#it’s just that. i need to get a grip and not cling to it. like just accept it for what it is and go on. and when it’s brought up at random

[guliexe]

━━━DATE NIGHT WITH ENHYPEN ot7

.ᐟwarnings/tags: smut, unrpotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, backshots, cowgirl, missionary, blowjob, drug use

Heeseung ⭑.ᐟ Game Night

It starts innocent. Just you and Heeseung on the couch, knees touching, controllers in hand, trash talk flying.

He’s laser-focused on the screen, lip tucked between his teeth, thumb jabbing the joystick with precision. “You’re such a tryhard,” you huff.

He laughs. “And you’re such a sore loser.”

“Shut up. Rematch.”

By the third round, you’re both getting cocky. You bump shoulders, try to distract him with your foot nudging his thigh. He retaliates by tickling your side, and you shriek, tossing the controller. Next thing you know, he’s on you. Literally.

He lunges, tackling you flat onto the couch, your wrists pinned above your head by one hand. His body hovers over yours, hips pressing between your legs. The game is long forgotten. “I win,” he smirks, eyes gleaming.

You squirm, trying to break free, but all it does is make him grin harder, and grind down, slow and deliberate. You gasp.

“Thought you were stronger than me, huh?” he taunts, voice low, teasing. “So cute.”

You roll your hips without thinking, and that’s all it takes. Heeseung’s playful smirk darkens. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby.” he warns, breath ghosting your lips.

He kisses you, hot and deep, tongue slipping into your mouth while his hips keep rocking, dick hard against you through his sweats. Clothes get messy, tugged and discarded halfway, your panties pushed to the side as he lines himself up, one hand still holding your wrists down.

When he sinks into you, it’s slow, thick, dizzying. “Fuuuck,” he groans against your neck. “Taking it so well, baby.”

You moan, back arching. Heeseung pulls out halfway, then slams back in, his pace picking up, cock hitting deep every time.

He’s panting now, sweat clinging to his temples, his other hand sliding down to grab your thigh and press it up higher. “Gonna stretch you out so good, baby”

Jay ⭑.ᐟ Fancy Dinner

He looks dangerous tonight. Black-on-black, no tie, top buttons open just enough to tease the sharp line of his collarbone. He holds your hand as you walk into the restaurant, but his eyes? They’re glued to you.

To the way your tight satin dress hugs your curves, the subtle sway of your hips, how your cleavage glistens under the low lights. He’s quiet all dinner, too quiet. Polite to the staff, answering your questions, but his fingers rest high on your thigh under the white tablecloth, lazily stroking your bare skin.

“You look insane,” he murmurs at one point, leaning in close enough for only you to hear. “Everyone keeps staring at you.” You whisper back, teasing, “Jealous?”

Jay just smirks. “No. I’m gonna be the one fucking you later.”

Back in the hotel room, the door barely shuts before his hands are all over you.

He crowds you against the wall, mouth crashing into yours. His hands slide down to your hips, gripping hard, pulling you flush to his chest like he needs to feel every inch of you.

He bends you over on the bed without a word, your cheek against the cool sheets, the skirt of your dress shoved up over your ass. “Goddamn,” he mutters, running his hands over your exposed skin. “You’re so fucking hot.”

One hand grabs your ass, spreading it. The other comes down in a sharp smack that makes you whimper. “Fucking love this ass,” he groans, gripping it, kneading it, slapping it again until you’re squirming.

He pulls your panties to the side and slides in with one rough thrust, groaning low and deep. “Shit, baby,” he pants. “So tight for me. Fuck.”

He sets a brutal pace, hips slapping against yours, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your waist to keep you in place. You’re a mess beneath him—moaning, gasping, nails digging into the sheets.

“You like that?” he growls. “Like getting fucked like this? You were begging for it all night in that dress.”

Jake ⭑.ᐟ Movie Night

It’s a cozy night in—popcorn half-eaten, movie playing in the background, but Jake can’t focus.

Not when you’re curled up beside him on the couch in nothing but shirt, and pink panties that keep peeking out whenever you shift your legs.

You’re tucked into his side, legs over his lap, pretending to be absorbed in the romcom. But you feel the way his hand keeps drifting—first to your waist, then under the hem of the shirt. He finally breaks, whispering, “baby I'm so hard.”

And then he kisses you. sSlow but messy. His hands slide up beneath the fabric, cupping your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you gasp against his mouth. You melt under his touch, needy, straddling him without a second thought.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes trailing over you as you grind down on his lap, your panties damp and your shirt riding up. “So pretty for me.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips rolling into him again and again until you feel his cock hardening more beneath his sweats.

He grabs your ass with both hands, helping you move—soft groans slipping from his lips every time you grind just right. You’re so worked up you don’t even bother taking your panties off. You just push them to the side, lift your hips, and slowly sink down onto him.

Jake’s head falls back against the couch with a guttural moan. “Fuuuuck…” he breathes. “You feel so good, baby.”

You both sit there for a second—his cock buried deep inside you, your body clinging to his—and then you start to move. Slow at first. Just shallow little rolls of your hips while his hands roam your back under the shirt, gripping and stroking and worshipping every inch of you.

“You gonna make a mess on my cock?” he murmurs, dazed. “Hm? Already soaking me, pretty girl…”

Sunghoon ⭑.ᐟ Gym Date

It starts normal enough. You’re both working out in this sleek private gym—mirrored walls, perfect lighting, no one else around. Just the two of you.

You’re wearing tight leggings and a cropped tank, a little damp with sweat. And Sunghoon can’t stop staring.

You bend to pick up a dumbbell and he groans under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus,” he mutters. “You’re trying to kill me.”

You flash him a smug little smile, thinking he’s just teasing. But the way his jaw tightens? That look in his eyes? Yeah, no. He’s not teasing.

He’s on you a minute later, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward the locker room. You barely have time to gasp before he shoves you into the bathroom and locks the door behind you.

“Sunghoon—” You don’t even finish. His mouth crashes into yours, hot and messy, tongue sliding deep as he backs you against the wall.

You moan into the kiss, breath stolen, body arching into him. He pulls back, panting. “Looking so fucking good, baby. I can’t help myself.”

He turns you around and bends you over the wall, cheek pressed to the cool tile, ass out, back arched. You whimper as he yanks your leggings and panties down in one swift motion. One of his hands grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back. The other? Gripping your hip, tight. And then he’s inside you—deep, hard, no hesitation.

You cry out as he slams into you again and again, his hips snapping forward with brutal rhythm, the wet slap of skin echoing in the tiled room.

“Yeah,” he growls behind you, voice dark and breathless. “Fuck yourself on my cock, baby. Just like that.”

Sunoo ⭑.ᐟ Study Date

You’re supposed to be studying, but Sunoo looks too good sitting on his bed, glasses low on his nose, hoodie pushed up to his elbows, veins showing on his forearms as he flips through notes like a perfect little menace.

And he smells good. And he keeps licking his lips when he concentrates. And he’s being too damn sweet, brushing your knee and murmuring, “You’re doing great, baby,” every time you get an answer right.

You can’t take it anymore. “Sunoo…” He looks up, soft and clueless. “Yeah?”

You lean in and kiss him—slow and needy, pressing your body into his. He makes a surprised little noise before melting into it, dropping his notebook as your fingers tangle in his hair.

You kiss down his neck, sucking gently until a red mark blooms on his pale skin. He shivers, letting you take your time. And when you tug his hair and kiss even lower, he groans, voice barely above a whisper, “You’re so needy tonight, huh?”

You drop to your knees on the floor between his legs, looking up at him as your hands smooth over his thighs. He blinks down at you, wide-eyed and breathless.

“My cute girl,” he coos, brushing your hair back. “You want my cock, hm?”

You nod, lips parted, pupils blown out with want.

He leans back, legs spreading, and watches intently as you tug down his sweats. His cock springs free, already hard from just your kisses and the way you look at him.

You take him in your hand, licking a stripe up his shaft before sinking your mouth around the tip. Sunoo moans, hand flying into your hair.

“Just like that, princess…” he whispers, hips twitching as you bob your head. “So good for me…”

You work him slowly at first, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowed—taking your time. His hand rests on the back of your head, guiding but gentle, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Such a needy girl for me, yeah?” he pants. “God, look at you… fuck.”

Jungwon ⭑.ᐟ Rainy Night In

You don’t even hear him knock at first—the sound of rain is too loud. But then your phone buzzes, “open up bby i’m freezing”

You swing open the door and there he is, hoodie soaked through, dark hair dripping into his eyes. He looks unfairly good like this—rain clinging to his lashes, lips pink from the cold.

“Forgot my umbrella,” he mumbles, stepping inside with a shy grin. He kicks off his sneakers, water pooling under them. You wrap him in a towel and guide him to the couch, pulling a fuzzy blanket around the both of you. He tucks you in closer, his hand slipping under your hoodie to warm his fingers on your skin.

You try to watch something. You really do. But Jungwon keeps kissing you—your temple, your jaw, the corner of your lips. His touches get slower, more purposeful.

Then suddenly, you’re on your back, the blanket kicked off, the TV playing to an empty room. He hovers over you, wet strands of hair falling over his forehead, his hand already under your shorts.

“God,” he whispers, voice low and raspy, “you’re so cute like this.”

Two fingers glide between your folds, teasing. You whimper, and he smiles, proud of how worked up you are already. “You want it, baby?” You nod. Your voice is shaky. “Please—touch me…”

He doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slip inside, slow and deep, thumb pressing soft circles on your clit. You arch into him, moaning as the heat builds fast.

“That’s it,” he coos, kissing your cheek. “Gonna cum on my fingers, baby? Yeah? Gonna make a mess just for me?”

Niki ⭑.ᐟ View Date

It’s just the two of you, tucked away on this little hill that overlooks the whole city. The sky’s turning gold with the sunset, a little breeze in the air, the perfect amount of warm.

You sit in his car, passing the joint back and forth, limbs all tangled together. You’re both giggling, red-eyed, flushed from laughing and the weed, pressed shoulder to shoulder.

Riki’s quiet, but he keeps looking at you. Heavy-lidded, dazed, but hungry.

You’re sitting in his oversized hoodie and a tiny skirt, no bra. He finally reaches over, cups your jaw, and kisses you slow—messy and deep, the kind of kiss that steals all your breath and leaves your thighs trembling.

His hand slides under the hoodie, fingertips brushing your nipple, and you whimper, shifting in his lap. “Need you, Rikiii…” you whisper, voice thick and desperate.

He groans—low and wrecked—his hands already grabbing your waist to pull you over his thighs, straddling him. “Holy fuck, baby…” he pants, kissing your neck, trailing his mouth lower until he’s leaving warm hickies on your chest. “You’re killin’ me…”

You’re so high, so warm, so needy. You slip your panties down and toss them aside, leaving only your skirt bunched around your hips. He watches, wide-eyed, hands holding your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You grab him through his sweats, lazily freeing his cock and guiding him to your entrance. The stretch makes both of you moan—your body sinking down slow, every inch filling you to the brim.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, head falling back. “Doing so good for me…”

You start bouncing gently, slow and messy, your thighs burning, your fingers laced through his hair. He’s panting into your chest, mouthing at your skin, sucking little bruises into your collarbone like he can’t get enough.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers, fucking up into you between bounces. “You love getting filled up by me, hm?”

a/n: was a lil bored and wanted to post smth small ^^

© guliexe

[cameronsbabydoll]

BASIC TRAINING — CHAPTER TWO

WARNINGS — power imbalance, suggestive comments, physical touch (shoulder, hair, guiding), age gap tension, gaslighting-style manipulation, rafe being icky/possessive, grooming-adjacent behavior, internalized guilt

You weren’t supposed to be alone.

Your dad gave you rules. More than rules, really—an entire itinerary. You were supposed to read for your summer classes, organize his files, avoid the barracks, and “keep to the other officer’s kids if you need friends.”

Except the other officer’s kids are twenty-somethings with active duty assignments or civilian lives far from here. They don’t sit at mess. They don’t linger by the soda machine. They don’t stop and say hi.

But Rafe does.

You don’t know his name yet. Not officially.

You just know the way his eyes linger. How his shoulders stretch his t-shirt. How his dog tags swing low when he jogs past you in the mornings—shirtless, dripping with sweat, smirking when he catches you staring.

You hadn’t meant to stare.

But it’s hard not to.

He’s… tall. And mean-looking. He has a buzzcut that makes him look even meaner. You’re not really into tattoos, but he’s got one on his arm you keep thinking about. A snake winding around a dagger.

You’d only noticed because he caught you looking. Again.

And then he winked.

It’s been three days now since you arrived on base. Your dad is swamped. The heat is unrelenting. You’ve reread the same chapter of your textbook six times and still don’t understand what Plato’s Allegory of the Cave is even about.

So you get up early.

You walk the perimeter road.

You grab a Coca-Cola from the machine outside the barracks. Sit on the shaded curb. Watch the soldiers run drills in the distance, far enough away that you don’t feel weird about it.

That’s where he finds you.

“Didn’t peg you for the early morning type.”

His voice startles you.

You twist around fast, can already feel the pink rising in your cheeks. It’s him. The man from the jogs. The tattoos. The stare. He’s not in uniform this time. He’s in a white shirt and gray sweats, both clinging like they’ve earned the right to his body. You hate how that thought even forms.

“I—uh. I didn’t know anyone else came here this early,” you manage, gripping your drink tighter.

He smirks.

“And here I thought this base was crawling with rules.”

There’s a beat. “But I guess that only applies to the rest of us.”

You blink. “Huh?”

He crouches a little, elbows resting on his knees. Close, but not too close. His eyes flick to your soda.

“You know there’s coffee inside, right?”

You shrug. “I don’t really like coffee.”

“Right.” He squints like he’s just realized something. “Sugar rush, not caffeine.”

He says it like he knows something about you that you don’t.

Then: “Makes sense. You’re a sunshine type of girl.”

“A what?”

“You know,” he grins. “The kind that wakes up humming. Writes in a pink notebook. Says stuff like ‘golly.’”

He leans closer. “Am I wrong, sugar?”

You feel like your brain short circuits. You try to laugh, but it comes out awkward. “I don’t say ‘golly.’”

“Yet.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

He just keeps looking at you. His gaze feels heavier than it should. You shift in place. His eyes follow the movement, pausing too long at your knees before flicking back up to your face.

“I’m Rafe,” he says finally. “Staff Sergeant. Been here too long.”

You nod. “Nice to meet you.”

“You got a name, princess?”

You tell him.

He repeats it. Quietly. Like he’s tasting it.

It shouldn’t make your stomach flutter.

After that, he starts showing up more.

He always has a reason. Always casual. Always calculated.

You’ll be carrying a box of your dad’s reports—he takes it from your arms without asking.

You’ll be at the vending machine—he guides your hand to press the right button.

You’ll be reading alone—he sits just close enough that you can smell him: sweat, cologne, something like cedar and anger.

Every time he calls you princess or sugar, you go still.

He’s so much older. More experienced. Bigger. His voice is always low, like he knows you’ll lean in to hear it better. And you do. Every time.

One afternoon, he catches you by the printer in the admin hall, struggling to staple a stack of papers. Your dad asked you to file them, but the staple keeps jamming.

You hiss softly, shaking the thing out. That’s when a broad hand appears behind yours.

“Move,” he says. You do, startled.

He fixes it in seconds.

Then he looks down. You hadn’t realized how close he’s standing. You’re basically against the wall. His hand is still on your shoulder, firm.

“You gotta be careful with these,” he says, low. “They bite.”

“Yeah.. I-I noticed,” you whisper.

He leans in, his mouth next to your ear.

“You ever been bit before?”

You don’t answer.

Your cheeks are burning. Your eyes drop to the floor. You know he’s watching them water.

When he finally pulls back, he taps your chin once with his finger.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

You try to avoid him the next day.

But it doesn’t work.

You’re walking back from the mess hall, still chewing a bite of banana bread, when a shadow falls across the path in front of you.

It’s him.

You stop. So does your breath.

He raises an eyebrow.

“No ‘hi’ today?”

You look down. “I didn’t see you.”

He hums. “That’s a lie.”

He steps forward. You step back.

But it’s just one step. Then he sighs and hooks his fingers into your bag strap.

“Relax, sweetheart. I just wanna walk with you.”

You’re not sure why you let him.

But you do.

He walks slow. Leisurely. His hand brushing yours every few seconds, like he’s testing to see what you’ll do. You don’t pull away.

When you reach the main building, he tugs your strap again—just a little.

“I ever make you uncomfortable, you tell me.”

You blink. Look up at him.

“No,” you say. “You haven’t.”

That smile again.

The one that makes your chest feel weird.

“Good girl.”

You can’t stop thinking about that for the rest of the day.

Not the words. But the way he said them.

Low. Rough. Possessive. Like it meant something.

Like you meant something.

[dollyfiles]

pulling off fwb!rafe’s condom during sex

cw: smut, fuck buddies dynamic, p in v, first protected then unprotected sex, creampie, praise, explicit language

“rafe—” you gasped, the back of your head thudding against the pillow as he drove into you, hard and fast, the bed creaking beneath you with every sharp thrust. your hands gripped his shoulders like you were holding on for dear life, nails dragging down his back, a broken moan falling from your lips. “fuck—don’t stop—”

he didn’t. couldn’t. not with the way you were clinging to him like you needed him inside you just to breathe. sweat slicked skin, hair sticking to his forehead, jaw clenched as he tried to keep control, but it was slipping. you made it impossible.

being friends with benefits with rafe cameron meant wild and relentless sex. morning, day, and night. and even when you felt like it couldn’t get any better, there always was this little five percent missing to make it absolutely perfect.

it was this damn rubber that was wrapped tightly around his thick shaft, always keeping that little percentage hidden inside, and waking your curiosity like nothing else.

it was a mutual decision when you both started this little arrangement, of course it was, at least you thought so. rafe on the other hand would’ve loved to just toss that little annoying thing out the window at any given chance.

not that he didn’t care. oh he cared. more than anyone else, that’s why he decided to agree in the first place. just for you and your comfort. and of course you didn’t know that once you guys started hooking up, he went and didn’t dare touch another woman.

not because you two were something exclusive, no. he simply didn’t want to. you were already giving him everything he needed, even if things were just casual. so now, with rafe hitting something deep inside you, you couldn’t help but want more.

you were totally soaked, clenching around him, but your expression said it still wasn’t enough. his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider. the slap of skin echoed through the room, mingling with your breathy moans and the rough rasp of his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

that’s when you stilled beneath him, your thighs tightening around his hips to stop his movements. “pull out.” you demanded and rafe froze mid-thrust, blinking down at you, chest rising fast. “what?” his voice cracked with confusion, panic flickering in his eyes.

“just—” your voice was ragged, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. you were panting, shaking, like your body was on fire. “just do it.” rafe couldn’t help but feel his heart stutter as he pulled back, chest heaving in disappointment. “did i—?”

“no,” you breathed, shaking your head, your hair clinging to your damp forehead. your hand slid between you, fingers curling around the base of his cock. he hissed through his teeth, nearly losing it right then and there. “it’s just—” you looked up at him, eyes blazing. “i want more.”

leaning up, you kissed him hard, tongue brushing his lip before whispering into his mouth, “i want you raw, rafe.” for a long moment rafe didn’t move, he was too stunned, until you started rolling the condom off his cock yourself.

it was slow and deliberate, watching his face the whole time. your fingers were slick, trembling just a little, but your touch was confident, and god if that didn’t undo him. the thin rubber slid off inch by inch, and you tossed it somewhere into the room, reaching for him again like you were starving.

“come on,” you whispered, voice wrecked and dripping with want. “please let me feel you.” and then, without hesitation, he grabbed your hips, dragging you down the bed, and slammed back into you with a raw, guttural groan. you both swore at the same time, almost relieved.

the difference was immediate. no barrier. no distance. your bare cunt hit him like a punch to the gut. it was even wetter and tighter and so much more. you cried out beneath him, hands flying to his back, holding onto him like a vice.

you could feel every single vein of his cock, every time his tip nudged your cervix without any protection. you were soaking him, wrapping around him, dragging him in. “jesus—” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your skin. “you feel—fuck—you feel unreal.”

you wrapped your legs higher around him, clawing at his back, pulling him deeper, rougher, harder. “don’t stop,” you begged, your voice cracking. “don’t you fucking stop.”

his rhythm turned brutal, desperate, the kind of pace where none of you cared if the neighbors heard. you met every thrust with a needy whimper, the whole bed shaking as your fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him in for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth.

he slammed into you again and again, chasing that sweet spot, chasing your moans, like he’d die if he couldn’t get more. you were already falling apart under him, body arching, hands scrambling for anything to hold onto.

“i can’t—i’m gonna—” your voice broke off in a gasp, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry. “cum for me,” he growled against your ear, hips snapping faster. “fuck, baby, cum on me.”

and you did. your whole body locked around him like you were pulling him down with you, your poor cunt clenching around him hard that it triggered his own release, hot and overwhelming. he buried himself in you with a rough groan, the feeling of his hot seed inside you making you moan out as your orgasm rolled over you.

both of you collapsed at the same time, panting, completely wrecked, skin slick and sticky with sweat. your legs stayed locked around him, his face buried in your neck, both of you shaking from the aftershocks.

“that,” you whispered hoarsely, barely able to speak, “was so much better.” rafe laughed, breathless and fucked out, brushing a kiss over your chest. “you think we’re done?”

you just smirked, still catching your breath but fingers already sliding slowly down his stomach, teasing his cock again. “i fucking hope not.”

tags: @inbred-eater @dearapril @isasweetie @rafessecret @littlelamy @bradshawed @cherrygirlfriend @trusweethrt @inspiredangel @et6rnalsun @bluemerakis @nemesyaaa @rafekisser @deansbeer @ditzyrafe @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lacyydollette @drewsephrry @angvl3tears @rotapathetic @raahosh

[excusemyobsessions]

This has been roaming in my head for way too long.

So we all know The LaDs men are hella big, right?

What if it cant fit in (some) reader/s mouth s they end up choking a bit or needing to only go through it halfway bcs their gag reflexes arent reflexing so now we feel bad 😔 💔

Well, my dearest, you got my mind racing with this one 🙈

Here are my thoughts about this:

(Explicit sexual content below)

Zayne

Zayne doesn't like you straining yourself. Yes, he's okay stretching out your sweet little hole but when you want to take him whole in your mouth, he's very careful.

He'll tuck your hair behind your ear, push it away from your pretty face.

And his hand is a heavy, guiding weight on the nape of your neck. When you start going too far and start choking around his length, he'll pull you back by the back of your neck.

"Honey, slow down. You're going to bruise your throat."

But you just want to make him feel good :(

"You already do. And your hands are enough," he assures you.

When you're being very very stubborn, he'll pull you off his cock and kiss the air out of your lungs.

"Slowly," he'll tell you, in a deep, firm voice.

Rafayel

Okay but hear me out.

Rafayel but in heat. Merman form. And he's got two. Yes, of course, two.

And obviously you want both in your mouth.

But they're big and they're two and you can barely fit one, of course your can't fit two.

So, you're so whiny because you want both in your mouth :(

And he's so beautiful, so flustered, ears bright red, breathing labored. He does these delicious hip rolls when you stroke him. Gorgeous tail hanging off the side of the bathtub.

"Please, princess, it's okay, don't pout like that."

"Please, just your hand is okay... please, baby..."

And of course you wrap your hands around both his cocks, and take turns sucking on both heads like a lollipop. Until he's moaning out your name, with his head thrown back, covering your hands and face with his cum.

Sylus

Sylus...

This man would train you to take him.

Very slow and patiently, full of sweet, loving praises.

"Shhh, kitten, it's okay. You're doing great."

He just loves you so much he'll indulge you anytime. Guide you through it.

"Hollow your cheeks a little."

"Hmmm... that's it, sweet thing, you're taking me so well."

If you have long hair, he'll wrap it around his hand, occasionally tug on it if you're being impatient. Short hair gets tugged on too.

And he'll click his tongue.

"Tsk tsk, kitten, you're going too fast."

He'll cup your cheeks with his long fingers.

"I want you to take it nice... and... slow..."

Xavier

A lover who chokes around his length would drive Xavier insane.

Oh, he's not gonna be gentle about it because he loves, loves seeing the tears cling to your lashes, your lips stretched out around his cock.

He loves seeing your efforts.

His hand is always on the top of your head, sometimes gripping your hair. And he holds you down on his cock every now and then. (With consent, of course. If you don't like that, he definitely won't.)

"That's it, princess. Look at how pretty you look, with your mouth around my cock."

He has to hold back so he won't thrust into your throat when you gag. He doesn't want to hurt you, of course. He wants you to feel good too.

He cums in your mouth and you struggle to swallow it all, just like you struggled with his length.

"You're so messy, my starlight. So pretty."

Caleb

Caleb wants your mouth around his cock so bad but he doesn't want you to hurt yourself :(

"Take it slow, pips, you don't have to take it whole."

He'll try so bad to keep his hips still for you.

And he's so full of praises. He pets your hair through it.

"You look so pretty."

"You're taking me so well."

"Your mouth feels so so good."

"I've thought about this before. Yeah, you, with my cock in your mouth. You look even prettier than I imagined."

He catches the tears that fall from your eyes. Thrusts into your mouth only when he's sure he won't hurt you. He's very eager to let you use him, let you suck on his cock like a popsicle but the way you want it.

You swallow him down once and he's done for, cumming down your throat while letting out the prettiest moans.

[xoey101]

satoru loves to make the most of your toys by using your dildo on you whenever he gets a chance.

he loves how it gives him an opportunity to fuck you silly while observing every single way your body responds to the pleasure. obviously, he gets an amazing view when he’s taking care of you himself, but it’ll never compare to what he observes when he’s playing with you like this.

he’s always so fixated on how easily your toy slides in and out of your pussy—it’s so fucking wet and messy. your slick even clings to your thighs, threatening to completely ruin the sheets. 

“pussy’s so fuckin’ greedy, huh? squeezing around this thing like it’s my dick,” he mumbles, completely fixed on the sight of your back arching up off the bed in pleasure.

eventually he’ll decide to push you just a bit more. laying flat on his stomach, he kisses your inner thighs as he pushes your dildo in even deeper, threatening to touch your cervix. you whine out a small “satoruuu,” in response, pleading with him through a frown to stop teasing you.

sighing in faux sympathy, he lets out a simple “i know baby, i know,” stopping to lick a long stripe up your cunt before lapping at your clit like a starved man.

“toru—ah! feels s’good,” you slur, gripping your pillow desperately for some sort of stability. his pace is absolutely relentless; he’s flicking his tongue up against your clit all while thrusting your toy up against your g-spot like he’s trying to make you pass out from the pleasure.

“mmm, you’re gonna cum soon baby, aren’tcha?” he mumbles into your pussy, blue eyes glued to your blissful expression. 

you don’t even get the chance to let out a meager “yes,” after satoru pushes your toy into that spot that drives you up a fucking wall. 

“‘toru, i’m cumming—“ you squeal out, moans echoing off the walls as you lose yourself completely, legs shuddering as your slick coats his lips and chin. 

rubbing circles into your thigh as you come down from your high, satoru grins wide like a cheshire cat.

“again, baby, again. need to see that pretty face of yours while you cum, just one more time,” he trails off, pretending to wait for you to agree, as if you don’t always end up giving him what he wants when he looks at you like that.

you nod quietly, breath still shaky from your orgasm.

“that’s my sweet girl, so good for me.”

[cats-n-witchcraft]

Im not American but South Africa gets Oh Gods Its Trying to Kill Me, hot too. So here are some more survival tips 0. TECH GETS HOT IN HEAT. When you charge your phone or tablet, charge it on a flat surface and keep an eye on it. Basic stuff but even more important in this heat. Your laptop or computer is gonna hate the heat, so you can set up a fan for their sakes. Seriously, the first killer of laptops is heat. 1. Be aware that much like hypothermia, heat illness and heatstroke creeps up on you. Check in on yourself and others. That includes your pets! Please! https://www.rspcapetinsurance.org.au/pet-care/health-and-wellbeing/heatstroke-hyperthermia 2. If you must go outside, try and do it before peak sun strength hours. From 11 pm to 4 pm the sun is a deadly laser and will fuck you up. Sunscreen and a good hat will only go so far. 3. This may be counter intuitive, but cover yourself if youre outside. Just please, like OP said, use cloth that wicks moisture away and is breathable. The less skin the sun can hit, the better. That includes your face, ears and neck. 3. If you have duvets and no thin blankets in the house, you can remove the inners. If the bed is still too warm, make a sleeping spot on a tile floor. 4. If you do not have thick curtains to cover up windows, use blankets. If you need to ration, focus on the windows that face the way the sun comes up in. And especially target the large windows. 5. If you are really struggling and splashing yourself with water isnt helping, take a lukewarm/cool bath or shower. My mum's side of the family lived in an old farm house that didnt have any AC so she would do that often, and I myself do it too. 6. If you have long hair, tie that shit up high on your head. Be it in a ponytail, a bun or a high braid. Neck sweat is already awful enough without your hair clinging to your skin. 7. Rinse your bras so you can wear them longer before chucking them in the wash. Yea your underboob sweat is gonna get ten times worse Im so sorry 8. If you have disabilities that make you weak in heat, like POTs for example, keep a chair close by so you can quickly sit. If you use a cane, be aware palm sweat can make your grip slip so wrap some cloth or fibre around the handle. etc. Please, people who have disabilities and live in hot areas, add on your tips!

For all of the northerners that stood up for Texas during our freeze and said, "Don't make fun of them, they've never dealt with this before. Their infrastructure isn't made for snow and freezing."

This one is for you.

Where I live 108°F with 80% humidity with no wind is normal.

Pacific North West is dealing historic best waves 35-40°C or 95-105°F.

First of all. Don't make fun of them for bitching about the heat. Just like Texas isn't built for a freeze and our pipes burst, Pacific North West isn't built for heat and a lot of their homes don't have AC.

If you live somewhere with a high humidity like 80+ HUMIDITY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. The "humidity makes it feel cooler" is a lie once it gets beyond a point.

If you live somewhere with a lower humidity, misters are nice to cool off outside.

Once you get over 90°F (32°C) a fan will not help you. It's just pushing around hot air. (I mean if you can't afford a small AC unit because they're expensive as hell, by all means a fan is better than nothing).

If you have pets, those portable AC units aren't safe. If your pets destroy the outtake thing, it'll leak CO2. Window units are safer.

Window AC units will let mosquitoes or other small bugs in. Sucks, but that's life.

Now is not the time to me modest. If you have to cover for religious reasons, by all means. If you don't, I've seen people wear short shorts and a swim top. It's not trashy if it keeps you from getting heat stroke.

If you do have to cover up for religious reasons, look for elephant pants or something similar. They're made with a breathable material.

Shade is better than no shade, but that shit it just diet sun after some point. Don't think shade will save you from heat stroke.

I know the "drink your water" is a fun meme now, but if you're sweating excessively you need electrolytes. Drink Gatorade, Powerade, or Pedialite PLEASE. I don't care if you're fucking sitting in one spot all day. That shit WILL save you from heat stroke.

Most importantly. RESEARCH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HEAT STROKE AND HEAT EXHAUSTION PLEASE!

If you're diabetic and can't drink Gatorade, mix water, fruit juice, and either lite salt or pink salt

If you can afford it, cover windows with thick curtains to insulate the house

If you have tile floors, lay on them with skin to tile contact. If you don't, laying your head on cool counters works too.

If the temperature where you're at is hotter than your body temperature, don't wear heat wicking clothing. Moisture wicking is safe though.

Check your medication labels. Many make you more susceptible to sun and heat

-Room temperature water will get into your body faster. This is something I learned doing marching band in high summer in Georgia, and it saved all of our asses. Sip it, don't gulp it, especially if you're getting into the red; same goes for whatever fluid you're drinking. And just in general drink during the day.

-If you are moving from an air conditioned space to an un-air conditioned space, if at all possible try to make the shift gradual. When my dad and I were working outside and in un-ac houses a few years ago, he'd turn the air down to low in the truck about ten-fifteen minutes before we got where we were going. This way your body doesn't go from low low temps to high temps. S'bad for you.

-If you can, keep your lights off during the day. Light bulbs may not generate a lot of heat, but the difference is noticeable when it gets hot enough. I literally only turn my bedroom light on in the evening when it gets too dark.

Don't be afraid to just like... pour water on yourself if you need to. The evaporation will cool you off.

Put your hand to the cement for 15 seconds. If you can't handle the heat, it'll burn your dog's paws. Don't let them walk on it.

Dogs with flat faces are more prone to heat stroke. Don't leave them out unsupervised.

Frozen fruit is delicious in water.

Wet/Cold hat/handkerchief on your head/neck will help you stay cool.

Pickle juice is great for electrolytes! You can even make pickle juice Popsicles!

Heat exhaustion is more, "drink water and get you cooled off." Heat stroke is more "Oh my god call 911."

Image Description provided by @loveize

[Image description: an infographic showing the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. The graphic is labeled "Heat Dangers: First Warning." Signs of heat exhaustion: faint or dizzy, excessive sweating, cool, pale, clammy skin, rapid, weak pulse, muscle cramps. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat exhaustion, get to a cool, air-conditioned place, drink water if conscious, and take a cool shower or use cold compress. Signs of heat stroke: throbbing headache, no sweating, red, hot, dry skin, rapid, strong pulse, may lose consciousness. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat stroke, call 911. End description]

Be safe.

-fae

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Victor Doesn't Know (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: a smut fic inspired by Scotty Doesn't Know

Words: 1236

Warnings: Smut, cheating, Vision 'cuz fuck that guy.

A/N: Victor is Vision because this is a human AU. Written kinda in my head as a college AU but there's literally no real mention of it. But also--fuck you, Vision, we could've had WandaNat and instead we got you.

-X-

You hadn’t spared it a single thought the moment Wanda had texted you to come over. There was no hesitation. No wondering if you should be doing this. Because when Wanda Maximoff texts you a photo of her standing in front of her floor length mirror in red lingerie, you fucking get your ass into gear and head to her room—

And if you ever turned down that type of invitation, you hoped someone would immediately put you down because you were either an imposter or losing your mind.

It’d only taken five minutes for you to stop in front of her door, knocking impatiently. It’d been days since you’d been together last because Victor was being exceptionally clingy—as if he knew something was changing and just hadn’t figured out what that meant yet.

She opened the door in seconds, the corners of her mouth tugging up into a secretive smile that was only ever for you these days. Half guilt, half greed but all hunger. Her hand tangled up in your shirt as she dragged you inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

Your eyes drank her in ravenously, tracing along the exposed skin like it was your birthright. Deep red with a bow between her tits, the skimpy fabric did little to leave anything up to the imagination, her nipples taut and pointed through the cups and the garters clinging to her thigh-high socks.

“Fuck, baby, you look delicious,” you groaned, gripping her hips possessively.

She’d told Victor this was for him.

But you knew better—and she knew you knew.

The afternoon sunlight slipped through the cracks in the curtains, painting her in the most ethereal golden light, her tousled hair and berry-colored lips only making it all the more sinful.

Her mouth was inches from yours when her phone began to buzz violently on her desk and she rolled her eyes, snatching it up. “Not a word,” she breathed, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before answering the call.

“Hey, baby,” she cooed into the phone, voice saccharine sweet even as her hand found the waistband of your sweats, tugging at them with a needy, pleading expression.

As your pants hit the floor, you spun Wanda around, pressing her back to your chest as your hand slipped into her thong. Her breath hitched violently as your fingers explored her soaked core, mouth hot and pointed along her throat as your strap-on ground against her ass. He didn’t notice—too boring and vanilla to ever assume his girlfriend was fucking the lesbian two floors above her—but you heard it and god, did it do things to you.

“Mmhmm, yeah, I’m just in my room,” she said calmly into the phone even as she tipped her head to the side, granting you more access to her throat as your fingers slipped through her need. “Just got out of the shower. Why?”

Her free hand fell to your thigh, gripping tightly as your fingers dipped into her aching pussy, stroking teasingly.

“No, I haven’t eaten yet,” she murmured, her voice so composed that it was almost infuriating. “You ordering something?”

Pressing your fingers deeper into her, you curled your fingers just right, knowing exactly how to break that pretty composure of hers and her hips bucked. Her mouth fell open, a silent but sharp inhale tensing her body in your arms. Her hand left your thigh, wrapping around your wrist as you stroked through slick arousal.

Victor’s voice was a tinny echo from the speaker as he mentioned some boring movie he wanted to watch and you rolled your eyes so hard you were worried you’d see your own brain.

“Sure, that sounds—” Wanda’s breath hitched as she rocked into your hand, “—perfect.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear long enough to press the mute button, her mouth hot and desperate against your jaw. “You’re going to make me moan and he’s going to fucking hear it,” she whispered.

“How terrible,” you smirked in response, walking her the few inches to the bed before lifting her onto the mattress.

Pressing her face into the pillows while her ass wiggled in the air, you yanked down her thong enough to settle behind her. She’d already unmuted the mic, but it didn’t matter. Her voice was already wavering just so as she arched her back willingly—so pathetic and needy—as your hands gripped her waist, dragging her back into you as the tip of your strap-on pressed into her slowly—achingly slow.

Victor was oblivious, talking about fucking shawarma of all things.

Her head pressed into the pillows, teeth sunk into the case as you bottomed out with a sharp roll of your hips. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the phone, not answering Victor as she tried not to scream. Her breathing was labored and heavy, barely muffled by the pillows.

“Wanda? Are you okay?” his voice echoed through the speaker and she scrambled to grab the phone.

“I—yeah, I j-just dropped s-something. S-sorry.”

Smirking, you drove into her rougher, relishing in the squeak that escaped even as she covered her mouth with her hand.

Victor sighed on the other end and every part of you wanted to reach through the phone and beat him senseless. He always sounded so exasperated with her and it was maddening. “You’ve been so clumsy recently.”

She shuddered beneath you, lashes fluttering and thighs trembling as you pounded into her like it was your only purpose. One hand dipped between her legs as you circled her clit roughly, the other hand tangling in her hair as your hips slammed into hers repeatedly.

She yelped, barely masked by the sheets and her own palm, but it didn’t matter. You could see the jolt that worked through her spine, the involuntary arch like her body only belonged to you.

Your fingers were merciless on her clit, the rough rhythm matching the punishing thrusts of your hips. Each one dragging another silent—barely—scream from her throat. Her cunt clenched around you like she was trying to trap you there as her thighs trembled. You tugged on her hair, pulling her head up from the sheets, watching as she bit her lip so hard that you worried she might bleed.

“Wanda?” Victor’s voice sounded again, louder this time, “What’s going on?”

She swallowed hard, voice cracking, “I-I think—I might be getting a fever,” she gasped breathlessly, “I-I think I’m gonna t-take a shower real quick.”

You never let up, even as he paused on the other end of the line.

“…didn’t you say you’d just taken a shower when I first called?” he asked cautiously, but her fingers shakily pressed into the End Call button, silencing his question.

She shoved the phone off the bed, back arching as a scream tore through her throat that mostly sounded like your name the moment the line went dead. Her entire body trembled and shook as her orgasm ripped through her like a tidal wave of ecstasy, helpless as pleasure was dragged from her viciously.

Wanda collapsed forward, thighs sticky and convulsing as she panted, lips parted in disbelief at what she’d just let you do to her with him on the other end.

You smirked, kissing along her pale spine—

Both of you completely unaware that her fingers?

They’d never actually hit End Call.

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 2

“Baby please move your head. It's right under my tit.” Natasha mumbled with a groggy voice. It had been a week since she started managing the boy band and letting them invade her privacy every night. They had their own rooms in the penthouse but at that point, they only used them to keep their belongings. The boys had taken a shine to sleeping in Natasha's bed every night and made no effort to stop their behavior. To be fair, Natasha did try to ban them from her room multiple times.

But there was only so much an older demon woman could do against 5 younger demon men who claimed they were obsessed with her scent. “Mm no… comfy.” Baby mumbled back in an incredibly deep morning voice. “Well you gotta move anyway. I need to get up so I can make breakfast. You got a recording session today.” Groaning, Baby instead moved closer into Natasha's side while Mystery tightened his grip on her waist.

“Come on boys. You gotta let me go.” After some heavy convincing, Natasha managed to slip away from the bed that was crowded with all five Saja boys and went to brush her teeth. As she did, she sighed as Abby came up behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her waist. “Come back to bed~ Miss you.” Using one hand, Natasha shoved the man back gently. “Go back to bed young one. I have things to do.” She smiled softly before leaving the bathroom and going to the kitchen. As she started cooking, Natasha began to hum an old song of hers very quietly.

She remembered her years in the spotlight fondly but she had no desire to return to those times. The money was good and she adored her fans. She reveled in her fame and fortune but she hated the paparazzi. The constant invasion of privacy and the fabricated lies they would spin like nosy little spiders angered her. She liked her years in the spotlight, yes but not enough to return. “Smells good. That for us?” Romance smiled as he and Jinu walked into the kitchen slowly.

Sleep still clinging to their bodies. “Yes it is. Good morning. Jinu? Can you go wake up the others? Romance, set the table please?” Natasha asked sweetly. As Jinu left to wake the others, Romance took the opportunity to walk up behind Natasha and grab a handful of her ass. “What the!? Romance!!” Angry and flustered by the action, Natasha turned to scold the man only for his lips to catch her own in a deep kiss while his hands rested on her hips.

His fingers slowly sliding into her fluffy pajama pants. He then pulled away, slowly licking his lips before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I'm hungry, but not for food. Won't you feed me properly lovely lady?~” He asked, almost whining before trying to slide one of his hands into Natasha's underwear. “No. I can't.” Natasha responded firmly by grabbing Romance's hand and moving from her body and pushing past him.

“I'm not going to sleep with you. Now please set the table.” She then replied trying to keep her cool as if she was not at all turned on by the man behind her. Instead of being upset with the rejection, Romance smirked. He knew he got to her. He could smell the arousal from her. He just wished Natasha wasn't so uptight and let herself enjoy the benefits that came with the fact 5 sexy young demon men took interest in her. “Why does it smell like pussy juice out here?” A loud voice interrupted the once peace and quiet Natasha was trying to enjoy.

“Watch your fucking mouth Abby.” Another voice added. “You watch your fucking mouth Baby.” “How about you both watch your fucking mouths?” Jinu groaned as Mystery made a beeline towards Natasha and wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. “They're so loud…” He whispered into her neck. “Good morning to you too Mystery. Go sit down hun. Breakfast is about to be served.”

Moving from his embrace, Natasha watched as Mystery took his seat next to Baby who was eyeing the extra spicy hot sauce that was placed on the table specifically for him. After breakfast, the boys scattered to their rooms to get ready, save for Romance who decided to stay behind to help with the dishes. After drying the last one, he watched as Natasha retreated to her own room to get ready for the day.

Sneaking into her room and listening to the sound of the shower turning on, Romance smirked and undressed himself before teleporting behind a naked Natasha who, due to the sound of the shower, hadn't heard him appear behind her. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head the moment she felt hands on her hips. “Oh my!!-” “Shhh it's just me.~” Romance replied. “How is that supposed to make me feel any better!? Get out!! I told you no!!” Natasha shouted angrily.

“You said no, but your body said yes. Your scent practically screamed it. Why won't you give in to your instincts. Let me be the first to mate you.~” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss her neck. Natasha felt herself shiver despite the hot temperature of the water. “Can't you smell me? I smell you. Your arousal is like a drug I want to keep taking. It's intoxicating. I'm addicted. We all are. Please~” Romance bit his lip while pressing himself up against Natasha's back, making sure she could feel his erection.

“You just don't wanna listen do you?” She growled, causing the man behind her to tilt his head in confusion before he was shoved against the shower wall with Natasha's hand pressed against his chest and the other grasping his cock. “O-oh shit!!” He choked.

“Do you know how hard it is trying to keep my composer around you sluts? Your musk is constantly flooding my senses and it's driving me crazy. But I still have the sense to keep it professional. Something that seems like a foreign concept to you. So let my tell you something, I'll fuck you. Absolutely! But on my terms. My time. And when I feel like you deserve it. Whore. Now, be a good boy, cum on my hand and tell the others. Because I know they're listening at the door. Go on. Sing like the whore you are.~” Natasha smirked all the while she pumped Romance's cock and listened to his choked moans and begging sounds.

Her demon form allowing her to growl in his ear while he cried in pleasure. “Please! Oh fuck! Mistress! I'm yours! I'm your whore! I wanna be your good boy! Fuck! Fuck! Cumming! Cumming!! Mistress!!!” Natasha watched satisfied as thick ropes of semen shot from Romance's cock. “Good boy. Now get out. I need to wash myself.” She whispered as she pressed a long kiss to Romance's lips before shoving him out of her shower.

Outside of the room, the others watched in envy as Romance stumbled out of Natasha’s room with a dazed smile on his face. The only thing now on their minds was which of them was next.

Chapter 3

[blasphemyandbackshots]

you were already in bed when the door slammed. “hyoma?”

no answer, only the sound of cleats thrown hard against the wall and the heavy stomp of a furious man. you padded into the living room just as he dropped into a chair, head bowed, fingers fisting through that long red hair.

you knew that silence. you hated that silence. “your knee?”

still nothing. you moved to kneel in front of him, hands gently brushing his thighs and finally, his eyes met yours.

“i felt it snap,” he muttered. “mid-sprint. same fucking spot.”

your chest twisted. “baby…”

he shook his head, breathing hard. “i was finally starting. i was finally fucking feeling it again. and now—”

his voice cracked and you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his waist.

but he gripped your shoulders hard and said, low. “i need to do something. i need to feel something. or i’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

your breath hitched. “okay.”

“i’m serious.” his eyes burned. “let me take it out on you.”

you blinked. heat bloomed in your belly. “yes,” you whispered. “do whatever you need.”

his jaw clenched. his grip tightened. and then, suddenly, you were pinned on the couch, his mouth crashing against yours like he wanted to consume you. clothes were gone in seconds. your legs were pulled over his good knee as he shoved his cock inside you, no teasing, no mercy. just frustration, pain and need.

“fucking hell,” he hissed against your throat. “you’re the only thing that ever makes sense.”

you moaned, back arching. “hyoma—”

“shut up,” he growled. “just take it. just let me have you.”

he rutted into you with sharp, brutal thrusts. hips snapping like he was still on the field, chasing something. you clung to him, nails dragging down his back, tears stinging your eyes from the intensity.

“you’re mine,” he whispered against your mouth. “you’re mine, and i don’t care if i lose my knee again, i’ll crawl to every game just knowing i get to fuck you like this after.”

your orgasm built fast, wrung from the friction and heat and emotion. you came with a cry, pulsing around him, as he kept pounding into you.

“again,” he muttered, gripping your thighs harder. “i need you to come again. need to feel it. need to see it.”

you whimpered, overstimulated and squirming, and he smirked.

“too much? then don’t take it. but i’m not stopping.”

and he didn’t. not when your legs started trembling. not when you begged. not until you were gasping, twitching, flooding around his cock again so hard and tight he spilled inside you with a strangled groan.

he didn’t pull out. he collapsed against you, panting. body heavy and hair clinging to his flushed face.

after a long moment, he whispered. “i’m sorry.”

you cupped his jaw. “for what?”

“for being selfish. for fucking you like that. for not saying anything first.”

you kissed his cheek, still catching your breath. “you asked. i said yes.”

he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against yours. “you’re everything. even if i never run again—you’re still everything.”

and you believed him. because nothing felt more honest than the way he held you after. arms wrapped tight, face buried in your neck, whispering over and over.

“still mine. still mine. still mine.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Locked Out of Heaven 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father invites a work friend to the neighbourhood barbecue.

Characters: Nick Fowler (Dad’s friend trope)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You cling onto the strap of your bag, wringing it as your nerves build with each step. You're really doing this. You're going out with a boy. No, a man. 

You stop short, a few feet from Nick's car. You gulp. What would your dad say? What would he do if he found out? How much would he really care? He only cares about your grades. 

You stare as you weigh the decision. He's not going to find out. Austin won't even know you're gone. So why are you suddenly so afraid?  

Nick's headlights flash and he rolls toward you. You turn to face him as he pulls up. You smile to hide the tremor in your chest. 

"Hi," you squeak as he lowers his window.  

"Hey, princess? You forget something? What's the matter?" He asks. 

"Oh, uh, I don't know," you look back at the house. "I... no. I..." 

"Get in, baby." He reaches over to pat the passenger's seat. "Boat's waiting." 

You stutter step then stagger around the car. You fumble with the handle and swing the door out. You fall in, ready to dissolve into mist, and shut the door with a jarring snap. 

You're so anxious, you could explode. Before you can even reach for the seat belt, Nick's on you. He cradles your cheek and slips his hand down to your chin. He holds you firmly and leans in, brushing his nose against yours. 

You shiver at his closeness. His warmth swathes around you and his scent stains your breath. 

"You miss me?" He purrs. "I missed you, princess. All I've been thinking about is you. About us." 

"Um, yes," you babble and nod into his hand.  

His lips curve and he presses them to yours. You brace his forearm in surprise, his veins bulging against your palm. His tongue dips into your mouth and he growls. He leans further over the space between the seats, smothering you. 

When he parts, you're dizzy, lips puffy, and cheeks burning. You stare at him dopily. You push your thighs together and tilt your pelvis. That tingly coil winds through you. 

He wears short-sleeve white button up with a blue line at the edge of the collar. And pale blue shorts that cut off high up his thighs. He wears those loafer-type shoes with the little nautical knot. Boat shoes? His gold chain sparkles above his chest and his pinkie ring encircles his finger. 

"I got everything you need, baby. Don't worry. It's all on the boat," he pets your cheek with his knuckles. "You're just going to sit back and relax. Let me take care of you." 

"Al... alright," you wisp. 

It's going to happen. You felt it. In his urgency. You know what he wants. He hasn't been subtle. You think you want it too. That must be what makes you so squirmy. 

"It's gonna be a great day. Just us. At last." He looks over the steering wheel and buckles his seat belt. You do the same. "Sun, drink, each other..." 

He grips the wheel with one hand and slaps his other onto your thigh. 

"We got all day and I'm going to take my time, baby. I'm gonna make you feel like the princess you are." He slowly pushes down on the gas. "You don't gotta worry about nothing." 

💜

The water gently stirs as you walk down the dock. Nick has your hand in his as he guides you along the shore side. There are other boats tied off there. Luxurious boats with upholstered seats and cabins, large steering wheels and monikers written across the sides. 

Austin has pictures of a boat like this on his socials. He went off with his friends last summer and came back hungover for a week. Your dad let him sleep it off while you did his dingy laundry. 

A ripple flows through you. Something like anger. Irritation. Your brother gets to go off and have fun without question. Even your dad goes out for drinks or goes golfing or whatever else he likes. Why is it so bad that you do anything at all? If your dad even knew about the trip to the gelato shop, he’d be barking at you for wasting time. 

You sigh. Nick squeezes your hand as something jingles in his other. He tugs you back before you walk off the side of the dock. 

“Woah, baby,” he draws you to face him. “Don’t want you falling in.” He kisses your forehead and the heat of his lips pulls you back to the present. “Whatcha sighing for?” 

“N-nothing. I...” you look around, searching for anything to say. “I’ve never been on a boat.” 

“Gonna be a lot of firsts today,” he winks and brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “You stay here. Keep clear of the edge for me, princess.” 

He lets you go and shakes the keys in his other hand. You fold twine your fingers together and press your palms to your stomach. You turn to watch him as he nears the edge of the wooden planks. He hops across onto the open rear of the boat, easily launching himself over the gap. 

He steadies himself and ducks under the roof. You listen to his steps as the boat shifts subtly. You rock anxiously as a cool breeze brushes across you. 

He appears again and bends to slide out a board hidden beneath the floor. He extends it over the space between the dock and the boat. He straightens up and reaches to you, one foot on the ramp. 

You untangle your fingers and take his hand. He guides you firmly across onto the polished flooring. You glance around at the open space at the back of the boat, just behind the cover sitting area of the cabin. White leather and azure cushions. A table mounted between the benches, a narrow doorway to the front of the boat with the driver’s seat. 

“Wow, this is yours?” 

“Sure is,” he drags his hand up your arm slowly. “Ours.” 

You look at him, your heart pumping. You smile. You peer back at the dock. 

“Oh... I...” You watch a woman on another boat, in a sarong and sun hat. 

“I told you. I got everything figured out,” he rubs your shoulder. “Just a minute.” 

He turns and goes to slide the board back under the floor. Then he stands and unmoors from the post. The boat rocks with his steps. 

He strides back to you and points to the bench. “That’s yours there.” 

There’s a white and blue beach bag on the seat. You hadn’t paid it much attention at first glance. You tilt your head curiously. 

“You get into your bathing suit and I’ll get us asea,” he coaxes. 

“Oh, uh, okay?” 

“One thing at a time, right?” He purrs and leans in to kiss you. You close your eyes as a thrill rolls over you. Too far. No going back. 

“Yes, Nick.” You murmur as he parts, cradling your face as he brushes his nose up yours and once more presses his lips to your forehead. He hums. 

“Good girl.” 

His reluctance has his hand lingering on your neck before he pulls back. He turns and struts through the cabin to the front of the boat. He drops into the driver’s chair and you watch him swipe up the keys from the little tray beside the wheel. He turns the engine and the rumble startles you. 

You approach the beach bag. You peek inside as you touch the side. You reach in to pull out the bikini top. Oh. You only ever wore a one-piece with shorts. Your dad made you keep a tee shirt on even. This is less than you could even imagine. 

You run your finger over the patterning on the triangle of fabric. White with lilac vines printed onto it. It’s pretty and the straps are like thick ribbons. 

You glance at Nick and the boat lurches. You land on the seat with a gasp. He looks back. 

“You okay? Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“I’m good,” you sit and dip your chin, examining the top. Your hands tremble. You peek at him again. He’s focus on steering. 

You nod, goading yourself into it. You unhook your purse from across you and put your phone inside. You push it against the back of the sofa bench and drop your shoulders. This is what you want. It has to be. 

You peel off your shirt and look down at your bra. Plain, white, boring. You reach back to unhook it, another wary look at the driver. He’s unconcerned as the boat bobs over the waves. 

You take off the bra, your nipples hard from the air breezing through, or maybe the anticipation. You tie on the bikini top and it does little to hide them. Your chest feels like it will spill out at any moment. 

You stand and search for the bottoms. Not much more than the top. You quickly change into them. You try to stretch the fabric across your bum but it only covers half your cheeks. You chew your lip. 

You take the flip flops sticking out of the bag and put them on. You fish around again and pull out a sheer purple cover up. It opens in the front and has little tassels dangling from the short sleeves. 

“Alright,” Nick proclaims and makes you flinch. 

You bend to gather up your clothes and stuff them away in the bag. He stands and turns, ducking into the cabin then stands straight. He looks you up and down as you cross your arms. 

“Princess,” he breaths as he grabs your wrist. “Let me see.” 

He takes both your arms and pulls them apart. His eyes rove up and down your body. You shiver as the cover up falls open. 

“Oh...” he utters. 

You stare at his shirt collar, face ablaze. Is he disappointed. You brace yourself for it. 

“Wow,” he slips his hands from your arms and frames your hips. “Baby, you look amazing.” 

“Um, really?” You jitter in disbelief. “Er, thanks.” 

“Baby, baby, baby,” his thumbs dig into your soft flesh. “We got all day... so you gotta make me go slow.” 

“Oh,” you gulp. 

“I could...” he begins and chuckles. He shakes his head and pokes his tongue into cheek. “Come on, let’s get settled.” 

He lets you go and pops open the top button of his shirt. He goes down the row and pulls apart the fabric, revealing his muscled torso. He strips away the linen shirt and tosses it carelessly onto the bench. You gape at his chest. 

“Like what you see?” He taunts and you look him in the face, shrinking in embarrassment. 

“I--I--” 

He snickers. “It’s all yours, princess. You don’t gotta be shy.” 

“I... okay. I'll try.” 

“Baby, I got you, alright?” He drawls. “Come on.” 

He takes your hand and guides you onto the back of the boat. As it rocks with the water, you’re put even more off-kilter. He squeezes before he releases you again.  

He peers around and grabs a striped fabric chest. He flips the top and pulls out a large beach blanket. He spreads it over the flooring. He goes back to the cabin and grabs some cushions and tosses them down too. He plunks the chest at the edge of the blanket. 

“Got drinks, got snacks,” he reaches inside, “but most important, sunscreen.” 

You nod. He takes out the bottle of cream and wiggles it at you as he comes closer. He touches the edge of the cover-up. “Take this off. I’ll get you.” 

“Huh, oh?” You look down and shrug. You let the sheer fabric fall down your arms and pile at your feet. You’re too stunned to catch it. 

“Come on,” he gets down on his knees. “Relax, princess.” 

He tugs until you get down to. He taps the bottle on the blanket. “Lay down.” 

“Uh, okay...” you lay on your back, chest rising and falling quickly as your chest hammers. 

He shifts onto his butt and flicks the cap open. He squirts the cream into his palms and rubs them together. The coolness of the lotion is as jarring as the feel of his hands. He starts at your neck, smearing across your collar bone and to your chest. 

He drags his hands down, spreading it diligently before squeezing more from the bottle. You twitch as he gets to your chest, poking his thumbs under the edge of the bikini to get cream there too. He rubs it into your skin as your nipples poke against the fabric. 

He continues on to your stomach, massaging as he goes, then does your arms, kneading your hands delicately as he gets between your fingers. You’re paralysed as he plies the UV to your skin. 

He pokes your thighs, “come on, baby.” 

You hesitate before you spread your legs. You squeak as he gets between them on his knees. For a moment you think... 

He claps his hand on your thigh and smears the cream into your skin. He squeezes and his fingertips sends sparks through you. You spasm and squeal as he hits every nerve. You wriggle at the unbearable tingle. 

You giggle as the sensation turns ticklish. He chuckles too and purrs, paying close attention to your thighs. Pushing his thumbs in until your clasp onto his wrists. 

“Nick!” 

He smirks at you. “These are nice,” he clamps tighter on your thighs. “You know that?” 

You whimper his name again. He pulls out of your grasp and drags down your legs to your feet. When he finishes your soles, he clucks. 

“Turn over.” 

You blink but do as he says. You flip onto your stomach, feeling the jiggle of your bum as the bathing suit rides up. He hums. 

“Oh, princess,” he drones. 

“I... sorry,” you reach to fix the bottoms. 

He tuts and swats your hand away. 

“It’s all mine, baby. Don’t you worry. I want every part of you,” he shoves your hand down so it bounces on the floor. Your knuckles ring with the impact. “I told you, relax.” 

He gets up on his knees and blends lotions into your shoulders and down the back of your arms. Then he coats your back and hips, following the curve of your back to your bum. He massages the rise of flesh and bends to kiss the swell. You squeal in surprise and he nips you. 

“Mmm, delicious,” he snarls and runs his thumbs along the crease below your butt. You wince and ball your hands. 

He continues along the back of your thighs, even more sensitive than the front, and you squirm. You can hear him breath, almost growling. Your own breaths puff out in a storm of excitement and fear. 

As he gets the back of your calves, your head swims. He raises himself up and moves beside you. He caresses your arm. 

“Now let me see that pretty face.” He grits. 

“Sure, uh,” your turn over again and sit up. 

He rubs his hands together then cradles your face. He uses his thumbs to cover your cheeks with cream and traces your features. He runs his palms over your face gently and caps off the application with a longing kiss on your lips. 

He hovers just before you. “My turn.” 

He lets you go and lowers himself down. He hands you the bottle and you take it, dazed as your skin thrums. You watch him as he pushes his chest up just slightly and your eyes scale down his torso. Where do you start? 

You dollop the lotion into your hand and mash them together. You start at his neck, feeling his throat bob. He purrs as you get to his shoulders. The firm muscle makes you quiver inside. Then his chest... oh. It feels so nice. So strong. 

You retreat and focus on his arms. There’s muscle there too and the thick veins on his forearms have you squeezing your thighs together. His hands are bigger as you focus on them and rubs the cream into his rough palms. 

As you ply the sunscreen to his stomach, you feel it clench. You recoil as something catches the corner of your eye. You gasp and stare at the front of his shorts. You can see him inside, nearly bursting out as he bulges beneath the waistband. 

He lifts his head and groans. 

“It’s okay, baby, I won’t bite... yet,” he snickers. “Keep going.” 

You nod and bite your tongue. You put your hands back on his stomach and trail along his sides, sure to get every bit of skin. Your eyes flit back to his shorts. Your insides tighten. You shake at the flicker in your mind, the thought of grabbing it... 

Instead, you shift and move to his thighs. As tempting as it is, you’re still terrified. You’ll work up to that. Eventually. 

[olliepop718]

💘 San as a Protective Boyfriend (with soft + spicy energy):

• Constantly checks on you: Whether you’re out with friends or just at work, he’ll text “You okay, baby?” or “Let me know when you’re home.”

• Hawk eyes in public 👀: If anyone looks at you sideways, San is immediately stepping closer, hand on your waist, giving “don’t even think about it” energy.

• Walks on the outside of the sidewalk every time, no matter how many times you switch places.

• Pulls you behind him when crossing busy streets or entering a crowded place, like he’s your personal shield.

• Gets jealous easily but not in a toxic way—just a low-key “Who’s that guy? Why’s he smiling at you like that?” then clings to you tighter.

• Loves when you wear his clothes—partly because it smells like him, partly because it’s a quiet way of marking his territory.

• Protective even emotionally: If someone says something that upsets you, he’s the first to speak up—“That’s not okay. Don’t talk to her like that.”

• Can go from soft to intense real fast if he thinks you’re uncomfortable. You’ve had to grab his hand more than once to calm him down.

• Lowers his voice and gets very serious when he’s worried about you: “Baby, I need you to tell me if something’s wrong. I can’t help if you shut me out.”

• Sleeps facing the door—it’s instinct. He always wants to be between you and anything that could ever hurt you.

• Carries extra stuff for you (water, your meds, snacks) because he “doesn’t want his baby to ever go without.”

• Talks you through your anxiety like a pro, his protectiveness showing in how safe he tries to make you feel.

• Will literally fight your demons if he could: “If your anxiety had a face, I’d punch it. You don’t deserve that.”

• Has a strong, secure grip on your hand when walking together, especially at night or in unfamiliar places.

• Playfully possessive: “You’re mine. Say it.” And laughs when you roll your eyes—but melts when you say it back.

• Is your biggest hype man, but gets very serious if anyone else says anything negative about you—he will confront them.

• Always watches your surroundings, even when you’re talking. He notices people, exits, everything—just in case.

• Whispers protective things while cuddling: “No one’s ever gonna hurt you while I’m breathing, baby.”

[classytiti]

haiii, do you mind writing something for kinky!smoke? im achingggg for it titi

Money

featuring: elijah smoke moore x black!reader warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, money kink titi's note: thank you so much for requesting anon, mwah Masterlist Here

smoke was so gentle, loving, and caring. but you never expected him to have such a kinky side.

he was such a sweet thing. helping you into bed, whispering sweet nothings like his life depended on it. he’d wash your clothes, serve you breakfast in bed, rub your feet when they hurt, and even wash you in the shower without you asking. always so tender with those big hands, like you were his softest secret.

so you weren’t shocked when smoke didn’t help with your shower tonight. you figured he was tired. you stepped out, skin dripping, forgetting your towel. you padded toward the bedroom, nipples hard from the air and hair clinging to your shoulders. the bed was covered in stacks of money, crisp bills splayed like he’d just counted them out with care. but smoke wasn’t in the room.

“baby, your money—” you started, brows furrowing.

but your words halted when you saw him.

he walked in slow, barefoot, slacks riding low on his hips. his bare chest gleamed, the scent of cocoa butter hitting before he even got close. his eyes, usually soft when they landed on you, were dark now. hungry.

“get on the bed, baby,” he said, voice low, like gravel soaked in honey.

you blinked. “what? i’m still wet, and i’m pretty sure this money came from not-clean hands—”

“and?” he cut you off. “ion mind fuckin’ my girl on this money, ’specially when you all wet like that.”

“i—smoke, that’s—”

you didn’t even finish.

his hand was already between your thighs, cupping your pussy in one big palm. his middle finger teased your slit, then slid in like it owned you. your knees buckled.

“you tellin’ me i can’t have my pussy tonight?” he murmured, eyes burning into yours. the warmth was gone. this was smoke in another mood, something rougher.

you gasped as his finger curled inside you, your thighs squeezing around his wrist. he guided you to the bed, pushing you down with one firm press. not harsh but with purpose. your curls flew, face planting into soft cotton and the crackle of hundred-dollar bills.

“smoke—”

“i see i need to fuck you on this money. show you how much you worth to me.”

you whimpered, hips twitching. your pussy clenched around nothing. his voice… his tone… it did something to you. lit something up inside you.

then he grabbed your hair, hard. pulled you back until your spine arched like a bow. you cried out as your face met his—close enough to feel his breath, to taste the lust in his expression.

and then he pushed in.

his cock—thick, veiny, dark—slid in deep, all the way to your cervix. one slow, brutal stroke that left your mouth falling wide open in a silent scream.

“thaa’s it,” he growled in your ear, holding you there, balls snug against your soaked folds. “this pussy mine. all mine.”

you couldn’t even argue. couldn’t speak. all you could do was moan, high and needy, as he pulled out slow, then slammed back in. again. and again.

the money crinkled under your knees. your back bowed with every thrust. his grip on your hips was bruising, but you didn’t want it any softer.

he leaned down, chest to your back, lips brushing your ear. “keep that ass up, baby. i want you to remember every dollar i fuck into you.”

and he made sure you would.

[slut4kwon]

if you were anyone else

pairing: kwon jiyong x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re his best friend’s little sister. it was never supposed to mean anything, but now he can’t forget the way she looked at him like it did. and that’s the problem. because wanting her was already a mistake, but letting her go might be worse.

warnings: 18+, implied sexual content, swearing, angst, secret relationship, brother’s best friend trope, emotionally repressed men™, jealousy, regret, unresolved feelings, possessive behavior, emotionally charged spirals, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, slight praise kink, yearning so intense it physically hurts.

authors note: this is my first time posting on here, so… go easy on me. or don’t. i probably won’t sleep either way. also this is long as fuck i am so sorry. if you read it, thank you. if you liked it, even better. if you’re here just for the angst, me too.

you should’ve known it would get messy the first time he kissed you.

it wasn’t sweet. it wasn’t slow.

it happened behind the wardrobe rack in one of the yg dressing rooms, thirty minutes before a run-through while the crew scrambled to fix a lighting issue.

you were in a sports bra and sweatpants, makeup half-finished, second-day curls falling effortlessly down your back.

he was in his usual all-black rehearsal outfit, a silver chain at his collarbone, and something unreadable behind his eyes.

“you’re not supposed to look at me like that,” he muttered, jaw tense, gaze fixed on yours.

you crossed your arms. “i’m not looking at you like anything.”

he stepped in closer. “you keep doing those little moves. the ones you know drive me fucking crazy.”

“you mean the choreography?” you shot back, lifting a brow. “i’m literally just doing my job.”

“that thing in the second chorus,” he said, his voice lower now. “when you drop low and bite your lip. you do that for me. don’t lie, beautiful.”

you rolled your eyes, but your breath caught when he moved again. closer, slower, deliberate.

“you want me to lose it, don’t you?”

you didn’t answer. couldn’t.

because the way he looked at you was hungry. frustrated. like he’d been holding something back for far too long. it lit something dangerous inside you.

before you could even speak, his mouth was on yours.

hot. desperate. possessive.

your back hit the wall. his hands gripped your waist.

your fingers curled into his shirt like it was an instinct.

his tongue, his hands, the way he groaned when you tugged his hair. everything about it was messy.

and it didn’t stop there.

the backstage hookups became a pattern. between rehearsals. after fittings. corners of the studio with fogged mirrors and locked doors.

always hidden. always rushed. always too much but somehow never enough.

you gave him your first time on the studio couch, the same one you always collapsed on after long nights.

not out of romance, but something heavier. needier.

your legs wrapped around his waist. your fingers in his hair like you were clinging to gravity.

and he let you.

let you take. let you tremble.

let you come undone in his lap while his mouth traced your collarbone like a promise he’d never speak out loud.

no one knew about this.

not the stylists. not the other dancers. not even his own bandmates.

and especially not seunghyun.

your older brother would’ve lost his mind. maybe even burned the whole building down if he ever found out.

because of course, out of all the people in the world, it had to be him.

kwon jiyong.

his best friend. his closest friend.

the one person who had no business even looking at you like that; let alone touching you, wanting you, needing you.

and yet somehow, he was always there.

for months, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

that the way he touched you like he needed you — like breathing wasn’t enough unless you were under him, around him, full of him — was just part of the act.

that the way he lingered after, brushing hair from your face like it mattered, wasn’t real either.

you told yourself you could handle it.

that you were strong enough to keep it casual. quiet. hidden.

but it got harder to lie every time he pulled you in and didn’t let go.

every time he stayed a little longer.

every time he looked at you like maybe, just maybe, you were more than a secret.

still, you never asked for more. how could you?

he was your brother’s best friend. this was never supposed to happen.

but it did.

over and over again. like a bad habit neither of you could quit.

you didn’t plan to fall for him. didn’t mean to hope he’d stay the night, or kiss you like it meant something.

but you did. god, of course you did.

i mean, how could you not?

he touched you like you were fragile, but fucked you like you were the only thing that’s ever made him come undone.

he zipped up your jacket for you like it was just an excuse to touch you again.

he continuously found your eyes across any room like they were the only ones that existed.

for a while, you let yourself believe he felt it too.

until about a month ago, when he decided that pretending it meant nothing became easier than admitting it ever meant anything at all.

it happened in your dressing room. you’d just touched up your lip gloss, and casually asked him if he was coming over that night.

same routine. same rhythm.

he didn’t answer right away though. he just stood there, still and silent.

you turned, confused, watching the way his jaw clenched and how he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“jiyong?” you spoke up quietly.

he finally looked at you.

and you knew. before he even opened his mouth, you felt it.

“we can’t keep doing this.”

your stomach still dropped. “what?”

“this… whatever it is… it needs to stop.”

“don’t do that. don’t act like this wasn’t real.”

his jaw tightened as he looked away. “it was a mistake.”

“say it and mean it,” you snapped.

he didn’t hesitate this time. “it was a mistake.”

your laugh came out sharp, bitter. “tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night, but don’t stand there and pretend that i didn’t mean a damn thing to you.”

“y/n—” he started, but you cut him off.

“fuck you, jiyong.”

he met your eyes again, his throat tight.

almost like he wanted to say something else. like it was stuck somewhere between his ribs and his pride.

but he didn’t answer. he just let the silence grow between you.

let it choke everything that hadn’t been said. let it mean more than the truth would’ve.

“i’m sorry.” he finally said.

not a reason. not an explanation.

just that. two words. and then he walked out.

no goodbye. no chance to respond. no space to fall apart.

just the door clicking shut behind him like none of it had ever meant anything. like you had never meant anything.

the worst part wasn’t even the way it ended.

it was how nothing else did.

rehearsals still ran long. the mirrors still fogged with sweat. the playlist still cycled through the same tracks you used to hum when you thought no one could hear you.

he was always there. of course he was.

not in the way that mattered though. not in the way you needed. just in the way that somehow made it worse.

that same smirk. same swagger. same easy charm that made everyone else feel like nothing had changed.

like he hadn’t ruined you with nothing but his mouth and a handful of whispered promises he never intended to keep.

he still showed up to rehearsals like none of it ever happened.

he still carried his favourite hoodie. the one he never left home without.

everyone thought it was a comfort thing; a habit, maybe. something worn-in and familiar. assumed he just loved it.

and maybe he did. but it wasn't because it was warm, or soft, or broken in just right.

it was because it was yours.

he never carried it for himself. he carried it for you.

you never brought your own.

you hated feeling cold, and hated asking for help even more.

but with jiyong, you never had to ask. he paid attention to the way you’d rub slow circles into your arm, tuck your hands under your thighs, sometimes even press your tongue to the roof of your mouth just to stay quiet.

tiny things. things no one else could ever pick up on.

and yet somehow, he always did.

you never had to ask. he’d just offer it. sometimes with just a glance, sometimes with a soft, “here.”

and if you ever hesitated, he’d pull it over your head himself. like he was allowed to. like it meant something.

the other boys never questioned it. of course they didn’t. they would’ve done the same. they had before, on the rare days jiyong wasn’t around. but when he was, they never got the chance.

but now, he wears it again like it doesn't hold your scent. your shape. every version of you he ever pulled close. like it's just a hoodie.

however, this didn't stop you from showing up to rehearsals every day too.

because that’s what professionals do, right?

they show up, even when it hurts.

even when the person they can’t stop dreaming about is stretching ten feet away.

still laughing with everyone like he wasn’t one secret away from getting his jaw broken by your older brother.

there was no wreckage. no huge fall-out. just absence.

no one knew what had been taken because nothing, on the surface, was missing.

but you felt it. in every glance he didn’t give you. every touch that didn’t happen, but almost did.

and you were angry.

angry that he ended it without warning. angry that he made that decision for the both of you. angry that he could walk away without looking back.

you were angry at yourself for still caring.

you hated that your eyes searched for him when you entered the room. that your skin remembered him better than your brain wanted it to. how some part of you still wished he’d turn around and take it all back.

but he never did. not once.

rehearsal had run longer than usual today. the sun had dipped somewhere behind the city skyline without you noticing. shadows were now stretching across the floor as the studio emptied, one by one.

you stayed behind, stretching in silence, letting the burn in your muscles distract from the burn in your chest.

you suddenly heard your brother’s loud voice, which snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. “dinner. let’s go.”

you didn’t even blink. still stretched out on the floor, one leg bent and arms braced behind you. “pass.”

seunghyun frowned. “you didn’t even ask where.”

“don’t need to,” you said coolly. “you’re painfully predictable.”

daesung raised a brow. “she’s got you there.”

“actually, i’m switching it up tonight,” seunghyun insisted. “new place. no kimchi stew.”

you finally looked up, unimpressed. “who’s paying you to try their new restaurant?”

he crossed his arms. “no one. i just think you need some real food in you. something with protein. maybe even a vegetable.”

“tempting,” you said, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. “but i can’t. i’ve got plans.”

“plans?” seunghyun’s voice cracked like he’d just heard you say you were moving out and never coming back.

you grabbed your water. “yep.”

“what kind of plans?”

“the kind that don’t include you,” you said, smiling sweetly.

youngbae’s head popped up from behind his duffel. “wait. are we talking… plans plans?”

you just sipped your water like it was nothing, which, naturally, made it something.

daesung narrowed his eyes. “that look. that’s a ‘plans with a boy’ look if i’ve ever seen one.”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. it was more entertaining to watch them spiral on their own.

youngbae gasped. “you’re going on a date.”

“jesus christ,” seunghyun muttered. “no you’re not.”

“i didn’t say that,” you replied, smoothing your hair down.

“but you didn’t not say it.”

you gave the smallest shrug, which, unfortunately, said everything, once again.

youngbae gasped like he’d been betrayed. “you’re seeing someone? since when?”

“relax,” you said, throwing your towel over your shoulder. “you’re acting like i announced an engagement.”

“it’s hard to relax when you’re acting suspiciously vague,” daesung countered.

“which means it’s serious,” youngbae added while nodding. “you’re protecting him.”

you raised a brow. “or i’m protecting you idiots from a full-blown meltdown.”

seunghyun squinted. “who is it?”

“none of your business.”

“it is absolutely my business if some dude is out here making googly eyes at my baby sister behind my back!”

“googly eyes?” you echoed, half-laughing. “what are we, twelve?”

“i’m being serious, y/n.”

“i can tell, oppa. very intimidating.”

“is it someone we know?” daesung asked. “because i feel like it’s someone we know.”

“you don’t know him.” you replied, which wasn’t technically a lie.

there was no him. but they didn’t need to know that.

especially not the one sitting on the bench near the mirror, completely silent.

jiyong hadn’t said a word. hadn’t even moved.

just sat there with his towel around his neck, and his eyes on the floor.

but you saw the tension in his hands. the way his jaw was set so tightly, it looked like it hurt.

and it gave you just enough fuel to keep going.

seunghyun was still spiraling. “i don’t like this. what if he’s some asshole? what if he’s just trying to—”

“then i’ll deal with it,” you replied calmly. “i’m perfectly capable of throwing hands.”

“still don’t like it.”

“you’re not supposed to, oppa.”

and that’s when jiyong spoke. low. dismissive. deadly.

“just let her go.”

everyone turned.

seunghyun blinked. “huh?”

“if she’s got plans, she’s got plans,” jiyong said. not looking at you. not looking at anyone. “it’s not our business.”

“oh, wow,” daesung muttered. “traitor.”

“you’re not even gonna try to talk her out of it?” seunghyun asked, almost sounding dumbfounded.

“she’s allowed to do whatever she wants,” jiyong replied, tossing the towel aside like the whole conversation bored him. “if it’s a date, then…let her have fun.”

you said nothing. you just stared at him.

and after a long second, he finally looked up, just for a heartbeat. just long enough to meet your eyes.

and there it was. buried under all of it; jealousy. regret. hurt.

only things that you could see.

the things he couldn’t say. the ones you never needed him to.

so you smiled, small and sweet.

“thanks for your support, jiji.” you said sweetly, using the nickname you rarely used for him anymore.

he didn’t answer, but you didn’t wait for one either.

you grabbed your bag and threw it over your shoulder.

“anyways, don’t wait up!” you shouted, turning and blowing a kiss towards the boys as you walked towards the door.

youngbae clutched his chest. “she’s so going to make out with him.”

“i’m gonna vomit,” seunghyun muttered.

you walked out giggling without looking back.

jiong didn’t move. didn’t even blink. just stared at the door like it might swing back open and undo all of it.

it didn’t.

he noticed the tremble in your hands as you reached for your bag. it was faint, almost invisible. the kind of shake that came when your body had given too much.

he always noticed.

it was a curse. a reflex. a silent devotion to you that he never meant to make a habit.

you were clearly overstimulated, vibrating underneath your skin. and no one else seemed to care.

but he did. he always did.

the boys were still talking. still laughing, but their voices echoed as if they were underwater.

daesung was teasing seunghyun about running a background check. youngbae was already trying to guess the date’s name. one of them joked about texting you the restaurant address ‘in case lover boy stands you up.’

jiyong didn’t laugh. he couldn’t.

because the silence left in your absence was louder than anything. and beneath it, something ugly twisted in his chest.

he knew you weren’t dressed for a date. your hair was wild, your face was bare, still glowing with sweat and adrenaline.

you didn’t look like someone trying to impress a man, not that you needed to. you just looked like you. the version jiyong had memorized in the low light of his apartment, curled into his sheets, still trembling from his mouth on your skin.

and somehow, that made it worse.

because what if this new guy didn’t care enough to notice the small things jiyong had?

what if he didn’t realize how you go quiet when you’re overwhelmed, not out of moodiness, but because your brain shuts down under too much noise?

what if he didn’t know how sometimes you can’t ask for help, because you don’t even know what you need?

what about that you chew the inside of your cheek when you’re anxious? or that you tap your thumb against your middle finger three times when you’re trying not to cry?

would he know that you hated the sound of ticking clocks? that certain words made your skin crawl? that sometimes, dancing was the only thing that kept your thoughts from devouring you whole?

jiyong did. he knew all of it.

he knew how to sit behind you on the studio floor when everything got to be too much; legs stretched out on either side of you, chest pressed against your back.

he knew not to ask what was wrong. he knew that you didn’t always know, and that asking only made it worse.

just to let you press your ear over his heart and listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat until your lungs remembered how to breathe properly on their own again.

he knew the hoodie he always carried for you was your lifeline when you needed comfort. which songs made you cry even if you didn’t quite know why.

he knew you couldn’t sit in the backseat of a car because it always made you nauseous. which corners of your body held tension so tightly, you didn’t even realize they hurt until he pressed his fingers there.

he learned you like a prayer. a warning. a song that never stopped playing in the back of his head.

and now, someone else might get to touch you. might get to pretend they know you. run their hands down a body they hadn’t earned. kiss a mouth that didn’t belong to them.

and jiyong fucking hated that.

because yeah, it started as just sex.

reckless. rushed. hidden in between rehearsals and outfit changes. in cars, stairwells and hotel rooms too quiet for what the two of you were doing.

but it stopped being just sex a long time ago.

he didn’t know when exactly it shifted. maybe it was the first night you told him not to ask, but to just take. when you grabbed his wrist and pulled it to your throat. when you told him to ruin you.

or maybe it was the one night he didn’t.

the night he slowed down.

held your jaw in both hands like you were made of glass and kissed you like he had something to lose.

told you how fucking perfect you were. how you take him so well. how you were made for him.

you came apart for him like you believed it. like you needed it.

surely that’s when he realized it wasn’t just sex. at least, not anymore.

because you didn’t just let him have your body, you gave it to him. not with words. not directly.

in the way you trembled under his touch. in the way you arched into his hands. in the way you moaned his name like it meant something.

and fuck, it did. it meant everything.

he memorized you. not just the way your thighs shook when you were close or the spot beneath your ribs that made you gasp when he kissed it for the first time.

he knew your body better than he knew his own.

he memorized the curve of your spine. the pitch of your moans. the shape of your mouth when you were too fucked-out to speak.

he knew exactly where to touch to make you fall apart, but also exactly how to hold you when you couldn’t put yourself back together.

he hated himself for it.

for needing you. for learning you. for turning every sound you made into a song he couldn’t stop humming in his own head.

because the more he gave, the more he wanted. and the more he wanted, the more it hurt.

he told himself that ending it was the right call, and maybe it was.

maybe it was smart. you were seunghyun’s little sister, after all. this was doomed from the moment it started.

but god, he missed you.

you were the only one he ever let see him for who he really was, and now you were gone. and he has no one else to blame for that but himself.

his thumb pressed into the palm of his opposite hand; hard. a grounding technique, one that you taught him. one that never worked unless it was your voice talking him through it.

he barely felt the pain.

he just sat there, spine tense, gaze still locked on the scuffed floor where you’d been standing just a few moments ago.

the room still buzzed with conversation. low laughter, the rustle of jackets, someone still talking about dinner plans.

but it all felt far away. almost like he was watching it through a sheet of glass that was thick and smudged with fingerprints.

he didn’t hear what they said. he didn’t care either.

because all he could think about was the look on your face before you walked out.

not happy. not angry. not sad either.

he honestly wasn’t quite sure, and that scared him a little.

he remembers how you used to look at him. like you saw through everything; the ego, the performance, the chaos.

that was because you did, and yet, you still chose him.

every. single. time.

but now, you didn’t even look back.

“hyung?” daesung said cautiously, tone lighter than his expression. “you good?”

jiyong blinked like he was waking up from a dream. “what?”

“you’ve been kinda weird lately,” youngbae said from behind him. “and not just today either.”

“yeah,” daesung added. “like the last few weeks.”

jiyong exhaled through his nose, forcing a shrug. “just tired.”

seunghyun looked up from where he was zipping his bag. “ji.”

jiyong flinched like his name stung.

“talk to us,” seunghyun said, voice low, less like a demand and more like a plea. “we’ve been worried. you don’t laugh the same anymore. you barely show up.”

“i’m fine,” he said, sharper this time. like if he said it hard enough, they’d believe it.

“we’re not trying to push,” youngbae said gently. “we just miss you, man.”

jiyong’s throat was tight. he couldn’t look any of them in the eye.

“i’ll see you guys later,” he spoke suddenly, already halfway to the door.

“what?” daesung called after him. “you’re not coming to eat?”

“not hungry.”

seunghyun took a step forward. “jiyong—wait.”

but the door was already closing behind him.

and just like that, he was gone. his feet moved without thinking.

down the hallway, out of the building, and into the night.

but on the inside, he was somewhere else entirely.

back in the dressing room. back in your bed.

back in that goddamn moment where you looked up at him like you were his, even though you both knew you weren’t.

he can still feel it.

the weight of your body curled under his. your nails in his skin. his name on your tongue.

the breath you let out when he called you sweetheart like it meant something.

the quietness afterwards that felt like a promise, even though neither of you ever made one.

it should’ve faded by now.

but it hasn’t. it’s still there.

in the way his chest tightens when someone says your name.

in the way his hands curl into fists when he pictures you laughing with someone else.

in the way the silence feels heavier when you’re not around to fill it.

and now, he has to act like it didn’t happen. like it didn’t mean anything. like you didn’t mean everything.

he hates himself for how much he still cares.

hates that he let it get this far. that he let you in. that he let it mean something.

but more than anything, he hates that he can’t stop hoping it meant something to you, too.

because no matter how far he lets you go, he will always believe that no one else will ever have you in the way that he did.

and maybe that makes him selfish.

but it also makes him right.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Don’t it seem like a good time for swimming

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary Sam at the beach is a sight to behold. It just seems like a good time for swimming (and other things). CWs Indulgent descriptions of Sam's body. Some slightly naughty water fun. Some more naughty hotel room fun (nothing crazy explicit). 18+. 1k words AN This is my (first of many) entry to the gorgeous, wonderful and brilliant @ambiguous-avery's Summer Snapshot Challenge! I wrote this while at the beach, although without any moose action. Hope you enjoy! And thank you, Avery, for starting this beautiful challenge!❤️ Fic title is from Adrianne Lenker's "Donut Seam".

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

Your bottom lip is about to have two tooth-sized holes if you keep going like this. But you're pretty sure if you stop biting it, you're gonna hump the deck chair under you.

Sam is leaned forward on his own just ahead and to your right. A leg on each side, muscular calves leading to sexy feet - since when are feet sexy? You don't know, but Sam seems to have the answer - buried in the sand. Up over thighs you want, need, to explore the inside of. Dark green swimming trunks pulled tight over his ass from how he's sitting. Then his lower back, soft-skinned and curved, broadening towards his shoulders. Dark hair tickling the back of his neck. Gorgeous face in deep concentration as the back of his index finger runs over his bottom lip, the other one holding down the flapping pages of his book.

It's simply too much.

You more or less jump off your chair, snatch the orange tube of sunscreen. You half hop the few feet over to him, the sand burning your toes. Sam barely has time to perk up his head before you're straddling the chair behind him, pressed in close.

“Enough with the nose in the books number,” you say, bringing your mouth as close to his ear as you can from this position, already shaking the tube, the thick liquid sloshing around in it. “It's very mysterious and sexy, but it's time to have some water-based fun.” 

Sam huffs, turns his head to put his bookmark between the pages, then drops the book and leans back. His warm skin meets your front and you snuggle against him.

“You're right,” he says. He raises his hands like he's showing you he's unarmed. “Sorry.”

You shake the tube one more time, then open it, squeeze a generous helping into your hands. Close it, drop it, mush your hands together and then put them over Sam's shoulder blades.

Run them down. Streaks of white on tan skin. You know how bitter it tastes from the bit you got on your lips when covering your face, but it looks like some kind of melting treat. Two long stripes, becoming more faint, down to where skin meets trunks. Sam lets out a slow breath.

“You're forgiven,” you say, letting your voice dip low. “So long as you go in the ocean with me.”

You do the appropriate amount of squealing when the waves travel over your ankles, then again when they hit your stomach. Hands waving, hopping. Sam grins at the display, the water not as high on him due to his stature, but he leans down, collects some with his hands, rubbing it over himself to get his body used to the temperature. Real adult shit.

Still, when he's up to his hips, you cling on to him. Your skin is slick against each other from the sunscreen and sweat, and Sam's all warm and delicious-smelling. He pulls you close and, feeling the effects of the sun and freedom fill up your soul, you do a little jump, wrap your legs around him, the light weight the water is giving you making you look mostly elegant.

Sam turns with you in his arms and you laugh, drop your head back before leaning forward, clinging on to him for dear life. You think he's gonna threaten to throw you, but he doesn't. One of his hands is gripping your thigh, one your ass. You kiss the side of his face, and he turns his head, looks at you before kissing you properly.

It turns, the way those things just sometimes do. You grind yourself against him, feel his response against the inside of your thigh. Nip at his earlobe when you hug him again, cause that's the kind of little shit you are.

Sam's expression has changed the next time you see his face. Lids lower, something almost fox-like around his eyes. One quick look at your lips, one squeeze of his hand. Something unmistakable between you.

Your back hits the hotel bed mattress and you giggle as Sam crawls over you, but he quickly shuts you up with his mouth. Getting your wet bikini and his trunks off is a lot of work, but it's well worth it.

You told everyone you'd forgotten your sunglasses in the room. Didn't explain why both of you are needed to retrieve them. The look Dean and Jody threw each other let you know they weren't buying it.

But you couldn't care less. As you wrap your arms around Sam's shoulders, press your mouth against his neck, whimper at his movements, your head is blissfully emptied. The sunscreen is still bitter where it left a sheen, but there's also saltiness and sweetness. A whole buffet of perfect tastes. 

The door to the balcony is open, and over both of your panting and gasping and sweet whispers of love and lust, you can still hear the ocean. Its slow waves, so similar to the way Sam moves within you. Assured, strong and yet endlessly gentle. A soft breeze comes in, tickling all the parts of you not covered by Sam.

You turn your head, catch his lips again. Sam slows, too absorbed with kissing you and only when you tightening your legs around him, the same way you did in the waves, it reminds him of what's happening. Before he starts moving again, he pulls his head back, looks into your eyes. Watches you, like he can never get enough. Like you're some kind of magical creature having appeared before him.

When he rolls off you, chest heaving and you sling your arm over him, he kisses your forehead. You press your cheek against his warm chest.

“Told you a vacation was a good idea,” you say between deep breaths. Sam chuckles, runs his palm over your forehead to smooth back your hair.

“Alright, you win,” he says and you can only close your eyes and smile broadly.

[shariasweet]

𝓘n 𝓨o𝑢𝐫 𝓛a𝑝, 𝓘n 𝓨o𝑢𝐫 𝓛u𝑛𝐠s ─── .ᐟ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

park sunghoon 𝓧 sim jaeyun 𝓧 female reader

sh4r1n0t3 ᪄ a couple of months ago I had fucking frot rot and frotting was all I could think about... this is my contribution to that... also I love jakehoon x reader fics so uhm... sue me! I'm sorry :0 this is my first time incorporating mxm themes so be nice to me abeg! ၃ ִ

snyp: or... where sunghoon and jake put on a show | wc: 2.09k | cw: usage of drugs (weed) • frotting mlm | mxm themes (they kiss and they rub dicks hooray!) • oral (f) • fingering (f) • cockwarming (f) • pet names • needy | whiny reader • slight dry humping • shotgunning crack | fluff at the end • smut | mdni .ᐟ

wiplist. masterlist. requests.

you only get like this when you're needy... you're unusually hushed—whining with your bottom lip jutted out into a pout. the dim lights blur in your peripheral as you sit perched on jake's lap. his scent is familiar—warm and comforting, the smell of amber clings to his hoodie which swallows your frame. it only fuels your desperation.

your thighs are sticky, your panties damp. you just can't help yourself... not when he looks so alluring, his head thrown back, manspreading with smoke curling around his figure. "you're so sensitive, baby." he exhales, voice reverberating against your neck as you rock back and forth on his bulge.

sunghoon sits on the other end of the couch. he's busy—long, dexterous fingers tucking and rolling. "she's so needy..." he grins lazily, watching you feign embarrassment as you dip into jake's neck. the other man laughs cordially. his hands squeeze at your thighs, pawing his way up to knead at your ass. jake nuzzles against your temple, "aw, baby..." he picks your head up.

"don't be so shy, 'hoonie's only teasing..." sunghoon chuckles, finally twisting the end of his joint before feeling around for his lighter. "I know what you want, y/n." jake's lips are plump, grazing your own before he leans in, pecking at your lips. he nods over at his best friend... silently drawing him near.

with the same fingers he used to roll, he grips your chin, kissing you sloppily and swallowing all of your sounds. in his other hand, he holds the blunt propped between his two fingers—tossing jake his lighter as he clicks the little piece of metal, igniting it.

you grind harder against his lap, lost in the feeling of sunghoon's lips molding against yours. when he pulls away, you're breathless, antsy—eager as your hands cup his face, chasing an embrace. you turn to jake, pouting with swollen lips "jakey..." your fingers tangle against the fabric of his shirt. "shhh... I know, baby. 'you'll get what you want," he bucks his hips against your aching, pany clad center. "'just be patient."

beside you, sunghoon takes a long drag. smoke swirls around the three of you as he leans back in. "there you go..." jake redirects your attention, "say ah for him, sweetheart." the younger's hand lightly wraps around your throat, applying light pressure as his lips graze your gaping mouth. then, he blows.

a steady stream of smoke breaches past your lips. you choke back a whine, feeling extremely hot. the man beneath you taps at your thighs. "all of it, y/n." he's firm, eyes darting between you and sunghoon as he sighs out the last bit of smoke. "good girl." sunghoon clicks, eyes flickering to jake with a fucked-out smirk plastered across his face. "what?" he inches even closer, "need me to treat you too?" he takes another drag—short but just as intentional before grabbing jake's face, squeezing just hard enough to make his lips purse.

you watch dazed as they shotgun, feeling yourself grow impossibly wet. you can't help but to notice sunghoon's protruding bulge—heavy, prominent through the grey fabric of his sweatpants. the sight makes you whimper, your hand creeping slowly to the waistband of your panties. you press at your clit, swallowing a gasp as jake's grip tightens on you. "that desperate?" he cocks his head back towards you. "I think she's too far gone." sunghoon grins, placing the half-smoked joint between your lips. "I think she likes it when we kiss." you nod fervently, incapable of denying the men. "mmm..." jake hums, tracing shapes at your sides before deciding.

he carefully hikes his hoodie over your body, gently picking you up from his lap and placing you down on the edge of the cushion. his eyes catch on the sight of your hardened nipples as he trails down your body. "she's soaked." the two examine the wet patch on display leaking through your underwear.

sunghoon brought two fingers to prod at your hole through the cotton material—digging into the ruined fabric, watching you squirm. "you want us to keep going?"

"y-yes, fuck! please, please k-keep going." he nodded at jake who was already peeling his shirt over his head. he did the same. you stared in awe as they stripped themselves down, exposing the toned muscles of their stomachs and the curves of their biceps. sunghoon patted his lap, signaling for jake to climb atop of him—their cocks stood hard, flush and leaking against each other. "touch yourself," he commanded, sparing you an ounce of his attention before turning back to jake. "and don't you cum before smoking that all the way out." the man smirked against his best friend's lips, his hand sinking down jake's chest to firmly hold their dicks together.

you tested the waters, dipping your fingertips inside to collect any slick before dragging them up to smear your clit in the stickiness. you rubbed in small circles, enamoured by the sight in front of you. the two men moved their mouths against one another with a tender passion, sunghoon's hand wrapped around jake's as he thrust both their cock's between their fists. "agh..!" you mewled, slipping two fingers between the walls of your cunt—inhaling, taking a deep breath and allowing smoke to curdle and sting your lungs.

"fuck, man..." jake swears, sunghoon's thumb tracing over his tip whilst he breathlessly laughs. "'feels good, right?" he groans, tightening his fist as they continue to frot. jake's throat bobs, his adam's apple poking as he throws his head back.

you take another puff, slipping in a third finger and gasping at the stretch. one of your hands tweaks at the hard peak of your nipple, your back arches as you shove your fingers deeper. your flushed knuckles brush your entrance, your fingertips stretch to reach your g-spot. you curl them tightly, thumbing at your clit as the knot in your stomach tightens.

their cocks rut against one another—the friction is delicious, precum drips, spilling past the barrier of their joint fist. you swear you can see sunghoon's tip angrily throbbing, jake's weeping everywhere. "s-sunghoon," jake exasperates, rolling his hips. "dude, ser—agh! seriously... fuck!" he chokes on his words, abdomen flexing as his orgasm nears. "look..." he grins. "fuck, you're so hard." sunghoon bucks a little faster now, his lip twitching as his eyes shut tight.

you pinch your clit, taking one last drag at the joint between your lips before watching as the glowing orangey-red end fades to grey. finally. "mmpf!" you thrust one final time before cumming. slick lathered around the base of your fingers as you cream everywhere. "ah, ah..! 'jakey... 'hoon." you gasp their names watching as thick ropes of hot cum spurt from their tips. drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, head foggy as you watched the way it dripped down their stomachs—rising in falling in rapid spurts.

without another word, jake swiped his fingers across the man's abs, collecting his cum before leaning over and replacing the butt with his fingers. "suck f'me, baby... there y'go." your lips enveloped his fingers, sucking them clean as you basked in the salty taste of their semon. you swirled your tongue between the two muscles, opening your mouth with your tongue out so he could see.

not a drop left.

"'so nasty." sunghoon chimed. he stood from the couch, walking behind you. "'you enjoy that?" he whispered against the shell of your ear. you shivered, dumbly nodding as his hands came down to knead your breasts. "you looked so pretty when you came," jake kissed at your neck. "such a good girl..." he purred. "'even finished this," referring to the joint sunghoon had rolled he grinned. "just like 'hoonie asked you to."

"I think she deserves a reward." sunghoon carefully lifted you from the couch, a small damp spot left behind in your place. "what d'you think, sweet girl?" you nodded, pecking kisses across his face as he laughed. "hm... what 'bout you, jakey? up to treating our baby?" with no hesitance, he nodded, sitting up as he let sunghoon reposition you.

he brought you around to hover above his lap. he fisted his cock, lazily stroking until it stood once more before slowly pushing into your sore cunt. "o-oh my god..." you whined feeling the stretch of his shaft as he bottomed out. "it feels... 'feels good, m'so full, ssshit." you babbled. sunghoon carefully parted your thighs, making room for the eldest to sneak between your legs on his knees. "yeah? jakey's 'gonna make you feel extra good." he spread your folds, watching his friend's eyes blow out at the sight.

"sound good?" jake murmured, trailing kisses from your trembling knees to your thighs. you nodded. "speak." sunghoon slapped at your clit, your jaw falling slack in a silent cry. "y-yes! sounds good... so good, p-please." was all it took—he was buried in your cunt... as far as he could get, at least with sunghoon's cock buried deep inside of you. he lapped at your clit, puckering his lips as he made out with your cunt. "mm... jake!" your hands tangled into his hair, he groaned feeling you yank on his scalp.

"he's doing so good isn't he?" sunghoon groped at your chest, fondling the swell of your boobs as you squirmed on top of him. jake sucked up your juices like a madman starved of water, slurping around the base of his friend's cock to collect your slick. "taste like heaven." his words echoed, vibrating against your pussy and making you clench.

the knot returns—your body trembling as waves of pleasure threaten to crash over you. you cum with sunghoon's cock still nestled deep inside of your, your jaw slack and your eyes foggy and white. jake, still buried between your thighs continues his assault. lips dampened by slick and spit. you nails dig harder into his scalp as your orgasm pulses through you. jake carries you through your high, finally pulling away in a pussydrunk daze as he wipes his mouth. "look at you..." sunghoon coos, pulling your hair back as he leans into your neck.

"s'full of me," he trails soft kisses across your jaw before pressing his palm flat on the bulge poking through your stomach. jake slides his sweatpants up to hang loosely around his hips, tossing sunghoon's shirt along with his pants. "took it so good." he grabs your jaw, placing a kiss on the bruised swell of your lips. "you too," he grins, winking at jake who flops down on his back beside you.

"'can't feel my legs." he murmur against his jaw, tired and lazy. "you're high, baby." jake smiles, pulling his hoodie back over your head as sunghoon ride his sweats up his thighs. "'couldn't stop squirmin'... so pretty," he kisses your lips before falling back down across the both of your laps. "don't tease me," you playfully hit him, giggling when he clutched his chest theatrically. "he's not teasing, sweet girl." sunghoon squeezed you tight from behind in a warm hug.

"damn... I really want some cereal." jake churned. you looked down at him in genuine disbelief. "cereal? right now?" he nodded, staring up at you and 'hoon. "I could go for some too, honestly."

"what are you two talking about?"

they erupt into a conjoined laughter. "y'know like..." jake trails off, thinking. "cinnamon toast crunch, cold milk... a big ass spoon too." he points. you roll your eyes, leaning back into sunghoon's chest. "that does sound good." the other man chimes. you zone out for a minute, jake poking at your thigh. "you made a mess." he chuckles. "stop it," you grimace, slowly standing and plopping between the two. you felt relaxed as sunghoon's large hands came up to knead the aching flesh of your thighs, jake's fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair.

"okay, but seriously. snacks..." you open your eyes, turning to jake who's now been hit with what seems to be a serious hunger induced by his high. "I want hot chips," you glance over at sunghoon. "and sour candy, oh! and soda." he nods, turning over to jake. "you already know what I want man." cereal. he hikes his pants all the way up, tying the strings of his sweatpants before reaching for his shirt. "clean up while I'm gone, yeah?" the both of you nod, agreeing to shower and clean up while sunghoon goes out to pick up your snacks.

"thanks, 'honnie." you flash a quaint smile, nudging jake in the ribs. "thank you!" he mimics your sickeningly sweet tone.

"whatever, you guys are lucky."

[angelyearner]

꒰ movie time — puppy!chris ꒱ ﹐ ‏࿐ contains : smut & delicious puppy!chris

he was desperate for you, needed you so bad, the whole time while you sat on his lap he clung to you. lips on your neck leaving kisses again and again needy and whiny so desperate for even just a brush of your skin, but still not enough. he needed more.

his desperate kisses continued on your neck, his grip around you so desperate and needy, as he sucked at your skin all needy. he wanted to leave a mark, a proof that he was here, that you were with him, that he was with you.

he continued to let out whiny noises, just constantly kissing your skin, desperate for your touch. for you to give him any sort of indication that you were even there.. just so pathetic, whimpering and whining like a little puppy, all just because of a lack of attention.

"puppy we're watching a movie yeah?"

he whined as you spoke, pausing his kisses on your neck for a moment to reply, panting, face all red, desperate and needy. "i know.. i'm just- i'm sorry.. i can't help it..."

he let out a soft whine, burying his head into your shoulder clinging to you, his body trembling lightly, "i'm sorry, I can't help it… i'm desperate..!" he nuzzled into you body tense with how little attention was enough to get him so needy.

"please.. please.. i just need you..!" he whimpered out whining softly. his body trembling all over as he begged you for your touch, any touch he'd just take anything he could get as this point.

"watch the movie puppy—"

he whined, whimpering at your words desperate for your attention all pathetic and needy, "but- but… i need you.." he muttered out, still clinging to you and then he started whining again as you ignored him.

He nuzzled into you again breathing in your scent desperate to be close to you, so desperate for attention. for you to even look at him. "please.. please.. i need you.." he pleaded just to be touched.

"yeah?"

"please- please touch me..!" he whined out, desperate and needy. so pathetic as he buried his face in your shoulder again clinging onto you, "please- just a little bit.. just a little touch I'll settle for anything i swear… i just need you to touch me..!" his voice started to crack as he plead. desperation filling him as you ignored him, and he couldn't take much more.

"beg nicely, on your knees"

he whined louder all eager to do what you asked. desperate to be a good boy for you "p-please, pretty please..!" he whimpered out and with that he slid off of you, and knelt in front of you. his eyes searching yours.

his breath was heavy, desperate, body shaking all over. all from just kneeling in front of you, so desperate and needy "please.. please will you touch me..?" he whined out, even more desperation behind his voice. you ruffled his hair "good puppy"

shhh speaking . . . sorry that this sounds so repetitive, full credits to @lilolebambi for making puppy!chris and being amazing at writing for him !!