#maybe a body suit idk yet

[andragoras-in-vanity]

BLESS. I REMEMBER WATCHING A MORGAN DONNER VIDEO AND THINKIING HOLY SHIT I LOVE HER SHIFT. WELL SHE DID A FULL TUTORIAL ON HOW TO MAKE IT ...IN A VIDEO I HADN'T WATCHED BECAUSE IT LOOKED LIKE SO MUCH SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT. AHAHAA i now have pattern for a really dork ass shirt im gonna mod to hell and back

[rabbitclown]

AND WE ARE HERE

THE FINAL* DESIGN AND ANOTHER OUTSIDER

MAC (specifically based on the g3 bc i feel like its iconic but also i never had a mac so no one @ me)

[sailoryooons]

Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky. 

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating. 

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg. 

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault. 

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution. 

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers. 

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by. 

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute. 

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head. 

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.” 

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil. 

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly. 

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

-

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered. 

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery. 

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday. 

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.  

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then. 

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing. 

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this. 

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further. 

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition. 

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders. 

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?��� 

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.” 

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

-

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth. 

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin. 

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation. 

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there. 

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.” 

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.” 

[monarchberrysblog]

Giving miguel backscratches. Idk saw requests open and i just had to. Theres a spot he just cant reach. Also miguel giving backscratches sounds awesome, dudes got killer nails. Tho maybe his nails would hurt idk

𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔰

Miguel O’Hara x GN! Reader

Summary: Your man loves some good back scratches.

Content Warning ⚠️: none lmao

Word Count: 837 words 😋

Author’s Note: Yes. I would DIE to give this man back stretched and for his talons to tear at my flesh and—

This isn't proofread, and mostly wrote this having the reader no pronouns and gender-neutral terms (if there are any)

To my readers who love their baby girls (men who have emotional trauma and baggage), this is for you 💌

The gentle pitter-patter of the cool rainwater created a soft, soothing melody that danced against the glass window. Its rhythmic beat was reminiscent of the delicate tapping of fingertips on a hollow, wooden desk, providing a sense of calm that embraced anyone in its embrace—a three-wick candle flickers from nearby, creating a cozy ambiance. The cozy smell of clean linen immediately filled the space while in a queen-sized bed, someone squirmed underneath the soft blankets and shoved some throw pillows away from them.

Slowly emerging from the sherpa blankets surrounding you, a big yawn escaped before you rubbed your eyes and looked around your room. It was the same old, same old—the cozy blankets and pillows, with a couple of plushies accompanying your bed.

Sighing in defeat, you tucked yourself back into the blankets and looked at the flickering candle. “When is he coming home…?”

The colorful hues of tangy orange, yellow, and red filled the space immediately.

As you lay in bed, lost in your thoughts, a deep sigh echoes through the silent room, drawing your attention. Slowly raising your head from under the covers, you glimpse Miguel's entrance. His tired yet friendly eyes meet yours, and a faint smile spreads across his lips, revealing a sense of relief upon seeing you awake.

“Hola…” He sighed, slowly making his way to your dresser, and dug around for his sweats that he always left behind. You let out another yawn before nodding your head.

The tangy colors that filled the room vanished as you looked over to see Miguel in his Spiderman suit still and slipped into his sweatpants. “Lyla, turn off the suit.” The unbodied AI responded quickly as his suit was deactivated immediately.

Miguel flopped onto your bed with a suddenness that startled you. The impact of his body caused a few of the plushies and decorative pillows to tumble to the floor while you bounced slightly from the force of his literal collapse onto the bed. “Hey,” You cooed to him before you placed your hand on his back, feeling his taut muscles underneath the pads of your fingers. A simple grunt from your partner was a good indicator that the man had a long day and wanted nothing to do but sleep and relax.

“Can you move your hand upwards?” Miguel grumbles to you, face-planted onto your pillows. Slowly, you moved your hand up and massaged the taut muscle. “No, cariño. Don't massage it. Can you scratch that spot?” You hummed to him in response and lightly scratched at the irritated spot. “How is that?” You whispered to him. He only grumbled in response, causing you to chuckle.

If Miguel wanted to, he could sleep through a tornado if he wanted to. The inconsistent sleep schedules were always a concern; however, the man managed to get seven hours of sleep per day, surprisingly. It was at an unhealthy consistency, but this was the first time in two weeks you had seen him on your bed, collapsed on top of plushies and pillows.

Miguel let out a contented sigh as your fingernails scratched his muscles, leaving an invigorating sensation in their wake. "Yes, thank you, cariño," he murmured, his voice low and sultry. He could feel his body responding to your touch, the muscles twitching beneath your fingertips. "Add a bit more force," he groaned, his voice muffled by the fox plushie he held tightly in his embrace.

You complied with his request, scratching a bit more aggressively, your fingernails kneading his flesh expertly. He let out a deep moan of pleasure, lost in the sensation. "There...move to the left, please," he pleaded, his voice thick with desire. You hummed in response, your fingers working their magic, as you inched to the left.

"A little bit more," he urged, his voice growing more urgent. You complied, your fingers dancing across his skin, sending shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath, completely lost in the moment.

"Alright, that's enough," he breathed out heavily. You instinctively hummed in acknowledgment before gently massaging the reddened and irritated area, which offered him a sense of relief. "How are we doing?" You turned to face Miguel, draping the soft and cozy blanket over him to provide some much-needed warmth.

As his hand moved towards your thigh, you could feel your heart racing with anticipation. You felt a firm grip on the soft muscle of your thigh, his nails digging into your supple and warm flesh. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle as you placed your hand on top of his, letting him know that he should be careful. The tips of his talons lightly punctured your thighs, with the talon in his thumb lightly drawing a puncture wound, drawing a trickle of blood. “Easy there…” You cooed to him, rubbing your thumb against his knuckles. The talons on the pads of his thumb retracted like a cat, and immediately felt his calloused touch.

“Everything is great now that I'm here…”

[campbell-rose]

Alastor Redesign

Omg there’s like over 70 people following me – guys I'm o///O flattered and flabbergasted. 

Anyway, onto today’s main event, Alastor. I hate Alastor’s og design, I hate his twig waist and his shoulder pads and the way you can’t see his antlers next to his ears, and his bow tie ugh viv please and his HAIR what even is that??? Not even mentioning that nothing about his design is really like a focal point. There’s no one thing that’s particularly interesting. At least before this he had that cathedral window looking cross on his undershirt that I found interesting. Nothing about his says he’s from the 1930’s other than dialogue. 

I wanted him to be in greyscale because that’s the coolest aesthetic, and colored photos weren’t a thing until way after the 30s. Recently I saw jjk, and Jogo’s teeth threw me because at some points I thought he was just straight up toothless. But then when I started this design, that colored tooth look spoke to me. Initially his teeth were yellow to look gross like he never brushes them, but then I was like ‘ayo wait, he’s literally a cannibal’, thus his vibrant red teeth to really pop against his greyscale. Initially his undershirt was white, but I feel like that was too much contrast and white is typically innocence, so by instead having a deep red it shows he’s just straight up bloodthirsty underneath his formal appearance. I also considered it being black, but then he looked like a pastor, and I wasn’t too much of a fan of it. The idea of the red on his design is that it leads your eye down his design to take it all in, with his face being the focus. I gave him glasses because I like the way it obscures his eyes a bit and I imagine they do the anime thing where they glow and hide his eyes. I liked Viv’s idea of sinners having marks where they died, and I slicked his hair back to show it off very prominently. His antlers are larger, I gave him cute lil deer ears. Also, under his suit he is lowkey buff. I feel like a serial killer should at least look physically capable of taking someone down not whatever the fuck viv’s nasty twig men can do. Like, in that comic with the cute sheep girl, when Alastor goes demon mode his body looks so snappable I just wanna like grab his waist in my hands and break it like a twig. I also tried to keep his design simple as if this were for animation, I know pinstripes are complicated and so are antlers but other than that I tried to keep his design basic. 

If I were to rewrite him based solely on the pilot, I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. Alastor is a decent character, his voice actor gives him life, the radio filter is cool, and nothing he did made me want to break my screen (ANGELDUST). The only thing I'd change would be his position in hell. Like, viv’s hell is so wack and I hate it, she’s got the princes, then the goetia and the overlords and then sinners and blah blah, it’s a lot to keep track of, not even mentioning the rings and circles thing. I think Alastor should have had dealings with hell as a human, maybe he routinely did sacrifices or something, and he made a deal with the archdemon Alastor and when he died like... uuhhhhhhh. Maybe through connections he’s gained more power? Idk, I just know I hate the idea of his dying and then having like the bestest most powerful demon powers despite not being hellborn. It’s got this mary sue stench. I’ll figure it out, maybe, who knows. 

I’m not gonna start rewriting since there’s nothing to go off of and alter yet, so that’s gonna have to wait until the show actually drops before anything concrete happens lol. 

Also the sheep girl is a sinner that reoccurs in the show now so sorry I don’t make the rules, you can’t give me a cute sheep girl and try to take her away, I’m gonna redesign her and shove her into the plot as someone looking for redemption at the hotel

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (7.5) (m.)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: exes au, fluff, Angst, smut; THE REASON™️, crying because obviously there's gonna be crying, mentions of hobi leaving :(, cursing, uhm she hits him; kissing (well, of course 😂), br*ast play, t*tty s*cking, oral s*x (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x, r*ding, cr*ampie, uhm idk i think that's it word count: 6.9k (poetic, i know) note (1): holy fucking shit i am literally shaking like a chihuahua as i'm writing this a/n. what the hell it's finally here. we've been waiting for this for almost a year and a half. TREMENDOUS thanks to Jo @daechwitatamic, Ari @wintaerbaer, and Jazz @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this for me and for reassuring me that it's not a load of crap (probably) and especially Jo for telling me if i back out she'll come kick me. frick! gaaaah. okay i'm gonna let you read or i'll go out of my mind

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I want you to smile, to feel like enough 'Cause you deserve yellow and lions and love I hope you come back when you're doing well Forgive me for being the worst of myself

New Recording 28 - Chelsea Cutler

The second the door is closed, his mouth is on yours again. 

His hand on your waist, yours in his hair, it’s similar to how it was mere minutes ago, just the urgency has increased tenfold. You want his suit off as much as you want your dress on the floor.

Jungkook detaches from your lips to let you breathe as he cages you between his body and the door, but it’s not like you can focus very well on breathing when he starts kissing down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. His hands travel south, one palm curving around your hips to grope your ass, the other settling on the back of your thigh to lift it up, opening your legs wider so he could better slot in between them. With your leg lifted, it makes the slit in your dress ride up, exposing your core to the cool air of the room. You can feel his growing bulge pressed against you, right over your panties. 

You whimper his name when he sucks on the sweet spot on your neck, his hips grinding against you slowly.

“Yeah?” You can hear the smirk in that one simple word and the honey that drips from his voice. “What is it?”

“Want you…”

“I’m right here,” Jungkook says. His slender fingers rub you over the pink lace that you’re wearing underneath your dress, teasing your opening through the fabric for a few beats before he pushes your panties aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His breath is hot on your neck. He presses his lips against your skin absentmindedly, the tip of his index circling you but not pushing inside just yet.

“Tell me you want me too,” you pant, your arm hooking around his neck to hold him close.

“I want you.”

Truth.

You pull him in for another bruising kiss before you blindly push him further into the room, your hands roaming the broad expanse of his clothed chest. He stops when the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Hey.” Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to look at you. “Are you sure?”

If Jimin knew what you’re doing right now, he’d say that you have zero self preservation instincts.

He’d be right, though. If you had any self preservation instincts, you wouldn’t be doing this.

Your stupid, battered heart has only ever wanted him.

“I’m sure,” comes your immediate reply. It’s desperate, but you don’t have it in yourself to even care. “I’m sure. I want this. Please.”

“You were drinking.”

“I’m not drunk. I promise.”

Maybe it’d be better if you were drunk. Then you could at least blame this lapse of judgment on a pathetic state of inebriation and not on your stupid self who’s always weak for him.

He stares at you for a minute, searching for any sign of your willingness being driven by alcohol. He seems relieved when he finds none, and it isn’t until then that he shrugs off his jacket, before helping you take off his dress shirt and trousers.

You haven’t seen him like this in so long.

Every defined line on his body, accentuating every detail that you could spend hours running your fingers over.

He looks different but at the same time, not really. A tad more muscular, but still the same lean frame. Hard chest and abs on full display for you. God, your fingers are fucking twitching with the need to touch him.

Once he’s been stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you before you stop him with a hand on his chest. The lone tiger lily on his arm catches your attention.

Your fingers reach out to trace the black ink on his body, the lines delicate, your touch feather light. You’re suddenly curious. When did he get it? You can’t remember if you two ever talked about getting tattoos.

“What does it mean?” you ask. It strikes you with the realization that this is just one of the thousands of things that you missed, a reminder of your lost time. 

“Please love me,” he says, bringing his hands up to cup your face. He looks at you, just for a few seconds, before clarifying, “It means ‘Please love me,’” then kissing you again.

Jungkook clumsily and blindly searches for the dress’ zipper on your back, giving it a few impatient tugs until it finally starts gliding down your body. Your lips never part from one another as the dress falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. But once you step out of it, he does pull back to look at you from head to toe. His eyes fall to your chest, clad in a lacy pink bra that matches your panties. The look he gives you is the same one that he did when he saw you in your dress earlier today. But there’s something else in his eyes - realization, pride, perhaps a question too.

His hands are back on your body instantly, throwing you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator. He discards your bra with ease, flinging it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. You shiver when the chilly air meets your bare chest, but the sensation quickly goes away when he takes your breast into his warm mouth. You let out a delighted sigh, arching your back to push yourself further into him as his tongue flicks over your stiff nipple. One of his hands comes up to squeeze your other breast to make sure that it isn’t neglected, rolling your pebbled bud between his thumb and forefinger. He switches to sucking your other tit after a while, then pawing at the one he just had in his mouth.

“Jungkook,” you whine his name when he makes out with your tits for too long, because there’s somewhere else that desperately requires his immediate attention. “Need you…”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, and he looks pleased with himself when he sees that they’re thoroughly glistening with his spit. “Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He starts making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin that’s on display for him, before you put a hand on his shoulder when his face gets close to your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at you as his fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Can I?”

You lick your lips, contemplating whether or not you have the patience to wait for him. But alas, you decide, “Okay.”

Jungkook makes quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and letting it join the pile on the floor. Even in the dim light, he can see just how wet you are, practically glittering with arousal, looking so utterly inviting that it makes his mouth water. All of this, just for him.

He doesn’t waste another second, diving right into you to lick a stripe up your dripping folds. Swiftly burying two fingers into your heat, he doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep. Your lips part in a silent but delighted moan. You forgot how good he used to make you feel. Your fingers could never feel as good as his, not thick enough to stretch yourself open and not long enough to reach deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you drawl, your eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his tongue meets your throbbing clit, teasing it until you’re practically grinding against his face. You thread a hand into his hair, gripping his dark locks until he’s groaning, sending blissful vibrations all throughout your body. The figure 8’s that his tongue draws on your clit sets you alight, sends you into a whole other dimension completely as pleasure courses through your veins. 

“So good,” he mumbles. To you? To himself? You can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. “Still so good.”

You hear it, just how soaked you are, as he begins thrusting his digits in and out of you. He strokes your walls delicately with each press of his fingers, scissoring you open for what you know is to come. 

His tongue dips into your entrance then, teases your dripping hole as you pant heavily, 

Your legs close in on his head as the orgasm nears, but he keeps your thighs apart, firmly holding them open as he makes you unravel.

This is fucking unreal - Jungkook with his whole face tucked between your legs, desperate to make you come with his talented mouth. You never would have anticipated this when you woke up this morning.

No, just a while ago you were crying by yourself down at the beach. Now you’re crying out his name as he smothers himself in you.

Once he starts curling them inside of you, it’s embarrassing how fast you come. You clench hard around his fingers as the orgasm washes over you, dripping down his fingers and he uses the added wetness to carry you through the high.

“Jungkook…” you whimper, sounding completely fucked out even though it’s only just beginning. After a while, the heightened pleasure fades into the background, and he presses soft kisses against your inner thigh.

He crawls his way up your body until he’s facing you again. You watch his fingers and the way they’re coated in your juices, wondering what he’ll do with them next. Jungkook languidly smears the wetness all over your lips like he’s carefully painting them, only to kiss you afterward. When you moan against him, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hand finds its way into his boxers then, wrapping your fingers around his hardened length, pumping him in your fist until he’s shallowly rutting against you.

The kiss gets broken when he suddenly pulls away, realization dawning on him. “Shit,” he exclaims. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, then you both just look at each other for a while. This isn’t a problem with no solution, even if the solution is a disastrous one in hindsight. You just want him, so badly that you can’t think of anything else.

He waits for you, doesn’t dare say anything else until you do.

Yet again, the opportunity presents itself for you to stop.

But you’ve already gone this far, and though it’s damn near impossible, you want him even more than you did before.

“Are you clean?” you ask.

It’s evident that he’s surprised by the way his eyes widen, and his silence that follows for the next half a minute. “Yeah,” he tells you.

“Okay. Then we don’t need a condom.”

He says your name once, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face sweetly. You always did like your name best when it used to fall from his lips so softly. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath, like he’s steadying himself, before he rids himself of the remaining piece of clothing on his body, then settles between your legs again. This time, his cock rests directly on your bare pussy. The anticipation makes it harder for you to breathe, makes you squeeze your thighs around his waist to not let him leave.

“How long has it been?”

Your answer is vague. “Too long,” you say. You don’t want to tell him that there’s been no one else since him, but you have a feeling that he understands it anyway. You think that he’d be pleased with your answer, that maybe it would boost his ego in a way, but there’s only a certain sadness that settles in his eyes. 

“Okay.” Regardless, he pushes past the sudden gloom that befalls his features, blinking away the disheartenment swimming in his irises, to align himself with your entrance. He rubs his cock against your pussy to coat you in his precum, even though you yourself are certainly more than wet enough for him to slide home easily. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he eases the tip into you, making the both of you moan at the contact. You feel him, all of him.

For a second, you wonder if he has ever forgone protection with anyone else, or if it’s only ever been just you.

Jungkook takes one of your hands off his shoulder to lay it flat on the bed next to your head, lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Breathe. You can do it.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We’ve got time,” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask, almost like you’re shy even though he’s balls deep inside of you.

He chuckles lightly, so endeared by you and your silly question.

His lips meet yours sweetly, like doing so would help make the stretch less painful. Maybe it does, at least a little bit. 

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and he’s probably trying so hard to hold back, but he keeps kissing you nonetheless.

“You can move,” you say after a while.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

He rears his hips back, slowly, then thrusts forward again. You whimper from the slight burn, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. His movements are gentle for the next couple of minutes or so, and it isn’t until you start opening up more that he sets a steadier pace. Even when he starts to fuck you faster, one of his hands is still on your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts out, followed by a sigh of your name as he pumps into your cunt, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously in and out of your walls. “You feel so good.”

He gazes down at you as he moves, and there’s just something so intimate about it that it makes you want to cry again.

You know what it’s like to have him fuck you, and this isn’t it.

No, this is something else entirely.

I love you, you think. I love you so fucking much.

“Missed you.” His words come out hushed, caught in half a moan, half a whimper. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Did you think about me?”

“Always,” he says, without even missing a beat.

“No,” you clarify. “When you were sleeping with other people, did you think about me?”

“I only thought about you.” His hips stutter as he tells you this, like he’s confessing to something that he shouldn’t. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You never admitted this to anyone, not even Taehyung even though he probably sensed it, but you used to feel like you could be physically sick just looking at the photos on his feed every time you’d lurk on a drunken night. They were never flashy, just subtle enough for you to know that there was someone. It made you nauseous, because the place next to him was always supposed to be yours.

You just stare at him, not knowing how to process this bit of information. Sure, it’s an ego boost. There’s some pride in knowing that you were the one on his mind even if you weren’t together.

He’s so utterly gorgeous like this that you can’t form a single coherent thought, too lost in the way his eyes bore into yours and in the blossoming warmth that spreads all over your chest from hearing his words.

How did he manage to get even more beautiful? Sculpted by the gods. The standard for all men.

“What is it?” he asks when you stare at him for too long.

“I…” You blink away the daze. “I wanna be on top.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook slips out of you just long enough to get seated with his back against the headboard and pull you into his lap. You hover over him, letting his tip rub against your dripping hole for a moment before you sink onto him. You tip your head back and sigh as you envelope him fully again, the only difference is that you can feel him so much deeper like this.

He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading your skin as he helps you ride him. The sounds that you make together are downright obscene, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

“Harder,” you tell him shakily. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt,” you say, holding onto him like you’re bracing for impact, because you know he’ll give you what you want. “Make it hurt.”

Jungkook sighs once, then digs his heels into the mattress to steady himself before his hips go wild, thrusting into you with such force that it nearly has you sobbing, your head falling onto his shoulder. It makes you burn with pleasure, like a star before it becomes a supernova. When the tension starts building quickly, you can’t help but slam your hips down harder to meet his thrusts, to chase that high.

You press your lips against his skin, any spot you could find - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Tell me you love me.”

The words are ready on the tip of his tongue, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to say it. He doesn’t miss a single beat as he tells you, “I love you.”

“Mean it.”

“I do mean it. I love you.”

Truth.

For some sick and twisted reason, his words send you crashing over the edge, falling into that abyss of pleasure that you’ve been searching for. You say his name, over and over again, like you’re making up for all the years that he wasn’t around to hear it.

Your walls convulse wildly around him as you cry out, your toes curling, your thighs shaking. He holds you close, thrusting into you through your orgasm until you’re dizzy, like you could actually pass out from the overwhelming bliss.

“I’m close,” he tells you in a raspy voice.

You catch your breath long enough to say, “Come for me.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you say without much thought. If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would know that it’s reckless and stupid. You’re not on birth control, and if anything were to happen, you would have no one to blame but yourself.

But you aren’t in a clear state of mind, and maybe this is even more dangerous than if you were fueled by alcohol. At least you can sober up from alcohol.

You just want him so badly that rationality seems like a luxury you can’t afford right now.

“Y/N,” he whispers shakily, though there’s a warning edge to his voice that you understand.

“I want you to come inside me. I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Jungkook groans at your answer. 

He doesn’t ask you to look at him, instead choosing to hide his face against your neck where you feel something wet glide down your skin as he grips your hips. It’s followed by a sniffle, and hands that hold onto you like you’re a lifeline. 

He’s crying, and that breaks your fucking heart.

You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to tilt his chin up to look at you, because it feels strange without his tender gaze on you, but you decide against it even though the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to do so. 

Your walls clench with purpose, squeezing around him, trying to help you get there. It’s not that long before you hear your name falling from his lips in a choked out moan, so needy and beautiful and makes you nostalgic. He empties himself inside of you, making you shudder from the sudden warmth that he paints along your walls.

You stay in the same position for a few more minutes until your chest is no longer heaving with exhaustion and euphoria. He gently pulls you off his lap to lay you down on the bed, pressing an apologetic kiss against your bare shoulder when you wince from the oversensitivity, from any kind of movement at all. 

When he moves to throw on his boxers and goes to stand up, you reach for him. “Where are you going?” You instantly feel pathetic for asking.

He pauses, then squeezes your hand as that sadness from before makes an appearance in his eyes again. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he tells you, his voice quiet.

The relief on your face must be visible. “Okay,” you say. Rationally, you know he probably wouldn’t fuck you and leave you the second the deed is done. But again, rationality is a luxury at the moment.

Jungkook returns a couple of minutes later with a warm cloth, and dabs it between your legs to clean you up. You grimace when he touches you there, evidently sore already from the activities you just engaged in.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to say, though it isn’t really his fault. Or maybe it is his fault. You’re not sure if that even matters.

When he’s done, he gets under the covers with you. “Come here,” he says, then shuffles your body closer to his until he’s holding you with his hands on your bare waist. He leans down to kiss you, and you let him. God, you feel like you’re fucking melting.

It’s different from the kiss down at the beach, and it’s different from the needy ones you shared in the past hour. It’s soft and slow and easy, like there’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.

Jungkook breaks away eventually, and rests his forehead against yours then. One of his hands on your waist slides up to your ribs, until his thumb could brush the underside of your breast. The touch is gentle, sweet, completely innocent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He means everything he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

You even blush, like you’re a stupid lovesick teenager. “Tell me,” you say.

“Anything.”

You reckon it’s self-indulgent at this point. You’re only asking to feel better about your place in his life, or rather, the place that used to be yours.

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

He nudges his nose against yours. No hesitation. “I can’t live without you.”

Truth. You know it’s the truth.

Nonetheless… “Liar.” Your tone is soft. There’s no bite at all. You touch his face, trying to commit to memory every detail, how his soft skin feels under your touch as if it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see him like this. Maybe it is. You never got to have a last time with him, never got to know that it was ending before it already ended. You’re not thinking about the morning because you don’t want to, but the seed of anxiety is there in your belly. Your fingers trace his jawline as you say, “You lived without me. You were doing fine without me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he says. “I couldn’t bear it without you.”

The thing is, you know that he’s being honest. And it should make you feel good that you affected him as much as he affected you.

But then… it keeps leading you back to that question. The question that you thought you could go the rest of your life without knowing the answer to. But for that to be possible, you needed him to stay gone, stay out of your world forever.

He shouldn’t be here, tangled up in the sheets with you and kissing you like his life depends on it. 

He shouldn’t tell you that he misses you, that he loves you. Shouldn’t tell you to please, love him too.

It’s contradictory, isn’t it? You needed to never see him again if you stood a chance of moving on with your life. You needed it and yet, all you wanted was to have him back by your side.

The tattoo catches your attention again. It feels like it’s laughing at you, mocking you.

You clench your teeth once, your eyes beginning to turn glassy. Jungkook sees it, and he’s quick to break up your train of thought. He presses his mouth to yours, shushing you with a deep kiss that makes your head spin, despite it all.

“Don’t think about it,” he mumbles against your lips, so desperate to get you to stop. As if he can sense where this could lead.

“How could I not? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“You know me.” He holds onto your wrist, to keep your hand on his face before you can pull it away. “I’m still the same.”

“No, you’re not,” you say quietly, absentmindedly.

“Yes,” he insists. “Yes, I am.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you do see the person you used to know. But you only ever see him in glimpses and it always leaves you with a terrible, nauseous feeling afterward.

He doesn’t understand how much it hurts you to catch glimpses of the boy you used to love - the boy you still love - only to realize that maybe that isn’t the person he wants to be anymore. It feels like he keeps trying to kill that version of himself, like he despises the person who meant the world to you.

Are you gone forever?

Come back quietly.

“How old are you?” you ask after a moment.

The question makes him pause, his soft features twisting in confusion. He leans back a bit, so his eyes could focus on your face better.

“What?”

“How old are you?” you repeat.

It takes him another while to answer as he tries to see where you’re going with this. But when his search comes up empty, he just answers, “29.”

"I don't know who you are at 29. The last time I knew you was 24. No. You hadn't even turned 24 yet. Where was 25? 26? 27? 28? It’s unfair that you still know who I am when I don't know who you are. I feel like I never aged a day past 24. You carried on living but I'm still here."

His eyes well up once again, but this time, you can see it. The first tear spills over, lands somewhere on your collarbone. This is what you used to want, right? To see him hurting, just like how you were hurting? Well, be careful what you wish for.

No part of you feels victorious that you’re making him cry, that the score is finally being settled, because none of this undoes all of the shit you had to go through. If anything, it makes you feel even worse, like you’re still losing.

“I never moved on from us. I couldn’t move on from you,” he says, voice cracking toward the end. Your heart is doing the same thing in your chest, but you’re glad that he can’t see it. “I swear I miss you every day. I wanted you with me every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to come back to you.”

Jungkook looks so dejected, like a reflection of you these past few years. You recognize that look in his eyes. You know that sadness all too well. He was in as much pain as you were.

He loved you when he left you. He still loves you even after all this time. 

You inhale shakily. For the first time, you feel infinitely selfish for only focusing on your own misery without even stopping to give him the benefit of the doubt, to consider the possibility that maybe letting you go wasn’t something he wanted. Maybe he isn’t the antagonist that you spent years making him out to be.

There’s more to it, and you need to know.

“Then why did you leave me?”

Graduation was just shy of a month ago, and two weeks before that was Hoseok’s flight when he left you all behind.

You and Jungkook, along with Taehyung and Jimin had gone to see him off at the airport. Of course you did, you were his best of friends after all. The goodbye was full of jokes accompanied by sniffles, and tears that overflowed without permission because you all agreed that you would hold yourself together for Hoseok. Jimin was probably the one who cried the most, even though inside, you were equally sad to see your friend leave.

A part of your life was ending, and that in and of itself was depressing enough already, but you thought at least the whole group would still be together and start the next chapter by each other’s side.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t the end of the world. All of you could still make it work, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. You promised to keep in touch, promised to message the group chat every day and have video calls every weekend. You were still kids, and kids tend to be optimistic like that.

What none of you could see coming was how everything would fall apart in a matter of mere weeks.

Jungkook thinks that decades from now, when he’s old and gray and helpless, he still won’t be able to forget that day.

He should’ve been more concerned when your mother contacted him out of nowhere, asking him to meet with her, asking him not to let you know where he was going.

He’d shown up half an hour early to the cafe where they were supposed to meet, just because he didn’t want to risk being late and have your mother disapprove of him even more. Not once had she expressed anything other than disdain toward your relationship, but you’d always told him it didn’t matter, that you were the only person who could decide what to do with your life, not anyone else, let alone your mother. He always believed you back then, even if deep down, he still wanted her to see that he was enough for you. Her unattainable approval still mattered to him.

Jungkook spent thirty whole minutes running on nothing but anxiety and caffeine. That was probably his first mistake, ordering a cup of coffee which only made him more nervous than he already was.

When your mother arrived, it barely took her any time at all to get right into what she came here to say. She hadn’t even bothered with a drink.

Was that how it was always going to end? Should he have seen it coming from the beginning? Was he the only one who thought it would be you and him all the way until the very end?

Maybe he was more of a hopeless romantic than he thought.

It was the way she had called him a phase that she hoped you’d grow out of. That she had let you keep this relationship for long enough, but now that you’d graduated - now that you’d be starting a life for yourself - she couldn’t sit back and watch you throw it all away for a boy who could never give you what you deserved.

It was the way she told him she didn’t want history to repeat itself. How she didn’t want to subject you to the same fate that she and your father had to suffer through. How she had left your dad because in the end, he wasn’t enough for her and you, even though you were a child and you deserved to grow up with a father and with love.

She said the same thing would happen to you and Jungkook, because you were meant for greater things and he was not meant to deserve you. She made it clear that he would always hold you back, that he would never amount to even a fraction of what you should receive in life.

“If you love her, you would let her go.”

Cliché, right? Like the kind of stuff you only ever see in movies? Well, movies have to take inspiration from somewhere.

He thought about his own mother then, and about how people could have such different ways of showing love. He believed that your mother loved you, and he still believes that. She wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of seeing him if she didn’t care about you. She wanted the best for you, and that wasn’t him.

She didn’t have to tell him to keep it a secret from you, because he wouldn’t have told you regardless. He was well aware of how strained your relationship with your mother was, and letting you know would only drive it closer to the edge. She knew he wouldn’t tell you. He loved you, and that was the one thing that she could count on.

Just sitting there in that café, Jungkook felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, even though he was surrounded by the other patrons and their lively laughter as they chatted away. The pitiful way that your mother kept looking at him forced him to learn what it was like to feel truly worthless.

The pity in her eyes only intensified when he couldn’t even say a single word in response, couldn’t think of anything to defend himself.

Silence meant agreement, and that was what he chose. Jungkook - the naive boy that he was - stopped believing in you. He’d believed her instead.

He was just a kid, what else was he supposed to do? 

She was your own flesh and blood, and he knew nothing could ever replace that. He would rather let you hate him, resent him for the rest of your life, than let you lose your family.

That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.

He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.

July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.

You call his name when he takes too long to answer. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” he merely says. His hand brushes your cheek.

You frown, despite the way the three words make your chest tingle.

“I love you,” he says it again, trying to ease the furrow between your brows.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, barely even audible, but it’s this gentleness that makes his words ricochet, ringing in your ears loudly like a gun going off in the quiet of your room.

Again with the apologies.

Fuck this.

It’s hard to take it to heart when you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

You gave Jungkook the chance to explain himself, but if he doesn’t take it, then that’s not on you. There isn’t much else that you can do.

You swallow hard, then shove him off of you so you could get out of the bed. Your legs instantly tremble as you attempt to stand, but you soldier on as you put on your bra and underwear, then grab your dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor. You’re shaking, but it’s difficult to determine if it’s because you’re angry, or cold without his warmth nearby.

He’s quick to his feet too, rushing toward you before you could leave.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss when he reaches for your arm. He doesn’t listen, because when has Jeon Jungkook ever fucking listened?

“Y/N, wait-”

“Wait for what?! I asked you a simple question and you can’t even answer me.”

He runs a hand over his face frustratedly, clearly torn over something. He holds your angered gaze, but the way he looks at you is much milder, gentler even if it’s equally frustrated. “I’m trying to protect you.”

You don’t know if it’s the wrong answer or not. You just know that in this moment, it irritates you to no end.

“Oh my god,” you gasp mockingly. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is waiting outside that door right now, waiting for me to come out so they can kill me. Holy fucking shit, I’m about to be assassinated.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

There’s that burning sensation behind your eyes again. “And you think I’m not? What do you mean you’re trying to protect me? Protect me from what? Do you think this is a fucking k-drama? Jesus Christ,” you scoff harshly. “What do you want from me? What the actual fuck do you want?”

Jungkook aims for you again, and in an attempt to ward him off, your swinging fist inadvertently collides with his chest. The dress falls to the floor again, laying next to your feet, that useless piece of fabric.

It probably doesn’t do much damage to him, but he’s a bit startled regardless. So are you, if you’re being honest. But you do it again, and surprisingly, he lets you.

“You coward.” You shove hard at his chest, making him stumble backward. “You unbelievable asshole. You fucked me, you said you loved me, and you still can’t tell me why you left me.” 

He allows you to push him until his back is pressed against the wall. And even then, you don’t relent. Your fists continue beating against his chest as you start sobbing, spilling ‘I hate you’s in between so many expletives it could make his grandmother faint.

He might bruise in the morning.

You hope he bruises in the morning.

The least Jungkook could do is bruise for you.

You want him to curse him out for so many things - for loving you, for leaving you, for not even having the balls to tell you why he broke your heart. For coming back to remind you that you still love him. For proving that he still has you in the palm of his hands, and every twitch of his finger can make you feel like the walls are crumbling down on you.

But even as you tell him how much you hate him, you’re still thinking: Come back. I don’t want to keep losing you. Come back to me.

Because he’s the only person who can hurt you like this. When you think about him, it used to make you so depressed that you could hardly function. There’s no other way to put it to make it sound less pathetic. That’s just how it is.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this weekend, shouldn’t have been nice to him, shouldn’t have let him convince you not to think about it. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place, because there was always a part of you that knew he could get under your skin so easily just like that.

This wasn’t your second chance at holding onto him. It wasn’t a do-over. It was a re-enactment.

The years haven’t made you wiser, that much is clear.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, you begin to wear yourself out. Your movements start to slow and the energy to violently sob leaves your body until you’re nearly collapsing. Jungkook catches you when you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. Why are you always so fucking helpless?

“You just…” Your voice gets caught at the end of a sob. This is rock bottom all over again. “You make me so sad.”

You grasp his arm weakly, feeling like your own lungs are failing you. You can’t breathe. It’s too much, too infinitely humiliating. He’s doing this to you again, and this time you have to shoulder most of the blame, because you are the one that enabled your own heartbreak for the second time.

You’re still crying, and you hate that this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry like this.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says firmly, looking at you like he’s trying so hard not to break down alongside you. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The words come out as a whisper now. You can feel the tremble in his voice and the shake of his hands where they hold you. His big bambi eyes - the usual home of constellations - now house tears that threaten to spill onto his supple cheeks. “Please. What can I do to make you believe me?”

It’s those stupid fucking eyes. It’s your stupid fucking self.

“You need to tell me.” Your tears keep on falling no matter how much he tries to wipe them away. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’ll make things worse,” he tells you, his voice cracking as he does. He sounds like he means it, and maybe he does believe that whatever he’s hiding from you will only hurt you more. It almost has you caving, but you can’t do this a second time. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In the morning, you’ll think about how this is all so dramatic, the way you’re acting right now. The most k-drama-esque thing that has ever happened to you. But in the moment, you just feel like someone plunged a knife in your chest, and they keep twisting it, twisting and twisting,...

In the end, you decide that it’s a risk you’ll have to take, because nothing can be more painful than the absolute hell he’s putting you through. He’ll never understand how utterly excruciating it is to experience this kind of heartbreak.

“If you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to survive you again.”

up next...

our beloved summer (08) ⏤ aka the JK centric chapter

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 30, 2023]

[roses-for-rosalyn]

City Lights

part 2 bitches!

part 1

a/n: this took a long time because I am not doing 100%, but I mean it's here and it's horny so <3

Realizing just now I forgot to tag @paleidiot and @abbysmainbitch 😭😭

minors dni 🔞(for realsies do not)

work count: 2.2k (pure filth, no plot)

cw: Abby in a suit, mafia! Abby, Abby referred to as Ms. Anderson or miss, fem, reader (girl is used to refer to reader!), hickeys, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), dirty talk (like a lot, especially for me), aftercare, consent 👍, bit of angst at the end because idk maybe this is a series now, also no mentions of skin color or hair for reader (if there is feel free to call me out on it because I'll fix it!)

--

Dinner takes ages, your knee bounces up and down rapidly as you wait for the conversation to finally wind down. Finally the girls are dismissed while the remaining men and Ms. Anderson stay behind to talk over coffee. You know she’ll excuse herself soon, but she doesn’t want to draw suspicion by leaving right away. You hurry to your car, quickly getting in and starting it. The drive home is a blur. You try not to let any insecure thoughts creep in, second guessing yourself now would just be idiotic. You rush up to your apartment and slip on a black set of lingerie Dina pressured you into buying. You put your dress back on and check yourself in the mirror, you let yourself breathe for a moment. This moment feels a little unreal, you’d been imagining it for so long you had no idea how to feel anymore. 

A knock at the door startles you a bit before you remember who it was. You rush to the door and open it revealing a disheveled Ms. Anderson. Her top couple of buttons were undone, tie loosened, vest unbuttoned, hair down and somehow more attractive than she was at dinner. Her chest is rising up and down as if she had run to your apartment. You can’t help but smile at the thought of her racing here to see you.

“Hi.” she says breathlessly, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Hi.” you say, hoping your squeaky voice didn’t betray your nerves. Ms. Anderson steps forward, the closer she gets the more she towers over you. She steps impossibly closer to you, lightly cups your jaw and smiles, her thumb gently rubs against your cheek. She just stares for a moment, observing every inch of your face, hungrily searching your eyes for any flicker of emotion, any hesitation. It feels like she can see right through you, it almost makes you want to shrink backwards away from her, but before you can she pulls you in for a kiss. This was different than the first one, it had a purpose behind it, a hunger. Her tongue massaged against yours roughly as her other hand shut the front door. You move your hand to the back of her head, lacing your fingers into her hair. You put the other on her waist, attempting to get her impossibly closer to you. Her hands begin to wander, smoothing down the sides of your body to your ass. She massages the soft, malleable skin and groans at the feeling. You both begin stumbling towards the couch, desperately trying to remain entangled with each other as you move. Your hand grabs at Ms. Anderson’s vest, desperate to keep your hold of her, causing her to let out a surprised whimper. 

Eventually, somehow you both made it to the couch. Abby sits down, breaking the kiss for a moment before you instinctively crawl onto her lap. Your lips meet again, it’s messy and hungry and eager and yet you need more. You lace your hands into her hair as she grabs your hips. You hadn’t even noticed how they started moving on their own, trying to find friction. You let out a small whimper into Ms. Anderson’s mouth and she tightened her grip on your hips, starting to lose the very little restraint she had in the first place. She breaks the kiss and spreads her legs a bit, grabs your leg, placing it in between hers so you’re kneeling over her muscular thigh. You grab her broad shoulders for balance at the unexpected motion. She grabs the hem of your dress and hikes it upwards, exposing your lacy underwear. She pulls the underwear aside, exposing your soaking folds. She falters for a moment before using her hold on your hips to encourage you down onto her thigh. You can’t help the moan that escapes from your lips as your bare clit rubs against the rough fabric of Ms. Anderson’s pants.  

“This ok?” She asks tentatively. 

“Yes, yes, miss.” You say breathlessly. Abby feels arousal flood to her cunt as soon as she hears you call her “miss”. You were so sensitive to her little touches, your body reacting every time her skin met yours– it was intoxicating, you were intoxicating. You didn’t know if this could feel any better until she started moving your hips back and forth, encouraging you to grind onto her thigh. You sigh at the satisfying feeling of your clit being dragged against the fabric of her trousers with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“That’s it baby just like that.” She says as she looks down at the mess you're making on her pant leg. Ms. Anderson’s breath picks up noticeably, unable to contain her insatiable desperation for you. Her eyes move upward, switching her focus to your chest. She gently runs her fingers under the thin straps of your dress, causing them to fall to your shoulders. She reaches behind you and slowly pulls down the zipper before peeling the dress down to expose your bra. She immediately takes greedy handfuls of the soft flesh over the fabric making a whimper fall from your swollen lips. You start to move your hips a bit faster, not being able to control the pleasure building in your lower body. Ms. Anderson reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, quickly removing it leaving your upper body bare for her. You gasp as the cold air meets your nipples, but the feeling doesn’t last as Abby quickly takes them into her warm mouth. The foreign feeling incites a moan from you, you feel arousal shoot to your core. The feeling of your swollen bud moving against the rough fabric of Ms. Anderson’s pants is heightened as she continues sucking and licking at your nipples. The pleasurable feeling between your legs was building to an almost unbearable peak, you were unable to control the noises falling from your lips.  

“F-fuck miss, feels so good.” She moves her lips to your neck softly kissing upwards, taking her time to suck on the sensitive skin, marking you as she pleases. 

“Good girl, I’m just here to make you feel good alright? Use me to make yourself feel good.” You start to feel your pleasure spilling over, begging for release. You move your hips faster and you feel it, your orgasm hits you in overwhelming waves.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” is all you can manage to breathe out. Abby doesn’t stop assaulting you with her lips through the whole thing, whispering encouraging phrases into your skin as you moaned and writhed against her. Your hips continue to grind against Ms. Anderson’s thigh as you ride it out. 

Your moans turn to heavy breaths, and you allow yourself to fall into Ms. Anderson’s strong, warm chest. You let out a short laugh in disbelief as to what just happened. Abby gently cups your jaw and forces you to look at her. She’s smiling at you and you manage to lazily smile back. “You did so good for me, princess.” She kisses you softly for a moment before pulling away, “Think you can take another?” She asks. You nod eagerly, wanting nothing more. “Words, baby.”

“Yes, I can.”

She smiles, “Thank god, I’ve waited too long for this to stop now.” Before you can say anything she quickly adjusts you both so you’re laying down on the couch with her kneeling between your legs. You let out a nervous squeak at the quick movement, but you’re quickly distracted by the feeling of Ms. Anderson caressing the outsides of your thighs. Her hands move up to your dress that has been bunched up at your waist. “Lift your hips for me baby.” You do as she says and she drags the dress down your legs and throws it somewhere into the dim living room, leaving you bare except for the pair of thin lace panties. She leans down, placing her forearms on either side of you, careful not to crush you. Suddenly her lips are on yours, kissing you with a desperation that takes your breath away. She moves to your jaw, “You’re so soft,” down your neck “So perfect,” between your breasts, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve imagined this?” Her kisses are so light, so gentle you sigh at the feeling, “Maybe you do know, maybe you have thought about this happening,” She makes her way back up to your neck, her kisses turning into her sucking and licking at your soft skin. “When you’re alone at night-” her hand gently trails down the side of your body, moving to your lower stomach, teasing the hem of your panties “-do you think of me when you’re fucking yourself? Do you say my name when you come all over those pretty, little fingers of yours?” She of course already knew the answer to the question, but she wanted to hear you say it. She cups your dripping cunt and you gasp, unable to formulate a response. “Come on baby admit it.” You can feel her smirk against the skin of your neck.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper, “I-I h-have thought about you-” You take a little breath as she adds more pressure to your sensitive core, “-like that.” 

Ms. Anderson lets out a gentle laugh at your confession. “I know you have.” You have no time to act surprised as she begins circling her finger around your sensitive clit causing you to moan quietly. “I came here the day after I found you at the club-” She teases her hand up and down your slit, gathering arousal. “You didn’t answer the door so I let myself in.” You can barely manage to react to her words considering her fingers are causing so much pleasure to build in your body you can barely think. “I heard you in the bedroom and at first I thought something was wrong, but then I saw you with your legs spread open while you were moaning my name.” Now she has your undivided attention, your face feels hot, embarrassment practically consuming you. Ms. Anderson circles a finger around your entrance, getting you ready before she plungers her thick digit inside of you. You gasp at the feeling of light pressure in your cunt. She brings her eyes up to meet yours and the embarrassment is so apparent on your face she almost feels bad. She lets out a small chuckle and says “Don’t worry princess I’ve done the same thing.” 

She makes her way downward until her mouth is hovering over your swollen cunt. You can feel her cool breath fan over your folds, the closer she got the more tortuous the feeling was. Her mouth met your sensitive clit and you let out a whimper, the foreign feeling overtaking your body. She begins licking and sucking at your swollen bud and you can’t help but squirm a bit at the odd yet pleasurable sensation. Abby needed you still so she wrapped both of her arms around your thighs and held down your hips, keeping you impossibly close to her warm mouth while keeping you still. She begins moving her finger slowly in and out of your entrance, the feeling was magnified as Ms. Anderson teased your clit with her tongue. Moans begin slipping from your lips, you have to bite your lip to avoid from getting too loud. You’ve never, ever felt anything like this, this amount of pleasure was overwhelming. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore she adds a second finger, causing you to moan “oh ffffuck”, which made Abby groan and begin to writhe her hips into the pillows, she could come from just listening to you. She moves her fingers a bit faster, hitting a spot that makes you almost see stars, moaning every time she touches it. You feel your second orgasm coming, pleasure building to its breaking point. Abby could tell from the way you were clenching around her fingers

 “You close baby?” She asks as she continues her almost inhuman pace with her fingers. “Come then, come for me princess.” Her permission was your tipping point, your hips involuntarily bucking up into her mouth. The second orgasm is even more intense than the first, moans pouring out of you uncontrollably. She pinned you down as she continued licking you clean as you rode out your high. She only lets up when you start whining from the sensitivity. You felt absolutely exhausted, but you felt as if you should return the favor for Ms. Anderson. Without a word though, she picks you up and carries you towards your bedroom. “W-wait Miss..don’t you need to-” 

“Another time baby, I wanted tonight to be all about you. My turn will come when you’re more ready.” You nod slowly and let your body relax, giving in to your exhaustion after this long night. She places you in bed and walks away, quickly returning with a warm washcloth to clean you up and a large t-shirt to put you in. 

“T-there’s extra pajamas in the bottom drawer.” You point to your dresser in the corner, assuming she was staying, she probably didn’t want to sleep in a suit. Ms. Anderson doesn’t respond, just sort of looks at you like she was stopping herself from saying something. “You’re not staying, are you?” It wasn’t a question, you knew she made her mind up already. She nods before getting up and kissing you on the forehead. She tucks you in gently and leaves, quietly closing the door behind her.

let me know what y'all think! Notes, comments, reposts always always appreciated <3 love ya.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Idk if you’ve done pregnant grumpy!reader x sunshine!steve yet buuuut Steve trying to make reader feel better bc she’s getting supper irritated at him super quickly

You were everything you hated being.

Too hot, too tired, too hungry, too bloated. Your body was changing and becoming more uncomfortable, five months pregnant and growing by the day. It didn’t help that it was summer in Indiana, a heatwave that you knew would eventually come, but you still weren’t prepared for the heat - especially now your swimming suit didn’t fit.

“Honey?” Steve’s tone was soft and cajoling, his expression wary as he approached with a bowl of watermelon cubes as an offering.

You’d been snappy all day, unfairly so considering the boy hadn’t done anything to deserve it, apart from helping to put you in your current state. You’d had a lot of fun trying and you’d cried tears of absolute joy in Steve’s lap at the sight of those two pink lines, but your feet were swollen and your tummy poked out the top of your shorts.

You ignored the fruit, slouching further into the couch instead, your expression morose. “I look like Winnie the Pooh,” you cried woefully. You prodded gently at your round tummy, your belly button that stuck out more than ever. “Look at it.”

Steve tried to hide his grin, a cough covering his laugh and a fist over his mouth. You glared at him on warning as he dropped to the floor beside the sofa, placing the bowl in your lap and a warm hand on your thigh.

“I am,” he told you, palm travelling up and over to cup the top of your bump, his eyes turning soft as he gazed at it. He leaned in to nudge his nose against your tummy. “I look at it every day, y’know.”

Normally such sweetness would be rewarded with a kiss or some kind of other affection, but your skin was sticky with sweat and after specifically asking for watermelon, baby had decided she really didn’t want it anymore. Your eyes watered and you sniffed, bottom lip trembling.

“Uh-oh,” Steve said easily, not as panicked by your tears as he used to be. The hormones had turned you into a human fountain, for any and all emotion. “What’s the damage? A kick to the ribs? Sore feet? A burst pipe?” Steve cradled your belly with two big hands and he peered at it accusingly. “What’re you doing to your mom, you gremlin?”

You laughed unexpectedly, a watery hiccuping that made Steve beam at you. You dashed away the tears at your lash line and snugged again, simultaneously feeling better and stupid. “She’s not a gremlin,” you protested, “she’s just making me turn crazy.” You brought a hand to your boyfriends cheek, day old stubble scratching at your palm and you rubbed a thumb over his jaw adoringly.

“You’re not crazy,” Steve insisted softly. “You’re pregnant, honey.”

You smiled, still a little watery. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

Steve huffed out a laugh and turned his head to kiss your hand. “Maybe,” he conceded. Another kiss, this time on the inside of your wrist. “You okay?”

You nodded, suddenly exhausted. You let your shoulders droop, your head falling back into the couch cushions as the heat of the afternoon settled into a sticky warmth over your skin. “Tired,” you said and Steve knew that, could hear you getting up and down through then night to pee, then in the kitchen for more water, a vicious cycle. “But m’too warm, just uncomfortable.”

Steve pouted sympathetically, hands travelling down your sides, over your hips, squeezing affectionately. His touch made your lashes flutter.

“I’m sorry,” you added, your voice small and soft. You looked like you were about to cry again. “Didn’t mean to be a bitch.”

Steve tutted away your apology, leaning carefully over your belly to kiss your lips, one peck that turned onto two, three, until he was pressing his mouth to your cheeks, your nose, your chin. “Don’t gotta apologise, baby, I know it’s hard.” He hummed against you, one lazy, slow last kiss that felt like the summer heatwave. “How ‘bout a cool shower, then a movie? I’ll let you use me as a pillow.”

You closed your eyes in bliss at the suggestion, nodding gratefully. When you opened them again, Steve was holding a piece of watermelon for you, brows raised.

You made a face, feeling awfully guilty even as your stomach turned over in protest. “Baby decided we don’t want watermelon anymore.”

Steve gasped, overly dramatic. “God, she really is a gremlin—”

“Steven.”

“What?” The boy grinned before he popped a cube of fruit into his mouth. “You’re lucky I like watermelon,” he tried to sound mean about it, but he failed miserably when he leaned back over to smack a kiss to your cheek. “And you… and you,” he conceded, one final kiss to the top of your bump.

[miasmaghoul]

Nun forced fem on either SwissDew or Raindrop

yeah sure here

(idk what this is its barely nsfw lmao uhhh warnings for forcedfem, religious fuckery, mention of safewords without use of them, mostly implied corruption kink)

"It suits you."

"Does it?" Rain smooths nervous hands over the front of his habit, flattening imaginary wrinkles. "It feels so..."

"Pious?"

Rain gives a hum - it's not the word he had in mind, but it isn't wrong. Rain adjusts his veil as he takes in his reflection, turning to take in every angle in his floor length mirror.

It's odd how bare he feels considering how little skin he can see. His face and hands stand out beautifully, pale and sharp against rich black wool. That's all the uniform reveals, though. Nothing about this ensemble could be called flattering, and yet Rain can't stop looking. Can't stop tracing the shape of his sleeves and frowning at the one stubborn curl poking out behind his ear. The rosary hanging from his belt clinks when he moves to tuck it away, silver and red beads glinting in the firelight.

"I was going to say severe," Rain murmurs, fingering the inverted silver cross hanging around his neck. "But...I suppose that works too."

He feels the need to speak softly like this, to keep his voice low and his words gentle. He isn't a particularly loud ghoul as it is, at least not often, but something about seeing himself look so...reserved demands it.

Rain licks his lips, and finds the sight of it in the mirror to be borderline obscene.

"And how does it make you feel?"

The words are followed by the creak of a chair and steady footsteps on hardwood, a confident but easy stride, and Rain's heart skips against his ribs. The footsteps stop beside him, in what should be his periphery, but their owner remains hidden by the starched edge of Rain's wimple. He can't make himself turn to look, occupied instead by watching splotches of pink bloom on his cheeks.

"I...I don't know," he admits, and it's the truth. There's an odd stew of feelings swirling around in his skull, a bizarre blend of shame, discomfort and the most blasphemous sort of pride. His fingers tremble as he tugs at the knot binding his belt, a mindless distraction.

"Take your time," flows into his ear, velvety smooth, "but I want an answer."

Rain nods, sighing as he lets his eyes slip shut. Just for a moment. Maybe two.

He really didn't think this would be so hard. He knew it would be different - how could it not be? - but the heaviness in his gut is so much more than he was prepared for. He's been dressed up a thousand ways from Sunday; lingerie, pretty dresses, elegant gowns and the sluttiest costumes Swiss could get his greedy hands on. He's worn makeup and press-ons, learned to walk in the highest heels and had his waist cinched by corsets until he was ready to faint.

It all pales in comparison to the simple garments he wears now.

"...small, I think," Rain practically whispers, once the words find his tongue. It's the closest thing he can think of to describe the tightness in his chest. "It's like..." Rain wrings his hands together, the motion obscured by his oversized sleeves. "It's like I don't belong in this."

"That's because you don't," comes his very amused reply, and a gentle weight settles against his forearm. Rain stares at that elegant hand in the mirror, wide eyes caught on the place skin turns to fitted sleeve. "That's part of the fun," that hand thightens, a rough thumb arching over the inside of his wrist, and that voice feels like a red hot poker when it adds, "Sister."

The word makes him gasp, makes his stomach flip, and Rain wobbles in place. Has to reach out to catch himself on the body beside him, and he earns a soft chuckle in response.

"Easy, easy."

Rain feels the words as much as he hears them, radiating through the palm he's planted in the center of a lightly muscled chest. He shivers when a warm hand rubs over his spine, a familiar motion that has completely different connotations right now.

"You're safe," he's promised, quiet and serious. "I've got you."

Rain nods, takes a deep breath as he pushes himself upright, but he can't make himself open his eyes. He knows what's waiting for him when he does, and some part of him doesn't want to see it. If he sees it, it's real. A fantasy made real - not his own, but one he's been eager to help fulfill for ages now. Ever since the night he wrung this desire out of the ghoul supporting him, had pulled the words from his throat with precise rolls of his hips and a perfectly placed hand on a long throat.

"I've got you," he's assured again, and it's so genuine that Rain can't hold back his whimper.

"Sorry," he huffs, shaking his head. "It's...it's a lot."

A hum answers him, a warm palm cups his cheek, and Rain leans into it easily. Soothed by familiar skin and spiced cologne that settles flayed nerves.

"Rain," he says, and it's so gentle that he almost cracks an eye open. Almost. "We don't have to do this. You know that."

He does. Of course he does. One word and he's out, done, able strip himself of fabric that feels far heavier than it truly is. It would be easy, and there's a first time for everything. The word sits on the tip of his tongue, just behind sharp teeth.

"I know," Rain breathes instead, finally straightening up and crossing his arms over his stomach, "I know."

The hand on his spine remains, grounding, and Rain focuses on the feel of it. Breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth until the tangled mess in his belly unravels, until the pressure in his head subsides. Until he can face the body beside him and brace himself for what he's about to see. One hand fiddles with his rosary, nervous energy poured into a silent prayer he says at every midnight mass.

He can do this.

He can do this.

When Rain opens his eyes, it's as devastating as he thought it would be.

"Oh," he sighs, hot from his scalp to the soles of his feet, and the soft smile it earns him makes Rain's chest hurt.

He doesn't know where to look, too many details for his already frazzled brain to absorb; the shiny tips of polished loafers, a perfectly fitted black cassock, a blood red stole embroidered with goat heads and a sharp collar. Rain's eyes stick there, glued to that simple white square, and every inch of him tingles in a way he can't explain.

"Satanas," he says without really meaning to, and Rain is immediately rewarded with the warmest chuckle.

"Blessed be," Dew replies, and Rain feels more of the tension drain from his shoulders. He tears his eyes from that little white square with great effort and finds the other ghoul's face lined with mirth. His copper eyes sparkle in the glow of the fire, and something about it makes Rain shiver.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, taking in every inch of that handsome face. Dew's pulled his hair back, tied it into a tight knot at the base of his skull, and all it does is make him look more authoritative. "I didn't -"

"Stop," Dew orders, one palm raised, and Rain has never fallen silent so quickly. That one little moment makes something familiar start to bloom at the back of his mind, and suddenly it's just a little easier to deal with the invisible weight on his shoulders. His eyelids feel just a little heavier.

"Sorry," Rain mumbles once more, but it's only out of habit. Dew ignores it, tips his head, and then that warm palm is back on his cheek and Rain has a fleeting thought about what his habit will look like once he's inevitably tenting it.

"Tell me you want this," Dew says, voice even. He strokes Rain's cheekbone with the tip of his thumb, and Rain wishes he would push it between his lips instead. "Tell me you want it," he says again, fingertips tracing the edge of his coif, "or we'll change and -"

"No," Rain interjects, more sudden than even he expects, grabbing at Dew's outstretched arm. The cassock feels so soft, somehow plush and warm against his fingers. "No, I - I do," Rain promises, too flustered to keep his voice from shaking, "for you, I - I want to -"

He's silenced by the pressure of one long finger against his parted lips, by a soft shushing noise, and then Dew's close enough that Rain can feel his warmth. He tilts his head up, gives Rain a hungry look, and Rain can't describe how miniscule it makes him feel.

"You'll tell me if that changes?"

"Yes," Rain promises, breathless, and he nods so urgently it nearly dislodges his wimple. "Yes, I promise."

As soon as the words escape him, as soon as Dew nods his acknowledgement, Rain swears he feels the air shift. That warm hand leaves his face as Dew backs away two steps, head held high. Rain feels unbearably cold in his absence, but he knows Dew will have him hotter than he can handle soon enough.

"Look at yourself," he instructs, nodding towards the mirror. "Tell me what you see."

Rain turns on autopilot. Swivels on his heels until he's facing himself once more, all harsh lines and dark fabric. He straightens his cross, his veil, and wonders how much redder his cheeks will be by the end of this.

"I see..." Rain licks his lips again, but he can't watch it this time. "I see...purity," he supplies at length, the word syrupy thick on his tongue. "I...I see innocence."

Rain wonders if Dew will make him look at himself like this afterwards too. Once he's been used up and drained dry, left woozy and weak and with nothing in him to argue. The thought makes him queasy as much as it makes him throb, and Rain stares at the spot on his habit that he knows his cock is starting swell behind.

"Do you?"

Footsteps again, intentional. Slow. Stalking up behind him, teasing fingers trailing along the edge of his veil just enough to feel. Dew appears in the mirror beside him, and the sight of the two of them together makes Rain's knees weak.

He's starting to get why Dew wanted this.

"Yes," Rain huffs, nodding once. There's a tingle caught in his spine, between his shoulder blades, a shudder he can't quite shake out.

"Yes what?" Dew asks.

"Yes, Father," he replies, a swift exhale, and Dew looks so very pleased at the way he sways.

"Well I've heard otherwise, dear Sister," he lilts, and then he's moving. Stalking slow circles around Rain a fox ready to tear into a particularly fat hen. "In fact," he adds, coming to a stop right in front of Rain. Reaching out to slip two fingers under his chin. Lifting his gaze so all he can see is Dew's neutral expression, wild eyes and that fucking collar. "There's a rumor going around that you're a regular Jezebel." Rain winces, and Dew gives him a falsely sympathetic smile. "A common whore masquerading as a lost little lamb in need of guidance."

"N-no," Rain whispers, giving his head the tiniest shake. "I - I promise, Father," he manages, already starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges. "I'm - I'm pure, I'm -"

Dew shushes him, and then he's gone. Floating away on sure feet and gliding back to his chair. Rain watches the way his cassock billows around his legs, catches glimpses of tight-fitted black slacks beneath it, and when Dew snaps his fingers Rain follows with silent obedience.

Dew looks positively regal in the oversized armchair he's pulled in front of the fireplace. He sits with his back straight and both hands folded on his lap. Rain doesn't think he's ever seen him look so powerful, so commanding of attention, not even on stage.

"Kneel, Sister," Dew commands. "Kneel and confess your sins." He tips his head and Rain's breath catches in his throat. "Kneel," he says, "and let me decide if you deserve forgiveness."

Rain drops so hard the floor shakes.

[goldeunoias]

Let's play a game....

A/N: Genshin Impact Lofi makes me write the best idk

Word Count: ~2k of Jay porn because they give me the best anons and reblogs and comments <33333

Synopsis: Sugar Daddy! Jay x Female! Reader

*********************************************

"If you keep me company after dinner I'll add an extra two grand," he remarked in a sultry voice, placing his black card in the hand of the waiter to pay the bill.

You swallowed thickly and bit down on your lip, calculating the amount you could make just from tonight. It was your first time doing this sort of thing and you were surprised you made it through the dinner without making a complete fool of yourself.

"F-for how long," you stammered out. Jongseong chuckled and took off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves as he set his elbows on the table.

"Every hour will make two grand. How about that?" He cooed, staring at you with mischief in his eyes.

"Th....three grand," you countered, twiddling with your thumbs underneath the table. You couldn't believe you were actually doing something like this, getting extra cash by keeping a man with too much money to spare company.

Jongseong laughed and thanked the waiter when they came back with his card, taking a sip of his wine before standing up and beckoning you to do the same.

"As you wish kitten."

Your head kept repeating the pet name he'd called you over and over as he grabbed your hand and gently led you up the elevator of the six-star hotel, Jay's hands moving to your hips once you both were alone in it.

It caught you off guard and a sharp breath left you as Jongseong rested his head in the crook of your neck, your eyes unable to look back into his carob ones.

"What's wrong kitten? No need to be so shy, I'll treat you better than any college low-life ever could," he cooed in your ear, kissing the shell of it and biting it gently. Your hands clamped down onto his forearms for stability and you nodded, your breaths getting caught in your throat as you felt heat rise to the surface of your skin.

When you got to his private floor Jongseong released you and meandered his way to his bedroom he took off his shoes and undid his tie, beckoning you to follow him.

You were silently preparing yourself for a sex dungeon or something as you walked into his bedroom, though when he opened the door it was surprisingly normal. Jongseong could read your mannerisms easily and smiled at them, sitting at the edge of the bed and gesturing for you to stand between his legs.

"I do have some interesting tastes but I wouldn't go as far as to do something like that on your first time with me," he hummed, his hands massaging your thighs tenderly.

"Soo...what are we going to?" you meekly inquired, struggling to hold his gaze for longer than a second.

Jongseong pouted and clucked his tongue in thought.

"Surely you have some kinks you've yet to try out kitten, being so young and all," he drawled, pulling you down onto your knees and holding your face still. He slid his thumb into your mouth and you hesitantly began sucking on it, the callouses against his fingers stimulating your tongue.

"I could breed your pretty princess parts until your cunt is entirely painted white by me and only me..." he began, his eyes darkening.

"I could use pretty pink ribbons to tie you up and edge you in ways I bet your body has never even felt until your face is puffy with tears on how badly you want to come," Jongseong continued, darkly smiling at you when you felt you swallow thickly.

"Or maybe I could make you ride me for hours until your legs are shaking and your cunt has made a mess all over me. Whaddya think kitten?" He inquired, removing his thumb from your mouth.

By now you could feel your nipples erect and pushing against the material of your dress and you'd felt thick droplets of arousal leak onto your underwear, causing you to shift between your legs.

"I-I don't know...I've never done, um, those types of things," you replied timidly, your chest hitching when Jongseong dragged a finger down your jugular to your sternum.

"Mmm, then I guess it's my choice then. Stand up and pull down your underwear and dress for me yeah?" he cooed at you, leaning back on his palms to take in the view as you lowered both.

You tried to do it quickly so he couldn't see how much you soiled yourself just from his words, though Jongseong's eyes were quicker than your movements as he saw the stickiness you'd made on yourself.

"Aw, my kitten made a mess of herself, she even started creaming," Jongseong condescendingly said, his hands reaching between your legs. His fingers felt hot against your clit and you whimpered in reply, your hands going to his shoulders.

Your legs buckled slightly when he collected droplets of arousal on the pad of his finger before sliding the digit into his tongue.

"Taste yourself kitten," he teased, sticking out his tongue for you to take.

You gulped and hesitantly leaned down to kiss him, tensing up when you felt the heat of his tongue slide into your mouth. You tasted arousal mixed with expensive merlot and your hands bunched up his button-up as he deepened it, sliding trickles of saliva into your mouth until your entire mouth was coated was traces of him.

You pushed yourself off of him to come up for air, your body heaving as he sunk his teeth into your neck. You rasped out his name from your lips as the texture of his tongue brushed against the mark he'd made, admiring his handy work.

After all, he didn't like sharing his toys.

"Kitten, you're gonna find that I have some strange tastes," he trailed off, standing up and motioning for you to lay at the head of his plush bed watching intently as he moved about the room.

"What's your favorite color?" He inquired suddenly, opening the drawer at his dresser. You couldn't see what was in it and you told him hesitantly, Jongseong pulling out a silk ribbon of the color you'd said.

"Since we're gonna do some playing, why don't we make your favorite color the safe word yeah?" He cooed, grabbing your wrists with one hand and binding them.

"P-playing?"

"Mhmm," he hummed, unable to hide the dark grin he had.

"I don't uh, like pain by the way so don't do any of that please," you whined out, squirming a bit against the bindings. He shushed you gently and kissed your cheeks, dragging his finger down the bridge of your nose.

"Safeword, remember it and use it at any time. You're in safe hands," he soothed. Once he felt you had calmed down some he went to his nightstand and pulled out a candle with a lighter.

"Don't worry, it's made for this," he answered before you could ask. He let the wax warm up a bit before turning it slightly, a trickle falling and landing on your belly.

The sensation made you arch like back as the heat spread across your belly, like warm shower water hitting your skin.

"Oh? Does kitten like wax play?" Jongseong teased, watching your breathing hitch when warm droplets hit your sternum.

You panted out an "I don't know" as you watched the wax harden on your body, feeling your inner thighs become sticky from keeping them closed.

He hummed and carefully let some trickle near an erect nipple, your body tensing as you felt the teasing sensation gnaw at your skin. Desperate whimpers were the only thing that left you when he did so to the other, Jongseong drinking in the stickiness you'd made on your thighs.

He wanted to tease you more but he was getting impatient with himself, gently grabbing one of your ankles so your core was on full display to him.

"Oh kitten, you're making a mess of yourself. I guess I should plug up your cunt before it gets messier yeah?" Jongseong tutted, reaching into a different compartment and pulling out a vibrator.

Even looking at it made your cheeks burn and you cast your head to the side in embarrassment, Jongseong clucking his tongue and raising your head slightly so you could watch him insert it into you.

"Let's play a game," Jongseong hummed, grabbing a chair and sitting at the foot of the bed so he could see your body in full. He dangled the remote that controlled the vibrator in front of you, leaning back into his chair.

"You have to guess what number I'm thinking of between 1 and 20. But since I'm such a nice person, if you're within 3 digits I'll let you control the settings. If not, I control it. Sound good?"

You shook your head. "Write down each number so you don't cheat, that's the only way I'll agree," you countered. Jongseong raised his brows and nodded, getting a pad and a pen from his drawer.

"Works for me. Let's start the setting at medium as a baseline."

Your jaw immediately went slack as you felt the vibration pressing against the spongy part of your walls and your swollen bud, your legs shaking as you processed the sensation.

"oh kitten likes it already," he cooed, writing down a number. "ok beautiful guess your number."

You racked your brain for an answer, trying to think of a good starting point.

"Ten"

Jongseong chuckled and moved the bar until it was near it's highest, your hands squirming against the silk bindings as you felt a tight knot force it's way into your belly.

"Mmm wrong, it was 18," he corrected, holding up the pad to show you he wasn't lying. "You're off to a bad start kitten, especially since you need to get at three before you even think about cumming," Jongseong taunted, watching you helplessly writhe against the sensation.

"Next round then hurry, please," you croaked out, heat emitting from your body in waves.

"As you wish~," he calmly responded, writing down another number. "Now guess."

"Fifteen" you panted out, your toes curling as you felt the knot get tighter and tighter. "Oh god, Jongseong please," you heaved out.

"Right on the money kitten, the number was fifteen. Because I'm feeling nice I'll count that as two. One more kitten and then you can come so make me proud yeah?" Jongseong soothed, reaching over to massage your ankle as you lay shaking.

You nodded and shut your eyes while Jongseong wrote, your nails digging into your skin to focus on anything but how tight your walls were around the vibrator.

"Guess kitten."

"F-four," you groaned. Jongseong tsked and held it up to you, revealing the number twelve. He promptly turned the vibrator all the way down so you could only feel the slightest sensation, Jongseong setting aside the pen and paper.

He walked over to the side of the bed and held your sweaty face by your cheeks, stroking one softly.

"Aw, the poor kitten didn't get to cum. But don't worry, I have plenty of other games we can play..."

*********************************************

I write more for members whose fans give me the most anons, reblogs, and comments because liking a fic doesn't tell writers anything! So pls tell me <3333

Anywho I hope you enjoyed 😜

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I'm here to voluntarily admit myself to horny jail.

Idk if you write THIS spicy but here goes: Dom top villain bottoms for the first time...

I'm sorry

The hero grinned when they felt the hand around their throat.

It was pitch black in the hero’s bedroom — it had to be or else the hero couldn’t even close their eyes. Often they felt like a trained animal, a lab rat that had been drilled to only fall asleep when there was no light. A silly thought but they believed their wounds could heal better in the darkness. Maybe that was just them trying to deal with the physical trauma.

Deep sleep was a rarity for them anyway.

“You shouldn’t leave your window open.” The villain’s warm breath hit the hero’s lips and for a second, the hero debated if they should just go in for a kiss. But, no.

“You shouldn’t try to assassinate me all the time,” the hero whispered. They knew the villain wasn’t that far away. “Especially with your bare hands. It does things to me.”

God, the villain could be such a little pest. At this point, this was beyond obsession, this was beyond the little cat-and-mouse-games, this was beyond a work relationship. Being close to the villain was like breathing in the thick air of fog, lingering, begging to be noticed, heavy somehow and above all drenching the hero.

It drove the hero insane. The villain was a tease, for sure, and a mean one at that.

Flirting hard enough for the hero to be close to losing their balance. No one had ever dared to question the hero, no one had ever dared to be on their level and yet, the villain was clever and dangerous.

A month ago, they had broken the hero’s arm without hesitation and right now, they could squeeze and squeeze until the hero’s neck cracked. It was thrilling, it was a challenge and power was exactly what the hero was thirsty for.

“All of your assassination attempts end poorly. Time for another job?” the hero added. They had the tiny suspicion that the villain was hesitating — just like them — when it came to the fulfilment of their true desires.

“Do you want me to break your bones again?” the villain asked. “I don’t think you liked that.”

Oh, how wrong they were about that.

“Then end this.”

“As if I didn’t notice the dagger.” The villain shifted and the hero was truly impressed. Without seeing it, the villain was aware of it. Relying on their senses that well…The villain’s free hand found the hero’s wrist and they closed around it, leaning into the blade as if to demonstrate how little they cared about it.

They leaned over, lips against the hero’s neck.

“I usually kill my targets on my first try. But you’ve survived for months now…” They felt the villain’s smirk against their neck and the grip around the hero’s throat softened. The hero’s dagger stayed where it was. “You’re truly remarkable.”

“Oh, darling,” the hero answered, “you’re not supposed to say those things to me.”

“Who else is gonna say this?” And then, the villain’s lips were on the hero’s neck, warm and wet as their tongue followed. The hero closed their eyes and tried to get their self-control back. Hell, the other hand was still around the hero’s, going up and down their forearm.

The villain was — surprisingly — a little shy. They hesitated, were slow and careful, not even paying any attention to the dagger.

“Take your clothes off,” the hero said. Their voice was low and controlled, as if they were giving a command at work. “Now.”

“Shit…” The hero felt them move, felt the absence of their body and loathed it. They discarded their dagger on the nightstand, in case they needed it.

“Wait.” The hero grabbed blindly into the dark and caught fabric. They pulled the villain — who groaned — down and searched for the zipper of their suit. “Let me help you.”

They found it quickly and pulled it down until there was resistance.

“God, you’re a menace,” the villain laughed.

“Oh, you have no idea.” The hero knew exactly where to pull and where to push and their knowledge was, in fact, very useful as they turned the villain around. They seated themselves on top and finally decided to turn on the light on the nightstand.

All they could think was holy fuck when they saw the villain under them. Because the villain was strong and determined. They were smart and stubborn.

And they were under the hero right now, basically drooling.

Their suit was pulled down until right above their hips.

“I have neighbours,” the hero said, as if that wasn’t obvious. “So, you better be quiet.”

“I’m never quiet.” The hero pushed their hips deeper into the villain’s, making the other gasp.

“I’ll gag you if I have to.” The hero drew a line from the villain’s chin, all the way over their chest and down to their hips. The villain squirmed a little.

However, the hero realised as soon as they kissed their enemy how cocky the other was. They truly were a pain in the hero’s ass: letting out high-pitched moans just to tease them.

Unfortunately, the hero couldn’t think of anything that could work as a gag to silence the villain.

Fortunately, as the night progressed and they got more frustrated, they pushed their fingers into the mouth of the (surprised, yet oddly satisfied) villain. Watching their eyes roll back into their head gave the hero a random burst of energy and they knew being rough was the only option.

They had no choice but to be mean.

[tempobaekh]

Golden dresses, broken legs

PAIRINGS: OPLA!Zoro x harlequin!reader

WARNINGS: zoro being hot as usual, creepy man getting what he deserves, maybe ooc Zoro idk, kind of suggestive at the end, Y/N is mentioned once, the reader looks and acts like Harley but not much body, hair and facial is mentioned, just the fact that the reader has two toned hair like Harley, same makeup and personality.

AUTHORS NOTE: I fucking love crossovers with like characters and stuff and my mind is running wild with this crossover idgaf what people say. this one can be read like a part one with the headcanon's that I'm not done with yet so it can be like a background for this story but this can be read alone as well. this is also inspired by this one scene in birds of prey.

The Straw Hat Pirates had gathered at a bustling bar in a nameless town, celebrating yet another victorious adventure on the Grand Line. 

You were wearing a stunning gold and black checkered sequence dress, it having a strapless design and features a sweetheart neckline, emphasizing your figure and adding to your provocative appearance, turned heads as you entered the establishment.

The deep V-line dress showcased your elaborate tattoos, from the ones on your collarbone to the intricate back piece’s and down to the ones on your legs.

The golden accessories gleamed under the dim lights, and you proudly sported multiple gold necklaces, including a layered necklace with one layer that says "Y/N," another with "Loves," and the last one bearing "Zoro." With gold bracelets adorning your wrists, you looked like a treasure yourself.

You quickly became the life of the party (as usual), downing shots and drinks with a contagious energy, cackling and giggling with your dear crew mates.

 Zoro, the quiet swordsman and ever watchful lover, noticed a man with unsavory intentions leering at you. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

As the night progressed, you decided to take the celebration up a notch. You spotted a table with a dancing pole on it and grinned with an idea popping in your head.

You climbed onto a table with the pole on it and began dancing and twirling around it. 

Throwing Zoro winks and seductive smirks, directing your dancing and grinding towards Zoro, the entire dance and performance had been directed at him, and Zoro took pleasure in every single second of it with a small smirk at seeing you dancing around the pole like that in such an exquisite dress.

Usopp, Nami, and Sanji were all intoxicated (with Usopp being especially drunk) and hyped up the dancing girl's every move, while Luffy just clapped along innocently, delighted to see his crew having fun, and sipped on his glass of milk.

Meanwhile, the guy who had been ogling at you earlier now sported a hideous grin, hoping he may get fortunate and undoubtedly delusionally assuming that the entire dance was for him.

 To be honest, it was just you having fun. (and possibly rousing Zoro for a quickie, but we won't get into that right now).

Without realising because of the hyped up energy around you, you were still holding your drink when you began dancing on the pole.

In your enthusiasm, you accidentally spilled the alcoholic beverage all over the man and continued dancing as if nothing had happened.

I mean you didn’t even notice that you spilled it on him, in your defense!

The man was furious, huffing and puffing while attempting and failing to wipe the booze off his awful suit jacket, and couldn't hold back his rudeness anymore, any previous hints of desire gone, and his fragile ego bursting forth.

"God dammit! Sit the fuck down!" he loudly commanded, his annoyance visible.

The arrogant attitude of this stranger's comment made Zoro's blood boil.

Zoro set his alcoholic beverage on the table in front of him and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to pull the blade forward if necessary, but he waited.

He was well aware that you could defend yourself just fine without his or the crew's assistance, your pure strength and muscle not failing you in any fight or confrontations.

Even though you could get a bit distracted by flirting with him in some fights, but you had the attention span of a one year old, none.

You had heard the command and feigned innocence and asked, "What?" Just to get a rise from the man and your playful demeanor only fueled the man's anger. 

He sneered, "I said sit your ass down, you dumb slut," and brazenly placed both his legs on the table in front of him, thinking he did something accomplishing.

You simply responded with an innocent "Okay!" and shrugged, before Zoro could make another move in pure rage. 

In a split second, you leaped off the table and landed squarely on the man's legs, breaking them with a sickening crack. 

His cries of pain filled the bar, and you, with an unsettling, almost psychotic grin, sat in his lap, cackling and laughing loudly in his face.

“You broke my fucking legs!” The man yelled in agony.

Placing your arms around his neck you mockingly taunted him with a sing-song "Oh, bo-hoo!" The crew looked on in shock, but Zoro couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at how Y/N had handled the situation. 

That's my girl, he thought with a smirk as the crying man with broken legs was hauled out by his peers.

“It’s not a party without a lil’ drama!” you cheered with a smile.

Without missing a beat, you casually resumed dancing.

The incident in the club had left the room in a mixture of shock and amazement, and as you resumed dancing, the atmosphere slowly shifted back to the celebration.

The night continued with the crew continuing dancing (minus Zoro), and the defeated man learned the hard way that underestimating you was a grave mistake.

"Puddinnn' " Zoro recognized the drawl of the familiar nickname that he had come to adore, looking up to see you walking towards him, with a sway in your hips and your curled hair with half blue and half pink ends bouncing along.

The owner of the voice sat shamelessly on Zoro's lap sideways, and Zoro couldn't care less at the public display of affection that would normally be more subtle from his side and more open from yours.

He couldn’t care when you were sitting there on his lap, looking so perfect and beautiful.

He lowered his arms around your waist, his hands dragging up and down in a caress with a sly grin, while you loosely placed your arms around his neck.

"You really showed that guy huh," he said, admiration evident in his eyes and tone.

Still caught up in the spirit of the night, you winked at Zoro and answered, "Well, you know me, puddin', I don't take shit from anyone." before moving down and planting a kiss on his neck, grinning gleefully at the mark left by your bold red lips and the fact that Zoro didn't attempt to wipe the mark away.

Zoro couldn't help but smirk at your actions. "I've always liked your way of dealing with trouble."

You leaned closer, her fingers tracing a path from his sharp jaw to his chest that was partially exposed from the few button’s open on his shirt. "Just for you, I can be very persuasive."

Without saying a word, Zoro moved his hand to the back of your neck while using his free hand to sneak a finger under one of your layered necklace’s that read 'Zoro' and pulled you down, smashing his lips on yours in a rough and fierce kiss.

You responded with equal ferocity, straddling Zoro's lap without breaking the kiss and pressed yourself impossibly closer to the green-haired swordsman, your hips gradually grinding against his.

The swordsman growled subtly at the movement and bit your lower lip, eliciting a slight moan that he swallowed and used it as an opportunity to enter his tongue past your lips and explore your warm mouth, tasting your sweet taste on his tongue.

You tugged on Zoro's nape hair and slowly pulled away from him in need of oxygen, leaving a string of spit that kept your lips connected with his, your crimson lipstick smudged, and residues of it on Zoro's lips.

With foreheads pressed against one other, rapidly gasping and attempting to catch your breath.

Zoro began placing small kisses up your neck, occasionally grazing his teeth against your skin as you leaned back your head, allowing him easier access.

"Want to continue this somewhere else?" Zoro rasped out in his low voice, staring at your lustful gaze as you grinned.

"I thought you'd never ask puddin'."

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback is appreciated.

[nr1chaedickrider]

mmmmm thinking of sana and fucking her on the counter idk… sana sana sana

my brain is going crazy after that photoshoot..

The door opens as you prepare the dinner, sana coming in after a photoshoot she had. But her outfit... your eyes wandering on her body, scanning every little detail there is.

"it was a gift", she says, smiling at you. "Do you like it?" she asks, knowing damn well you have a thing for her in a suit.

"maybe" you say teasingly, looking back at the pot as you stirr the food inside of it.

"tell me." she whispers into your ear, pressing you against the counter as her hand lay on your hip, her hot breath against your neck.

"i-" you can feel the heat rising to your head. But the heat is in another place too.

"hm? do you like it?" she asks again, in that teasing yet dominant tone. she really knows where your weak spots are.

"i like it sana.." you can feel a smirk against your neck as she starts kissing it, you try turning around but she holds you firmly.

"no, stay like this. you dont want the food to burn, dont you?"

fuck.

she continues kissing your neck, sucking and biting on some spots. Your whimpers filling the kitchen as you hold yourself onto the kitchen counter. Sana's knee moving inbetween your legs, pressing against your wet core.

You let out a louder whimper. You need her inside of you, now.

"please sana-" you lean your head back onto her shoulder, your fingers gripping the material of her jacket. She smirks, taking your chin and turning it to her so she can kiss you.

The kiss is sloppy, but thats exactly how sana it loves. She loves you being so desperate for her...

Her other hand travelling to your pants, pulling them down as well as the underwear. Her finger circling around your clit.

You let out a louder moan while her tongue moves inside of your mouth. Your grip on her jacket getting tighter.

Moving her finger inbetween your folds, her other hand going under your shirt to grope your breast. Pinching your already errected nipple.

"please-.. just put them in-" you moan while leaning your head back again on her shoulder.

"if you say so." she says. Pushing two fingers in which makes you gasp in pleasure. Her hand switching to your other breast.

She continues leaving wet kisses on your neck and collarbone as her fingers move in and out of you, speed increasing more and more. Her body pressing against yours so you're pinned against the counter even more.

With all this happening, your orgasm was just so close..

"sana i'm close-.." you say, and she increases the speed even more, thrusting her fingers deeper inside of you, hitting the right spots.

You moan louder as you cum onto her fingers, breathing heavily. Sana moving her fingers to help you ride out your climax.

"I think dinner can wait." she says.

feeling very silly!!!

[judasgot-it]

Hiii! I suddenly had an idea like a vision or something tehee

imagine after a party (idk, hunting dogs celebrating another victory) and s/o’s feet hurt for her heels so tecchou noticing, carries her on his back. sorry if it was simple

btw Can i call you Judy and be 🪻anon?

You've gifted me a nickname and all I did was ignore you. I think the best thing that should be done is that I write your ask and that you beat me (jk please don't I'm just a writer. but ily flower anon that nickname is so sweet u have full use to call me it <3)

Scenario: Husband! Tecchou carries fem! reader around while at a party (TW for reader being a little drunk at some parts lol)

1 k words

Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Wiser

1:15 AM

The work party was still raging on.

Fukuchi and Teruko were screaming a duet into the karaoke machine, some sort of anime intro that Tachihara complained only old people would know.

Jouno was surprisingly still in the room, forcing some poor chef to make another batch of some overly complicated dish that apparently only Jouno could appreciate. There was a gun on the table, although surprisingly it wasn't pointed at anyone yet.

You could breathe a sigh of relief at that.

All you were looking for now was Tecchou. He had gone missing around half an hour ago, doing who knew what. He was the one thing keeping you alive at this party, considering how you were one or two drinks away from either passing out on the floor or just trying to take yourself home.

Your feet hurt, what else could you say? Maybe you were a little bit too drunk right now since you were sad over where you had placed your shoes. They were somewhere in the room, you were sure of it.

It was a really emotional endeavor, enough that you felt tears start to come to your eyes thinking about where you placed them. You tried to wipe them away the best you could, trying to not hit your face with the pair of shoes you were holding in your hands.

You walked across the room, hoping to find your husband in the crowd of very important government people whose names had lost you at that moment. Thankfully no one approached you, although maybe it was because they were all as messy as you were.

Tecchou was one of the tallest people there, and even on your tippy toes, you couldn't find his messy chestnut hair in the sea of heads. The feeling of panic started to settle quickly, your heart almost beating outside of your chest - your husband could be almost anywhere.

You turned around, feeling your tongue fall into your throat as you still couldn't locate your man. Wiping your wet eyes, you watched as a man approached you - tall, with messy chestnut hair.

Swallowing deeply, you tried to compose yourself as you saw his eyes land directly onto yours. Against your will, your eyes began to well up with tears once again.

Your feet guided you, rushing towards him like a bullet.

There was no thought as you wrapped your arms around him, your face buried down inside of his red suit. You sighed with relief as you felt your cold nose start to warm up against his body, the air you breathed our fanning against the cold skin on your cheeks as you nuzzled deeper onto him.

“Oh, there you are Angel.”

Two hands pulled at your arms, their warmth shocking your cold skin into goosebumps. His fingertips danced along your skin, callouses massaging your skin all the way up to your shoulders.

“I was looking for you. I was starting to think you got lost.”

You looked up as you said this, blinking innocently up into his honey eyes. He leaned his head a little bit away to stare at you, the tattoos on his cheek blending in with his long eyelashes.

Watching them twitch made your lips curve up, how they perfectly melted in together. You took one of your hands and pulled his face to look down at you properly, his brows pinching as he took in the full sight of you.

“You're so pretty Tecchou. Do you ever hear that?”

He smiled at those words, leaning closer into your hand.

“You told me that on our wedding night, actually.”

His brows pinched again, his gaze looking downward once again.

“Angel, why aren't you wearing your shoes?”

His words took a little to sink in, you still too busy watching how his beautiful face pulled apart as he said those words - the tattoos underneath his eye moving just underneath the small creases from his smile.

“Hmm… My feet hurt.”

You other hand lowered itself, cradling his waist as you swayed to the music that played throughout the room. It was easy to ignore the horrible singing that accomidated it, as you instead focused on the strong muscles that were barely consealed underneath Tecchou's suit.

He barely budges, only swaying slightly as he let you have your moment - watching you with hooded eyes. His steps were small, his heels clicking lightly against the tile of the dance floor.

“You know, if your feet hurt I can just carry you around.”

Stopping, you looked up at him, looking at his face carefully. His eyes held no lie, seeing as he was always a truthful man.

“Are you sure about that?” It was always polite to ask in your mind, even when you were challenging one of the strongest men you knew.

“I can lift twice your weight, you know that angel.“

A small smirk spread on his face as he said this, his eyes poring through your figure. His hands traveled down to your waist, squeezing you gently.

”I wouldn't break a sweat at all, if that's what you're worried about.“

You didn't have time to react as you stomach did twists, Tecchou manhandling you into a bride carry with ease.

”Oh my god, Tecchou!”

It was impossible to hide the joy in your words as he carried you, continuing the dance you had started earlier with ease. He hummed along softly to the song that still played, ignoring whatever wailing words were coming out of a horribly drunk Fukuchi's mouth at that moment.

It wouldn't ruin yours at the very least.

“What? I'm not going to let you walk around while your feet hurt.”

He danced with ease, completing a lazy waltz with you in his arms. His soft locks were lit up by the chandelier above, turned into a soft caramel from the light that shone through the strands. They stuck up in all sorts of directions, forming a creme brulee halo around his face.

You brought one of your arms to wrap around his neck, bringing your fingers to sift through the longer strangs of his hair. It was soft, almost an estactic feeling to have something so ethereal under your hand.

“You're so gorgeous.”

His face was closer to yours, his nose nearly brushing against yours. You giggled, stealing his air as you did so.

“I think you said that to me on our wedding night, handsome.“

His lips were pressed against yours, his handsome face blocking your vision for the rest of that night.

[radiant-reid]

idk if the first one got sent-

(ok this is one of the worst things to talk ab on international womens day of all days bUT-)

i know that i, a modern day feminist, wants ANY man to know that i can handle myself in any situation like that anon ask but now bc of said ask i need blurbs of husband(or boyfriend or pining, idc)!spencer standing up for or defending reader or else. i wont take no for an answer girlies, so ima need you to drop recs in the comments

-🐝

of course. i'm sorry it's so late <3

Spencer is used to being the odd one out. He's the youngest member of the BAU, and his intellect often sets him apart from his colleagues.

But he has never felt as uncomfortable as he does now, standing in the crowded police precinct, surrounded by men who were openly leering at you.

It had started with a few offhand comments, the kind that was meant to be funny but left a sour taste in Spencer's mouth. Then it had escalated to outright harassment, with some of the officers making suggestive gestures as you walked by.

Spencer had tried to ignore it at first, let you deal with it as you saw most appropriate and focus on the task at hand, but as the comments became more aggressive and personal, he knew he couldn't stay silent any longer.

"Excuse me." He says, stepping in front of you and facing the group of officers. "Can we please focus on the case at hand? We're all here to solve a crime, not to make inappropriate comments about our colleagues." The officers laugh, but Spencer stands his ground. "I'm serious." He says, his voice rising with anger. "This behavior is unacceptable, and it needs to stop."

One of the officers, a burly man with a thick mustache and bad body odor, steps forward. "What's the matter, pretty boy?" He sneers. "Can't handle a little locker room talk?"

Spencer feels a surge of rage. How could these men be so callous, so disrespectful? No matter what room it happens in, it's wrong. He takes a step forward, ready to confront the officer, but before he can say anything, you speak up.

"Excuse me." You say, keeping a calm but firm voice. You've kept quiet out of ease, blowing up at them would only make the whole working relationship tense, and to save people, everyone needs to be working together. "I don't appreciate being talked about like I'm a piece of meat. And I'm sure the families of the victims we're here to help wouldn't appreciate it either."

The room falls silent, and for a moment, Spencer thinks the officers might apologize and back off. But then the mustache man steps forward again, his face twisted in anger.

"Who do you think you are?" He growls. "Coming in here, telling us how to do our jobs?"

"I'm not telling you how to do your job." You say. "I'm asking you to show me respect."

The officer scoffs. "Respect? You want respect? How about you show us a little respect and stop acting like you're better than us?"

Spencer can feel his blood boiling. This man is completely out of line, and he knows he had to do something before the situation gets out of hand.

"Excuse me." He says, his voice steady but forceful. "Y/n is not acting like she's better than anyone. She's simply asking to be treated with basic human decency. That isn't too much to ask."

The officer glares at Spencer, but before he can say anything, the door to the precinct opens, and a man in a suit walks in.

"What's going on here?" He asks, looking around the room.

Spencer recognizes him as the captain of the precinct, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe with a higher-up present, the officers will back off.

But the mustache man isn't done yet. "These feds are coming in here, telling us how to do our jobs, and then they're crying about being disrespected? Give me a break."

The captain raises an eyebrow. "Is that true?" He asked, looking at you. It seems impossible he's even questioning your truthfulness.

Spencer takes a deep breath, ready to defend you until the end. "No, sir." He says. "We're here to work with you, not against you. But we won't tolerate being harassed. Agent L/n hasn't reacted to any of the disgusting comments coming from your officers, but one more and all the sanctions you can imagine will be filed against your officers and you as their supervisor." He's always been respectful of authority, drawn inside the line, but this is an argument he's not going to back down from.

Thankfully, the captain understands the seriousness of what's gone on. You're willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he has just had his head in the sand for the last few days. It's not surprising when he's spent most of the time in his office with the blinds drawn. "Outside, all of you. Now." He sounds furious, scowling at them.

You turn to him, nudging his shoulder. "Thanks."

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry you had to listen to that crap, and I hope I didn't overstep by stepping in."

"Not at all." You assure him. "Thank you for it, truly."

[lvgrrqs]

TOO LATE — A. ANDERSON.

summary. abby cant say she fell for you at the same pace you fell for her, but when she did, it was too late for it to matter.

mentions of blood + death | light spoilers | some angst | no gender specified | most def not proofread

note. angst is NOT my strong suit and i only got this idea because i replayed the part where she beats the shit out of ellie in the theatre basement, idk where my thoughts went after that.

word count. 2.4k

you were always there for her, weren’t you? she couldn’t recall all the times when she was alone, dealing with things on her own - you were in too many memories for her to count.

when her dad died, you were there besides her when owen wasn’t, and when she called things with owen, you were there too. during her late nights when nightmares would take away her sleep and panic would settle in her chest you were always there to hold her hand and guide her through it.

if she had to put it simple, you were the light she was looking for when she was lost in the darkness. though, when she finally put it together and realized this, it was far too late.

she never fully comprehended why her heart would beat days after things stopped with owen, the same rapid beating she would have even when she was with him — it wasn’t the same she felt when she was afraid, or when she would kiss owen. it was a delightful feeling, a spark lighting up in her body whenever your hands would touch, whenever you would hug her or smile at her.

your laugh was euphoric, she was addicted and yet she couldn’t comprehend why. maybe that was the reason she ended things with owen, he just wasn’t you, but she couldn’t comprehend thinking about you like that. you were just a friend, weren’t you?

you certainly thought of her as more, the reason for you always being there for her was because of your absolute fascination with her. her eyes, her laugh, the way she would always go above and beyond for what she stood for. she was the other end of your magnet, always pulling you towards her and yet you could never seem to fully connect as you longed for.

despite that, you stayed with her. you couldn’t leave her alone, you made it clear that you loved her and cared for her whenever you got the chance, and even if she couldn’t match the same and only saw your actions as friendly, you knew she cared a lot about you too. she was grateful for you, after all these years.

you were with her when abby and the group went to jackson to get joel - though you had the same mindset about killing the man as mel, you were still with her. you were still there, as she killed the man in front of ellie, and you were still there, making eye contact with the girl as she was knocked out.

you were with her when you, abby, and manny got called up to the fob, and you went with her when she set out to get owen after finding out he went awol - begrudgingly, of course, you wanted to make sure she was safe, and owen was your friend as much as anyone else was. you couldn’t sit back and leave him for whatever hell was out there, not when you could go with abby and do something about it.

you were with her when you found owen and got caught up with some scars - you took care of them, though you couldn’t have stayed with her for long. she began to get reluctant when it came to letting you out with her, practically begging you to stay behind at the aquarium where it was safe.

it was no different this time when her reluctance got worse, yelling at you when you tried going out with her and yara to get lev after he ran off to the island for their mother. everything was crashing on her, her exchange with owen and mel separately being too much as it is, and losing sight of lev made it worse. the last thing she needed was to lose you too.

the look in your eyes were watery, her yells getting under your skin. regardless, like always, you went with her words and wished her the best of luck, demanding she get back safe and leaving her in the damp hallway alone. she couldn’t find you before she had to leave, and she did her best to push that heavy weight in her chest to the side and get what she needed done.

she would make it up to you once she got back, she silently promised you that.

she would never get to do that though, her time on the island obviously kept her preoccupied - throughout her adventures, she couldn’t have known about the girl following her tracks to act out her revenge plan.

there was no way abby could have known that ellie had killed owen and mel, and now she had you tied to a chair in that same damp room where their bodies laid.

the bruises on your body ached with every movement, the knife dug into your knee left you still so the pain couldn’t get worse. your hair was in ellie’s hand via fisthold, forcing your eyes to connect to hers. your blood on her face from when you spat in it, which had only angered her more and led to that knifes current location.

her eyes were demanding, not the same as the broken ones you had seen back in jackson that day abby killed joel - they were filled with rage, red with anger and you knew there wasn’t going to be any mercy in this for you. “i’m going to ask you one more time, where the fuck is she?”

“go fuck yourself, mel gave you that information, and you fucking killed her.” ellie’s face crinkled up in disgust towards your response and towards herself, she knew she had killed a pregnant lady, but having you in this chair with valuable information she could pry out of you was overriding those emotions.

with a grunt, she roughly pushed your head to the side, hand going down to the knife in your knee - with a quick flick of her wrist, your kneecap was popped off. your screams bounced off the walls, hitting your ears as quick as they left your mouth. “go to hell.” you sobbed, eyes squinting and glaring at her through the damp hair dangling in your face.

“no other place for me to go, bitch, but i’m not going empty handed.” she stood up and left the room and, desperately, you gathered what strength you had left to try and find a way out of the chair.

there was too much going on in your body right now, too much pain and blood pouring from your wounds. the taste of iron was heavy in your mouth and you fought to keep your eyelids open, the tips of your fingers already going cold and numb.

there wasn’t enough time for you, and you knew this. no matter what you did, you were going to die anyway. there was no trace of mercy in that girls eyes, and yet you knew that’s exactly how abby had looked when she had ellie in this same position - helpless, watching those merciless eyes take the life of someone they held dear. except, ellie didn’t have abby beaten to a bloody pulp in front of you, she had you instead.

and as if on cue, your feeble attempts to free yourself landed you on the ground, your head slamming against the cold and wet tile of the aquarium floor. you laid in blood, though you couldn’t tell if it was your own or the blood that came from the bodies of your two dead friends. the thought had your eyes watering once again and you fought the tears away with constant blinks.

there was no use crying, not anymore.

it didn’t hurt to reminisce while you had these last few moments, unbothered and not having a knife enter and leave your body in different areas since ellie wasn’t in the room to do that for you. you thought back to the moments when you met abby, met the others and all the times in between that brought the best memories you could’ve made in any life. you thought about what you could’ve done different, and the what if’s.

what would’ve been if you hadn’t walked off on abby’s reluctance. if you had been able to just give her one last hug, to feel her embrace.

the thoughts ended as the door opened and the hasty steps echoed towards you. your eyes moved away from ellie’s approaching figure to the puddle you laid on. your reflection made you chuckle, how horrible you looked with your beaten and bloody face, the swollen eye and cuts lining your cheeks.

“i don’t see what’s so funny.” ellie spat, and you finally looked up at her, eyes tracing her figure down to the pipe that she held in her hand. she brought it more towards your face as if to show it off, and you knew exactly how she was going to finish the job. “i just look like shit,” you coughed out, pausing to catch your breath through a few heavy heaves. ellie rose a brow, bringing the pipe upwards.

“i just wanted to let you know, you look like shit too.”

the sound of metal slamming against the surface echoed through the hallways, and abby’s heavy breathing along with lev’s followed in unison. they had made it back, but something seemed off, and abby knew it, there was a quick pace in her steps, the rapid sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears from worry.

you, owen, and mel knew how to take care of yourselves. the aquarium was blocked up nice and secure, wasn’t it? even then, you guys would have the upper hand in a quarrel, wouldn’t you? alice was there to protect you as well, being the best guard dog and companion she was, right?

well, abby wasn’t too sure after that, seeing as alice was laying on the ground with a trail of blood next to her body. the weapon used to do the damage wasn’t to be found, but it already sounded the alarms in abby’s head. lev had stayed close to her, ready to help defend the pair if anything were to happen, though nothing came to his immediate alert but the tension radiating off the woman in front of him.

cautiously, abby and lev trekked through the rooms which had obviously been scavenged through, proof someone else had been here. what really set this in stone, however, was the blood pouring into the hallway from the main room.

all thoughts in abby’s mind gathered together into one possibility - that it was someone else’s blood, and you, owen, and mel had been able to defend yourselves. it had to be just that, right? with how trained you and owen were, and if anything were to have happened that either of you got hurt, mel would be there to patch you guys up.

but the make shift operating room hadn’t been touched since yara’s operation, but that shouldn’t push the idea down all the way, right? you had to be okay, right? it wasn’t a question in abby’s mind, it was a focus. you were okay, and that’s what she kept telling herself as she pushed the door open.

and like any other time she needed you, there you were, ellie’s body next to yours in a heap of unmovable flesh. you were breathing, but barely, and yet you were able to give abby that same smile you always gave her. “i’m so.. sorry abby. i couldn’t help them, im sorry.” you broke down, arms going limp and chest rising and setting rapidly with your sobs. abby looked, heart breaking at the sight of mel and owens body a few paces away from yours. she fought back the nausea, but not the tears. you were okay, you were alive and she needed to get you medical attention.

without hesitation, after collecting what little she could, she basically threw herself at you. she gathered you in her arms, examining your wounds and being careful not to push you more than your body could handle. it was apparent you had lost a lot of blood, and she couldn’t let herself postpone anymore time when it could be used to start helping you.

though, she couldn’t help the rapid whispers of, “i’m so fucking glad you’re okay,” and, “i love you.”

at least, that’s what should’ve happened, if she hadn’t opened the door to see your battered and mangled body instead. her eyes trailed to the pipe laying a few feet away, bloodied footsteps trailing out to a door on the opposite end of the room. all at once, abby’s world crashed down on her.

your body, plus the bodies of her two friends, laying cold and lifeless on the floor. “fuck…” she breathed, the nausea taking control and leaving her helpless to falling to the ground and throwing her guts up. then, the tears came. she sobbed and wailed and lev felt useless to the woman as she let her emotions go.

it was painful to watch someone who seemed so held together break, but it was understandable. lev had lost yara, and given the chance he would’ve reacted the same way if he had time, so watching abby break her barriers completely and sluggishly crawl over to your body, still attached to that damn chair, wasn’t so hard to mold into sympathy.

abby undid your ties, catching your body as it rolled over sideways, feeling how limp you were in her arms. she gathered you upwards, brushing hair out of your face and bringing a hand to wipe away the blood off your lips. your eyes were open, terrifyingly still and lacking their usual light, but they were glossed over and stared right into abby.

with a heavy sob, she took one last look into your eyes, and brought her hand to carefully close them, knowing she would never wake up to them again. knowing that the light in her dark was burnt out, and that she would have to go the rest of her days without your presence, your attentive nature, and your love.

your love, she knew, was what she was going to miss the most. she came to regret never giving it back to you, hating herself that it took a small argument to draw the promise she would do better for you, and she would never get the chance to. it was too late.

but in this moment, as she started to gather herself after lev called out for her, there was only one thing she hated more than her lack of compassion.

ellie, and she swore to you that she was going to kill that son of a bitch - it wasn’t too late for that, at least.

© lvgrrps 2023 — all rights reserved.