussy’s gone needy for him. All swollen and puffy, all soft, dripping juice like ripe fruit.

He works up some saliva in his mouth and lets it dribble down over your slit between his fingers, then follows it with another pass of his tongue.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whimper.

“You know I’ll always treat it right, jagiya.” Jungkook purrs, releasing his grip on your pussy lips to pinch at your clit while he passes the camera back. “But let me show you in case you forget.”

He firmly tugs your panties down your thighs and leaves them to dangle off one ankle before guiding your legs to hook over his shoulders. After a final glance up to make sure you’re still filming, he leans in to properly trace his tongue through your slick folds, lapping at the arousal pooled at your entrance while his thumb brushes over your clit to work up more.

Jungkook’s brows pinch together and he grunts in appreciation of your taste, thick and familiar; he’s gone too long without it. He’s eating properly now, alternating between dragging his tongue flat and flicking it gently over your clit in the way that makes you gasp and shove your hips up towards his mouth, rough and wild, no good-girl pretense left in you.

His arm locks across your stomach to keep you where he wants you, and he pulls back with a smack of his lips and a cheeky smile for the camera.

“Relax. I’ve got you.”

This is the part he loves: when you start to come undone, worked up enough to be responsive to every little touch. Jungkook licks broad, showy stripes up to your clit, eyes fixed on you through the lens, enjoying the way your soft sighs blossom into full-out moans, matching pace to the steady rhythm of his tongue. 

“Kookie,” you groan, “nnh, fuck— f-feels so good.”

He hums a laugh against your folds, and the vibrations make you cry out so he does it some more, lips closing to suck firmly at your clit while his mouth buzzes sweet, low notes around it. You arch up beneath him and your moan scrapes rough against the back of your throat, desperate.

It was a stroke of genius to have you film it, Jungkook thinks absentmindedly to himself. Documented proof that nobody else could ever do you this good.

“Fuck.” Your voice brings him back to attention as he continues to pulse suction against your clit, tongue fluttering out again to lap at the sensitive bud. The sounds you make are slightly muffled by the manicured hand you’ve clapped over your mouth, but you’re so loud now that he can still hear every word. “Oh god, Kookie— I-I’m gonna come, oh fuck, ohhhh—”

Your hips tilt up as your orgasm overtakes you and he shoves them back down, practically growling as he forces you to stay there and take it. He can feel your legs shake, the way your bare heels kick listlessly against his back as he sucks and licks you through the peak of your climax. Your pussy throbs in his mouth and drips down his chin like honey, with a taste so good he doesn’t want to stop.

“God fucking dammit,” you moan, and he keeps going until you bring one foot up to press into his shoulder to push him away. “Kookie, p-please, it’s too much.”

With a final swipe of his tongue, Jungkook pulls back, wiping at his chin with one hand. “You’re sensitive, jagi, I know.”

But there’s a reason you haven’t stopped filming, and it’s one you both know well. It was back when you first started dating, when you could never keep your clothes on around each other and barely left his room, that Jungkook learned your body expertly enough to figure it out: after you come once, your pussy gets so sensitive that he can easily work you up to a second orgasm, even from just the curl of his fingers against your g-spot.

He hopes no one else will ever get the chance to know you like this. 

You barely manage to stifle another sob and almost drop the camera when he slips two fingers into your cunt, pressing to the hilt to feel how swollen-tender you are inside. Your walls squeeze so tight around him that his cock twitches in his pants with jealousy.

Sliding one of your legs off his shoulder, he presses your thigh firmly into the couch and groans a little at the way you spread wide for him, glossed folds all flushed and pretty. It gives him a head rush to watch his hand work you open, to see the thick white cream of your arousal paint his fingers each time he pulls back just to thrust in again.

You’re wet enough now that the sound is obscene, a juicy squelch every time he fucks into you, and Jungkook can’t help but smile. He glances up. “You’re dripping on my couch, jagiya.”

You can only whimper in response.

“You want to come again?”

You nod desperately until you manage to find the word. “Please.”

“Anything for you.” Jungkook winks for the camera as he starts to flex his fingers to pet over the ridges of your front wall. You keen as he puts more weight into his strokes, your free hand reaching to cling to him and dig your nails into his bicep. He’s too keyed up to feel it, can’t focus on anything that isn’t your pussy squeezing him like a fucking vice grip, tight and hot and soft inside.

You’re past the point of being able to talk, reduced to breathless moans— “ah, ah, nnh”— because Jungkook knows exactly what to do to take you apart all over again.

This time he makes no move to stop you when your hips buck up. Instead he lets you let go, lets you fuck yourself on his hand, fluttering around his fingers and trembling all over as you start to come.

Jungkook goes a little slack-jawed watching you and momentarily forgets about the video, looking over the camera to see the expression on your face as he works you through your second peak. He loves the way you grip tight to him with your nails and your pussy, like he’s special, like you need him.

Your knees reflexively pull towards each other as your cunt-pulses slow and you finally start to come down, thighs clamping in around Jungkook’s wrist to still the motions of his hand. When he hears the whir of the camera shutter retracting and sees you toss it aside on the couch, he finally relents. You open yourself up enough that he can slip his fingers out to suck the excess off.

“What the fuck,” you finally manage as you collapse against the couch cushions, sounding beyond dazed.

Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his smug smirk, and gets to his feet. As he watches your head tip back and your eyes flutter closed, he can’t help but wonder if you got what you came for. If this is the last he’ll see of you until god knows when.

Fuck that. He’s not letting you go that easy.

In one swift move Jungkook leans forward, slipping an arm between your back and the couch and sweeping the other under your knees. He tosses you over his shoulder— completely naked from the waist down— like it’s nothing at all, delivering a swift slap to your ass with the hand that isn’t wrapped around your hips.

“Kookie!” You try to sound mad but the laugh that bubbles up gives it away. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Come on,” Jungkook replies as he carries you across the living room, impervious to the way your hands claw at his back. “It’s a perfect night for the hot tub.”

“I didn’t bring a fucking bikini,” you sputter, feet kicking softly in the air. “Put me down.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures you as his free hand easily slides the back door open and he takes you over the threshold. “Tae and Jimin won’t be back for a while. It’s just us.”

Tae and Jimin have also already seen you naked… probably dozens of times at this point, if Jungkook had to estimate, but he doesn’t mention that part. Not when he’s trying to get his girl back.

Instead he crosses the yard to set you down on the hot tub deck, your legs dangling over the side, and makes quick work of stripping out of his jeans and boxers, half-hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. He hopes it might give you some incentive to stay a little longer.

When he turns back to face you, your bottom lip is jutting out in a bratty little pout as your feet swing aimlessly off the deck. It makes him want to fucking ruin you.

Jungkook steps forward to close the distance, thumb running down your mouth to pet over your lip. “Put this back in your mouth and take your top off, jagi.” His voice is low, his mouth ghosting over yours. 

Your bare foot knocks into his shin, but it only hurts a little. “Make me.”

He can’t help but smirk at your attitude. It’s cute. He likes you feisty. “That’s a lot of sass for someone who was just screaming my name.”

You smack a hand against his chest with a play-scowl. “Shut up.”

He sweeps your arms behind your back before you can do it again, easily enclosing both of your wrists in one of his hands. “Why are you always so mean to me, huh?”

“Oh, I’m mean?” You look like you’re going to say more, but he pushes your crop top up with his free hand and watches the way it makes you shiver, your nipples tightening in the cool night air.

“You are,” Jungkook says softly. “And I’m just trying to love you.”

The same hand cups one of your breasts, and he ducks down to suck the stiff peak of it into his mouth, enjoying the airy little moan he coaxes out of you and the way you arch up into him. His grip on your wrists doesn’t falter as he pulls off, switching to roll your other nipple under the pad of his thumb.

“You should get these pierced,” he remarks, gaze shifting between your tits as he imagines silver barbells studded through the buds of them. “I’ll get one too. We can go together. Next summer.” His eyes find yours in time to watch your expression soften, just barely. It’s enough.

“Yeah, sure,” you deadpan, wiggling a little in his grasp. “Until you decide to stick your dick in some strange and fuck everything up again.”

Jungkook sighs. You’re fucking relentless. “I don’t want to talk about that. Can’t it just be us?”

Your reaction isn’t what he expects: he’s surprised to see the fight go out of you, to see how defeated you look as you lean in and press your forehead against his chest. Even your wrists go slack in his hand, and he releases his grip.

“That’s what I’m saying, Kookie,” you murmur. “That’s all I want.”

Jungkook’s fingers sweep under the line of your jaw. “I know.”

He tilts your head up for a kiss, and your hands come to cup his face, as if to pull him closer— to hold him in place so he can’t run away.

It’s the way it always is: he’s not going to promise he’ll change, and he knows you’re not dumb enough to ask him to. He can’t be anything but what he is, but he can hope you’ll love him anyway.

Your thumb strokes over Jungkook’s cheek as he pulls back, and he smiles a little. “Will you please get in the hot tub?”

Jungkook settles into the water first, sighing dramatically loud at the welcome warmth, and you giggle as you peel your top off before following after. When you slip in politely across from him, he grabs you by the ankle with a growl, and you don’t fight as he pulls you close again.

His hands guide your thighs apart to straddle him, so your knees rest on either side of the ledge he’s seated on. Between the heat of the water and your body on top of him, he’s dizzyingly hard in seconds.

The two of you make out like teenagers, more tongue than anything else, doing your best to hump and grind against each other despite the water slightly inhibiting your motions. Jungkook can’t stop touching your tits, obsessed with the weight of them in his hands. His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples to make you whine into his open mouth again and again, and his cock twitches in response every time.

“K-Kookie,” you finally manage to groan, nails dragging down his back as he presses sloppy kisses, all tongue and teeth, to the slope of your neck. “Need it, please. Your cock.”

His mouth finds yours again, and he bites down on your bottom lip with a smile before pulling back to answer. “You’ll get it, jagi. Wanna try something first.”

You whine a little and he gives a teasing pinch to your inner thigh, shifting you off his lap so he can stand up.

“Come here.”

Jungkook’s hands slide to your waist when you get to your feet, and the added weightlessness from the water makes it even easier for him to move you where he wants you. He guides you to spin so your back is flush with his chest, then encourages you to kneel on the ledge again, pushing your legs further apart.

“Can you stay like this for me?” He murmurs in your ear. You look up at him over your shoulder with wide, shining eyes, reflecting back the blue glow of the mood lights filtered through the water, and you nod.

As he ducks down to kiss you, Jungkook’s hand fumbles blindly against the edge of the tub until he finds the button he’s looking for. When he presses it once, the jets roar to life, including the one positioned right between your spread thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, and Jungkook wraps his arms tight around you to keep you in place, letting you collapse back into him as the jet pulses onto your pussy. “Oh my god, oh fuck, Kookie.”

“Feels good?” He murmurs in your ear, and you can only whimper and nod, hips circling against the stream of water, stimulated past the point of coherency. Your eyes practically roll back in your head. “Yeah, you look good like this.”

Jungkook can’t help himself now— his cock aches from lack of attention, and he starts to grind into you from behind, rutting himself against the small of your back, the curve of your ass. His hands grab at the soft skin of your thighs for leverage, and he can feel the way you’re shaking, already close, your breathing going ragged.

“K-Kookie—” you whimper. “I’m— fuck, g-gonna—”

“Want you to come for me,” he groans, tongue darting out to trace the shell of your ear. “Come for me like this so I can fuck another one out of you.”

Your arms scramble back behind you for something to keep you grounded, nails scratching and digging into Jungkook’s shoulders as your orgasm starts to crest.

He keeps rocking his hips into you, which only serves to move you closer to the jet and make the pressure that much stronger. You’re moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and Jungkook has to grip your hips to keep them still as you come fast and hard, shaking apart in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Jungkook talks you through it, petting broad strokes down your thighs that make you jolt under his touch. “How was that, jagiya?”

“Fuuuuuck.” Your answer is a soft whine, and he can feel the aftershocks still rolling through your body. You shift to pull your thighs together, shivering all-over, and Jungkook releases his grip on them, hands moving up to squeeze at your tits while you recover. He can feel the way your heart is racing beneath his palm.

Your eyes slowly blink open, heavy-lidded, and you start to untangle your arms from around Jungkook’s shoulders. His back stings a little— he’s sure he’ll have pretty pink scratch marks to remember you by.

He presses a kiss to your temple, chaste in spite of how fucking hard and horny he is. “Love you. Stand up for me?”

Your legs are still shaking, so Jungkook helps haul you to your feet. Taehyung is always telling him he shouldn’t actually be penetrating girls in the water, something about vaginal health, so he has you bend at the waist to lean over the edge of the hot tub. The arch in your back when you press your ass up towards him makes his cock start to leak against his stomach.

Your head lolls forward to drop down on your forearms, and he laughs a little at how fucked out you already are as he gives your ass a firm slap. “Stay just like that. Face down ass up.”

You wait patiently as he climbs out of the water to search the deck. It only takes a few seconds for him to spot what he’s looking for: the bottle of lube Jimin’s always leaving out “just in case”. Jungkook makes a mental note to buy him a thank-you shot.

“God damn,” he murmurs appreciatively when he returns to you, rubbing three fingers slicked in thick silicone lube along your puffed-up slit before pushing them into the velvet heat of your pussy. “Wanna come in you so bad.”

“Please, Kookie,” you whimper.

Jungkook withdraws his hand to squirt more lube into his palm and fist it over his length, hissing a little at the sensation and the squelching noise his hand makes when he fucks into it. Tossing the bottle over the edge, his hands come to frame your hips, and he can’t help but moan as he starts to grind the head of his dick against your folds. “Fuck.”

You push your hips back on him, all wrecked and needy, your voice wrung-out. “Fuck me, Kookie, please— wanna take your cock, wanna feel it.”

It’s so hot when you beg for him. With another soft noise, Jungkook lines himself up to your entrance and gives you what you need: the whole of his thick cock sliding into your grip-tight pussy, slow for the delicious stretch of it, so you can feel every inch until he’s pressed in to the hilt.

It feels the way it always does. You were made to fit together.

You whine into the crook of your elbow, your walls already fluttering, split open and filled up and so sensitive. Jungkook leans forward, hands bracing the edge of the tub on either side of you, until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses into your g-spot.

“Oh shit, right there, Kookie,” you gasp, like he doesn’t already know.

Jungkook grunts, nipping at the skin of your shoulder, and he starts to grind his hips against you, rubbing his cock into your g-spot over and over, until your legs threaten to give out. 

Your pussy feels so good, the little moans you’re making in time with his motions are so pretty, it’s like he can’t get enough of you. He brings a hand up to run over every inch of your skin he can reach, all of it smooth and gorgeous under his fingertips— he really can’t stop touching you. 

Maybe those bumps he did back at the bar were molly, he thinks absentmindedly.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans as he strokes a little harder, hips rolling fluidly. “So fucking beautiful.”

“F-fuck, Kookie,” you whimper, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts, and you let out a choked moan when he starts to pound more firmly in response. “Ah, fuck— don’t fucking stop, oh god—”

Jungkook hooks his arm across your chest, and his hand gripped tight to your shoulder gives him more leverage to hit deeper. Being squeezed so close by your walls is nearly overwhelming, your pussy all hot and wet inside, it’s like he can barely fit. “God, you’re so fucking tight, jagi.”

“F-feels so guh— good, nnh,” you can hardly get the words out, and Jungkook can feel the way your whole body is starting to shake.

He can’t stop himself now, not when it’s this good. “Missed you so much, jagiya. Wanna marry you, wanna put a baby in you.” His cock twitches hard, enough that you whimper a little, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Come with me, jagi,” he grunts. “I want to feel you come again.”

“C-can’t,” you gasp, but he knows you can, can tell by the way you’re gripping around him that you’re already close.

The clapping of skin on skin echoes out as Jungkook fucks deliberately into your g-spot, no longer holding back, and you cling to the edge of the tub for dear life as your muscles start to contract. “Oh fuck, Kookie, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, I—”

With a loud cry, you collapse forward, knees nearly buckling as your orgasm hits you. Jungkook is helpless to the way your pussy pulses around him, like it was made to milk his cock. He tips his head back with a throaty groan as he comes with you, comes for what feels like an eternity, thick white ropes spilling into your cunt with every dick-twitch of his orgasm.

“Oh my god,” he groans, working the last of it out with a few shallow strokes, his breathing harsh and ragged. “So fucking good.”

You whimper softly with your head dropped down into your arms, your pussy still shuddering around him.

Jungkook squeezes at the curve of your ass as he pulls out with a hiss of oversensitivity. Deciding not to bother with the mess running down your thighs, he takes a second to catch his breath, then climbs over the edge of the hot tub, wiping absentmindedly at the beads of sweat dotting his temples.

You’re clearly too fucked out to walk now, so he scoops you up to carry you across the deck and back inside through the open sliding door, bridal-style this time, cradled in his arms. He smiles at the way you’re still trembling a little, your face now buried in his chest.

He deposits you onto the couch, then stretches out next to you to prop up on one arm, admiring how your hair fans out beneath you as you curl into him with a small sigh.

It takes you a while to come to, lashes fluttering prettily over your cheeks, and when your eyes finally blink open, you sit up rather abruptly.

Jungkook brings a hand to your low back to rub gentle circles. “Hi, jagi.”

There’s a look on your face, like you’ve just realized where you are.

“Fuck, I should go,” you murmur, looking around until your gaze lands on your purse. You lean over to retrieve it and dig through the contents until you finally find your phone and slide it open. “My roommate is gonna figure it out if I don’t come back, and she’ll fucking kill me.”

“Stay with me,” Jungkook says softly.

“No, Jungkook,” you snap, and he can tell by the way you’ve dropped the nickname that he’s lost you for the night. “I shouldn’t have even fucking come here.”

He should probably take this more seriously, but he can’t help his instinctive reaction, or the smirk that pulls up the corner of his mouth. “But you did come. Four times, if my memory is correct.”

“Fuck off,” you grunt, already up and starting to pull on your clothes that are scattered across the floor of the living room. You briefly disappear outside to retrieve your shirt.

“Does this mean we’re not back together?” Jungkook tries when you slip in the door again.

You shoot him a look he’s all-too-familiar with. “Not at all.”

“Will you at least unblock me on Facebook?” He asks sweetly, and it’s a joke, but he can see from the way you roll your eyes that you’re clearly too pissed off to have any more fun tonight.

“Facebook?! That’s seriously what you care about right now?! You are so fucking shallow, Jungkook.” You grab your purse in a huff and storm off down the hallway.

Jungkook knows he should get up and fight for you, at the very least stop being horizontal on the couch— but honestly, he’s fucking tired. That’s the thing about your hot and cold shit: he knows you’ll be back eventually, whether he makes any effort right now or not. And it’s so much easier not to.

So he says nothing, hands folded behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling, and waits until he finally hears the front door slam behind you.

Whatever, he thinks to himself with a heavy exhale.

After a minute, he gets up and heads into the bathroom, turning the shower on extra-hot. It’s still early. He can rinse off, get dressed, go see what Tae and Jimin are up to. Maybe he can jump on a grenade for one of them and take his mind off things for a bit.

He unlocks his iPod, docked on the speaker he keeps on the bathroom shelf— can’t shower without a good playlist— and spins the wheel until he gets to one of his favorites, simply titled fuck bitches. The opening 808s of Kanye West kick on like a heartbeat as Jungkook steps under the spray of the shower-head.

[captain-mj]

Vampire Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Content Warning: Implied delusions?? It used to be true but not anymore and that upset Ghost

Soap got to work immediately on Ghost’s new mask. He needed something that would cover the majority of his face while also not bothering his new ears. 

Ghost was lounging on the couch, giant body on display. 

Soap had to bite his lip and look back at the mask that he was working on. Images of those teeth and that mouth around his… 

Anyway. 

His throat hadn’t quite healed. The bruising had faded but there were two holes in his neck that looked like they might scar despite how gentle Ghost had been. His hips had also not healed. They still ached from how hard Ghost had gripped him when he messed up and said the lord’s name. The way Ghost’s nails had sank into him so deep. It had definitely awoken things in him. Now all he could think about was how nice it would be to have those nails holding him down. Sinking into his flesh again. Ghost’s mouth had been cold. Incredibly soft and cold. 

Ghost hummed. “Johnny. How is my mask coming along? I am tired of this.” 

Soap hated this. He didn’t want Ghost to cover his face again. If he could, he’d draw him right now. Take his immense beauty and get it on paper. He wished he could take photos but he knew Ghost, or… Simon… It was such a trip knowing that name, but he would just disappear. Like mirrors, they couldn’t appear in photos. Which was devastating. He wanted so many pictures of them. But he supposed unlike humans, Ghost would never change. He’d always remain the same. No need for something as silly and sentimental as photos. 

“Soap.” Ghost snapped at him. 

“Oh! Sorry, sir. Yeah, it’s coming along.” He held up the mask for him to look at. Like his old one, it had a skull design on it. It would fit more like a medical mask rather than a balaclava but it was the only design Soap could think of that would work. 

Ghost nodded. “I’ll need you to get more bleach. I want to keep my hair blond.”

Soap paused. “I’m sorry. You get your ears. Rip your mask. Get so distraught you don’t eat. But you had time to bleach your hair?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Ghost nodded like that was okay. 

Soap just shook his head, unbelievable. 

“Johnny, I’d like to talk about yesterday.”

“Yes! I’d also like to talk about yesterday.” Johnny turned around to face him. “I have so many questions. Was my blood really that good?” 

Ghost frowned. “I meant you killing someone.” 

Soap got a bit pale. “Thought we were just going to not talk about it.” 

“Who were they?”

“Don’t know. It was on accident. I thought they’d stop at the sunlight not… Not…” 

Ghost nodded. “Good. Senile. If you’re being forced to tell the truth, you can say they ran out into the sun. If there’s any more details, don’t say them. And don’t tell me.” 

Soap nodded. “Understood, sir. Thank you…” 

“Yeah. It’s alright.” He reached over and grabbed his hair, pulling him over. His hand was so big. It made Soap feel very, very small. “And yes. You did taste good.” 

Those intense, dark eyes stared right through him like he was made of glass. Soap should’ve kept his mouth shut. Should’ve just kept it moving. Let the blissful thing that was Ghost’s attention wash over him. 

He did no such thing. Instead, stupidly, he asked a question. 

“What are you going to do about Price?”

Ghost could hardly be described as a fragile person, but Soap watched something snap. His mouth twisted up into a snarl and he tried so hard to seem angry. 

He didn’t though. 

No, Simon just looked heartbreakingly sad. 

“The only reason I don’t tear him limb from limb is because I can’t.”

Soap swallowed. “Is he why you haven’t turned me yet?”

“I just… want to make sure this is something you really, really want. I want it to be special. For you to have a choice.”

Soap nodded and they kept eye contact. It made Ghost speak again. 

“Price was my commander. He talked to me like I was an equal. Discussed plans with me.” 

Soap squeezed his wrist and he felt him tighten the grip in his hair. It started to hurt but he didn’t want to interrupt. 

“I thought he was attractive. The fangs. The way his eyes glowed. I was swayed. An idiot. A stupid fucking human. Walking into the jaws of something I couldn’t understand. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen to you. That when I sink my teeth right here.” He tapped his gloved fingers onto his jugular. “And claim you as mine for eternity. Make myself your sire. That it’s something you’ll never regret.”

Soap wanted him to continue. To keeping talking in that accent that was both ancient and so modern. 

When it was clear that Ghost would not continue, Soap spoke up. “I do. I want this. Want… Want…” You. Want you. He could say it. Nice and easy.

Rodolfo burst through the doors. Ghost released him and he fell. “Rudy. Something wrong.”

“None at all. Just wanted to check on you. Rough few days.” He reached over and ruffled Ghost’s hair. Soap felt green with envy. The way they interacted so easily. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair. Kiss his temples. Feel his cold mouth on his body again. 

Soap looked away. He reached up and grabbed his necklace, toying with it. His old one had been snapped and unusable, so he got a new one. Protection. 

Sometimes, he didn’t want to be protected. But the little cross stayed around his throat all the same. 

Ghost stood up. “I am going outside to the backyard. Tell me if you finish the mask.” He disappeared in a wave of smoke. 

Rudy looked down at Soap, still on the floor and hummed. “Feel better now that you’ve finally been bit?”

“Surprisingly? Yeah, a little.”

“Good. Happy familiar, happy home.” Rudy seemed to have something they wanted to say. His nails, not quite as sharp as Price and Ghost’s but that was due to age and age alone, picked at his pants. He turned abruptly to leave before swiveling back around. 

Soap waited. It worked with Ghost, so why not.

Rudy took a deep breath. “I think you’re… a good… person.”

Soap almost choked. Was this a compliment? Was he being complimented right now?

“You’re nice. Good.” Rodolfo patted him on the head. “What you did, even if it was stupid, was the right thing to do.”

Soap nodded blankly. They were being nice. 

Too nice. 

“Are you guys going to kill me?”

Rodolfo laughed. “No. We’re not going to kill you. Just relax.” He smiled at him. 

Soap’s heart didn’t slow down.

Ghost came back in eventually. “Price managed to seduce our neighbor and I swear if he eats that guy.” He shoved everything off Soap’s bed to sit on it. 

Soap should’ve reprimanded him, Ghost would probably listen, but he found it endearing. He was sketching. Luckily not Ghost. Just some random portraits. But this did give him a perfect opportunity.

“Ghost, sir.”

“Yes?”

“Can I draw you?” 

Ghost paused at that and looked at him. He weighed his options. “I suppose it has been a long time since I’ve seen what I look like…”

“Exactly. May be good to remember, yeah?”

Ghost tapped his fingers against the wood. “I think my last portraits were made at my wedding.” 

Soap had long since learned that Ghost had married a few times over the years, most of his spouses nothing more than political alliances or were ways to cover up what he was. Both admissions were said with so much guilt when Ghost had drank too much drugged blood that Soap felt inclined to believe him. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Price had an artist paint us consummating in a graveyard.”

“Did you… actually consummate… in a graveyard?”

“Yes. I wore the mask though.” 

Soap laughed a little. “Really? Mask on, fucking in a graveyard?”

“Yes. It was fun. I think that was the last time I get married actually. Didn’t mean much, just a little bit of fun.” He tilted his head back, exposing more of his jaw and throat. It made Soap feel funny things in the pit of his stomach. 

Soap focused on getting him on paper. He had the excuse and the permission to stare at him until he gets his fill. He wants to gulp Ghost down until he can only taste him in his mouth. A bitter aftertaste coffee couldn’t mask. 

Instead, he draws him. He makes two portraits. One he can keep, one for Ghost. He’ll pretend the first one had something wrong with it if Ghost sees it. That way he can have it. He could color it later. Make it as close to real life as possible. 

Maybe it was a tad obsessive, but Soap had always liked his things to be his and his only. Ghost couldn’t be one of his things but the portrait could be. All his. 

He spent the rest of the night and a good bit of the morning like this. Ghost taking up his bed, perfectly still. At one point, Soap was pretty sure he had dozed off, eyes closed and no sign of life in him. 

Soap finished the portrait and as soon as his pencil stopped scratching the page, Ghost opened his eyes and held out his hand. He painstakingly ripped out the page for him and handed it to him. 

“You left out my scarring.”

Soap tilted his head. “What?”

“My scars. The…” Ghost made a motion around his mouth to mimic a blade cutting his mouth. It made him think of the Joker weirdly enough. 

“What scars?”

Ghost looked hurt. “That’s not very funny, Soap.”

Soap didn’t understand, but Ghost seemed so upset it made him want to fix it. “I drew you exactly as you are. I didn’t change any details.”

“Yes, you did. You got rid of my scars. I understand if you don’t like them, but you could just admit it.” Ghost hissed at him. Clearly this was hitting some nerve that Soap couldn’t begin to understand. 

“Ghost. You don’t have any scars.” 

Simon swallowed so hard it made an audible click in his throat. “It’s the whole reason I cover up.”

Soap wasn’t sure if vampirism cured scars, but despite their lifestyles, none of the vampires had any, so it made sense. Maybe they just didn’t notice?

Ghost got up and went looking for Alejandro, Soap trailing behind him. He held the portrait up to Alejandro.

“I look like this?”

“Your hair is a little fluffier, but yeah. That’s how you look.” 

Soap thought Ghost was going to have a meltdown. 

“I look like this? Exactly like this? I have no scars?”

“No? As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been scarred up.” Alejandro looked confused. 

Simon started to scratch at his arm, clearly going through a lot right now. 

Soap made a decision right then and there. He was going to keep Ghost from having to deal with anything else for a bit. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince him to just relax at home for a little while. Just as long as no one brought any more news. 

Price burst into the room. 

“Guys. I’m getting married!!”

[ykiwrite]

kiss of death

desc: new years kiss and a death wish

words: ~1k

characters: wednesday x reader

*aged up characters

"Let's try on 3, yeah? One, two...three!"

The sound of fireworks being sent off flying hardened the loose grip you had on the cup in your hands.

Trying desperately to blink away the haziness out of your eyes, fearful you somehow missed the countdown until Bianca's voice reassured you.

"It's fine, not midnight yet. I promised i'd wake you up anyway."

Connecting the dots you realized you must have fallen asleep on her shoulder. Accompanied by a crackling fire that radiated warmth on this particularly cold, last day of December night, it's a no brainer why so.

By lying against the wooden bench in the Nevermore's green meadow, it granted the view of almost everyone's actions.

Some were drinking and eating while others were howling. Looking over to the side, some were ecstatic and others questioned how time passed by so quickly. Not much changed during the time you rested your eyes.

Seeing Enid being deeply infatuated with Ajax' storytelling made you wonder where did Wednesday disappear.

Next to you, Bianca muttered something under his breath before leaving the place you shared.

"Where are you going?"

"Your girlfriend has been staring at me for the past hour you've been sleeping." Pointing her head toward the place she was standing at. Eyes meeting hers, you found her with Yoko and most of the Nightshades occupying the drink booth. Odd.

"Besides i think it's safer for me to catch up with Kent over there. See you for like, less than an hour."

Watching her walk away left you alone with your thoughts for a minute at most. Wednesday was confidently marching over, prepared to steal a freed seat. It made you laugh knowing the whole time you slept on Bianca's shoulder her sanity was probably decaying from afar.

With your bodies bumping as she sat down, she handed you a bloody red liquid that filled the cup.

"What is this?" you questioned. Sniffing the liquid you could distinguish barely anything.

"It's specialty of Yoko's. We got it for free."

"Oh, so that's why you were with them."

"Yes, and she needed me for taxidermy tips."

You weren't going to ask further. Not that interested in the subject of dead animals.

Mirroring the two of you, Enid and Ajax didn't stop talking for one second. Except Enid who just got quieter, being focused on painting his nails black.

"I presume you got your well deserved rest." Studying her face, you could see the hint of envy. The idea of teasing her about it sounded perfect if it wasn't tossed aside by the view.

With your mouth hanging half open and ready to speak, you were rather hypnotized. Blame the still present drowsiness of sleep for this or whatever other reason unknown.

The fire she was staring at emphasized her entire complexion. Which was more than perfect. Of course, words do no justice compared to what you see in front of you. The game of shadows and orange light did wonders one doesn't witness every day.

"You're staring."

"Yeah...i am. Can i kiss you?"

Effort to pass by Wednesdays stubbornness did not work. Unamused she stated, "I'm afraid if you do i'm one step closer to transforming into my mother and father."

"That's not a bad thing."

"It is, they can't get enough of eachother it makes everyone nauseous."

"You just described us, word to word."

"No, that is just you."

Sinking deeper in the back with your figure using Wednesdays as support, together you watched and judged the New Years' preparations unfold. Nevermore was running around setting up the scene tirelessly.

"How much longer?"

"About fifteen minutes."

Ideal time for sentimentality to introduce itself. Remembering all of the memories this year so far made it difficult to not become emotional.

"Don't think about it too much. We're just one step closer to death, which is a relief." Said Wednesday, noticing a shift in you.

"I guess so. You know, when the day comes, i want us to share the sweet kiss of death side by side."

You trailed off, "If you accept the invitation."

As someone with no fears, your statement made Wednesday completely motionless. From her higher ground, she looked down upon you. Deciding it's not it, sliding lower to your level so she can meet you eye to eye.

Now she understood why you were staring from before.

"Gladly."

~

"Come on you two, less than five minutes- gosh, are you okay? What happened?" asked Enid when she saw your face that went through 7 life crises in a timespan of ten minutes.

"It's nothing. Your roommate picked the worst time to become the very image of her parents." You told her wiping away the remaining tears.

"Wednesday? I'm so sorry, i never knew she could be sappy. I can talk to her if you want?" Enid comforted you with an arm around your shoulders.

"No, no. I have to live through this. It's one time event."

Just like Enid was being led by Ajax's hand, you were by Wednesdays.

Choosing a spot to lean against a pillar that held Nevermore walls allowed you to see the final products that will go off in minutes.

"30 seconds guys!"

The crowd was still, waiting.

"10 seconds!"

The fireworks were being lit in advance. Doers running back just as fast as they come. Only numbers chanting could be heard.

You turned to look at Wednesday.

"3..."

"2..."

"1..."

With no steps needed to be taken, Wednesday took a leap and swiftly pulled you towards where lips met. It was too loud and too quiet. Too bright yet too dark.

Hands sneaked, holding the back of your neck that relocated to your face. Concept of it all left you clueless what to focus on.

The feeling was familiar, welcoming, safe like she carries you around in the palm of her hand with such fondness.

Overwhelming mix of everything happening besides your embrace made you pull away hesitantly. A smile escaping, closed eyes and foreheads bumping,

"Happy new year."

~

"It's gonna be a good year. I know it." Yoko said taking a sip of her drink while observing you from the side.

"Why so sure?"

"Look at them. Wednesday Addams shamelessly showing off PDA. We're not even half as bad as they are."

Divina nodded, "Yeah, you're right."

notes: as always, thank you so much for all the support! i wanted to close off this year with this one.

next one will most likely be about jenna because i can't stand her (i love her) and i hate writing about her (i'd give up anything for her)

[cyankeiya]

Still here (with you)

Back with another mpreg birth fic, this time w/ Suguru x Pregnant! Satoru.

---

Pairing: Getou Suguru x Gojo Satoru

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Word(s): 2k+

Cw: Waterbreaking, Painful labor, Childbirth

The arrival of Suguru and Satoru's baby, ft. Midwife! Shoko Ieiri. Birth story + domestic fluff.

---

“Suguru!” Satoru called out from the bathroom.

Suguru entered the bathroom and walked in on his very pregnant husband hunched over on the sink, gripping the counter. Satoru’s head was down, his eyes shut and his expression pained, his other hand grabbing underneath his round, heavy belly.

“Satoru?” Suguru asked, worried. “Satoru, what’s wrong?” He put a hand on his husband’s back.

“My water broke.” Satoru clenched his teeth.

Suguru’s eyes widened. Satoru had been having contractions for the past couple days leading up to his due date; they both knew he was going to give birth very soon. Suguru looked down at Satoru’s sweats, and saw they were soaked. It also served as an explanation as to why there was a crumpled, damp towel on the floor. The baby was coming today.

“How are your contractions?” Suguru asked, rubbing Satoru’s belly.

“They’re 6 minutes apart.” Satoru looked up at himself in the mirror. His white hair was unkempt. His large belly had dropped, he felt and looked so heavy. The grey t-shirt he was wearing was stained with sweat. “I look like a mess.” He laughed, staring at himself in the mirror.

“Shut up, Satoru, you always look gorgeous,” Suguru rolled his eyes, giving his husband a kiss on the cheek. Suguru’s hand was on Satoru’s belly, feeling the baby’s little kicks against his palm. Suguru and Satoru looked at each other and smiled.

“Call Shoko.”

“Alright, I’ll go call her.” Suguru dialed Shoko’s phone number and told her Satoru was in labor and his water broke. Shoko then informed she was going to be at their place in about an hour since she did live a distance from their home. Suguru put his phone down and returned his attention to his laboring husband.

“Shoko will be here in about an hour.” Suguru said.

“Okay, sounds good.” Satoru nodded.

"Will you be okay?"

"I'll be okay, because you're here with me."

“Yes, I'm here. We got this,” Suguru took Satoru’s hand and kissed it.

…

The whole time they were waiting for Shoko to arrive, Suguru had Satoru ride out more of those contractions. The couple recalled what Shoko had taught them during the course of Satoru's pregnancy - walking around, leaning over against the wall and the sides of the bed. All of which they did, and was met with complete agony for Satoru. It fucking pained Suguru to see his husband struggle this way.

Now Satoru was sitting on the toilet seat. Satoru’s contractions were coming in less than a minute apart, though he wasn’t ready to push because he wasn’t fully dilated. Satoru groaned and gasped as he sat on the toilet, wrapping his arms around Suguru’s torso and leaning his head into Suguru’s chest. Suguru, who was standing in front of him, embraced Satoru as he labored.

“You gotta breathe, baby.” Suguru reminded him gently, rubbing his hand to his back.

Satoru tried to take slow, deep breaths, which were often interrupted by stronger contractions and it caused him to yell out. So much pressure, the pains were not just cramping, sometimes when the contractions came in, the pain was sharper.

“It hurts so bad,” Satoru trembled, sobbing, then yelling out when another bad contraction came in.

Suguru’s heart raced. But he stayed calm for his husband, comforting him. “I know, I got you. Shoko’s on her way too, we’re gonna keep you safe and make sure everything’s good to go.” Suguru kept Satoru close, running his fingers through Satoru’s white hair and kissing his sweaty forehead. “What can I do right now, baby? To help you?”

“Let me lie down…on the bed, please…”

“Okay,” Suguru took Satoru in his arms and carried him bridal style. Satoru’s labor had become painful, where it was hard for him to focus and caused him to lose his balance.

“Am I too heavy?” asked Satoru.

“No, you’re fine.” Suguru said as he walked Satoru to the bed. He placed him on the mattress before stacking the pillows underneath his head and his belly. Suguru lay beside Satoru and faced him, hugging him close.

As Satoru continued to have contractions, he groaned, cried, and took heaving breaths into Suguru’s chest. Suguru continued to soothe him the best he could, holding him and saying encouraging words to him. Satoru’s labor, having progressed to this point, really worried Suguru. He felt almost helpless, his husband was in so much pain and there wasn’t anything he could do to just make it stop. It made Suguru want to cry too.

“Suguru!!” Satoru groaned through a rough contraction and gripped Suguru's arm. His body was so sweaty, he was so tired. Pressure continued to increase in his pelvis, everything just hurt.

“Satoru,” Suguru whispered, holding Satoru close to him and rubbing his belly. As Satoru panted heavily in pain, Suguru’s throat tightened, and he let the tear welling up in his eye stream down his cheek. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” His voice trembled. Fuck, he was so afraid for him.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Meanwhile, Suguru then felt his phone buzz in his pocket and checked who was calling him. It was Shoko. Suguru answered it. “Hello?” He asked, wiping his tears and trying to compose himself.

“Hi Suguru, it’s Shoko, I’ve arrived at the front door.”

“Okay, just a second, I’ll let Satoru know.” Suguru took the phone away from his ear, then whispered to Satoru, “Shoko’s here. I’m gonna let her in, will you be alright?”

“I’ll be okay, go ahead.” Satoru nodded.

Suguru got Shoko back on the phone. “I’ll be at the door, I’m on my way.”

Suguru ended the call. He reluctantly let go of Satoru, exited the bedroom, and paced to the front door. Suguru looked through the peephole, and saw that Shoko was there, standing outside with her supply bag. He opened the door. “Hi, Shoko,” Suguru greeted. Shoko saw that he looked nervous.

“Hi, Geto, I came up here as fast as I could.” Shoko said, hugging Suguru. “How’s he doing?”

“I don’t fully know, he’s been riding out the contractions well, but the labor’s really painful.” Suguru said, leading her to the bedroom. They walked in to see Satoru, who was still lying down and groaning, hand holding his belly. “He likely needs to push soon.”

“Okay, I’ll check up on him.” Shoko walked up to Satoru, and Suguru returned to Satoru’s side, rubbing his back. “Hey, Gojo, how are you doing?”

“What does it look like…” Satoru huffed.

“Not great, huh? I’ll check you and make sure everything’s good to go.”

…

Shoko checked Satoru’s vitals. He’d taken his soaked underwear off, his legs spread so Shoko could then check his dilation and for signs of abnormal bleeding or any other possible complications. And there wasn’t any.

Suguru got into bed next to his laboring husband. He wiped Satoru’s forehead with a washcloth and helped him sip some water.

“Satoru,” Suguru whispered. “How are you right now?”

“I’m okay, nothing feels wrong, just really hurts.” Satoru sighed in exhaustion.

Suguru rubbed Satoru’s belly in wide, gentle circles and kissed his temple. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“Yeah right.”

“I want this birth to go well for you.” Suguru offered his hand for Satoru, which he held and squeezed. “I’m here, okay? I’m not fucking leaving.” Suguru’s voice was shaky, but he was serious and genuine.

Satoru nodded and turned his head to face Suguru. He opened his eyes, the whites of his eyes reddened from crying, his irises such a glistening blue, they looked so tiredly but lovingly at Suguru.

“I love you,” Satoru teared up in response to hearing that, both from the pain and the emotions he felt with his husband just being here.

“I love you too,” Suguru said, cupping Satoru’s cheek. “Love you so much.” Suguru wiped his husband’s tears with his thumb. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. You’re safe.” He assured.

Shoko announced, “Okay, Satoru, you’re fully dilated, we can have you start pushing. Are you ready?”

Satoru looked at Shoko, then Suguru, then back at Shoko, and nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.”

…

Satoru began pushing. For the first 10 minutes of pushing, he’d been screaming and sobbing, tightening his grip on his husband’s hand so firm it was red and probably cracked. Suguru continued to stick by his side, comfort him, encourage him, and take care of him as Shoko instructed him to push.

Satoru managed to push the baby’s head out, before he had to push the shoulders. The pressure mounted in Satoru’s pelvis, and a sharp, burning pain cut between his legs.

“I can’t, guys, I can’t do this,” Satoru shook his head, sobbing. “I can’t push, it burns too much.”

“Shoko??” Suguru panicked, turning to her.

“Satoru, do you need to change positions?” asked Shoko.

Satoru huffed out, “I need to get up, like on my knees.”

Shoko nodded. “Okay, Suguru, we’ll help him up. Let him hold onto you.”

Suguru nodded. Shoko moved to the side of the bed to help Satoru get himself on his knees. Satoru wrapped his arms around Suguru’s neck and shoulders so he could hang off of him.

“Oh god…” Satoru was having another rough contraction, signaling him to push. “Hrrrgghh… Suguru!! ” He gripped at the back of Suguru’s shirt, pulling at the fabric.

“I got you, honey, I know that was hard.” Suguru kissed Satoru’s head through his sweat-dampened hair. “Hold onto me. Breathe.”

Satoru sucked in a deep breath before he pushed again. This new position allowed for gravity to help Satoru get his baby out. The sharp pain reduced significantly, so Satoru could push easier. After a few more pushes, he’d gotten the baby’s shoulders out. Though the strain between his legs overwhelmed Satoru, and he cried out for Suguru.

“It’s okay, honey,” Suguru assured him, smoothing his hand along Satoru’s back. “I’m here, it’s okay. You’re doing great.”

“Push when you can, Satoru,” Shoko said, her hands held underneath Satoru, cupping the baby’s emerged head.

When Satoru could feel another contraction, he sucked in a deep breath. He planted his toes on the mattress and straddled his legs as he pushed down into Shoko’s hands. “I’m pushing, I’m pushing!!” yelled Satoru. His legs trembled, he was afraid he’d lose his stability. “Guys, help me, please…”

“I’ve got you, Satoru, we’ve got you,” Suguru spoke softly, arms still wrapped around his husband. “You’re doing amazing.”

“Suguru’s right, we’ve got you.” Shoko nodded in assurance. “Keep going.”

Satoru continued to breathe and push by Shoko’s instruction, which was met with more of him sobbing. Right now, Satoru was just sick and tired of being pregnant and in labor, in pain and feeling so heavy. As he pushed, the baby was inching further out of his body.

“SHOKO, IT’S COMING!!! GET IT OUT!!!” cried Satoru, hugging Suguru tighter. “SUGURU!!!”

Shoko still had her hands cupping the baby’s head. “I’ve got ‘em, just keep pushing, and the baby will be out.”

“You’re almost done, Satoru,” Suguru said, rubbing his hand along Satoru’s back and kissing his cheek. “You’re so wonderful, honey, you’re so strong. Just keep going.”

Satoru let out a feral scream, desperate to make these pushes the last ones. Shoko carefully guided the baby completely out of his body and into her hands.

“Baby’s here, Satoru, it’s over!” Shoko announced. “Congratulations, it’s a girl.”

Satoru’s tired arms were still wrapped tightly around Suguru, his legs shaky. Suguru did not let go of him either, and Satoru let out a sob of exhaustion, joy, and relief. “You did it, honey, our baby’s here.” Suguru whispered to Satoru.

Shoko gave Satoru the baby to hold in his arms. Their daughter let out a cry, which relieved the couple that she was alive and breathing. Satoru sobbed even more as he held her to his bare chest.

Satoru continued to weep sobs of overwhelming emotion. Suguru carefully cupped his daughter’s head, which made tears well up in his eyes. He then wrapped his arms around his husband, and cried with him too.

“She’s beautiful, honey, you did so well.” Suguru laughed softly through tears. He pressed multiple kisses to Satoru’s face.

Shoko smiled at the loving couple with their new baby. Satoru and Suguru had done it, they were a family. They could get through anything together.

[yanderelionwrites]

Lovely (Yandere!Momo Yaoyorozu x Reader)

Momo wants nothing more than to dress you up ❤️

Content Warning: yandere, implied kidnapping, manipulation, being forced to wear outfits/dresses, suggestive themes

Word Count: 792

“Come on out, (Name)! I want to see you!”

Momo’s voice was muffled behind the bathroom door, but her cheery and eager tone came through clearly. You despised it, just as much as you despised the bright red frilly dress that currently clung to your form. It mocked you from the reflection of the massive sink mirror, as well as from the full-length one attached to the door. You were being forced to indulge in one of Yaoyorozu’s “fashion shows”, as she had just bought you hundreds of new clothes and she insisted that she see you in every single one. Who knows what outfit number you were wearing at this point. All you wanted right now was to curl up in something that you actually found comfortable and take a long nap. Momo won’t let you go until she’s satisfied, however.

“Are you alright in there, dear? Do you need any help?” She was knocking on the door now, impatient as ever. Your hands gripped the fabric of the dress’s skirt, jaw clenching your teeth together.

“No!” You said a little too forcibly. Clearing your throat, you continued, “I’m- I’m good! I’m ready now.”

“Well, don’t be shy then! This is one of my favorite dresses I’ve picked out for you!” Momo’s hand jiggled the doorknob and you thanked the Lord that you had locked it earlier.

Sighing, you complied with her wishes and hesitantly opened the bathroom door, revealing yourself to Yaoyorozu’s gleaming eyes. She cooed at you, and you cringed at her obsessive stare.

“Well, don’t you look just lovely,” She said, twirling her finger in the air to get you to spin. You did so half-heartedly. “I knew it would look perfect on you.”

“Momo, are we almost done? It’s been nearly two hours…” You asked as she returned to the piles and piles of clothes that lay on top of the massive bed she had bestowed upon you. She was already searching for another outfit to dress you up in.

“Don’t you want to try the rest of these on? I went through all the trouble of picking each one out for you,” She responded, trying to decide what top would go well with the pink pleated skirt that was in her hands.

“I didn’t ask you to buy me more clothes, nor did I need any. I already have a ton from your previous shopping sprees,” You mutter, but it was loud enough for Momo to hear. She whipped around to glare at you, folding her arms as she drew closer.

“You should be grateful you even have any clothes to wear. I can take them all away if that’s what you want. Would you rather walk around bare? Because I can make that happen in an instant, dear,” Her tone was surprisingly calm despite the words coming out of her mouth, but it intimidated you all the same. This was how it was with Yaoyorozu. One minute she can be all cheery and kind, the next, she’s domineering and stern. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when something will set her off.

You quickly shook your head as you stared into her piercing gray eyes. “No- No! I am grateful, really! I…I just, I’m just a little tired…that’s all,”

Momo was quiet for a bit as she studied you, and you breathed a sigh of relief when her frown turned into a soft smile, seeming to accept your answer.

“Alright, we can stop for now. Just one more outfit, and then we’ll be done,” She said.

You nodded, content enough with the compromise. It was the best you were gonna get.

Momo picked up a small, pink paper bag that had been hiding behind the mounds of clothes. You didn’t recognize the name on the side of it, but it looked and sounded like another fancy and expensive brand Yaoyorozu would buy from. You expected her to pull out a nice blouse or maybe another skirt, but what she did pull out immediately made your face pale.

The black-haired woman beamed as she proudly showed you a lacy set of red lingerie, complete with a garter belt and stockings. She practically shoved the ensemble into your hands and pushed you back towards the bathroom.

“This is the last one, I promise!” Momo exclaimed, her excitement greatly contrasting your utter disgust and horror. She wasn’t serious, was she? Like hell you would wear this for her!

You stumbled into the much-too-big bathroom, though right now it felt like a suffocating box. Turning around, you watched as Momo slowly closed the door, the last thing you see being the sickening grin plastered on her face.

“Don’t keep me waiting, dear~ It will only draw this out even longer.”

[songmingisthighs]

Mine

Group : ateez

Pairing : mingi × afab!reader

Genre : smut

Word Count : 3.4K

Warning : MDNI, explicit smut, unprotected sex, big dicc mingi (bc yes ofc ??), creampie

Summary : you never would've imagined that mingi would be so affected seeing a simple piece of jewellery. but could you really blame him? especially when he's treating you so damn well

a/n : happy new year everyone! i'm starting 2023 correctly. with a mingi smut >:)

buy me coffee ?

The door of your apartment opened which caught your attention. Noticing that it was quite late, you can only think of one person who would visit you.

"Mingi? Is that you?" You called out from the kitchen as you place the plate you were washing on the dryer rack. The cardigan you wore over your cropped tank top kept slipping and you had to shrug them on to keep them in place.

"No! It's the axe murderer!" The person answered. His deep voice and pronunciation is very distinctive and his attempt at being sarcastic only made you laugh. "An axe murderer wouldn't say that they're an axe murderer, silly!" You answered again.

After hearing a soft thud, you saw Mingi entering the kitchen with a goofy smile on his face, "Well then, it's a good thing it's your most favourite person in the world," he chuckled. "Oh, Jongho's here?" You grinned widely, trying to take a peek behind Mingi. Hearing you say his friend's name made his jaw drop as he stared at you in disbelief. "WHAT!?" he exclaimed as you tried to bite down your grin, "I- oh-ho-ho-ho-ho, I will not, I repeat, I will NOT stand for this slander!" he huffed with his arms on his sides, trying to size you. Unfortunately, as big as he is, you were not afraid of him or even affected whatsoever. You simply nod your head to the couch in the living room, "Well, go sit down then," you stated as you dry your hands on a kitchen towel. Mingi growled and lunged at you playfully, making you squeak and sidestep to exit the kitchen area.

"Hey!" Mingi called out after you. Since the area of your apartment wasn't so big, he caught up to you in mere seconds and he brought you down to the couch using his body which made you yelp out loud. Mingi held your arms above your head, securing them by your wrists. "Say I'm your favourite person!" he demanded, "No!" you smirked. Mingi raised an eyebrow at your brazen defiance and decided to swoop down to capture your lips in his. His lips were a little chapped and his movements were dominant. The feeling of his lips melding with yours along with the death, possessive grip he has on your wrists made you moan. With your mouth opening, he took it as a sign to slip his tongue into the cavern of your mouth. Both of your tongues fought, him in dominance while you try your best to pretend like you wanted to dominate him.

You both pulled away panting, trying to catch your breath from the impromptu make-out session. Mingi looked down at you with a cocky smirk on his face, seemingly pleased. "I'd like to see your so-called favourite person Jongho do that," he poked. You tried to contain your snicker when you heard him say that because you knew he didn't even realized that he has once again set himself up. "So... Does that mean you want me to make out with Jongho to make a comparison with you?" you asked. You couldn't help but burst out laughing at yourself and from the way Mingi looked as his own words sink into his head.

He pouted at the realization that you were teasing him so he took the chance when you were too preoccupied with laughing at him to lean back down and bit the exposed skin of your neck. The surprise attack made you jolt and yelp which seemed to only cause Mingi to tighten his grip. "Ouch, you jerk! That hurts!" You yelped out and pouted at him once he lifted himself back up. "Well, you're the jerk for saying that you'll make out with Jongho!" he defended, mirroring your pout. You rolled your eyes and giggled at his reaction, "Okay, okay fine, I'm sorry. You're my most favouritest favourite person, Mingi. I am utterly, unequivocally in love with you and you are the only person who is allowed to make out with me like that," you confessed. Mingi seemed pleased at that, sporting a goofy grin, he gave you one last peck on the lips before letting go of his grip on you.

Once you regained feeling in your arms, you scooted back to sit up straight, making Mingi sit back to accommodate you. As you rubbed at your wrists, something caught Mingi's eyes.

"Hey, is that..." He drawled, pointing at your chest. You looked down to see the ring he designed for his latest birthday MD. "Oh, yeah!" you grinned widely as you took the ring that was dangled on your neck between your fingers. "I just remembered I bought this when it came in the mail a while ago and I just decided I wanna wear it as a necklace," you leaned forward to drop a small peck on his nose, "To keep you close in my heart," you grinned.

Mingi seemed stunned by your action and you weren't sure why. His eyes were wide and he was unresponsive. When you pulled back, you saw him eyeing your face and then dropping down to your necklace then back up to your face and then dropping down to your necklace. It seemed like he was processing his thoughts until he suddenly lunged forward to kiss you again.

You squeaked as you were forced back under him by the sheer force of his body. Mingi's hands gripped your body in such fervour; one on your hips and the other pressing down on your chest, right on the chain of your necklace. When he pulled away, his eyes were transfixed on the necklace resting on your chest. "Mingi, is something wrong?" thought it was a stupid question as you know full well that whatever is going in his brain is nothing wrong at all.

"I love seeing something I made on you," he exhaled shakily, his tongue stuck out to lick his bottom lip, as if he was a starved man at a buffet. Slowly, Mingi looked up at you with a crazed look in his eyes. He had always been able to express himself by his nonverbal cues; his subtle, specific tics that indicate his anxiety, the caress of his thumb on your skin that indicates his wanting to seek comfort. This time, however, the way his cock twitched on your right thigh indicates that he wants you then and there.

Mingi began peppering kisses around your neckline with his hands pushing your cardigan off of your body. His lips worked diligently to make sure every bit of skin that the necklace rest upon was covered with his lips, altering between simply kissing and sucking a mark closest to your breasts. The feeling made you moan and arch your back in pleasure which Mingi utilized to completely yank your outerwear and cropped tank top off. To his pleasant surprise, you were not wearing any bra and he was greeted with the sight of your bare boobs staring at him straight. "God, how could you look so hot with just one measly piece of jewellery hanging on your chest?" he groaned as he bit on the skin of your left boob. You smirked at his words, "Are you sure it's the jewellery and not the fact that you were looking at my boobs?" you couldn't help but tease. When you looked down, you saw Mingi glaring up at you, but he relented, "It's a piece of me dangling between your boobs," he simply said before he yanked the straps of your cropped tank top and pulled it down to reveal your boobs for him to ogle at, "It's proof that you're mine."

Without wasting much time, he took your left boob in his mouth as your right one gripped firmly in his hand. His finger tweaked your nipple teasingly as his mouth devoured you. You couldn't help but whimper and let out a moan when you felt the firm grip of his hand and his teeth scraping against your skin. Mingi never described himself as either an ass or a boob man because whenever asked, he always said he's a "you" man. The man is very possessive and you can feel exactly how much based on his movements. The pleasure he was giving you was immense, the stimulation made your brain go fuzzy. In the midst of your pleasure-induced state, the thought of Mingi's own pleasure came to mind and you felt bad because you were the only one receiving it at the moment. You lifted your head up to look at Mingi who had switched treatments on your breasts, "Mingi," you called out. You knew he heard you because he groaned in response without pulling away from his focus. You couldn't help but bit your bottom lip at the sight of him looking fucking sexy whilst devouring you. "Mingi," you tried calling out again. With a huff of annoyance, Mingi answered you, "Yes, baby?" his voice was muffled as his lips were still firmly latched onto your tit, sucking a mark- his mark wherever he likes.

Your head was thrown back once again as your hands flew to his head to grip his hair desperately when he took a chunk of your flesh between his teeth. "Baby, I- I wanna- oh god, I wanna," you inhaled shakily when Mingi lightly smacked the tit in his hand and spit on it so his movements can be more fluid, "I wanna touch you too," you moaned out, practically begging to touch him. You could feel Mingi smirking on your skin at your obvious neediness. "You want to make me feel good, huh?" he asked as his kisses ascend from your chest to your neck and stopped at your jaw, making you whine in protest as you want him to kiss you fully on the lips. "You want to dedicate yourself to me, huh?" his voice dropped a couple of octaves lower and the vibration made you clench your legs tightly, thighs rubbing to give friction to your aching core. "Mingi, please," you begged, head tilting to the side to accommodate him nestling in the junction of your neck, spreading more hickeys in the spot.

In a flash, you were suddenly flipped on top of him, your legs on either side of his as your crotch was firmly attached to his. You let out a gasp when you felt Mingi's stiff cock through your thin sleep shorts. "Mingi, you're so hard," you managed out through shuddered breath as your hips began moving on their own, grinding on his cock slowly in search of pleasure. Mingi's pupils dilated at the sight of you topless on top of him, the motion of your hips causing your whole body to move and resulting in your boobs jiggling. But his eyes focused more on the necklace bouncing off your chest, he couldn't help but reach a hand forward, gathering the necklace and then proceeding to wrap said hand around your neck, putting just the right amount of pressure to make your eyes roll to the back and let out the most pornographic whine that shot straight to Mingi's dick, making it twitch in his jeans.

"Baby," Mingi called out, heart beating hard on his chest. You didn't answer (or more like you couldn't) but he felt your pussy clench on him and that's how he know you were listening. "I need to be in you," Mingi demanded, hands flying to tug at your shorts to make his point.

His words were all that you need for you to readjust your position so you could yank your shorts and panties off. Mingi did his best to take his shirt off, unzip his jeans, and pull the garment along with his briefs down to expose his aching cock to the cold air, making him hiss out at the contrast. His hard, stiff, hot cock stood proud, egging you to be quick so he could be in you.

As you repositioned yourself back on Mingi's lap, he lifted one hand to be rested on the back of his head as his other hand stroked his dick leisurely. The sight of you completely bare, on top of him with his necklace around your neck, ready for him made his dick twitch. IT was at that moment that he was sure that he was pretty possessive. He wanted you all to himself and you were more than willing to dedicate yourself to him.

You took his hand off his own dick and proceeded to spit on it before stroking it with a firm grip. Mingi let out a soft sigh, his eyebrows furrowing and the only thought in his head was that if your hand felt this good, your pussy must've felt heavenly. He was not above saying that having his dick in your pussy felt like home. But maybe he'll keep that for next time.

"Baby," Mingi called out, catching your attention. "Ride me, come on," he demanded, his facial expression showing frustration as he so desperately wanted to be inside you, buried, and never let out. You tried to bite down your grin but failed. Even when he was trying to be demanding, you can only think of how adorable he is. "Is that it? Is that what my princess wants?" you teased. Once again, you felt Mingi's dick twitch at your teasing but this time it was in your hands. Mingi exhaled shakily and his hands flew to grip your hips, forcefully pulling your body forward to align both of your crotches. Your eyes widened when you felt his tip enter you. Though you both had had sex multiple times before (sometimes there was even a certain plurality in one session), his size always seemed to surprise you. "Ride. Me." Mingi demanded, eyes completely dark and his pupils blown. The feeling of sinking on Mingi's dick while making eye contact was phenomenal. With each inch you sunk on, your jaws grew slacker and by the time you reached the hilt, your eyes rolled back and your head was thrown forward. You had to anchor yourself on his bare chest, clenching your fists to the point that they turned white.

Mingi smirked seeing you so affected from the bare minimum, "Aww, are you overwhelmed?" he teased. To him, you looked absolutely adorable in that state. Never mind the activity you both were about to do, he loved seeing him overpowering you even when he did nothing.

You repositioned your head so you were back to looking at Mingi, you change your hand position to brace yourself by the armrest Mingi's head was resting on. Although you were still getting used to feeling him inside you, your hips began moving on its own, grinding slowly at first. "A-ah," you whimpered as Mingi's rigid appendage began rubbing deliciously on your walls. "S-shit you're so warm," Mingi groaned, biting his bottom lip so hard you were afraid that it would draw blood.

Soon enough your legs got used to the position you were in and your pussy got used to Mingi's whole size inside you. "I'm gonna go faster," you announced as your hips began picking up their pace, moving quicker fluidly. Your arousal helped lubricate your movements so it was more fluid and thankfully it did because soon you found a rhythm that caused you to feel stars. "Shit-" you gasped and clench your pussy involuntarily which caused Mingi to hitch his breath from the feeling of you enveloping him whole.

The pleasure urged you to seek more, your hips never faltered from the earth-shattering speed you found merely seconds ago. Mingi looked up to watch you frantically seeking your and his release. His stomach churned at the sight of your hickey-covered skin, his eyes even tried to follow the trail on the hickeys he left. He loved it, it was like a map, a treasure map. And of course, the treasure is the necklace tethered around your neck, hitting your chest each time it flew around between your bouncing breasts. His instincts kicked in and he couldn't help but grip your waist tightly in a possessive vice. Soon enough you found yourself barely doing anything when you felt Mingi moving your body to his liking like a sex toy, you could sense that he was chasing his close release and thankfully, you were so close too.

"M-Mingi," you called out, one of your hands moving to grip his hair, tugging it slightly. The action added pleasure to Mingi as he groaned from the sudden additional pleasure. "Please let me cum, I-I- I'm so- so close- oh god," you whined when you accidentally shifted your hips, the angle making Mingi hit a new spot inside you that caused your body to crumble forward, falling onto Mingi's body like a useless sack.

Mingi smirked as he slowed down his movements slightly, making you whine and clench like a desperate whore. "Keep clenching like that and I might not hold out much longer," he chuckled teasingly. You rolled your eyes but nodded at his words, "Yes, yes, yes, just please, I wanna cum!" you begged.

Before you could even process what happened, Mingi had managed to flip the both of you so that now you're on the bottom. You yelped when he slipped out of you for a split second before suddenly impaling his cock once again in your cunt. Mingi gathered your hands above your head and anchored himself on his knees firmly. "I already have my mark on you, now I'm gonna mark you from the inside," he said before pistoning inside you.

At this point, your apartment was filled with pornographic noise that should have only been able to come straight from a porno. You weren't sure of how loud you were being, but you had a feeling you might need to bake some cookies for your neighbours as an apology tomorrow. But at that moment, you couldn't care less about anyone else other than you and Mingi. Especially not when you're so close to having a mind-blowing orgasm along with the promise that Mingi was going to put his mark in you from the inside. Whatever that means.

Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as your senses were slowly flooded by Mingi. All you could think about was Mingi and how good he was making you feel. The overwhelming pleasure overcame you and you felt your brain turning into mush. Slowly you felt yourself detaching from reality as the only thing you could feel was Mingi's cock drilling your cunt into the shape of him. It was too much but just enough at the same time. Mingi was able to make you feel your tactile senses elevated but completely ripped the focus out of you. You wanted to tell him that you were so close to cumming, you could feel it, you were at the very edge of completely tipping over. You swore you had managed some words out of your mouth but you don't know if it really happened or if your mind was playing tricks on you. All you know was that the moment you regained focus, you saw Mingi's head ducked down on your chest, nipping at the skin around the necklace around your chest with his eyebrows furrowed. His teeth scrapping your skin and his body weight pressing on you felt amazing, you felt completely enveloped by him.

It wasn't until Mingi halted to a stop with a groan escaping his lips that you finally felt something warm filling your pussy up. You gasped loudly at the abrupt spill, the warmth sending shivers down your spine. Thankfully Mingi started moving again, riding out his high that continuously gave you pleasure especially with how his pelvis stimulated your clit. "Fuck!" you cursed as your legs curled, trapping Mingi's body between them as you came, body trembling from the intense pleasure. Mingi's eyes rolled to the back of his head when he felt your cunt clenching his spent dick. "Holy shit, (y/n)," he exhaled shakily, "You're dripping," he muttered before his arms gave out, sandwiching you between him and the couch. You moaned out at the sudden pressure on top of you which caused Mingi's dick to twitch inside you, reacting to your voice.

Totally spent, Mingi whined as he nuzzled his face on your chest, lips finding your skin. "Don't do that, I need time to recover before fucking you again," he complained. Through your tiredness, you managed to chuckle and gently draped your arms around his body.

It was a good idea to wear that piece of jewellery, you had to applaud yourself for getting it.

Now you're curious about what Mingi might do when he finds out you have his birthday slippers too.

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