#he just sorta vibrated

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’m going to be so not normal about endwalker I can feel it

[senseichaos]

Hey, can you have a Lucifer going down on a female reader until she’s completely over stimulated? Trying to push him away, him using his magic to keep her still that sorta think? TIA🤤

Your wish is my commannndddd!

IMAGINE

"Amh.. Luci s'.." Your words get swallowed up by another moan that goes through your body, legs trembling as Lucifer's hand keeps them open with a strong grip. A blush goes over your face when his eyes peek up at you as he works his tongue against your clit, circling the sensitive bud at a tantalizing pace that makes you go dizzy.

You pull your blanket to your face, lower lip trembling as the pleasure from Lucifer's tongue continues to go through you. Gasping, you feel Lucifer's tongue dip into your hole, the pleasure from the action causing you to squirm and whimper loudly in an embarrassed pleasure.

"Duckling.." you hear him mumble into you, the vibrations causing you to continue trembling. "It's not nice having you squirm when I'm treating you, hm? Remember this is a punishment," oh you remember all right. You'd accidentally ripped a hole in one of Lucifer's expensive shirts, he wasn't mad (he's never mad) but he was definitely looking for that opportunity to punish you all the same; his punishment was simple, he was going to eat you out as many times and make you cum as many times as he pleases.

So far, he is doing a fucking good job at doing just that.

"Sorry! It's just so dirty.."

He chuckles, the vibrations making your cunt clench around nothing.

"That's just how I like it, silly duck. Now stay still for me, hm?" He asks, and under his soft yet authoritative gaze nodding without any thought but his beautiful lips as they kiss against your clit.

as Lucifer laps his tongue against your clit whilst his fingers massage into your thighs, you feel your first high begin to tighten inside of you. Once again feeling your body tremble as you bite your lower lip, closing your eyes shut tightly whilst Lucifer puts his oral skills to good use. You press the sheets to your mouth, letting out a high pitched whimper when your thighs threaten to close around Lucifer's head. He doesn't allow it, though; he makes sure to keep your thighs open nice and wide for him even if that means using a large amount of force.

"Lucifer! Careful or m'!" You moan, the knot in your stomach itching to unravel your orgasm.

"Mhm?"

"M' gonna cum!" You cry, and Lucifer chuckles, nibbling his sharp teeth against your clit as his tongue draws circles against it. With that movement you are inched to your high, the knot inside of you unraveling so hard you squirt a little. But Lucifer doesn't stop, he continues to eat you up, taking what he wants from your choicest of fruits. He doesn't care that you squirted on his chin, he doesn't care that tears are beginning to fall down your cheeks, he continues to lap up all of you. He's determined to do as he chooses.

"Daddy! S'too much..!"

Lucifer laughs, sucking against your swollen clit for a moment before withdrawing, mouth pressed to your mount. "Well, you should have considered that before ripping Daddy's shirt, hm? Be a good duckling or I'll make you cum even more than I plan," He says, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he kicks a long strip against your entire pussy.

"But I'm gonna fall asleep.." you whine, holding the sheets of the bed to yourself tightly. You try to push him away, you really do! Even going as far as to shock him on the arm with your (weak) powers. Though, this all doesn't appease Lucifer. If anything it makes him more ravenous to eat all of what he can from your pussy. This all amounts to his own powers keeping you still, a throb of a sort of ache-y pain entering you.

"Well if you do, I guess I'll just keep going. I didn't teach you to resist punishments like this, little ducky.."

Once again, he dips his tongue into your hole, fucking his tongue into you for a moment before going back to teasing your clit. It just goes like that, he'll suck, bite, lick your clit and then fuck you open with your tongue.

You can't even begin to recall how many times you came. 5? 8? 10!!?? By the time you awoke your pussy felt moderately used. And yet it was all worth it when you awoke nestled against Lucifers chest, his light snores filling your ears.

(not proof read!)

[kpopnstarwars]

Upon the Sands of the Arena: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: basically reader fights feyd in the arena, my apologies if there are any inaccuracies, i'm dUmB

tw: 18+, smut YAAA, fighting, swearing, i use fire metaphors too much, blood, violence and death (it's in a a gladiatorial arena ffs), creampie, one ass spank, fingering + oral (f receiveing) hella lot of sexual tension, Fighting as Foreplay, feyd sorta has a blood kink but he's just freaky like that, sort of fluffy at the end, hint of voyeurism if you squint really hard, lmk if there's anything else

wc: 4.1k

part 2

The Bene Gesserit are distracted.

If the Kwisatz Haderach was not so near, they would have disposed of you properly. Instead, they sucked you back into their dark web of deceit and occulted plans only to spit you out just as fast, leaving your fate to the blood soaked sands of Giedi Prime’s arenas. You believe that if it were not for the actions of Lady Jessica Atreides and her defiance of the order, they’d pay you more attention.

Not that you’re complaining.

You were trained to flourish in the dark, lurking in the shadows of the deepest of nights, awaiting a time to strike. However, you are not like your mentors, you do not believe in the hoping, the weaving of bloodlines for the production of a distant messiah, nor do you dirty your hands to obey an imperious Reverend Mother.

Truly, you admire Lady Jessica for doing the same as you did - defying the order and thereby splintering from it; all the same, you do not desire what she wants. For she wants power for her son and her unborn daughter, and you want nothing but to be left alone.

In a universe full of yearning for a greater purpose, you want the opposite. Often, you find yourself wishing you were something of nature: not mundane, by any means, but uncontrollable, like the desert winds that sift through the sands of Arrakis simply because. To be like them, without a master, without the endless search for purpose, is freedom.

Instead, you have been branded with the title Bene Gesserit - ex Bene Gesserit now - and you wield too much power for the order to ignore you, even alone. Hence why they incorporated your capture into their plans, engineering it so that you face the Baron’s brutal, bloodthirsty nephew in the arena.

They’re going to have to try harder than that to kill you.

You think they forget that you once were as good as the rest of them. They forget that you still possess the ability to alter the molecules in your blood to resist the drugs they pump into the arena prisoners, and they forget that you trained beside the best in combat.

The arena is where you thrive.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. It excites you, the swell of noise that is thousands of harsh Harkonnen tongues heckling for blood; the stamp of their feet as they cry their na-Baron’s name vibrates through the arena, through the grains of sand beneath your feet, deep and heady like burgundy wine.

Your fingers tighten around the blade given to you, barely sharpened and made of unsanded wood, but solid all the same. It’s all you’ll need against the na-Baron. He is but a cruel man set on fire with exterminable blue flames, and you are Bene Gesserit: defiant of the order or not, it is who and what you are, and it is pure power coursing through your veins - power that answers to you and you only.

The roar of the na-Baron soars over the crowd’s cheering, animalistic and full of fury that makes you wonder what incenses him so much. Something in his past, maybe, something that he only acknowledges in the inner machinations of his cunning mind.

The grate in front of you opens, and you allow yourself a smile as you step out into Giedi Prime’s tortorous ebony sun. High above, you spot the slit of a balcony where the Baron himself reclines, watching his nephew with a benevolent smile and a pipe in his hand, flanked by subservient concubines with bowed heads. All around, the crowd shouts, thunderous, urging their na-Baron to spill blood on the sand, to paint the arena red. It swirls around you like a washed out dream, black and white but simultaneously vivid, the stink of rotting bodies and sun bleached white sand pungent in your nostrils, the occasional pop from the fireworks overhead heavy in your ears.

Rolling your shoulders, you pace a few steps in before sitting down in the sand, cross legged, the backs of your hands against your knees with your blade flat against one of your palms. Pitiless, you watch as the na-Baron slices the throat of the first prisoner that staggers his way, throwing him an enigmatic smile when he glances towards you.

His eyes are cold; calculating. They’re dark, striking against his pale skin as they suck in the light, and hungry too, as if he strives for something he does not quite know, always reaching, always burning for more.

Intriguing.

He circles in on the next prisoner, who meets his end by the same savage knife work as the first, his guts spilled out onto the greedy sand. Insatiable, chest heaving with excitement more than fatigue, the na-Baron turns to you, his final prey - his black teeth are bared in a magnificent, maniacal grin, his footsteps silent as he approaches.

Facing him now, you understand why the Bene Gesserit believed that by crossing the Atreides’ meant-to-be daughter with the Harkonnen’s na-Baron, they would make the Kwisatz Haderach. There’s no doubt in this man’s genetics, in the solid lines of his strength sheathed bones and the sheer virility and ferocity that permeates the air around him - it’s almost elegant, the way he prowls towards you, his stride lilting and laced with power. They picked him well.

Too bad you’ll have to kill him.

If he proves to be obtuse, you’ll have no choice but to slay him in order to save yourself. If he is, however, as cunning as they say, you’ll give him a chance to live - it’d be a shame to end him, actually: something draws you to the rawness of his nature, to the frigidity of the ire in his eyes.

The na-Baron circles closer, his skin like moonlight. He watches you like a hawk, as if he’s the one who’s hunting, ready for his next meal; his eyes flash in the sun, studying you, watching for your tells even as you identify his. Smiling, you drop into a crouch, knife outstretched like a twisted mockery of a peace offering, waiting for him to take the bait and strike.

He cocks his head. ‘It’s rare that I face a woman in the arena.’

‘I’m sure it will still be of pleasure to you, Feyd-Rautha.’

‘I believe it will increase it tenfold, little witch.’

You don’t have time to figure out how he knows you’re Bene Gesserit, because he slashes at you, once down towards your ribs and once back up at your throat. His knife flashes in the sun, reflecting the bloodlust in his eyes as it arcs towards you; light on your feet, you parry both of his blows, dipping in to land your own. He’s strong, which is of less concern to you than his speed. Feyd-Rautha fights as if he’s dancing: not in the aspect that there’s flourish in his bladework - quite the opposite, he keeps his strikes efficient and tight - but in the smooth, hypnotic way that the movements of his body blend seamlessly together.

The crowd screams as he forces you into defence. It’s temporary, though, because he gets reckless, both driven and blinded by his hunger for blood - enough so that you can dart your foot out, hooking it around his ankles and overbalancing him. Sprays of sand are kicked up as he tries to steady himself, and you force him down with the tip of your blade to his pale throat.

A single, sleek drop of scarlet slides down his skin. Unhurriedly, he brings a hand up to catch it before it leaks onto his black armour, lifting it so he can see the blood your knife has shed. His gaze flicks up to you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

‘Huh,’ he remarks, pleasantly surprised.

And then he lashes out, bringing you down into the sand beside him. With the hilt of his knife, he knocks your own out of your hand, and it’s catapulted into the air, spinning end over end and catching the light before it somersaults into the ground a few feet away. The grit plumes up at your face as you scuffle with him, and you hiss, frustrated that the sand does not lend you any more traction.

Rolling you over so fast your head spins, Feyd-Rautha drives his knife down towards your exposed neck. It makes a bolt of panic shoot through you, followed by the deep seated, survival impelled instinct to use the Voice on him, but like hell you’re doing that; honour prevents you, as well as the desire to finish this fight properly. You have no choice but to grab his forearm, slowing his blade’s descent, and a mirthful, rasping noise leaves his chest - a laugh that sets his eyes alight.

And then, the pressure dissolves, falling away. He stands, smirking down at you, the sun like a damning halo around his head. Silence falls over the arena, the anticipation thick in the air as he raises his hand, gesturing somewhere over your shoulder.

‘Go on, little witch, get your knife.’

You sneer, seeing the greed in his eyes, the misguided belief that he’s got you where he wants you. He wants to play, and it delights you.

Taking a few steps in the direction of the knife, you feign acquiescence. You can feel his eyes on your back, can sense the triumph oozing off him, and you let the adrenaline coursing through your veins guide your limbs, twisting you around so you can lunge at him, one hand wrapping around his bare forearm and bending it backwards as you spin him sharply until his back meets your chest. Viciously, you yank his arm further back, and the pain of that combined with your elbow tight around his throat, constricting his airways, is enough to loosen his grip.

A gasp ripples through the crowd as Feyd-Rautha drops his knife. It lodges in the ground beside your foot, and you flick it up with the toe of your boot, your hand darting out to snatch it from the air. The man in your arms bucks and writhes, but you keep your hold on him as you bring the knife to his neck for the second time.

‘Uh oh,’ you sing-song into his ear. ‘What’s happened here?’

He stills in your arms a little. ‘Why don’t you do it?’

‘I fear I’ve grown attached to you during our little fight,’ you hum. ‘It would be a shame to end a specimen like yourself.’

‘You are Bene Gesserit, I’m sure that you have arrangements - ’

‘I may be one, but I do not follow the order,’ you snarl. ‘I spare you because I wish to. Now, Harkonnen, knock the knife from my hand.’

You feel his muscles tense, the hesitation coursing through his body as he determines whether your bid is a trick or not, and then he does as you say, catching it smoothly and spinning to bring it to your throat. Calmly, you stare into his narrowed eyes, the cold caress of the blade harsh against your exposed skin.

‘What’s stopping me from killing you now, little witch?’

You laugh. ‘I trust I’ve piqued your interest sufficiently, na-Baron.’

‘Just Feyd is fine.’

You open your mouth to mock him, but he slices the blade away from your neck, very purposefully nicking you. Blood beads at the seam of the cut, hot and vengeful; he grips the back of your neck, exposing your throat to him, and prickles of pain shoot through you as the wound stretches. Frozen, you wait to see what he’ll do next, heart fluttering in your chest in a way that you know is not fear.

Insouciantly, he licks a long stripe up your skin, his scorching tongue following the trail of crimson his blade left behind. All consuming heat wells up in your stomach when he grins at you, displaying the hint of red coating his obsidian teeth, his eyes igniting the air between you as they dip down to survey your body, your heaving chest.

And then he releases you. You find your knees have gone weak, and you stumble as the guards close around you, grabbing you roughly under the armpits and dragging you out of the arena, your knees making twin tracks in the sand.

Managing a glance behind you, you catch sight of Feyd, his fist held triumphantly in the air as the crowd roars for their na-Baron.

Unsurprisingly, they throw you into a cell. Its walls are made of smooth, dark metal which seem to swallow up any sound that you make - it doesn’t surprise you that Vladimir Harkonnen has a Bene Gesserit proof cell - and the only thing furnishing it is a black blanket on the ground. A servant comes in and treats the shallow cut on your neck, but he refuses to meet your eyes and scurries off as fast as he can, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him.

You estimate two hours, maybe three, before Feyd appears in the doorway. His silhouette appears in the small glass window set in the door and pauses; you wonder if he’s considering leaving you there for a little longer, but then the lock disengages with a whoosh and the door slides open.

The air is immediately charged as he strides down the steps, eyes locked on you. With the smooth hiss of hydraulics, the door closes behind him, and he prowls forward, not quite smiling yet - you sense that he’s here to continue what you didn’t finish in the arena, and your back straightens a little as his gaze rakes over your body. He’s taken off his armour, leaving him in the thin black underclothes beneath, and he too has had someone treat the wound in his neck.

‘Your resistance to the drugs is remarkable, little witch. My blade was laced too.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘I find that matter quite disappointing, actually, that you must face your opponents in the arena when they are half sedated in order to best them.’

He smiles, stepping closer to you until you share air. ‘It’s not just the winning I seek.’

‘Oh, what is it then?’ You ask. ‘Pain?’

Quick as a snake, you strike, letting the thrill of the fight shoot through you yet again as he matches you blow for blow. He looks at you as if he wants to eat you, to taste you - not just your lips or your tongue, but the defiant burn of your lifeblood too, and it makes you want to sink your teeth into him.

Slipping past his guard to catch the front of his shirt, you bunch the material in your hand and tear, baring his well muscled chest to you. The sight of it makes your lips quirk upwards, further so at the sound he makes: a half growl and a half groan as he lunges for you, wonderfully infuriated by the way you dance just out of his grasp, slipping through his fingers like water. His eyes are kindled with ardour - for both your blood and your flesh - and when they meet yours, shivers snap down your spine and tug at your stomach.

Feinting to the left, you jab at his neck. Like a scorpion waiting to strike, he grabs your wrist, tugging you towards him; you glance down at his feet, easily predicting that he’s going to sweep your legs out from under you if you let him bring you any closer. Yanking your hand back, you attempt to shake his grip on you, but he refuses to let go.

You slap him across the face.

Hard.

His fingers loosen on you as his head snaps to the side, the noise your palm makes against his chiselled cheek sharp and ringing in the cell. A soft, animalistic sound leaves the back of his throat, and when he lifts his chin, his jaw clenched to perfection, the pure lust in his eyes makes you stumble back a step.

Rushing at you, he takes advantage of the heady swoop of desire that messes with your head, slowly backing you against the wall with each punch and kick he throws. Heat roils in his gaze, so intense that when he slams you against the wall, you don’t know whether he’s going to kill you or kiss you - the not-knowing thrills you, sets your bones and soul on fire. One of his hands comes up, his fingertips caressing your throat before he pounces, mercilessly cutting off your air supply.

Leaning into your space, he brings his lips up to your ear. ‘If I’d had my way, little witch, I’d have fucked you right there on the sand, with all of them watching.’

Your head spins, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the lack of oxygen in your lungs or the feeling of his strong thigh pressing between your legs, relentless as he grinds it against your clit. You allow yourself a second to enjoy it before you retaliate, adrenaline seething in your blood.

Burying your nails into his arm, you twist it to the side, unbalancing him and taking him to the floor - his fingers grip your shirt, bringing you down with him. You land on his torso, straddling his hips, and as you do, he snaps his wrists down and rips your shirt from top to bottom down your back. The cool air of the cell sends ripples of goosebumps up your skin, and Feyd’s wide, calloused palms follow their path, surprisingly warm, deceptively gentle.

Bucking his lower body, he flips you over, pinning your hands over head, his long fingers circling your wrists as his hips press heavily into yours. Your eyes flick down to his mouth as he dips his head, his breath ghosting against your cheek; the curve of his lips is soft and almost graceful compared to the rough way he grinds against you, eager for more, yet eager to torture himself with the wait.

Tipping your jaw up, you let your lower lip brush his before you turn your head to the side, denying him. Amusingly, he follows your touch, insistent that you kiss him, but you ease out of his grip and trap him between your arms when he gives chase - a growl sounds low in his chest, one of his hands gripping your thigh, futilely yanking at your trousers as you grapple, rolling over and over on the cell’s floor.

His hand slams down beside your head, stopping your course, his forearm flat against your throat - not quite choking you, but not letting your air supply run free. Feyd’s touch sears your skin in the best way, and you wish to be consumed by the flames.

‘Must I tie you up, little witch?’

His voice is low and rasping, sending shivers up your spine. You don’t answer, instead claiming his lips, welcoming the insistent press of his tongue as you thrust your hips against his, seeking that exquisite friction. Running your hands up his strong back, you hook your elbow around the nape of his neck, locking him to you as he explores the taste of you.

Abruptly, he pulls away, and you open your mouth, protest on your lips until he tugs down your trousers and underwear, tossing them somewhere to the side, his own garments following. You get one good look at him, at his powerful, muscle lined thighs framing your hips and the curve of his leaking cock against his stomach before he swipes his fingers between your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

When he lowers his face to your heat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a breathless moan slips from you, loaded with anticipation. You can’t stop the louder echo that leaves you when he dips his fingers into cunt, curling them to hit your sweet spot, and your nails claw at his shoulder blades, leaving red trails behind them.

‘That’s it, little witch,’ he croons. ‘Sing for me.’

And sing you do, as he wrings the pleasure from you with his tongue and fingers until your legs tremble and close around his head. He pins your thighs to the floor, holding you open for him as he tastes you, insatiable, pushing you unrelentingly over the edge, again and again until hot tears slide down your cheeks and your voice breaks from crying his name.

Finally, he buries his length inside you. Your eyes roll back at the stretch of it, your pussy fluttering around him; you muffle the moan that rips itself from your chest by biting down on his shoulder. He chuckles as you mewl his name, your back arching as he pulls out, only sheathe himself up to the hilt when he thrusts back in - he’s as drunk on your sounds as you are on his cock: he needs more. More of you, of your delicious sounds and your intoxicating scent and that sweet, sweet cunt of yours.

Feyd fucks like he fights: ruthless, full of passion and lust, remorseless.

Just as you’re about to come around his cock, he pulls out, leaving you scrabbling against the floor, hips futile as they follow his, his name like a plea on your lips. He drinks in your desperation, flipping you over and cracking his palm down hard on your ass before slamming himself back into your weeping pussy, the ragged cry that escapes you like the nectar of the gods on his tongue as he swallows it with a kiss. Gathering your hair in his fist, he pulls your head back, pounding tirelessly into you as he pins you to his solid chest, mouthing at the skin behind your ear.

As Feyd spills his warm seed inside you, you wonder if the Bene Gesserit were actually distracted, or if that was what they wanted you to think as they crossed bloodlines, even despite your defiance of their order.

You flop onto the blanket as Feyd eases himself out of your spasming cunt. Your head is fuzzy, warm, and a dumb smile pulls at your lips.

Feyd chuckles. ‘I have not broken you, have I, little witch?’

You send him a look half as fierce as it should be. ‘Barely. You have merely sated me - for now.’

He laughs again, lying next to you on the blankets. His body is angled towards you, but he doesn’t reach out - that he lay down beside you is surprising to you in the first place, but you seize the opportunity and curl up in the curve of his body, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Slowly, his fingers card through your hair, and you close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the moment of softness from the bloodthirsty na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Reaching out, you grab the blanket and fold it over the two of you - he rolls over so that he lies with his head resting on your chest. His lips brush the skin between your breasts, and you're struck by the glimpse of vulnerability that Feyd allows you to witness; this is not by accident, this is a gift from him, a way of silently telling you that he has come as close to trusting you as he could ever come to trusting someone.

Silent, you bask there in the afterglow, eyes half closed. At some point, you seek Feyd’s lips, and he obliges you, lazily exploring your mouth in a way he did not get a chance to do before, sighing contentedly as you trace the lines your nails carved along the grooves of his broad back. Eventually, you pull away, staring into his eyes where the embers of the fire that had blazed in them still glow with the heat of it. You need to go.

Gently, your breath mingling with his, you kiss his cheek, your lips gliding against his skin before you get up, briefly laughing at the wobbly nature of your legs before gathering your clothes and dressing as best as you can, considering he ripped your shirt all the way down the back.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s propped himself up on his elbows; the blanket has slipped down to reveal most of his moon coloured stomach, and he regards you with mirth mixed with something like respect.

You pause in the doorway. You can tell he’s letting you leave.

A smile plays on his lips.

‘We’ll meet again, little witch.’

It’s not a question, nor a whimsy. It’s a promise.

[hysteria-things]

can u do one where you and matt/chris are about to make sec and he’s going in your drawer for a condom but he find a a vibrator and starts asking u about it and you got the rest lol

"WHAT'S THIS?"

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: chris finds something in your drawer and asks you about it. you’re embarrassed because you got it a while ago but never used it, and chris comes up with something to do about it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, vibrator, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, darcryphilia (sorta)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 987

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: gonna start doing some requests AND thank you sm for over 100 followers in a day??? that’s crazy.

anywho i hope you like it anon! thanks for being my first request💕

finally, you and chris have some alone time. because of your job and chris’s busy schedule, it’s almost impossible to hang out with each other no matter how hard you try.

this saturday was the only day available for the both of you until further notice. why not make the most out of it, right?

chris doesn’t take his lips off of yours while he reaches and opens your bedside table drawer to get out the condom box he knows you have in there. instead, he feels another box.

he furrows his eyebrows and pulls away, turning his head to where his hand rests on the object. “y/n?” he questions. “what’s this?”

he pulls out the box and holds it so you can see, but he knows damn well what it is. a hint of a smirk appears on his face when he sees your cheeks turn red.

“i— um…” you stammer, scurrying to your feet that were straddling his legs and standing at the end of the bed. he still lays on the bed with his head resting against the backboard, his eyebrows raised with a grin. “i-i got it a while ago. i haven’t used it because as i was buying it i knew it was a stupid decision anyway. i-i forgot it was even in there.”

you rub the back of your neck, now sweating from the embarrassment. chris slides himself to where you’re standing and stands in front of you, the vibrator box still in his hand.

he starts to open the box, causing your eyes to almost pop out of your head. “w-what are you doing?”

“there’s a first time for everything,” he states, now sliding the purple bullet out of its packaging.

he pulls down your shorts and underwear. you step out of them and kick them somewhere when they reach your ankles. he presses the lowest setting and moves his hand so the vibe touches your clit.

you moan lowly, licking your lips and throwing your head back from the sudden vibration. chris doesn’t put it in just yet, instead, he moves it up and down.

“chris, come on,” you whine, wanting him to do more. you grip onto his shoulders to stay stable when you feel your legs become weak.

“hold this and get on your knees,” he demands, handing you the vibrator. you stand there for a few seconds before following his command, going on your knees and keeping the object between your legs.

you’re still moaning when he takes off his sweatpants that have the outline of his hard-on.

his dick springs out in front of you, and you open your mouth without him having to tell you. he smirks at this. “so desperate.”

you whimper and start to take the vibrator off of your clit, but chris notices this and stops you. “no. leave it there while you suck my cock.”

you look up at him through your lashes and move your mouth to where it sucks on the tip. he groans, taking his hands and grabbing your hair. you start to move your head down his length, choking here and there since only so much can fit in your small mouth.

you feel his tip touch the back of your throat, and you take your unoccupied hand and start pumping the amount you can’t fit.

he grunts and moans, looking down at how beautiful you look sucking him off.

your hand that’s on the vibrator tends to move faster than your brain so without a second thought, you turn it up to the max setting. you’re wet enough at this point and slide it in.

you moan around his dick. you try to focus on the two things you’re doing at once, but you can’t. you lift your lips off of his dick and start humping the vibrator to get closer to your high.

chris grabs onto your jaw and forces you to look at him. “what’s wrong, hm? can you only take so much?”

“please.” you moan. “i want to cum.”

“so do i.” he doesn’t give you a chance to reply when he shoves himself back into your moaning mouth. the vibrations from your sounds make his dick twitch.

the unholy sounds of his cock plowing into your mouth fill the room, along with the sound of the vibrator moving in and out of your pussy. with each thrust you moan, and each time you moan, chris’s orgasm builds.

drool drips onto your chin and neck. your eyes start to flutter backward until you feel his grip on your jaw tighten.

“don’t even think about it.” he thrusts a little harder this time, causing you to gag and tears start to form. “i want you to look me in the eyes when you come.”

you try your best to not roll your eyes back when his dark eyes look dead into yours. a tear sheds from your eyelid, and he takes his thumb and wipes it away. “you’re so pretty.”

you feel your white liquid start to ooze out of you, and for some reason, you try to talk. obviously, you can’t, so instead it comes out as hums.

luckily, chris understands. “is my girl making a mess on the floor? hm?”

you whimper but nod. he halts his movements when he’s all the way deep in your throat, making sure you swallow every drop of him.

he pulls out and you cough a few times before turning the vibe off and setting it down next to you. he cups your face, rubbing your tear-stained cheeks.

he helps you to your feet. “i’ll run a bath for you and clean up. then we can cuddle and watch your favorite movie. how’s that sound?”

you smile and nod, your brain still fuzzy from what happened mere seconds ago. he kisses you, picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom connected to your bedroom.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing

[alphabetboyluvr]

landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny/Dick, Violet, Rocky Road

@dat1angel Prompt fill #4. Feel free to continue this if you want! CW: Allusions to smut

Danny could feel the vibration of Dick’s watch through their clasped hands. He pretended not to, of course. Dick and him still hadn’t had that talk. There had been many talks: favorite food, siblings, what genre of movie was best, even kinks— which had been both embarrassing, enlightening, and very enjoyable— but they hadn’t had the whole vigilante talk.

Leading into ‘hey so I’m sorta dead and used to be a vigilante and totally know you’re Nightwing because your whole family reeks of death and darkness’ talk was harder than one might think.

Or maybe exactly as hard as one might think.

Danny just… he just had expected to find an opening by now to bring it up. Mostly Danny wanted to bring it up so that Dick and his family stopped having work so hard to hide everything from him. Right now there might be someone in trouble that Dick could be helping— or needed to be helping— and Danny hated to be the thing preventing that. It rankled at his core.

Dick made an apology as his phone beeped with a text next and pulled it out. Danny could see the emotions pass over his boyfriend’s face: worry, anger, disappointment… guilt. Danny hated the guilt worst. Sure it was their date night. Dick was so good about making room for it, for Danny, every Friday. And they really hadn’t gotten to the date yet. They were still walking to the movie theater, but it wasn’t as if Danny hadn’t gotten see Dick this week. Danny could see Dick struggling to find an excuse and he hated that.

“It’s okay.”

Dick’s head jerked up from his phone. “What?”

“It’s okay. It’s got to be something big, right? I mean, they’re calling you in on a Friday.”

“I don’t—”

“Dick,” Danny stopped him. He raised their clasped hands and kissed Dick’s knuckles and pressed a button on the watch before Dick could stop him. “He’ll be on his way. Just know I expect him back in one piece later tonight. I’m not going have no fun this Friday.”

Dick just gaped at him, mouth opening and closing. Silence rang heavy on the comm line.

Then, “TMI, dude.”

“Shouldn’t have interrupted date night baby bird,” Danny said with a laugh and pressed the button again.

“Danny,” Dick started.

Danny shook his head. “You’ve got good to do, hero. We can talk after. Like I said, I expect you back tonight even if you have to come in through the window.”

“Right,” Dick said. He looked completely flabbergasted by it all.

Danny laughed, gave Dick another kiss to his fingers, and then pulled away. “Go on now, shoo.”

Dick gave a shake, clearly in effort to knock himself out of his shock. “Right, okay, later.”

Dick leaned in to steal a kiss before he turned and ran off into the night.

That was one way to start the talk, Danny supposed.

[almondamaretto]

dumb

matt sturniolo x afab!reader

summary: matt thinks you’re too smart for him, so he decides that he needs to fix that

warnings: smut 😼😼, dom!matt, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that), praise, dumbification kink???

for u nasty bitches with a dumbification kink ahem me

also im writing this 1000% stoned out of my mind so it's gonna be extra juicy trust. not proofreading ts !!! 🫶🏼😋

✄┈┈┈┈

You flutter your eyes awake as a low vibration from underneath you echoes through your head, a hand is gently caressing your head, the other being thrown around in emphasis.

Blinking the sleep away from your eyes and raising your head, your blurry vision is met with the black fabric of Matt's sweater.

You give his waist one last tight hug, before pushing yourself up and settling next to him, yawning dramatically.

Stretching your arms up, you reveal a small sliver of your skin from underneath your hoodie; immediately a wandering hand finds home around your waist, causing goosebumps crawl over your skin.

Enjoying the teasing touch of Matt's jewelry-ridden fingers, you avert your attention to the theatric and passionate discussion in front of you.

"No, I'm telling you, the moon landing is not real! Because, like-" Nick sat at the edge of the couch eagerly.

Cutting his brother of mid rant, Matt's hand gripped your waist slightly tighter; "No, cause like...why haven't they been back to the moon in all these years!?"

"That's a good point"

"That's what I'm saying!!"

You shake your head, furrowing your brows "What the fuck are you idiots talking about?"

"Y/n."

"Chris?"

"Do you believe in the moon landing?" You frowned, stuttering over your words for a moment. "You don't?"

"Y/n, just think about it! Its been, what, 50 years since Neil fuckin' Armstrong supposedly 'landed on the moon.' So why haven't we been back?"

"And don’t say its a money problem."

"Would you guys like some reasons?" You were always careful to ask before sharing your extensive knowledge---no one likes a know it all.

Watching the three of them nod, you sigh and lean back into Matt's side, crossing your legs over his, biting your lip as his hand fell onto your thigh.

"The main reason we ever went to the moon in the first place is because of the Cold War and the Space Race, 'cause America wanted to prove that they had the bigger dick and shit. That means it was super funded back then---over time NASA's funding went down."

Matt's cold rings press against the warmth of your thighs as he alternates between caressing the length of your thigh and kneading the plush skin of your upper thigh.

"But they could've saved money over time to do it!"

His hand travels further up your leg, threatening to breech the hemline of your shorts.

"They spend all their money on- ahem-on satellite stuff and tech-technology." You lift your outside leg to hopefully block the sight from Nick and Chris.

"N-not to mention they have to get the, the uh- timing just right to avoid landing on craters."

Quickly shooting your hand down to grab Matt's, you swallow roughly as his knuckle traces a circle over your clothed clit.

You see him smirk from the corner of your eye, silently cursing him.

"I don't even care that you have good points, I'm sticking with its fake."

When you don't respond, focused on hiding Matt's curious fingers, Nick and Chris alike are confused.

"You good, Y/n?"

"Girl... you look so focused that you kinda sorta look like you're ‘bout to throw up..."

"Yeah, Y/n/n. You doing okay, baby?" Matt smirks through a teasing voice.

Glaring up at him, you gather your words and place them carefully as his fingers snake under the band of your bottoms.

"Sorry, my head is just hurting from sleeping earlier. I may go to bed soon." You lie as your hand grips his tighter.

A warm hand is pressed to your forehead, followed by the clicking of a tongue.

"You feel warm, pretty. Lets get you to bed." Matt plays into the lie quickly.

Nick almost audibly gags from the other side of the sofa, gathering his stuff and stand. "Okay, after that I need to get away, I'm going to bed."

"Wait, what? You're just leaving me? Alone? Nick I'm coming with."

The pair's arguments grow faint as they climbed the staircase, Matt all but dragging you to his room, quickly closing his door and locking it.

He brought one hand to your hip and the other to the back of your neck, pulling your body flush against his. His lips fervently found yours, kissing you roughly as he walked you backwards.

The backs of your knees met the edge of his bed and you fell backwards onto the plush surface, bouncing up and down a few times as you watched him rid himself of his shirt before climbing on top of you, his lips attaching to your neck

You hum sweetly and wrap your arms around his back, one hand reaching up to rake through the hair on the nape of his neck.

His hands trace your sides diligently, squeezing the plush skin of your thighs as he caresses them, lighting every inch of skin on fire.

"So good, Matt."

He kisses his way back up to your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as it opens in a gasp from his hand snaking under the hem of your shirt and grabbing your breast.

Melting into his touch, one hand grips onto his brown locks, trailing your nails lightly down his bare back with the other.

His tattooed arm trails up your front, hand finding home loosely wrapped around the base of your neck causing you to let out a whine into the heated kiss.

A trail of saliva connects the two of you as Matt pulls away from your lips, grabbing the end of your shirt and lifting it over your head.

His pink lips immediately attach to your right nipple, low whines falling eagerly from your bruised lips.

Pulling away briefly, he brings two fingers up to your mouth, resting them on your raw-bitten lips. "Suck" he demands simply, pushing his digits into your mouth, pressing down onto your tongue.

Matt continues to trail kisses down your sternum and stomach, leaving slow, teasing kisses just above the band of your shorts.

A teasing finger dips below the band of the blue striped shorts, pulling it away from your skin and letting it snap back into place. A whimper to fell from your filled mouth, prompting matt to press down harder on your tongue.

“What did I say? Thought you were supposed to be smart, baby” He teases condescendingly, lips still trailing down your front, leaving a slow and unsatisfying kiss right where you needed him most.

Your cheeks pull in as you suck on his fingers, humming out a whine as you mentally urge him to stop teasing.

As if he can read your thoughts, he pulls his now slick fingers from your mouth, using both his hands to smoothly slide your shorts and panties down, tossing them across the room.

He sits up, taking a moment to admire his girl, hooded eyes raking up and down your body with desire. "So perfect... my perfect girl."

You relish in his praise, avoiding his eyes in embarrassment as you try to cover yourself.

His large hands quickly find yours, pushing them down to your sides as he flattens himself against his bed, head hovering over your sopping wet folds.

Your hands fought against his hold as he nips at your inner thighs, soothing his marks with his tongue.

"Matt, please" A breathless moan escapes from your pleading mouth, causing him to stare up into your eyes, a smirk on his lips.

"What do you want, mama? Say it." He demanded, sucking a harsh mark just a few inches from your needy core.

"Fuck, Matt. I need you, need your tongue, please baby." Your right hand broke from his hold, immediately gripping onto his soft brown locks. "Good girl" You tug and exhale an audible gasp as he finally flattens his tongue against you, causing him to hum out a moan.

Matt traces shapes his name on your sensitive bud, occasionally wrapping his lips around you and sucking harshly, chuckling as your hips buck against his face in pleasure. He could die a happy man delving in your slick folds.

One arm pins you down by your hips, the other starting to circle your dripping hole in tantalizing strokes.

His actions quickly turned you into a moaning, whimpering mess, your babbling only spurring him on.

The once teasing circles turned into a quick thrust as he stretched you out, fingertips curling up into you, hitting that spot inside of you.

"Oh, fuck! Matt, fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Feel good baby? Huh? Use your words." He said, pulling away for a brief moment before continuing.

The all-too familiar knot formed in the pit of your stomach; "So cl-"

As you began to speak, his movements became rougher and faster, forcing a near pornographic moan from your beat-up lips.

"Hm? What was that, ma?"

Both of your hands bury themselves in his thick hair, tugging as he fingered you roughly.

"God, m'so--fuck, Matt. I'm, m'so-so close!" You struggle to get out, hips pushing against his flexing arm as he pulls you to the edge, finally pushing you over with one last flick of his tongue.

Lower half shaking, you try to catch your breath, quickly finding the task difficult as he relentlessly continued to fuck you with his fingers. Your thighs close around him, but he still continued, prying them open with his other arm.

"Too much! Too much." You think your whine falls on deaf ears but he slowly pulls away, leaving one last quick kiss on your sensitive clit.

Matt traces gentle circles on your thigh as you come down from your high, only stopping to remove his sweatpants and boxers, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking himself slowly.

Your eyes drift to the sight and, biting your lip with droopy eyes, you slowly rise out of the bed, using his knee as support as you kneel in front of him.

His hand came down to gently hold your face, thumb caressing your cheek before pulling your bottom lip down, letting it bounce back into place as he pulled away. He gripped his length in his other hand, guiding it down to your pink lips, tracing them as he bit his own.

Opening your lips, you allow him to slowly enter your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip and doing circles along the bottom.

Your head bobs up and down as his fingers thread into your hair, a low moan escaping from your throat.

After a few moments, his grip tightens as he forcefully moves your head up and down on him as he pleases, a whiny groan falling from his pretty lips

"Don't have much to say now, do you mama? All choked up on my cock. Y'look so pretty takin' me down your throat."

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, swallowing roughly around him as you try not to gag—he only grunts louder.

He presses your nose to his trimmed thatch of hair for a few seconds, roughly tugging on your hair to pull you completely off him, gasping breaths escaping from your abused mouth.

Staring down at you in admiration, he smiles at your heaving chest and water eyes staring back up at him “So perfect, doll.”

He pulls you back up, immediately pushing you back on his bed and attacking you with hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing from your stomach to your lips. He rubbed his throbbing length against your slick folds, not missing the way you gasped against his lips.

Without warning, his hips push forward, splitting you open and eliciting a loud moan from your lips.

Your walls immediately clench around him, hearing a strained grunt fall from his throat

“Fuck, mama. Won’t last if you keep that up.”

You don’t respond, words dying off in your throat as his hips meet yours with a quiet noise.

His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer to him as his thrusts increase in speed and intensity.

Your words tumble out of your mouth like alphabet soup, stuttering and gasping and hiccuping instead of stringing together sentences.

“Not so smart now, hm? Can’t even form your words, poor dumb baby.” He mutters sinful nothings into your ear, pushing your thighs into your chest as his tip brushes against that spot.

A long whine escaped from you at the feeling, manicured nails digging into the skin of his back and tangling themselves in his chocolate locks, tugging.

The pain only encourages him to continue, busying himself with creating marks all along your chest and neck. He could listen to you desperate whines and moans all day, your delicious whimpers never failed to make his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A knot began to form in your stomach, and the world seemed to slow.

As you begin to tighten around him he slams his hips into yours at what seems like an impossible pace, tip kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“You gonna cum pretty girl? Tell me. Tell me what you need” He brings his thumb down to toy with your sensitive clit, watching with a smirk as you struggle with your words.

“G-gonna, mm-fuck! Gonna cum, Matt! P-please let me cum!” You cry out head falling against his plush, silk-covered pillow case as you urged yourself to hold it in.

His thrusts become uncoordinated, showing he was nearing his climax.

“Did-fuck, did so well. Cum for me, mama, let it all out” He serenades you with his strained voice, grunts threatening to become whimpers.

The knot inside you snapped, causing you to yell out in a moan that definitely upset both Nick and Chris and the neighbors.

You saw white as you release all over his cock, legs trembling with your orgasm against Matt’s hold.

He fucks you through your release, afterwards thrusting once, twice, three times, before pulling out and shooting white, hot lines across your abdomen, hushed moans falling from his pink lips.

You feel a few kisses being placed on the sides of your face and forehead, along with Matt’s heaving chest pressing against yours.

“You did so good, baby. Did I go too hard?” He asks concerned, brushing stray hairs out of your face and tracing your jawline carefully.

Shaking your head, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down onto you “no, made me feel so good.” He smiles at the tired, fucked out voice you sported.

As much as he wished to stay in that position forever, he lifted himself off of you, despite your protests.

“Just gotta get you cleaned up, mama. Then we can lay here ‘till the sun burns out.” He said while picking up a random shirt and wiping you and himself off.

After taking care of you and making sure you both were comfortable and clean, he crawled under his warm comforter with you and attached himself to you, nuzzling his head into your neck.

Scrolling on his phone, he clicked on his unread messages.

Chris

Y’all are nasty

12:57 am

Nick

Go to a hotel next time cause what the fuck.

1:12 am

[ervotica]

i’m on the run with you (my sweet love)

pairing; rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings; sorta dark? but not really bc this is just rafe in character lol, established relationship, rafe is insane but also cute (i <3 deranged men), rafe is violent towards r and he cries a lot, 1k words

summary; you've reached the end of your tether with rafe's bad behaviour. just how far will he go when you try to leave?

He's so loud. It rings in your ears even as you walk away from him, trying to put distance between yourself and his growling; he's almost animalistic as he stumbles against the concrete sidewalk and grapples for purchase against your bare arm, a desperate attempt to get you to stay. Rafe has never been one to ask nicely for things. His rings leave a cold bite on your forearm and you sob, snatching out of his grasp even as he wails and cries.

"Rafe, stop," you're begging, pleading with him not to make a scene. He's flushed pink right down to his toes as he shakes, hands reaching out for you in a way that almost makes you reconsider leaving.

"You can't leave me," he says. Plain and simple, as though it's a fact. He's incredulous that the thought would even cross your mind in the first place- let alone that you're brave enough to try. "You can't."

"Rafe, this is unstable. I can't live like this anymore." Tears clog in your waterline and you sniffle and gasp, the back of your hand coming up to press against your open mouth. "I don't wanna do this. You've left me no other choice."

"No-no other choice?" he laughs through tears and grit teeth, an odd sound that gets lodged in his throat and then pushed out with a sob. "No other choice?"

He's alight with fury, pacing back and forth, gnawing on his fingernails as his hands flex, desperate to grab hold of you.

"Stop, you're scaring me," you murmur; stepping backwards away from him, a rock wedges in the sole of your sneaker and you lose balance. Just as you're about to hit the hard ground, Rafe surges forward, a thick arm wrapping around your waist and pressing you to his chest. The heat is emanating off of him in waves, coursing over you as his iron grip tightens.

"I'm scaring you, huh?" You're trembling as he whispers in that snarling way that he does- the tone that's usually directed at others, but never you. You don't like being on the receiving end of his wrath. "There'd be nothin' to be scared of if you just did as you were told, baby. Why do you insist on making everything so fuckin' difficult for me?"

You start to really cry then; in the middle of the street, sputtering in fits and starts, sagging in Rafe's hold when he shushes you and presses his palm to the top of your head to draw you into him.

"Shh, shh, I know," he mumbles, a thick bicep drawing tight as he wraps himself around your neck, quiet words vibrating against your skin.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" you wheeze against his shoulder, the cotton of his jersey soft as you rub your face on it in an effort to hide. "Why does it have to be like this?"

"It doesn't. It doesn't, okay? Let's go home and we can talk about this."

His arms shift your weight until he's lifting you, hooking your legs up and over him and carrying you to the car parked a little way away. In one last futile attempt to free yourself, you kick out, squirming.

Not that it makes much difference; he has the passenger door opened despite your resistance and then he's trying to force you in.

"No! I don't want to. Rafe, stop it."

"Baby, get in the car."

There's an edge to his voice and you know if you push him much further he's going to snap. He's like a coiled spring, and he'll lash out at whoever's closest.

"No, please," you sniffle. "I don't wanna go."

"Get in the damn car!" he screams, and you cry out as he throws you through the gap; your head hits the top of the door with a thump and you moan, curling in on yourself on the leather seat.

He slams the door and stomps around the front, brow knit, lips pursed as he climbs into the driver's seat.

He takes a breath. The mist starts to clear from his eyes. You're still doubled over, fingers splayed over the forming bruise on your forehead.

"Angel," he murmurs, reaching for you. "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You swat his hand away and wince at the throbbing in your temple. His breath quickens and you can feel how he convulses; from experience, he's around 3 minutes from a total meltdown.

"Rafe, calm down," you say, blindly reaching for him to placate his temper, if nothing else. "It's okay, I'm fine."

He coughs and snivels, clenched fists pressed to his eyes to conceal the tears. He's frozen with them, silent as he sobs and brings his head up to slam it against the steering wheel. You swivel in your seat, hands pressing to the sides of his neck in an attempt to keep him still.

"No, baby, no," you sniff. "Come here. I'm sorry."

He starts to turn towards you, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed as he hiccups. And then he's climbing right over the armrest and into your lap. It's comical, really; this huge, hulking boy crawling into your arms like a puppy.

He curls around you, laying between your thighs, his legs bent awkwardly in the footwell as he presses his face to the hollow of your throat.

"I'm sorry," he cries. "I just love you so much, I don't want you to go." His voice cracks and he wraps his arms around your middle, slipping cold fingers beneath your t-shirt to feel your bare skin.

"I'm not going," you murmur. Your lip quivers as you stave off tears. "But we need to get this under control, Rafe. I need you to try to get better."

"I will. I will, I promise. I'll be better for you."

You tilt his chin up and his watering eyes meet yours. You slot your lips between his and sigh when his whole body softens against you.

"I love you," you tell him. "We'll get this under control, okay?"

You suppose only time will tell.

[heliotropehotch]

Upcoming Hotch Smut Sneakpeek 18+ only

*I am posting this to will myself to finish it*

themes: kinda sorta enemies to lovers? (she thinks hotch hates her, one bed trope, sleepy groping/spooning, smut smut smut smut

“Is this what you wanted?” She could feel the vibrations of his words against her spine as he pressed his nose into the skin just below her ear. She inhaled sharply at each sensation he willed upon her body - his fingers tweaked her nipple and rolled the pebbled skin as he continued to squeeze. “Is this what you were dreaming about earlier?”

“Hotch-” She gasped and her free hand flew up behind her to cup the back of his head, unable to hide the shock from his words, unable to stop her hips from pressing into his. 

“I thought you were having a nightmare, ya know. I almost woke you up when you started shuddering, but then you whimpered-” his fingertips pinched her peak, eliciting a sound from her parted lips. “Just like that. It’s a miracle I fell asleep.” 

“Aaron,” she panted out, angling her top half to try and meet his eyes. “If you don’t want to, tell me now but-”

“If I don’t want to?” He asks with an incredulous tone as he lowers his lips to her crux of her neck and shoulder, suckling slightly at her warm skin. His hand breaks free from hers just to create a path of warmth, fingers slipping under the soft fabric of her sleep shorts and over the damp lips of her cunt. He moved his mouth closer and brushed his parted lips against hers. “Sweetheart, this is the only thing I want.”

*****BARK BARK BARK I NEED TO FINISH THIS****

Please give me feedback! I need encouragement to post again!

[anananass]

NSFW Wriothesley x F!Reader ~ ”Don’t be shy”

warning: nsfw

Tags: creampie, begging, praising, rough sorta? Just him being so hot and good istfg!! And probably some other things. He is sweet jesus

summary: the Duke notices you want him to fuck you with a little more spice (it’s 3 am and I do not know what Im doing)

wc: 1,2k

“Don’t be shy, tell me what you want princess.” The Duke’s hoarse toned words sent shivers down your spine. The sole fact he had been deepening himself inside your soaked folds for the past 20 minutes didn’t help but cause more trouble to you, so much that you slipped a rushed pant as you thought more and more of what you wanted.

Truth be told, you weren’t subtle at all with your desire to feel his hands roam around your stomach until finally gripping you to stay in place. You wanted him to handle you that way so badly but with the way he was ramming inside you, it was so much harder to voice your boiling yearning.

Still, attentive as he usually is, and perhaps a little too infatuated with the sight of you taking him so well, he was quick to notice your body language was gradually changing. Your motions, your squirming beneath him and the way you eyed his rough hands every time they’d move mere inches close to your stomach, it was all there. At first, he took it as nothing more than admiration, a gesture you always do every time he is on top and taking good care of you, however, this time felt different.

Maybe it was the prolonged eye contact you kept and the lustful whiff you gave off, but it didn’t matter anymore. He got the idea as soon as he lingered a pressured digit against the sensitive skin above his favorite area. No matter the case, if that was what you wanted, he would gladly provide, definitely not because he too found that idea as intriguing as you.

To encourage you, he began running his fingers down your chest, further lowering them to your stomach. He even gave you a playful wink followed by another thrust of his member.

Despite that, you still found difficulty in telling him and instead whimpered, hopeful he’d proceed with your wish but this was Wriothesley we are talking about. As much as it made him happy to spoil you, he wanted to hear that sweet beg come out of your pretty, fleshy lips.

The Duke’s lips’ corners curled into a mischievous smile, and upon pressing a forceful yet slow thrust inside you, he leaned closer to you. “Come on, tell me what you want.” He urged you nonchalantly whilst steadily rubbing himself against you despite his deeply buried member. “I want to hear you ask for it.” A faint groan slipped his honey-layered mouth and with it, prolonged eye contact followed.

He was making things so much difficult but at the same time, the lack of friction was making you go crazy, so much that you searched for it yourself. An obvious failure since he was doing nothing but chuckling in your face.

“I want you to grip my waist.” You finally uttered the words now that there was nothing to make you whine like a needy little mess. Your voice was barely above a whisper, and dear god the effect that had on him.

Hearing you ask for that in such a normal yet suave manner had his length pulse within your warm insides. It pushed you to gasp loudly given the slight vibration hit a good spot.

Wriothesley’s eyes widened with pure satisfaction, the tint of lust and adoration growing larger and larger in them. You couldn’t comprehend just how much that was driving him wild, but to your surprise, a simple request wouldn’t be enough. You couldn't just request he does something without stating what should be the consequence of that action.

“And do what?” His grace poked at you more and to add more tension, he rubbed himself against you one more time. It was unbelievable.

“Go wild.” You cried out, shuddering from all the euphoria he was denying you. You were so desperate that you grabbed his arms and dug your nails into his biceps, running your nails down to his forearms until there were red lines all over him.

That was all he needed from you. Oh, what a good girl you were, too good for him. With that, the Duke let out a groaned chuckle after which he lifted his body. You watched him gently placing his hands around your waist, and without any notice, felt his grip tightening around your sides.

“Good Girl.” is the praise that left his mouth before he started pumping in and out again, but with his hands effortlessly holding your body in place so you don’t move from all the force propelling you farther from him.

It was crazy, you could feel him hit it much differently than usual. It was as if his tip was hitting an inner wall that you had no idea about. A sensation so addictive that you began moaning louder and louder with each fierce thrust shoved inside your dripping cunt. But you weren't the only one enjoying this wild ride. The motions were equally addictive to him too, so much so that whenever he felt himself slap a little too hard against your slick folds, he wanted to go even harder.

He was so lost in the momentum that he didn’t know where to pay attention, your lower taking his throbbing length deeper than normal, your breasts jiggling upward and downward thanks to the pressure he was putting in, or you rolling back your eyes as you grabbed the mattress underneath you. So many sights for him to feed himself with, it was unfair. Oh, if he could see all of them simultaneously, he would be the luckiest guy in Fontaine, if not the entire world. But he had to decide on one.

Yet, once you arched your back and wailed in hunger for more, he let out a guttural groan run between his clenched fangs. From that moment on, his icy gaze stood fixed on you, on the emotions that were running through you.

His breath was shaky as his movements turned quicker and sloppier. His heart beat wildly as his arousal reached new heights. His member pounded harder the more your walls squeezed him. His grip tightened until his nails were dug deep inside your flesh, and upon feeling him clutch you way too intensely, you shouted in both pain and bliss. He couldn’t carry this any longer, and neither could you take it in anymore.

The Duke growled as he felt his fast-approaching climax reach its peak, and coincidentally enough, before he came undone, you convulsed underneath him.

Trembling in pure bliss, you bobbed your head back and called out for him whilst desperately grasping his hands in the final moments of your arrival. He wanted to keep fucking you during your orgasm but the sweet noises were too much for him to handle, thus causing him to fill you with his warm fluids.

“Fuck.” the moan slipped his lips as he too bobbed his head back right after feeling his seed flow deep inside. Soon enough, he looked back at you, flashing his favorite parts one final look before he could rest by your side.

Upon hearing him curse through his teeth, you chuckled to yourself and slumped to the bed, unable to move an inch or say anything more. Not that you needed to. After all, you did so well.

A soft smile grew on Wrio’s face as he noticed how you were slowly drifting away into a sleep.

[mxdnightlvers]

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𓆩♡𓆪

➸ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Pervy/nsfw things Genshin men do as your roommate

➸𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Alhaitham, Diluc, Childe

➸ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: The men are basically like perverts, Voyeurism, stealing panties, reader fucking oblivious asf, but sorta doesn't mind it happening, this entire thing is filth especially Childe's part

➸ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬/𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: Afab reader + Gender Neutral Pronouns

➸ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: And they were roommates. Anyways I’m so embarrassed about this but 😻I couldn’t help myself also I wrote this when I was literally falling asleep on myself

𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ❦

You’re so oblivious to his actions. The way he watches you, or how he stands a little too close to you, and the way he slowly finds out everything about you. It’s simply him being a good friend right? After all, as deceiving as he can be, he wouldn’t mind showing you a more honest side of him. However, that doesn’t mean he’ll be completely transparent, not about his feelings for you and definitely the things he does when you’re not looking. How can he know everything about you without looking through your things? Going so far as to simply ask you to borrow something and you just let him enter your room without a second thought in the world. Oh but he didn’t need to borrow anything, how could he possibly resist snooping when you brought home a shopping bag full of treats that morning that you laid out so nicely on your bed for him? Filled with clothes that he simply can’t wait to see you in. A new lace set? For who do you plan on wearing such a beautiful set? He can't help but imagine how pretty you'd look in it when you're sat on his cock as he fucks you silly. He folds them back nicely in the bag- that you don't even suspect a thing! Leaving your room before he grabs the item he supposedly needed to ‘borrow’. Or when he’s helping you in your room, whether it be work or studies, he’ll make a mental note of where things are. That vibrator you keep under your pillow? What would you do if he somehow misplaced his pen under your pillow? Oh, but what’s this? It’s not there anymore. His eyes flutter to the lower drawer next to your bedside where you hide all your toys, where you must’ve placed the vibrator. How cute of you to move it from the bed. Were you afraid he’d see and get embarrassed? Little did you know that he’s seen a lot more than that. <3

𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 ❦

He just can’t keep his eyes off you! Watching your hands hold your drink and bring it to your lips, or the way you curl up in a blanket on the couch and watch a movie. Observing the way you prop your head up on your hand when he’s talking to you as you listen intently. Oh how his eyes fall to the way that dress fits you so well. You think nothing of it as his eyes always seem to avert their attention, maybe he’s just a bit awkward in conversations? You never suspected that it was intentional. The way his eyes flicker to your boobs, or to your thighs when you cross your legs, it was simply an accident, right? It could be an accident but not when he has you lean a little further on the table so he can show you something on his phone, book- whatever it may be. He’d make you follow along with his fingers, making you oblivious to the way he watches your dress fall slightly forward, noticing the lace of your bra that was peaking out. He’s a bit embarrassed at himself for doing such actions but he simply can’t help himself when he’s so enamored by everything about you. So, he’ll find himself placing things where you normally won’t be able to reach, all so you can call him and he can see you on your tip toes trying your best to reach the item. Biting his tongue trying not to tease you about that pouty look you have, calmly reaching for your desired item and placing it gently in your hands. But oh no! You somehow bumped into him and dropped it! Giving him a pretty view of your ass when you bend over, just making him wish he was pounding his cock into you from behind. He’d never show any hints though, he’s so caring and kind towards you how can he ever reveal his thoughts to you? You’re so sweet and deserve the entire world he couldn’t possibly admit such desires, but he simply can’t help but sneak a few looks at the way the dress hugs your body so tightly. <3

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞❦

Laundry is probably one of his favorite chores. Thinking of all the pretty things he’d find. Your underwear laid out so unprotected for him, all because you trust him. He simply insisted on helping you with chores so you thought nothing of it when he chose to do the laundry. So now you have all your clothes just there for the taking. Oh whatever would you if he stole a few panties to jerk off with? You wouldn’t mind, right? After all, he’d much rather have his cum inside you but he has to settle for your panties so surely you can’t blame him. He’s so sure you’d probably like it as he sorts through your laundry. Your clothes that week have been so revealing that he curses himself for missing some of your outfits. He picks out two panties he really likes and stuffs them into his pocket. Immediately going to his room to pull out his already hardened cock. The thought of cumming and staining your underwear without you knowing just gets him going! The soft cotton is draped over his cock as he jerks himself off, the other on his face as thoughts of you flood his mind. He’d be spilling his cum inside your panties once more. When he sees how much of a mess he’s made, he contemplates just returning it back to you soaked but, with what little decency he has left, he throws it in with the second batch of laundry. That doesn’t mean he won’t keep a few though. It’s not like every day is laundry day, he needs to get himself off during the week! Whether he keeps the already cum soaked panties or gets new ones, he always has at least one stashed away. You don’t suspect a thing, you simply think it got misplaced. After all who doesn’t misplace their clothes? However, the way you leave your things so vulnerable, Childe honestly thinks you’re inviting him in. Leaving your door unlocked or coming home late and masturbating with your door slightly open. Seriously are you asking him to ‘accidentally’ walk in on you? Like that one time when he was asleep and you came home late, calling for him loudly. When you didn’t get a quick enough response you just assumed he was asleep and he was- if it wasn’t for you calling for him. Were you so needy that night to go straight to your room and the moment you reached your bed your hands were between your legs? Silly you, you also left the door slightly open so now the once asleep Childe can stumble upon you grinding needily into your hands. Cock growing hard as he watched you discard your clothes, making a mental note on which underwear he was going to steal next. <3

[hiddenhargrove]

Stretches

Billy seeing you in your cheerleading uniform makes him just want to drag you into the locker rooms and eat you alive

Warnings!! BasketballStar!Billy , FemCheerleader!Reader , pussy eating , pussy drunk Billy , kinda sorta sub Billy , Billy Praising you , sweet Billy , Gentle Billy

You could feel Billy’s pervy eyes on you as you stretched. The way he could bend you in all sorts of different positions…his cock got nice and hard just from his vivid imagination. And you could see it in those small basketball shorts of his as you glanced over at the other. Billy walked over once his other teammates left, and so did your other cheerleader friends. “Hi sweetheart”

You smiled slightly up at him “Hi Billy” you said while in a split. Billy was strong enough to hold you in any position possible with your flexible body…you aren’t opposed to it either. Both just horny teenagers, thirsting over eachother secretly. Well it was a secret until Billy spoke again “you know…I could help you stretch…in private, I’m a great tutor” Billy said and tilted his head slightly, his pretty blonde curls moving with his head. “I don’t think your a cheerleading coach Billy” you said with a soft chuckle.

“No? But I could be…I know all the good stretches” He said with that shit-eating smirk of his…he always did it when he was flirting…and god was he good at it. You stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the locker rooms, sitting on one of the benches as Billy got on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you with those pretty eyes, so round and gentle. He moved in between your plush thighs, holding onto them softly with his large hands, leaning in and pressing kisses on the inner portions of them. You could feel your core tingling.

Billy made you extremely horny, boaring the more unholy thoughts from your brain just with a glance. And now he was in between your legs in a locker room after cheer and basketball practice. Billy had always thought you were cute, he liked a girl who wasn’t overly confident…cute, sweet, smart, seemed innocent but knew you had some of the most unholy thoughts that would make even Billy blush even just thinking about it.

Billy slowly slipped your panties from you, the white cotton now a slight grey color from getting wet with your slick, he let them hang off of one ankle as he pushed your knees up to your chest, you spread your legs so your flexible legs sat on either side of you, just so you could see Billy’s pretty face in between your thighs. “Such a pretty little pussy you have” he said possessively as he leaned in and slowly let his tongue lap over your aching clit. You let out a drawn out moan, wanting to reach down and bury your fingers in his blonde curls.

“God I want to bend you in all sorts of positions” Billy yapped as he leaned back in and swirled his tongue expertly on your clit, bringing out the moans from the deepest parts of your hot chest. It only took minutes of Billy’s sweet tongue to push you closer and closer to your orgasm. You were a moaning mess, gripping onto his blonde hair and pushing his pretty face into your pussy. Billy moaned and his eyebrows furrowed as he ate you out, his big round eyes looking up at you like he had just met the love of his life.

“B-Billy I’m gonna c-cum” you managed to say throughout your moans, Billy hummed in response, it vibrating your sensitive clit. You moaned out loudly as your orgasm took over your body. Your pretty little body trembled all over, fireworks exploded in your abdomen, grip on Billy’s hair tightened and pushed him deeper in between your legs. You finally relaxed after your orgasm ended. Billy pulled away slowly, licking his lips and wiping his chin off before he helped you up. He was on his knees in front of your standing body, gently pulling your white cotton panties back up your legs “let me show you a good time, let me show you some more stretches…my place, 8 pm?” He asked as he leaned in and pressed soft kisses on your thighs. You smiled and nodded “yeah…8pm, your place” you agreed and ran your fingers through his hair again…

[hemmingshouse]

espresso / colby brock

summary: when you find out colby has been obsessed with you for a while, you decide to take matters into your own hands. until colby finds it enough and takes charge.

warnings: mentions of sex, making out, ass grabbing, grinding, dominant!reader (sorta)

“thinking bout me, every night oh

is it that sweet? i guess so

say you can’t sleep, baby i know

that’s that me espresso”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it had been a few hours since he saw you last. you hung around his apartment with your shared group of friends, playing a few drinking games whilst filming for different youtube channels. he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head now that the day finally downed on him when he was in bed.

at first he thought it was the liquor running through his bloodstream, or the adrenaline from comtinuously winning games of beer pong with you by his side. to colby, you were the most georgous woman on this planet. the way your hair cascaded down your back, eyes glimmering with happiness and joy as you look back at him.

you looked effortlessly beautiful in one of his old xplr hoodies, the sleeves too long for your arms and the hem ending a few inches below your ass. he hated to admit that he peeked a few times to see if you wore some shorts underneath - fully knowing that that was your usual attire whilst lounging around the house.

and yet, he couldn’t help it. with a hand running through his hair and a sigh falling from his lip, colby finally admitted to himself that he might be a bit obsessed with his best friend. you clouded his mind twenty four seven these past few weeks and he had pushed the tingling sensation he felt when he looked at you to the side. that was until now, where he was feeling vulnerable because of the alcohol he consumed and the way he wanted to see you. now.

he reached for his phone and unlocked the device, checking his messages in the hopes to find you there. he knew you’d probably be asleep by now, in tara’s apartment a few doors down, but he couldn’t help text you either way.

colby: are you awake 

his thumb hovered over the send button, not quite knowing if it was a good time to text you. he usually didn’t wanna come across as needy or desperate, but he couldn’t quite care at this point. the vibration of his phone startled him slightly.

you: everything okay?

he smiled at your concern, turning onto his back so it was easier to text you.

colby: yeah no worries

colby: just can’t sleep tbh

it took a while for you to answer, but when colby heard a faint and nearly non existent knock on his door, he knew why. he didn’t check the peephole before slowly opening his front door, a chuckle falling from his mouth as he took in your appearance. you were wearing cherry pyjama bottoms and a matching fitted t-shirt, hoodie draped across your arm and fuzzy slippers on your feet.

“hi,” you chuckled, stepping inside after colby opened up the door so you could walk in. “any particular reason you can’t sleep?”

he noticed how you walked yourself towards the staircase of his apartment and his heart skipped a beat. he quickly caught up with you as you walked towards his bedroom. “not really,” he mumbled as he crawled back into bed, watching you drape your hoodie across the chair in the corner of the room before kicking off your slippers and sliding into bed as well. after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he spoke up. “how come you never stay at mine anymore?”

you laughed softly, pulling the duvet up a bit more to keep yourself from getting too chilly. “colbs, you were in love with a new woman every single week. i didn’t wanted to be a cockblocker by staying here and sleeping on the couch - or your bed even.”

“okay, i was going overboard a while back,” he admitted as he looked at you, the dimmed light on his night stand illuminating your face, “i’m sorry if i was a shitty friend.”

you laughed, shaking your head, “are you saying sorry for fulfilling your sexual needs? are you sick or something?”

“fuck off, asshole,” colby groaned, softly pinching your cheek. “i’m sorry for the way i neglected our friendship back then. i loved to have you around and today made that even more clear for me.”

a smile formed on your lips, hand reaching out for his to give it a gentle kiss, “you have been forgiven,” you chuckled, “so, no particular reason you’re pouring out your heart at four in the morning?”

colby knew that you’d eventually end up asking him about why he texted you so late, but he never expected to feel like this. you hadn’t been in his bed for a few months and the way your like cotton smelling hair was clouding his vision because you were so close made it hard for him to think straight.

“uh,” he sighed softly, trying to think of a way to make it seem like he wasn’t quite literally obsessed with you. “god,” he laughed breathily, “this is gonna be so weird for you to hear.”

“colbs,” you chuckled, raising your eyebrows, “we’ve been friends for a good few years now, nothing has ever been weird between us.”

“i know, i know,” colby nodded his head as he rubbed his eyes, trying to spare himself some time before he threw out the truth. “i just hate us being friends.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at his statement, confusion clear on your face. colby’s eyes widened when he realised how wrongly that came out, a loud laugh filling the room as you saw the regret he felt. “oh my god,” you chuckled, “for a small second i thought you were being for real and were gonna cut me the fuck out of your life.”

“no! no, not at all,” he smiled softly, “total opposite actually. i uh- i’m- i’m actually seeing you as more than just a friend.”

his voice was low and quiet, filled with fatigue as the clock was nearing four thirty. eyes trained on you, hoping you wouldn’t burst out laughing at his heartfelt confession.

your heart stopped beating for a second when he spoke his truth, your head feeling fuzzy. of course you knew that you both fooled around flirtatiously, always clingy when it came to hugging and cuddling but you never really guessed colby had actual feelings for you - mainly because he was always surrounding himself with other women.

it wasn’t a secret colby was extremely handsome in your eyes. some of your mutual friends would often catch you lurking at him or smiling at him when he talked, a loud laugh coming from you when he made an inappropriate joke. you hadn’t really thought about it before, mainly because you always pressured yourself into pushing those feelings away, but now that it was just the two of you after a long time - you had to admit you felt it too.

“just to make sure,” you spoke up, “this is real? no joke? no prank between you and anyone?”

colby shook his head quietly, reaching one of his hands beneath the covers to search for your hand. he found it quickly, tangling your fingers together before giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “all me, i promise.”

“have you been with all these chicks to make me jealous?” you teased, scooting over a bit closer. the way his nose scrunched up as he tried to keep himself from laughing and giving into you told you enough. “colby!”

“i’m sorry!” he laughed, shooting his hands up in defeat before rolling on his back and turning his head to the side to keep looking at you, “i never thought you’d feel the same so i just- i didn’t know how to handle seeing you with someone that wasn’t me so i tried to get rid off the feelings all together.”

“and here you are,” you jokingly stated, “still severely obsessed with me.”

he rolled his eyes playfully before wetting his lips, this conversation letting his mouth run dry. “so what if i am?”

you didn’t answer him, just spending and counting the seconds until colby turned his head to look at you. his arms were folded behind his head and he had an unreadable look glimmering in his eyes. the comfortable silence caused you to chuckle as you shook your head, letting out a content sigh as you scooted your body closer to colby’s, wrapping an arm around his waist as your head rested on his chest.

the way your body heat radiated onto him caused his mind to go fuzzy. your acrylic nails softly dragged themselves up and down his side, breath hitching in his throat as your lips peppered feathery kisses onto colby’s chest.

“what are you doing?” colby mumbled softly as one of his arms dropped back to his side, pressing into the small of your back.

the tip of your nose dragged along his neck as his body was responding to your actions, fingertips brushing their way upwards to rest underneath your t-shirt. “shh,” you shushed him, “just tryna prove there’s even more to obsess over.”

“oh my- fuck,” colby breathed through his nose as he noticed how you slowly sat up onto your knees, a mischievous hint in your eyes. “is this a fever dream?”

you let out a laugh at colby’s joke, shaking your head as you leaned forward, brushing some unruly hair out of his face before brushing your nose with his. “does it still feel surreal?”

your breathy voice caused his stomach to knot together, hands making their way towards your waist to keep you steady. what he didn’t expect was you pushing the duvet out of the way so it was easier to straddle his lap and casually lean in to graze your lips against his.

colby wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. he had thought about having you more than once and in multiple ways, but he never thought you would be the one to initiate an intimate moment like you had right now.

“it really fucking does,” he mumbled, hands making their way to grab your ass and give it a squeeze, “oh my god.”

knowing that colby openly admitted to being dominant in bed often let your mind wander to your head being clouded with freaky thoughts because all of your friends were fully aware of the fact you weren’t a shy type when it came to taking the lead in the bedroom.

colby’s fingers trailed up your sides again as he slowly sat himself up, trying to keep you steady as your lips finally found each other in a desperate kiss. your small hands cupped his face as you deepened the kiss, a small whimper falling from your lips as his thumbs hooked themselves around the waistband of your cherry pyjama pants.

hands trailed down from his jaw to his neck, pressing your body closer to his as you carefully rolled your hips against his. he was quick to push you down, hands firmly spread across your ass. “is that what you want? hm? did you come here to fuck me?”

his words caused your heart to race as his fingers now toyed with the hem of your shirt, rolling it between his thumb and pointer. you pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes, “if you don’t take control, someone else has to.”

you knew you’d take the risk of colby getting bratty and feeling excruciatingly dominant with comments like these, but you found it fun to see how far you could take it before he lost his mind. you were quickly aware of how colby switched from wanting to be dominated to being the actual dominant one and you made a mental note that he had to love both.

within a few seconds you found yourself underneath him instead of on top, colby keeping himself steady as his arms kept him up. his voice was low and husky as he spoke, a chill running down your spine.

“do you wanna say that again or are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck that attitude out of you?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

let me know if yall want a part two! ;) mwah x

[drizztdohurtin]

BG3 Tiefling Purring Headcanons

okay guys i'm so fucking serious right now I was working on my general tiefling headcanons post and I got to the purring part and I was like.... I literally have to make this its own post because I have SO MUCH to say

if anyone gets particularly inspired by any of my headcanons and decides to write something involving it, PLEASE send it to me so I can read it, or tag me in the comments or something <333333

NSFW under the cut -- MDNI

SFW

purring is a reflection of emotions the majority of the time, but it can be done both voluntarily and involuntarily

i think of it like a deep rumbling at the bottom of the throat where you feel your two collarbone bumps, and you can physically feel the rumbling if you were to put a hand on their chest or neck

some have louder 'default' purrs than others, but if they focus on it then they can manipulate the volume

my overarching concept for their purring has to do with the idea that it's mainly used for comfort

my absolute favorite purring hc that I've thought of is that it's used to soothe their babies!

if a parent tiefling is holding their distressed, crying baby, they will automatically purr to comfort them

I also think that they will use it to comfort other people that they're very close to when they're really upset

going back to the baby thing, I believe this kind of purr will almost always be an instinct...

okay bear with me for a second.... you know how people who breastfeed (STAY WITH ME) their bodies automatically know what nutrients to put more or less of in the milk based on their baby's needs? it's like that.

no matter the sex of the parent, their body automatically knows how it should purr to best comfort their baby (think of pitch, volume, and the resonance of the vibrations)

but I think this instinct goes away after their child is around the age of 7 or 8 -- and it doesn't apply to what I said earlier about purring to comfort people they're close to

NEXT: they purr to comfort themselves <3333

It sorta depends on the person, some might be quicker to do it than others, doing it even when they're just mildly upset, and others only doing it in the most extreme circumstances

NEXT ☝ obviously it's also a sign of extreme comfort or contentment <33333

I love a good fluff moment, thinking about one of our beloved tiefling NPCs cuddled up with their significant other and they're just so deep in their happy place that they start to purr

generally, I think of the concept of purring to be an emotionally intimate thing - so it's not to be done for just anyone

they use it for their babies, their loved ones, and anyone else that's very close to them,

it'd be rare to do it for just anyone, even if they're a friend... they'd have to be a very, very close friend

because of this, each type of purr will sound different in some way

Alright, let's take this party down below

NSFW

speaking of being extremely contented, they might purr in bed heh

because purring is an intimate thing, purring in sexually intimate situations would only happen in established relationships

they also might purr when they're trying to initiate sex, but this would be accompanied by feeling up their partner/giving them suggestive kisses or bites on their neck, or something similar

this "suggestive purr" would be light and hushed, hard to pick up on by anyone outside of a radius of 2-3 feet, as it's meant only for their partner to hear/feel

☝ take a minute to imagine your tiefling lover walking up to you and giving you a kiss, feeling the lightest flutter of a purr from their chest as they press a few gentle kisses to your temple, cheek, and jaw, then giving you bedroom eyes... maybe nuzzling their nose against yours or against your neck........ good god.

now, purrs of pleasure during the act having a much wider range of pitch and intensity

I offer you a brief description of a blurb that I often see in my head before falling asleep: Rolan going down on reader/tav, instinctively purring because he loves doing it so much (fear not, I will definitely talk more about this in my rolan nsfw headcanons &lt;333)

the general takeaway is that when they feel great pleasure (physically, mentally, and/or emotionally) you might earn a purr from them

the caveat to that, though, is that they would only be able to do it when they're not exerting a lot of energy, as it would be hard to purr and breathe heavily at the same time - their body would prioritize breathing

because of that, I really only see this happening if they are having slower sex, maybe something very intimate, or just lazy? like early morning sex or sleepy sex

really just anything slow, including giving and receiving head <33

That's all I have to say for now but I hope you enjoyed this because ☝ I certainly did

Masterlist here

[hyewka]

Because I’m currently pissed off ive decided to manifest it into positive energy 🙂!!! I present to you a scenario of very loud and annoying neighbour Yeonjun, like just criminally loud neighbour throughout every. single. night. Absolutely no rest ever since he moved in.

warnings: sub!yeonjun, grinding, slapping lol, dacryphilia, noona kink sorta

On good days, it’d be what you think is him producing music because at least your walls aren’t vibrating. Worst days? It would hands down be the ragers he throws practically every week as if he was still in college. Sex being a close second—to give credit, he has toned it down the past couple of weeks.

“We take your complaints very seriously, but please cut him some slack Miss. He’s still in college you know how…they get,” So…he is still in college. And to the newfound information, you guess he’s also under twenty three. It explains… a lot. “Between you and me, he’s practically scraping to get money for rent enough as it is.”

You hold back a scoff and instead try to be empathetic so you give your best attempt at a smile to the office worker. You could handle a few months of sleepless nights before he’s eventually evicted, can’t you?

So, just like that, you give up the weekly complaints you send to the landlord.

…Is what you chose to believe as you try your hardest to drown out the noise next door, pillow pressed against your ear with sheer strength before you finally give out, groaning with agony. If you can’t get anybody to listen to your complaints, then who will?

Communication.

Like a light bulb lit above your head you scramble out of your bed, not in the mood to change out of your nightgown, slipped on your slides, and you were now prepared to pay a visit to your more than lovely neighbour, Choi Yeonjun.

You knock a few times. No response.

Before you could get your tenth knock the door swings open to reveal the monster who has been tormenting you for the last few months. You hold up a polite smile, though your eyes unintentionally trail down to his exposed collarbones. A white tank top, a white tank top, a white— “Hey?”

Your eyes widen, getting flustered as you clear your throat, straightening your posture. “Um, so, hi! As you know I’m—"

“Y/N, neighbour 331.” Your brows raise impressed that he actually knew. “The one who’s been submitting complaints on me every Friday, right?”

Oh. He does not like you. Your smile falters for a second before you compose yourself and nod. “I just wanted to come to you instead of going to the landlord tomorrow morning, think it’s better if we communicate.”

He contemplates for a second before nodding, arms crossed lazily, eyes urging you to continue. “…I want to communicate that I am not very…appreciative of the noise every night. Well, I’m sure you already know—and I wish for you to turn it down a notch.”

Yeonjun gives you a tight smile, eyes turning into crescents, with his hand placed behind his door. “Sure.” —is all he says before the door’s slammed shut in your face.

Not taking into account the rudeness of what he just did, you think that was a success. So you take a second to commend yourself and pat yourself on the back, heading to your flat.

To your luck, he goes through with his word and actually keeps it down.

For one night.

You think maybe if you go knocking enough times, he'd follow through each time (which he does) and eventually learn to turn it down without you telling him to (which he doesn't).

You're faced with him again, patience holding by a thread, "Keep. It. Down." you grit out the moment his door opens, eyes with intention to kill.

"Damn. Okay. You can chill out."

And then again.

"Turn your TV down."

And...again.

"I would appreciate it if you turned it down a bit."

It was a daily thing to get up from the comfort of your bed and storm up to his door, your knuckles bruising from the abundance of times you banged on his door.

"At this point, might start thinking you're really into me." You stare at him in disbelief, mouth hung open not able to process the absolute audacity. You're even more pissed when he cheekily points out: "You're drooling."

You immediately shut your mouth before rolling your eyes to absolute oblivion. You hate his guts. Even more when you wipe at your mouth experimentally and do in fact find that he wasn't lying. "Just—just turn it down!"

You truly did not like him, nothing more nothing less. You couldn't even find him more than averagely attractive so there definitely weren't any underlying feelings. You just thought he was way too incredibly cocky for your taste, too unbothered of his surroundings; to you it looked like all that mattered to Yeonjun was himself. Which is a big turn off.

You were definitely all too aware of the numerous times his eyes would, with absolutely no shame, look you up and down, not caring to be discreet about checking you out. Each time you'd scoff, because god, does he remind you of all the reasons you hated college.

You didn't think he was at peak of childishness until the one time you saw Yeonjun arriving at his door as you struggled to key your door open with your sort-of-boyfriend slash co-worker Doyoung (which was another issue you had to deal with all around) beside you, waiting to finally finish off what you started back at his car.

"Hey, hey let me try." Doyoung offers and you let him, awkwardly making way for him to attempt to open your jammed door.

It wasn't hard to feel Yeonjun's quick glances over at you before he says nothing and disappears into the black hole that was his flat. When you came over to his door the next day, the daily reminder to keep it quiet, he does one of his cheesy fuck boy lines from a 2000s movie without fail. Except he doesn't end it there.

He asks you a question you would've snorted at if it wasn't for the fact that it wasn't very humorous to have an annoying neighbor busying themselves with your personal life.

"Was that your boyfriend? Yesterday?" His very weird attempt at keeping his voice monotone and almost nonchalant has you puzzled...not in a good way.

You resort to not answering his question. You didn't have to. "From a scale of one to ten, how valuable is that information to you? It's supposed to be zero lovely neighbour."

"Well, you—you should keep it down next time," he starts, and you're confused. No way. "Couldn't sleep with all the bed creaking."

You could've even retort back and say something like 'oh, now you know how I feel', too embarrassed to say anything before just storming to your door. You did not like Choi Yeonjun.

At all.

All of that was before being stuck in an elevator with a more than a nervous wreck plus one.

"Can you calm down? They'll be here in like, less than a few minutes." You aren't too great at comforting, clearly, as he gets a lot more jittery. "Fuck! It's been five entire minutes!” —Not true. “What if—what if we just die in here, holy shit holy shit." Yeonjun was spiraling as he tries to pace in the confined space, eyes wide with panic, biting down on his bottom lip practically breaking down right in front of your eyes.

"Hey, hey look, just sit. On the floor. Calm down, and collect yourself."

To your surprise, he stops pacing, for a second looks at you before taking a breath and slumping down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. You decide to also sit down, albeit, the awkward distance between the two of you making it less than comfortable. It feels like a few minutes before your ears pick up little sniffles.

Oh well, shit. He was crying. You attempt to not look at him, he was clearly more than vulnerable but your eyes can't help but slowly trail to your side. The confident, cocky neighbor you've had to deal with for the past five months was indeed crying.

Your perception of Yeonjun changes in an elevator that day, just a tiny bit. When he starts to apologize through his sobs, that had quickly picked up sound, you feel something. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just—fuck—"

"What happened?" You don't care, you think you don't, but you still end up asking. And listening.

"Don't judge." he says with that slight break of his voice and you nod.

Your eyes dart back and forth, hyper focused on every feature of his face as he turns to you, venting all of his worries to someone he most likely finds annoying the same way you find him—red runny nose, fox-like eyes already turning bloodshot, the way his perfectly trimmed brows furrow every few sentences like he was thinking over what he should reveal to a stranger that hates him, or his quivering bottom lip whenever he'd take a second to take a breath—your perception of him had definitely changed. Just a tiny bit.

You have no idea what possessed you to reach your thumb out for under his eyes—to wipe. Like you knew him at all. As if he wasn't the neighbor who had been the cause of all the sleepless nights you experienced. It was something about his pouty lips, pinkish tone from all the crying, making you behave so oddly. “Thanks…” Yeonjun’s strained whisper combined with his tears bordering his waterline had got you even more entranced and holy shit— you quickly retract your hand from his face, instead focusing on bright yellow light on your floor number.

“Mhm.” It was a panic hum, like any minute now you would do a very impulsive and frankly out of character thing.

But thankfully his paranoia was proven to not be true as just a few minutes go by before the elevator doors open to reveal someone from what you assume to be the rescue service.

When you get out, Yeonjun is rather quick to go to his flat, avoiding all small talk and shutting his door behind him almost as quick as he ran to it. And as for you, all night is spent sleepless once more. And the cause being once again, Yeonjun. Except it's not his music, his movies, or sex. He keeps oddly quiet that day. No, it's the short dream you have that scares you awake.

Yeonjun. Crying. And a sex dream. Oh you were fucked up.

Not only does that dream scare you wide awake for an entire night, it also scares you from ever approaching his door again. Or when you see him down at the laundry room, or at the elevator, or—

At your door?

When you open to the persistently annoying knock, you don't expect it to be your neighbor. In his signature frat look, a backward cap hanging on his head. "Hey—"

"What do you want?" You cut him off.

"Oh, well, straight to the point, um—Was here to tell you that I'll be throwing a party in just a few hours. So it'll get loud. And I won't be able to turn it down. Sorry."

"Okay." you simply say before adding, "Thanks for giving me a heads up I guess." You attempt to give a smile before shutting your door but Yeonjun stops you with the intervention of his foot between the door and the frame.

"Also. Question.” You quirk a brow. “This is probably really weird to ask because we don't even know each other, but, are you avoiding me? I feel like you are. Was it because of my …crying?" He whispers the last part like its some sacred omen.

"Huh?"

"What happened at the elevator. Can’t you—can’t you just forget about that? I mean I have no idea if you’re avoiding me because of it, but I feel like you are and I don’t know, I just need a confirmation. It’s driving me fucking insane and, and as a man—”

God, you’d do anything to not be the victim of a macho man attempting to explain how weak it is to shed a few tears. So you reveal the reality that you are currently living in. A reality where you dreamed about fucking Choi Yeonjun, A.K.A someone you would consider a mortal enemy by this point.

“I had a sex dream.” It’s the first time you see him taken aback, blinking rapidly, clueless of what you just said. “About you.” you confirm, pursing your lips at the few seconds of silence that followed after. Presuming he has nothing to say to you look down at his foot that was the sole reason you hadn’t shut the door yet.

He scrambles, flustered when he realizes, moving his feet, an incredulous chuckle leaving his lips right after, “Um, yeah, sorry— a sex dream? About me? Huh. I always knew—” With dread, you slam the door shut before he could get another word in, the last thing you see being a smug grin on his face with the newly found information settling in and god you just want to rip your hair out— the absolute last thing you wanted to do was feed his ego. Which you had clearly served to have done.

You choose to huddle up on your couch, watching a random Netflix show to pass time on your vacation day but the show’s too uninteresting so you inevitably end up spacing out.

You’re not entirely sure why you’ve been particularly childish about the dream. Especially since you’ve had awkward sex dreams before, the one about your fuck-ass boss taking the number one spot for most traumatizing. But you’ve never actively ignored anyone or even gave it a second thought other than “Holy shit that was weird.”

So, your subconscious leads you to believe you resorted to avoidance due to the contents of your dream. Said contents being you… dominating a man. Roped up cocky Yeonjun at mercy of every feather touch, squirming in his restraints, face a teary mess with his hair plastered onto his forehead from all the sweat, a ballgag drenched with his spit just to keep him shut, salivating dumbly down under his chin, the prettiest fucked out look, putting the little shit in his place and holy shit are you touching yourself?

Like some prude, you retract your hand out from under your pants and curse yourself at seeing your fingers stick because of your substance—Yeonjun was driving you crazy. And you hated it, he was at most five years younger than you and throughout your life span, you have never felt anything for a younger man—its always been a turn off. Especially when it shows. And with Yeonjun, oh it showed.

Even now as your reverie gets broken by an unrythmic knock similar to before, leading you to be faced by Yeonjun. For the second time today.

His stance is a lot different than an hour ago, almost like that one time on the elevator. “…Hey?” You start out with raised eyebrows.

Confused by his silence you assume what this was about, “I seriously don’t mind the party, I’ll be—”

Your eyes widen in surprise when Yeonjun’s lips crash on yours, roughly taking you up a wind before the realizations sets in the moment his hand start going places it should not be going. You bite down on his lip and he pulls away instantly, groaning, wide eyed, tears already springing on his waterline from the pain. He has the audacity to look offended as he yells with childish shriek of his voice, “What the hell?!”

“Are you insane? Who gave you the right to kiss me you fucking pervert?” You yell back, still shocked at his sudden advancement, finger lingering on your lips.

He visibly deflates with a knit of his eyebrows, eyes wide, "Um? You...you just told me you had a sex dream...of me."

"So?" you whisper-shout exasperated.

"I thought—"

You cut him off. "You thought what? I'd let you barge in here like some lead in a porno and...fuck me?"

He seems to think for a few seconds before literally...nodding, making you nearly gasp. "Well, sort of...yeah? I mean, women don't tell you that they've had a wet dream about you without trying to say something non-verbally." He seems almost proud when he says that, as if he has hundreds of experience in women psych.

Holy fuck. You dreamed about fucking this kid. A dumb frat whose probably got everything handed to him just because he was moderately pretty.

But maybe he wasn't too far off, because you find yourself stupidly attracted to his slightly bruised lip from your bite earlier, his eyes still glossy, iris looking up waiting for you to say something. Holy shit.

"How old are you?" If the age gap was bigger than three years—

"Turned twenty-three last September. Why?"

Two years. Oh fuck, to hell with it all.

You ignore his question and jump straight in the cold, freezing water. "How...much are you willing to do to...fuck me?" The question came out a lot more awkward than you intended.

He huffs out a laugh incredulously waiting for you to say that was a joke, but too much time has passed and now he's seriously thinking it over for a second. "Um...a lot? I don't know. I'm just super horny right now."

If you were in your right mind, you would've rejected him. Out the door he would've been because the way he drawled super had to have been the biggest turn off. But you were also a woman at mercy to her sexual desires. And right now, your sexual desire was Yeonjun.

"Okay," you exhale. "Sure. Let's fuck. But we're doing this my way."

-----

You surprisingly don't possess any toys...other than an unused dildo. You're not sure if he'd be too into that, or if you know him enough to even propose such an idea. So... you’re left empty handed; now all you had was your word and control.

And the slight age difference seemed to help it out too. “I-I’m—holy shit— I’m gonna cum noona, noona—"

Abruptly, you move from his neck that you were just lightly sucking on, hand once palming him over his sweats, retracted. He whines from the loss of friction, opening his shut eyes to give you the nastiest look as he tries to quickly bring back his high but he clearly fails when he groans, nearly feeling his eyes get teary. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I told you to stop calling me noona. Plus, I'm not gonna let you soil your pants the minute I get my hands on you."

Wild runs in his eyes and its unlike you’ve seen him. "Holy shit, you're so—" But it’s not intimidating. You cut him off by straddling his lap, and if you weren’t nicer you would’ve laughed at how fast his expression changed. Dumb kid.

He was totally awestricken, wetting his lips for a second until opening them again, "—fucking hot."

You strike a sharp blow across his face, the slap silencing him abruptly. His lips are slightly parted, confusion ridden in his features, his cheek quickly turning a shade of red, ears ringing—then you start grinding and his expression once again morphs into something sinfully pathetic, except this time he had those tears threatening to spill. “Don’t call me hot again. Understood?”

“It’s a fucking complim—”

You shove two fingers in his mouth to attempt of actually shutting this man up, and for a bit it serves to gag him until a lewd thought popped in your head. “Suck. Or I kick you out and you can jerk off your stupid dick alone.”

He immediately obeys, sucking on your two fingers, his saliva coating them. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was shifting his position and not attempting to buck his hips like a dumb rabid dog. He was getting off from this.

You were proven more when you start pumping your digits in his mouth, too fascinated at how he sucks in his cheeks, making eye contact, whining on your fingers. “Why’re you so frustrating? Could’ve been a good boy from the beginning.”

You rolled your hips into his more, his dick hardening you’re surprised he hasn’t complained yet. “When are we gonna fuck?” He whines when your fingers are out of his watering mouth.

Clearly, you speak too soon.

“Never if you keep being a fucking bitch. You know how much sleep I lost because of your idiotic shenanigans? Let me have my fun.”

A lot. He was insufferable the first three months, dark circles getting more deep set. Feeling anger bubble up, you move to roughly trailing wet kisses down his neck and goodness is he audible—his soft moans are truly music to your ears. “You’re loud.”

And it gets you to needily grind down on his bulge even more, your core aching. Unfortunately, he takes this as you scolding him to be quiet, and so for a second, he’s extremely quiet. “No, no, want you to be loud. Love your needy voice, such a pretty dumb boy.” you breathe, getting off on his lap.

You suck hard on a sensitive spot and he spasms, whimpering. “Noona—”

You bite down on his exposed shoulder and Yeonjun cries. “Told you to stop calling me that freak.”

“Don’t care, I wanna call you noona,” you swallow the lump in your throat because the honorific does spur you on his lap, “My noona.”

Your eyes widen, flustered hands raising to slap him again, which he doesn’t dodge. Hot cheeks so red from the two times you hit his pretty face, tears long spilling down them, is so much better than the dream—except his bratty smirk pulls you out of the fantasy. “Stop pushing it dumb frat.”

His hips buck to hump up against your pussy and you really start to think he enjoys getting slapped. “P-please, want your pussy. Been thinking about it all week.”

“All week?”

“Y-yeah, since that guy fucked you dumb, like a bitch.” If it weren’t for how distracted you were getting by his twitching dick in between your thighs, you would’ve given him another strike against his face—and maybe then he would’ve shut up for good.

“You want to fuck me like a bitch?” you slur in his ear in mock tone, “You?”

He furrows his brows, visibly getting haughty. “Yes, me. What about it?” he bites.

You whine at the cute knit of his brows, the pout that rests his pretty lips. You lean to kiss them, you’ve been thinking of doing that since the beginning—they looked so pillowy, soft, everything you could now feel as he eagerly returns the chaste mouth to mouth.

It’s quick to turn messy, spit smothered by the side of his lips when you cup his cheeks—then you let go, abruptly. Yeonjun tries to blindly chase your lips, but you’re unrelenting, working yourself on his lap. “You can’t fuck me like him Jjunie.”

“I can fuck your brains out, you—” He’s mid barking back at your statement, his ego clearly beaten down to the ground, but you do the next thing you’ve been dying to try—playing with his nipples. You graze them with your thumb when you’ve had your hands under his shirt for a good minute—a fact unnoticed by the man under you—and that gets him mewling. Mewling.

“F-fuck, don’t touch me there..”

“But I thought you could fuck my brains out?” you mock with a pout, “How come you get like this just by…”

You pinch his nipples slightly and he throws his back on the couch almost immediately, whimpering through his tightly closed lips. “Me touching your tits?”

“Don’t c-call them that.”

“Tits? But you like this don’t you?” you ask softly, studying every bit of a jerk, or a slight quiver of his bottom lip. He loved every second of this, but you needed him to tell you. You stop massaging his nips, removing your hand entirely from under his shirt, which gets his eyes to fly open, holding your wrist. “I do! I do. I like it when you play with my tits.” he says exasperated, raising your hand under his shirt again.

What a desperate whore.

You smirk, incredibly engrossed by his eagerness, and his swollen glistening lips from your brief makeout earlier. “Yeah?” you drawl, pressing on his bud just a tiny bit, and he nods. Thank god he was sensitive.

“Mhm.” he hums, still pathetically chasing your warmth. All he can think with is his dick.

“Thought about wrecking my tight, little pussy so bad all week, huh? Jerked off to the thought all week? Poor baby. Then I have to make it up to you today don’t I?” you know those words would make him act up more, getting him unbearably hard to the point its torture. And god, now your panties were uncomfortably sticking to your pussy.

“N-noona let me—let me—” Yeonjun’s crying more as the friction between your bodies gets too overwhelming for him— and gosh, does he look like such a dumb boy; none of his cocky stupid shit from earlier.

It was hot.

“Want my pussy?”

His nods are frantic, so much that you snort. “Yes, yes please. Wanted to fuck you dumb ever since you came over. You never gave me any attention, jus’ wanted to make a mess of you, cumming all over your tits—”

No way. He was a pervert from the beginning? You thought he hated your guts just as much as you did him. “Did that filthy fantasy give you a good enough reason to ruin my sleep schedule and ..and all my chances at a promotion? Huh? Because of you i can’t even dream of it—“

You were lying. Losing sleep had definitely affected your work performance but it wasn’t to the point you couldn’t aim for a little promotion. But you liked seeing his guilt pool in, crying, crying sooo pathetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know noona, I swear.”

His hiccups are enough to get you to fasten your speed on his lap, the friction working to get you off.

“Yeah. Because your undeveloped brain can’t grasp at the real worlds consequence. I hate guys like you. So immature and dumb.”

That snaps something in him clearly as he finds the tongue to retort, “If you hated me you—you wouldn’t be getting off on my cock.”

You scoff, especially at picking up on the strained moan he tries to conceal, the shudder of his body giving away the orgasm. Choi Yeonjun just came. Untouched.

You could feel it between your legs, the warmth spread disgustingly all over and you grimace. “Gross.”

He groans out of embarrassment, hiding his face with an arm. And now you’re just sitting on his wet lap, contemplating two things. Kicking him out or getting to satisfy your needs?

Unfortunately, the banging on a door pauses your movement of unbuckling his jeans and you can’t hide the roll of your eyes. “Yeonjun! Are you home?!”

Convenient timing. Not.

You don’t let your disappointment show—he came and you hadn’t. You instead turn to face him, giving him a mocking smile, “You have a party to host ...oops.” And at least end it with the illusion you had the upper hand.

But Yeonjun is not as willing to give it up. “I don’t give a shit. I host these weekly,” Oh, you know. “…Can you at the least …let me eat you out?”

#############################

a/n; lol this got longer than i intended to the point i was thinking about naming it and getting it out as an actual fic but ehhhhh ill leave it raw 🥲 wish my shitty neighbor was yeonjun but we move 😁!!!!!

[darylsdelts]

Hi! Could you write a Daryl x f.reader hc in the mornings? I feel like slow mornings would be Daryl's favorite time of day, just enjoying his partner without having to think about the day ahead..

P.S: how did you not start writing sooner?? I love how your pretty brain brings our delusions to life lol

I’m gonna do the smaller request’s first so that they don’t pile up because having loads of requests makes me anxious😭 idk why but I’m getting to em all!

Anon!!! I love this so much! I love domestic daddy Daryl so much like yes! Idc what anyone says, he’s sooooo husband! And alsooooo… TYSM! I’m not really a writer😭 I didn’t intend to actually write on here but people started sending full on essays for me to write so why not. I did write some stuff on Wattpad though that I could post here??? If y’all want??? Anywayyyyyssss ily!

I always imagine these sorta things with you and Daryl in a secluded cabin, away from the community. You’re still part of the group but you and Daryl prefer to be alone together.

Living away from the community, Daryl is like a different person, he’s way more relaxed and less on guard. Less irritated by people too.

The sunlight seeps through the cracks in the curtains in the early mornings.

Daryl usually wakes up first but if he doesn’t then you shift closer, resting your chin on his bare chest and admiring his sleeping face.

His hair framing his relaxed face, he looks younger when he’s sleeping, your favourite part is how his rounded nose twitches when he starts to wake up.

As soon as he opens his eyes, you feel his chest vibrate as he hums, bringing his hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What’d I tell ya ‘bout starin’, Hm?”

His lips twitch upward, he fucking loves the mornings when it’s so peaceful and it’s just him and you, like the world doesn’t really exist.

“I think you told me to quit it”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb across your forehead.

Daryl thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, especially when your hair is messy from sleep and you’re in barely any clothes.

There’s no doubt that every morning, his mind drifts to thinking about staying in bed with you all day, worshipping your body and making you feel good.

And that fantasy is almost always thrown out the window when the both of you hear paws enter the room, dog jumping up on the bed, licking at Daryls face.

“Dog! Jesus chri-… yeah, okay okay, good boy”

After getting out of bed, Daryl pulling on just his jeans that sit low on his waist and you in a thin night dress, you both go to the kitchen area.

Daryl feeds dog so he stops whining and then he’ll cook up something he hunted and serve it to you.

You’re greatful for your hunterman, taking such good care of you.

Even after being together all these years, Daryl still gets shy, sitting opposite you whilst eating, barely able to make eye contact.

Some mornings, if it was hot enough, you’d go swim in the lake with dog whilst Daryl would watch over the both of you. He’s not greatly fond of swimming in the lake since he wouldn’t be able to protect you as well as he could from the side.

“Can we go to the lake?” You ask as Daryl takes your plates.

“Ya wanna? Ain’t so hot out today, darlin’”

“I wanna”

He’d roll his eyes, he could never say no to you.

He’d sit on the bank next to the lake, watching you in just your panties and bra, swimming around in the water with dog.

After you get out you’d complain that it’s too cold and he’d bite his tongue, he did tell you so.

He’d wrap you in a towel and leave you shivering whilst he towels dog off.

“Shouldn’ta let ya go in the damn water, yer gon’ get sick”

You’d pout as you shiver, Daryl wraps his arms round you, kissing the top of your hair.

“Let’s get ya inside, warm my girl up”

You have a feeling you know what he means.

This isn’t even really hc’s 😭 full on story I’m sorry but I always get so carried away.